#well. actually. they sleep in THEIR bed like that but they respect their captain and try to have some manners while over LMAO

[verysmallcyborg]

very evil that i've finished putting together the captain's quarters for fornax & ryss' pirate au gpose room....... but can't fuckin gpose or make small adjustments without getting sundered lmao

on the plus side, Bigger Fornax fits on the bed :) custom sized for them to sleep comfortably... can't be an efficient guard dog if you don't get some good sleep!!!!

[thelittlestoflives]

Unravelling the Mystery

a wee Sanji x Strawhat!reader from the perspective of our favourite archeologist! it’s so self indulgent lol but i just love these lil pirates so much!! my first time writing for one piece too!!

barely proofread or formatted forgive me pls!!!!

no warnings, just fluff, use of YN but gender neutral as much as possible

wc: 1k

Robin loved a mystery.

Whether it be a novel, an ancient archaeological site, or even the small cartoon strip in the newspaper that Nami got delivered every so often, she was all over it, the cogs in her brain whirred like a woman possessed to solve it.

Her newest obsession was the mystery of where her fellow crewmate was going when everyone else was asleep. Every night, she would hear the door creak and their gentle footsteps on the floorboards.

Sleepwalking?

No. It seemed too calculated for that. And if it were sleepwalking, how would that explain the way that they managed to always be in their bed in the morning?

Robin knew in her gut that there was something else happening here, and she was determined to find out what. Not by asking, of course. She would find out in her own special Robin way, by following YN as they left the room, and then staying awake all night to see when they returned. Simple enough really.

That night, she laid with her back to YN, breathing steadily to imitate someone who was dead asleep. Nami’s breaths had evened out too, and like clockwork Robin heard the familiar creak of the floorboards and the door carefully being pried open.

She waited a few seconds before getting up and creeping out of their room.

YN tiptoed ahead of her, bare feet not making a sound on the floor, yawning and rubbing their eyes.

Robin felt in her element as she sneaked behind her crew mate, only a slight pang of guilt in her stomach. Her curiosity overrode that particular emotion.

YN turned left, towards the boys’ room.

With precision, they opened the door slowly, and then shut it behind them without a sound.

Ah. Of course. They're sneaking in to see someone. But who?

Robin’s brain raced with possibilities. Was it the stoic swordsman? Their silly captain? The flirty chef? She went back to her bed, puzzling over each outcome.

When Robin opened her eyes, sunlight streamed onto her face and she was hit with a feeling that she forgot something. She rolled over and saw Nami and YN sound asleep in their respective beds.

Dammit! She fell asleep before she could see YN coming back to bed. Tonight, she would do it. The day could be used to gather some more clues.

At breakfast, she watched YN for any signs of lingering gazes or prolonged touches with any of the other crew mates.

Unfortunately for her she was in the middle of an intense discussion with Usopp and Luffy, trying to explain why their Captain physically couldn’t eat so much that he would actually explode, and missed exactly the telltale signs she was looking for. Hands brushing, a slight blush of the cheeks, eyes meeting with a knowing glint.

The rest of the day proved ineffective for clue gathering, and now asking YN outright seemed almost like admitting to failure, by not being able to solve this mystery. And that simply wouldn’t do. Tonight she would put an end to this and find out to settle her questioning mind.

Again, she feigned sleep and waited for those creaking floorboards. Once she felt like enough time had passed for YN to settle into whoever’s bed it was they were creeping in to, Robin rose from her sheets and moved towards the male quarters.

She imitated the way YN had opened the door, carefully and noiselessly. She stuck her head through the gap and scanned the swinging hammocks for any signs of her friend tangled up with someone. Wrinkling her nose at the smell of, well, men, she willed her eyes to adjust to the dark whilst internally cursing. She couldn’t see anything! This was beginning to frustrate her. Why couldn’t she solve this seemingly simple mystery? She sighed softly, closing the door and stepping back into the hallway.

She made herself a coffee and sipped it while deep in thought. She would just have to stay awake and see if she could spot YN heading back to bed.

She lay in bed reading her book, so lost in the words that she didn’t realise that it was almost sunrise. The footsteps outside the door startled her and she blew out the candle she was using to read and pretended to sleep once more.

The door pushed open, and she stared intently through half shut eyes.

A familiar blonde head stepped into the room, with a sleepy YN cradled in his arms.

Aha! So it was the damn chef after all.

He laid them down impossibly gently, tucking the duvet around them. He knelt down beside their head, and they exchanged some mumbling words before he pressed a tender kiss to YN’s forehead. Their hands were still tangled as he stood to walk away, and he kissed their knuckles so softly that Robin felt a small jolt in her heart. Sanji left the room to prepare breakfast for the crew, and YN was already back asleep.

She suppressed a smile. The thought of her friend creeping into his arms every night, so soft, so tender, so loving, and him gently cradling their body to his every morning before he started work, tucking them in, was so overwhelmingly endearing she could cry. Now she knew why her friend was keeping it a secret, for now at least. However, she was surprised that the lovesick chef was able to keep something like this to himself, but you didn’t need to be as perceptive as Robin is to see how special and genuine this relationship was. They belonged entirely to each other and were secluded in their small bubble of secrecy. She wasn't going to be the one to pop it for them.

And after all, she got what she wanted.

She solved the mystery.

[jocelynscrazyideas]

Loss | Nico Hischier x Reader

inspired by the song crazy in love- remix by Beyoncé

Warnings: language, argument, cool off, makeup sex, breeding kinks, unprotected smut!!! BE SAFE PLZZ (very small amount of smut at the end, really only a makeup blurb)

Summary: after the devils lost their last game that could’ve gotten them into the playoffs, Nico takes the loss personally.

💭: JACK THEN LUKE 🩷🤞

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

The ride home from the game was the loudest silence I’ve heard. Nico was the last one off the ice and the first one to leave the locker room. He was in a rush to get home.

No comments on any conversation I made, no road rage, no hand on my thigh, no post game kisses. If anything, I’m scared he’ll leave.

Nico would never do anything to hurt me, but when it comes to hockey, he’ll most definitely pick the sport over me. I’m okay knowing his career is a bigger deal than me, because of how big of a deal hockey is to everyone else.

I mean he’s captain. He should be working his ass off and not just for the spot as C, but for everyone to respect him.

“Nico. You know if you need to-“ Nico cuts me off.

“I don’t need to talk about it.” He shoots out. I think i see actual steam coming out of his ears. Before we head home, Nico stopped by a grocery store to pick up a snack.

He gets out of the car and didn’t open my door. “Well i guess I’m not going with.” I mutter to myself.

I see Nico walk into the store, he has tears in his eyes, I watch him walk away, hands up to his face. He’s wiping the tears away.

Real men show emotion.

“God.” I scream in frustration. I take my shoes off, i let my socks hand out, leaving my puffer jacket on i slide my purse off.

I take my phone out of my pocket from my jeans, I’m tired of it, seriously, why am I getting blamed.

~text~

i want choco pretz. (You)

send me $$ then. (Nico)

nvm. (You)

Read (Nico)

~

what a bitch.

Nico comes out of the store with four plastic bags on each side of his arms. He stuffs the goods into the backseats.

“So, what did you get?” I ask him. I don’t my pretzels.

“Your chocolate pretzels- and your gummies.” He slides his arm into a bag sitting behind my seat. He takes his hand and throws the bag of pretzels at me. My eye gets hit, I have a red mark lining through my eyebrow to the bottom of my nose- acrooss my eyelid.

~

We made it home. Nico already had dinner, and i ate Mac and cheese before the game. “Dinner in five. Be ready or I’m going to bed.” Nico says. He walks into the house, leaving me to open my own door and take my own bag. He leaves his hockey gear in the trunk and he gathers the grocery bags.

He loads the bags into the kitchen leaving him to unload them. I walk into the bedroom we share and i take my get ready bag, some makeup, and pjs and i wlak into the guest bedroom.

“Where are you going?” He snaps at me. He whips his head around to look at the hallway I’m in, facing our bedroom he sees the empty space of a bed I slept in.

I took my pillow, my personal blanket, and my phone charger. It looks like we broke up and i no longer had a life in this house. The vanity i sat in every morning is dark, and empty.

“Where does it look like?” I responded. I implied i was leaving for the night by gesturing to the pillow and small blanket in my hands that I wasn’t sleeping in the bed tonight.

“Sure as hell you’re but sleeping in the guest, and you’re not sleeping in your car.” He shouts at me. Nico gets angry easily, obviously not always at me but he was already upset about the game, I didn’t wnat to be around him.

I rolled my eyes and snarked at him. I walk into the room and shut the door. I immediately lock it setting my stuff down on the bed.

“Let me fucking in the room y/n. Open the stupid door.” He screams out for me.

“Just fucking cook dinner!” I yell back. I’m not mad at him, I’m mad at the fact he shuts me out and gets mad at me for trying.

~

Eventually I smell the food go cold, I don’t smell the warm hot steam from the food, so I open the door, I poke me head out. The bedroom door is shut. The lights are off. “Maybe he’s sleeping.” I whisper to myself.

Nico is no where in sight, so I leave the room I was hiding in. I grabbed a plate of whatever he made for dinner and popped it in the microwave.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Nico grabs my hips. “I need to talk.” He motions me to the couch.

“Oh, so now you wanna talk?” I roll my eyes and scoff. Ridiculous.

I switch the lights on as I sit my pretty ass kn the couch. “Why talk now? It’s like 1:24 am.” I glance at the clock that sits above our stove.

“I’m sorry I lashed out on you.” He says.

“I love you, and I care about you. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” I insisted. The microwave goes off. My food is ready.

We let the food go off. Nico picks me up from the couch. He rubs me over to the bed we share. I had bought this body oil from Victoria’s Secret because it smelt good. Naturally I thought I could put it in my hair, but of course Nico had different plans.

“Turn, clothes. Off.” He sighs as he catches his breath from running around. He slides his sweatpants off, keeps his shirt on.

He spanks my ass. I can feel the stinging pain throughout my whole body.

“Makeup sex to distract me?” I laugh.

“Is it working?” Nico asks as he puts a towel down near my body. He opens the plastic bottle. Pouring the cold oil onto my back he massages into me.

Glitter specks and the rich perfume fragrance fills the room. I feel slippery.

“My turn.” I say. No hesitation I get up and push Nico down. I tear his shirt off of him. Leaving him with his boxers on. I look down motioning to take them off.

He does.

I see a very large cock perked up towards me.

“Gross.” I laugh as turn around to take my bra and tight thing off.

I let Nico lay on his forearms as I run the oil around his abs. He sucks on my hard nippples as I massage the oil into his warm body. I jump onto him. Straddling him, my back facing his face. He pulls me forwards.

I slip, falling face first onto his dick.

I suck o to his cock, Nico lays back, pulling my legs apart, setting them next to his ears.

My pussy opens for him right on his face. He licks every inch of me, I feel a spurt come into my mouth as I suck harder. He jolts yo and down telling me to stop. I can’t.

~

He thrusts harder into me. Pushing his top into my lungs. I feel very heartbeat from his cock into my own pussy.

He pulls out, letting his cum squirt outside of me. I lay flat on my back waiting for him. He pushes three fingers inside and I can feel him wiggle the around looking for something to tease me with.

He lets the oil smother me. The towel wets my hair from all of the oil that pooled into the crevasses of the linen.

Nico takes his fingers out of me and stuffs it I tibuso mouth. Sucking his fingers clean he kisses me. Shoving his tounge down my throat. Massaging every bit of my mouth with his.

I feel his stubble rub against my face. I enjoy knowing he thinks I’ll forget all of the argument within the 19 minute blowjob.

I feel his cock fall onto my lap.

“This should be here, I should be in here.” I pull Nico’s face off of mine. I grab his cock and push it off of my skin, I point to my ribs.

Nico laughs, he thrusts once inside of me, he grips onto my hair falling just to me after he finishes inside me.

Once again he pumps himself into me. This time I do feel him in my ribs.

~

“Goodnight.” I say as I pick up my clean towel and I get in the shower.

“You’re not sleeping in here? Can I shower with you?” Nico runs after me, rubbing my lower stomach.

“I’m tired.” I grunt. And I walk away. “You can shower after me.” I wink as I leave to turn on the hot water.

[marcsburnerphone]

Wish to make up

Captain John price x f!reader

Summary:being johns’ wife has been full of security and safety and you never thought he’d be the one to taint that.

Warnings: angst,(hurt/comfort, 141 task force loves you, price is full of guilt, reader is struggling to process her feelings, they makeup

Finally a part three.

——————-

You woke with heavy arms draped around your waist. The memory of falling asleep is nonexistent just like your want to continue to lay here. You’re frustrated and still deprived of sleep and it’s all because of the man laying happily beside you. With dainty hands you carefully lift his arm and slip out of bed setting it right beside him. Tip toeing out of the bedroom without waking him was light work, what wouldn’t be light work is getting into your car and driving to your best friend's house which also happened to be Gaz’s sister. Were you making this a bigger deal than what it should be, maybe? But are you going to manipulate yourself into acting like it doesn’t hurt, no? Time and space is what your mind was chanting. Maybe that’s what it would take cause he apologized already, even left base to do so but still that icky feeling that sticks to your heart like honey is becoming like a second tissue. With keys in your hand and house slippers on, you make your way to the door confident that you’ll be fast enough.

“Where are you going?” Confidence isn’t always key.

“I- I um I’m going to lanes.” You say turning to face him at the end of the hallway.

“Why?” It’s blunt and laced with pure confusion.

“Cause I want to.” Your eyebrows creased at the obvious answer.

“You never leave when I come home.” His eyes don’t look away from yours for a second, you're actually not even sure if he’s blinked in the past two awkward minutes.

“Well John, the circumstances on this arrival are very different.” He hums in response waiting for you to say more but when you don’t he continues.

“What can I do?” He asks exasperated.

“What?” It’s your turn to return that same energy.

“I'm not sure what I can do further than apologize and come home to show you I’m truly sorry for my actions so now I’m asking what more can I do?” He looks more slouchy than usual, actually than ever John usually holds his head high and his shoulder back right now he just looks tired.

“I just need some space John and time cause I too don’t know what you can do.” Those words shred him apart. He finally looks away and to the side door that leads into the patio.

“Just a little till I calm down or something.” You're trying to make it sound a little less heavy.

“Or something? So should I leave then.” He’s anxiously chewing on his lower lip, something you’ve cursed him for in the past.

“If you’d like but this is your home also.” He laughs and it’s absent of humor.

“How long?” He asks.

“How long?” You return his question confused.

“How much time and space are you asking of me?”

“I’m not sure?” Truthfully you weren’t.

“For fucks sake my love.” He whispers and it’s killing him.

“We’ve just never been in this position before so it’s new and confusing and I’m angry but I love you but it hurts and it’s so unlike you to make me feel this way so I’m sorry but this is the consequence of your own actions and I won’t be the one to apologize, now can you please move your car cause I’ve just noticed your blocking me in.” You couldn’t have even left if you wanted. Oh does god have his ways of working.

He silently walks past you grabbing his keys off the rack by the door and swiftly gets into his car, starting it and backs up signaling for you to exit. You’re now sitting in your car starting it wondering if this is how you should be handling this. But nonetheless you leave and he pulls into your spot. When you get home you figure then you’ll have your thoughts pulled together and you’ll work it out like you know you can.

———-

“Lane but you don’t understand he yelled at me like I wasn’t his wife or any respected person.” It’s been an entire hour of you crying then getting angry at the whole situation again to your poor friend.

“And has he ever done it before in the past three-four years?” Her eyebrow is raised but her tone is soft.

“No but that’s not the point; he's done it now.” The sass in your tone makes her smile.

“Did he apologize?”

“Yes.” You say bluntly.

“So you're punishing him for losing his cool, which he is wrong for but then he apologized and if I remember this right he also came to apologize in person and he’s never done this before.” She’s simply stating facts.

“Well when you put it like that.” You whisper looking out of the open window.

“You're not looking at the bigger picture. I’ve been married, divorced and now remarried. And what I’ve learned from it is love and marriage is a gift but hard fucking work.”

“You had a first husband?” You ask surprised.

“Yeah ages before Dan, his name was Lucas and he was my first love. He was an angry man though I was always doing something wrong in his eyes and all hell broke loose when he was upset. I don’t think he ever once apologized for it though, I did though every single time.” You can tell but the creases between her brows still hurt from it.

“I’m so sorry.” Your worries probably look so stupid in her eyes.

“Dan and I have gotten into it before and it was his fault, something similar to your situation. I had accidentally spilled coffee on his work desk one late night when I brought it to him, it soiled some papers and he lost it. I worried that I was dating Lucas number two till I saw the look in his eyes when all was said and done. He looked devastated, I mean absolutely torn. He apologized immediately and cleaned up the mess he apologizes to this day for it. Sometimes all people can do is apologize because words can’t be taken back but trust can be rebuilt and we love them so much that forgiveness is the only option to moving forward.”

You hum and smile at her warm gaze that’s now laid upon you.

“Do you ever get scared he’ll do it again?”

“No and even if he does I know his heart. We’re human for Christ's sake. I've also said some hurtful things to him when I was stressed. But we know each other and don’t take it in vain.”

The pause in silence is carried in like a warm breeze as you sit and let her words soak in.

“Now if John does it again I’ll kick his ass.” It’s sincere.

You laugh with your entire being at that cause Lane has always kept her word.

“Well in that case I guess I can forgive him.”

“He loves you darling. I’ve known John Price since Gaz first introduced me to him maybe 8 years ago and that man has never looked at or loved someone as gently as he loves you.”

“Was I foolish to make such a big deal out of it?”

She laughs

“No, I cried for a whole night non stop when Dan yelled at me and that whole night he was the one to hold and comfort me. I even told him to just leave to pack up and go but he stayed and was patient and caring and that’s when I knew that man is my forever.”

“John held me this evening while I slept. He actually didn’t want me to leave but still moved his car when I asked so I could go.”

“That man wouldn’t stop you from doing what you wanted even if it’d hurt him.”

“I should go home now, Thankyou for listening to me. I'll come by tomorrow and tell you how it went.”

“Okay honey you get home safe.”

————

On the drive home you just let yourself think. Think of all the times you’ve given John attitude and even the time you’d called him a stupid wanker when he accidentally threw your expensive facial cream that he’d bought away and how he’d taken it with a grain of salt and got you a new one. How the one time you’d scraped the side of his brand new truck and cried to him while explaining what happened and he’d laughed and gotten it repainted the next morning. You’d thought about how so perfect your husband has been, so perfect that you forgot he could be human.

When you pulled into the driveway your heart dropped at the sight of his empty Parking spot. Had he really left? I mean sure your invitation to stay wasn’t so welcoming.

You put your car in park and cried. Cried at how he hurt you and did the only thing he could which was apologize then you cried at how he left all because you basically implied that that is what you wanted and cried about how much you just wanted him to hold you now.

Your car got too cold to sit in so you made your way to the door and inside, unsurprisingly John turned the heater on for you. A cup of tea would surely soothe the hurt.

You sat at the kitchen island sipping from the mug you’d hoped would cure the heavy feeling in your chest. He didn’t even leave a note or a text but then again you told him you needed space.

Lost in thought your forehead pressed to the cold counter, tears slipping mindlessly from your eyes the sound of keys jangling by the door made your head perk up.

Heavy footsteps made their way towards the kitchen when no other than your husband walked in carrying two grocery bags.

“John.” You blinked so heavily relieved at the sight of him.

“Jesus love you scared me.” He doesn’t jump or give any indication that you’d scared him other than the words.

“You didn’t leave.” Your bottom lip quivers and you beg for the tears to stay in your eyeballs.

“Have I ever left without saying goodbye?” He says, setting the bags down and slowly approaching you with caution and softly cupping your face.

You said no more and leant into his strong chest. His arms immediately wrapped around you pulling you in tight. A sigh of relief escaped his lips as a warm scruffy kiss was planted on your temple.

After what felt like forever you parted from him and looked silently into his eyes.

“My love I’m desperately sorry, I’ll say it for the rest of our lives if that’s what it takes I just-”

“I know.” You cut him off and caress his cheek lightly as he turns his head planting a kiss to your palm.

“You don’t have to forgive me.” He assures you.

You pull him towards you urging him to kiss you. He complies with no complaints and when your lips meet it's like every speck of worry in this universe fades to none.

“Lane has a way with words I can assume, just like her brother.” John mutters when you pull apart. You laugh and lean your head onto his chest just a bit below his heart listening to the soothing rhythm of it. He sways the two of you side to side and somehow he makes it feel like the earth spins just for you

——————

The holidays have been rough and oh god am I exhausted but nonetheless I can’t Thankyou enough for reading, commenting and showing me an unbelievable amount of support my heart is with you guys.

Comments and reposts are always appreciated <3

@floffytofu @fictionallifestuff

[smellss]

Close quarters

Summary: Never has sharing a bed been so difficult

Warning: australian colloquialism/phrases (swearing soz not soz) and unedited uni is killing me :)

A long long night for the Matilda's, a wonderful game, the longest penalty shoot out in World Cup history. Y/n had never felt so proud to be alongside these women. Well most of them anyways, her feelings towards her Captain still remained unsolved.

Never had a single person frustrated her in her whole life, of course she respected her she's Sam Kerr for god sakes she had to. But that arrogance god, it frustrated her to no means.

Her smirk, her flirty winks and that tongue.

Wait what ew not like that

The way she smugly stuck it out after her goals, it made it her feel something.

Yes how exactly did it make me feel.

That's what Y/n was trying to discover using her vodka and soda as an accomplice on her journey. However, it was still World Cup and she couldn't get too crazy, just one celebratory drink.

Sitting with Hailey at the bar they discussed the game at length her other team mates surrounded around the pool table taking turns with one another. A new tactic of cool down their coaches had suggested as a bonding exercise.

Y/n felt a gaze on her from across the room but when she turned they were gone.

"You alright chicky?" Haley brushed her arm, a concerned frown rippling across her forehead. Y/n smiled at the term of endearment vigorously nodding.

"Just tired that's all, I might head up to the rooms" she yawned, finishing the last sip of her drink. However, just as she stood up two hotel staff came into the bar area.

"Ladies we have an unfortunate announcement to make, due to a leak in our pipe system a few of the rooms we had set aside for you have been damaged by water. Not to worry however, all of your belongings were fine" A few groans, moans and sighs were heard around the room.

"Not to worry girls, we have assigned you roommates to share with based off your positions, a bonding exercise if you will" Your coach chuckled slightly.

Perfect I'll be assigned with Hailey

"Arnold and Kennedy" both woman laughed like 13 year olds sharing a room at camp, walking off to their room.

I cannot believe I am getting an assigned room at 27

"L/N, Kerr is coming to join you" Y/n swear she felt her heart fall out of her arse. She looked over at Kerr who had a mischievous glint in her eye, saluting at her coach with that signature cheeky smile.

You both walked out of the room in silence, Hailey giving you a reassuring smile and thumbs up.

I really hope I can fall asleep quickly

Y/n heard a knock on the door she quickly rushed over opening it hastily.

"Hey roomie" Sam slightly slurred obviously not obeying the one celebratory drink rule, she glided past Y/n, taking in her room and belongings. Spending a long time looking at Y/n's photos she'd brought from home.

"Are these your siblings?" Sam half smiled, glazing over the photo she held it up towards the light.

"Yes, my brother and sister" Y/n stated proudly, extremely grateful of her wonderful supportive family.

Y/n noticed a change in Sam's demeanour once she saw the photo of her and Hailey at the season wrap up party last year. Sam's brow now furrowed as she walked away placing her things down.

Finally she turned around and faced Y/n, drinking in her appearance and forming a very large smile.

"Cute pjs L/n" Y/n quickly flushed a bright shade of red completely forgetting she was in her big Chelsea shirt and matching sweats.

"They were a gift actually, besides I don't know if you can be giving me much heat in those" Y/n quickly retaliated eyeing Sam's kangaroo and koala pj set. She gasped placing a hand on her chest pretending to be offended.

"Well I usually sleep in boxers and no shirt but I thought we'd keep it PG for our first sleep over" She winked, Y/n turning a shade of red she didn't even know was possible.

Both girls turned to face the bed, the one king mattress quickly becoming the elephant in the room.

"Ill take the couch" they both said in unison.

"You were on field longer tonight you deserve the rest more" Sam argued to the best of her slightly intoxicated abilities.

"You're team captain and recovering from injury you're taking it" Y/n retaliated

Sam shook her head, "Lets just share we are teammates, its just fucking bed".

She slipped in the bed switching her beside lamp off, a yawn escaping her she closed her eyes. Y/n stood their hesistantly.

"Y/n come on, I don't bite" The girl sighed slowly sliding in to their shared bed, turning off her bedside lamp, with now only having the light glow of Brisbane CBD shining through their windows.

Y/n could feel her heart beating in her ears.

The silence of the room was killing her.

Everything was so still.

It was as if time was frozen.

Why is this affecting me so much God, just go to sleep Y/n

The only source of comfort to Y/n was the feeling of Sam also tossing and turning, until she stopped facing Y/n's back.

"Psst, Y/n are you awake still?" Sam whispered

Both girls turned now facing one another. Sam feeling y/n's breath softly in hale and exhale.

"Yes Kerr what is it?"

"I just wanted to know...how long have you and Russo been together?" Sam hesitated, her breath tightly in her throat waiting for the response.

"What?" Y/n laughed tears nearly forming in her eyes, "Sam we are not together just very good friends"

"Oh,oh but you must have someone back home" The captain pried more.

"Nope just me" Y/n whispered, Sam's eye intently staring over her face trying to read her expression.

The room was hot, Y/n had never felt so tense she felt like she was melting. She suddenly felt a hand on her cheek, a thumb brushed over eye an eyelash stuck on Sam's thumb.

"Make a wish" Sam whispered, holding out her thumb. Y/n blew it away, Sam's hand now back on her cheek.

"Please don't kill me for this" Sam gently moving y/n's face towards hers.

Their lips slowly interlocking, the warmth flowed through Y/n like nothing ever had before. It felt like her body had finally switched on and every nerve had been sent into overdrive.

Sam's lips sweetly tasting like her strawberry chapstick and minty toothpaste. Sam smiled into the kiss breaking it apart.

"You've had no idea how long I wanted to do that for" Sam smiled stroking Y/n's hair.

I think I know what the feeling is now.

"Oh I might have some idea" she challenged back.

EXTRA:

"Macca I swear to god if you ruin this I'm going to fuck you up" Alannah whisper yelled

"One more shot" Mackenzie hushed leaning over the bed

The girls of course knew this was going to happen and were prepared rightfully so to document the occasion.

Both Y/n and their captain were entangled in one another looking as content as could possibly be.

"Mary you owe me that $15 babe" Hailey grinned

"No way", Mary scoffed hushing everyone out the door "I said August you owe me $40".

"Still worth it" Hailey smiled looking one more time at the couple before leaving them in peace.

[transhuman-priestess]

A High Place in El-Bariyah

The crew of the Huntington grieves the loss of one of their own, while a malevolent force in a distant corner of the solar system forges its newest weapon.

The highly anticipated continuation of The New Flesh is here.

This story contains graphic violence, sexual content, depictions of surgery, brainwashing, identity death, dismemberment, implied rape, abusive parents, firearms, anti-queer slurs, and healthily moderated but melancholy consumption of alcohol.

As always, this story is for adults 18 years of age or older, it's also the third in an ongoing series. Get caught up before you read it!

Chapter 1: The New Flesh Chapter 2: The Third Law

Remember, if you like it, reblog it, and tell me what you liked! I thrive on feedback and shares. I write this stuff for the joy of sharing it with others. Your reblog puts validation directly into my gay little soul.

January 24, 2253 1800 Earth UTC

The Hildas, 530 million kilometers from Jupiter

7 hours. It had been 7 hours since the Huntington had escaped her assailants, and Chester Silvera, First Mate, hadn’t seen the Captain in 6.

He’d just gotten out of the shower. The entire crew was in shock. Most of them had served with Jenna Powell for years. She was their friend, and despite the frequent clashes between her and Holder, Silvera knew that the crew respected and liked both of them.

Silvera surveyed his quarters, a moderately-sized suite of around 20 square meters, containing a modest bed, a small galley, a lavatory, and the shower he had just vacated. The Huntington’s crew accommodations were far from palatial, but they were home.

Chester walked to his dresser, donned a black band T-shirt (The Carowells, Jovian Tour 2250), khaki shorts, and sneakers. He grabbed his portable radio off the table, clipped the handset to his belt and the remote mic to his collar. It chirped reassuringly as he turned it on.

Keying the mic he said, “This is Silvera, anyone seen the Captain?”

A moment later, Jill Campbell’s voice crackled to life on the speaker. “Door logs say she’s still in her quarters. Her radio’s off, want me to ring her?”

“No, I’ll just walk right over, thank you.”

“No problem.”

He opened the door to the hallway outside. The corridor was well-lit, and lined with short-pile navy blue carpet and fake-wood-grained wall paneling that had probably been quite fashionable 20 years ago, but now gave the ship a hopelessly outdated look. Chester actually quite liked it. The old girl was past her prime, but she had a sense of style, and you had to admire her for that.

Holder’s quarters were 10 meters down the hall, on the same side as Silvera’s, adjacent to the bridge entrance. Between their rooms was a corridor that led to the now-vacated Engineer’s quarters, the mess hall, the rec room, and the crew dormitories. As he passed the hallway, Silvera caught a glimpse of Powell’s door. It was closed, and unadorned. He thought about peering inside, but decided that wasn’t his place, and instead he continued to Holder’s room.

Silvera knocked a syncopated pattern on the Captain’s door, and was greeted with a dull, “Enter.”

He turned the knob and swung the door open to reveal the darkened bedroom beyond. A window faced out towards space, looking aft over the ore holds. The #3 bay was still open, its massive door blocking the view of the engines’ yellow-white exhaust plumes.

The captain was lying in her bed, eyes open, staring at the ceiling. She hadn’t shaved her face yet today, and her stubble was creeping in. Silvera never liked to say anything, but he always thought it gave Holder a dashing, roguish look. Right now though, she just looked exhausted.

“Can’t sleep?” Silvera asked, casually, as if this were a normal cruise under normal circumstances, and he had not a care in the solar system.

Holder just lay there, still staring at the ceiling. Silvera waited for her response. When none came, he asked, “Mind if I come in?”

“Sure,” was all she said.

He turned the lights on to their lowest setting and closed the door behind him. This was the first time he’d managed to get a good look at the captain’s quarters. She hadn’t yet put up any decorations, but she had managed to situate a small bookshelf, her favorite armchair, and a small table that currently held a laptop terminal.

“Love what you’ve done with the place,” Silvera joked, “Feels just like home.”

“Chester,” said Holder, without looking at him, “can you fucking not right now?”

Silvera smiled, though Holder didn’t see that. He knew his captain, and he knew he had to get her on her feet to keep her out of trouble. Holder was a problem-solver. She needed dirt on the tires and grease on her hands or she got restless. With the ship moving and no burn scheduled for another 10 days, Silvera had to become that problem.

“Terry, the crew needs to hear something from you,” he said, “They’ve just been through hell. They’ve lost a friend. Now they need a leader.”

“Some fucking leader.” was Holder’s bitter reply.

“You can’t be everywhere at once,” he said, “It’s not your fault Powell didn’t put the tether on.”

“Tell that to the court martial.” the captain said, rolling to face away from him.

“I will,” he said, “and so will the rest of the crew.”

Holder sat up and looked at him, “Are you sure about that? They knew her for years. They met me last month. You don’t have to be a physicist to figure that one out, Chester.”

“The crew will stand by their captain.”

Holder stood now, apparently she’d lay down to sleep in her blue khaki work uniform, “Why? Why will they stand by me? I got Powell killed, Chester. She is dead, because, I fucked up.”

“And how did you do that, hmm?” he asked, “By not breathing down her neck and by treating her like a responsible member of the crew?”

“Chester,” Holder’s voice got louder and she began pacing, “You just told me, right before all of this,” she waved her hands in front of her for emphasis, “that I had to drop my grudge against her. That we’d been butting heads for a month and that I was too hard on her.”

“Terry,” Silvera kept his voice even, “you are not the first Captain to lose a crew member to that crew member’s carelessness.”

“Her carelessness?” Holder said, incredulous, “Chester, I am the Captain, everything on the Huntington is my responsibility, the cargo, the safety of the crew, the integrity of the ship, everything!”

“You are one person.” Silvera could feel his fist clenching

“Who is tasked with maintaining discipline and order,” Holder shot back, “I failed in both. Jenna Powell is dead because I couldn’t control her,” Silvera thought he saw tears in her eyes, “I should have supervised the EVA, I should have checked the suit inventory,” she was shouting now, “I should have turned back and looked for her!”

“And gotten yourself and the rest of the crew killed?”, it was Silvera’s turn to shout now, “With all due respect, shut the fuck up, Theresa!”

Holder was momentarily speechless, incandescent with rage. Finally, she found her voice. “If you ever speak that way to me again, Silvera, I will personally make sure you’re-”

“Yes, yes,” he cut her off, tired of the show, “you’ll personally make sure I’m cleaning out waste reprocessors on Io until I’m old and gray, I’ve heard it before.”

“What is your problem?”

“You! This!” was his response, “Your crew just suffered a trauma and you’re sitting in here feeling sorry for yourself like some first-year cadet when you should be out there, tending to your crew as a captain should.” Holder collapsed into a sitting position on the bed and buried her face in her hands, muttering something Silvera couldn’t quite hear.

“What was that?” Silvera asked.

“I said,” Holder brought her hands away from her face, and Silvera could see the tears lining her cheeks, “That they deserve a better captain than me.”

Chester Silvera had been friends with Holder for half a decade. They’d met on a cargo hauler, the Venture, where Silvera had an engine technician. She’d stayed up helping him study for his command examine, and he’d been her first mate ever since he’d gotten his commission.

“Terry,” he said, choosing his words carefully, “I have served under,” he counted in his head, “4 captains, including you. Now, maybe it’s just my incredibly wise influence,” he paused briefly, and Holder cracked a tiny smile, “but I would say that you are, by far, the best.”

“Yeah, well, that’s just, like, your opinion, man.” Holder said, bashfully.

“I wasn’t finished,” Silvera continued, “I’ve never had a truly bad captain, but the ones who’ve impressed me the most have never been the ones that put on a stone face and hide behind their command. The best captains are always those who suffer alongside the crew, who laugh and cry with them. You need to be out there. They don’t need you to be their rock, they need you to be beside them in the flotsam while they’re adrift, so that when someone spots land, you can lead them back to it.”

They sat in silence for a long moment. Finally, Holder grabbed her radio, keyed it, and said, “This is the captain. We’ve had a bad day, probably the worst any of us has ever had. Let’s all meet in the mess hall at 1930. Drinks on me.”

* * *

Time Unknown

Location Unknown

Jenna wasn’t sure if she was in hell yet. She couldn’t possibly be alive in this state. Every signal her body sent was telling her that she should be dead. Her face felt like it was still on fire, her shoulder was in pieces, and she was pretty sure her rib cage was caved in, too. Every breath was agony. She had long since stopped trying to move any part of her body. Even with concerted effort at stillness, though, new pains danced and bloomed throughout her.

Time was behaving strangely, too. She was dizzy, like she’d had too much to drink. Her stomach felt like it was being twisted on an auger. Through the haze of it all, in the back of her engineer’s brain, she knew that if she wasn’t dead yet, she soon would be. She’d taken at least 50 grays of hard fusion radiation. By all accounts, she should have been dead by now.

And yet, she lived. The thing—for that was all that Jenna could call it—that had taken her from the emptiness of space had carried her over its shoulder to some kind of medical facility. It lay her on a cruel-looking steel table and cut her suit off, injecting her with a syringe of some oily substance that filled her mouth with a rusty taste she couldn’t shake. Even now, what had to be hours later, it remained.

She drifted in and out of consciousness for some time. Each time she woke, her head felt slightly clearer. After what felt like half a day, she woke and found that she could move her neck without feeling the crunching of bones beneath it. How long have I been out?

No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than a wave of intense nausea swept over her. Though the pain had dulled slightly, it still felt as if she might shatter when she reflexively rolled onto her side, and wretched. Nothing came out. She braced herself with her right arm and was surprised to find that she could bear weight on it. She marveled at this only a moment before another convulsion gripped her stomach. This time, she threw up. The room was dimly lit with a warm light, but even the yellow glow could not hide the contents of her stomach as it spilled onto the floor.

Blood. Lots of blood. Some clotted, some not. Some was bright red and some was nearly black. Jenna heaved again. More vomit, more blood. Her engineer’s brain chimed in again. Sodium-24.

The deuterium-tritium fusion that drove the Huntington’s main engines took two hydrogen atoms, one with an extra neutron, the other with two, and smashed them together to form helium and heat. The helium atoms, technically they were alpha particles, were of little harm to the human body normally, though the sheer quantity of them in fusion exhaust posed a danger. The real problem, however, was the neutrons produced as a byproduct. It was them, she knew, that would seal her fate.

It was the sort of thing that had captured her imagination as a young boy in Dublin. A particle so small and nonreactive that it could pass right through solid objects. Except sometimes, it didn’t. Sometimes, the neutron would hit an atom’s nucleus square-on, and stick there. The nucleus would become unstable, rippling like a drop of water falling from a cloud, and then it would break apart. Do this to the right substances, and you could generate power, build a bomb, trace the flow of blood through the human brain. Do it to the wrong substances, the ones that made up your body, and you became a bomb in slow-motion, destroying yourself, unable to prevent your own demise.

Much of the sodium in her body had absorbed neutrons, changing from stable sodium-23 to radioactive sodium-24. While fusion exhaust had neutrons and alpha particles, both of which penetrated relatively little, sodium-24 emitted gamma rays, and those gamma rays could pass through almost anything short of lead, including the human body. As they did, they stripped the ends off her chromosomes, shredding her DNA and leaving her cells unable to replicate themselves properly. The result was that she was dissolving. As the fastest-dividing cells in her body reached the end of their lifespans, they died. Rather than being replaced, her organs were simply shutting down.

But it didn’t make sense. She had taken so much radiation she should have died within an hour. Why hadn’t she? She was pondering that question when the thing that had brought her to this room stepped through the door.

Jenna’s head was clearer now and she was better able to absorb the figure’s appearance. It had a human shape. Bipedal, standing about 180cm tall. The basic outline of it implied that it was, or at least, had been, female. Cybernetic prosthetics were not unheard of but this lay outside the extreme end of that. The thing’s joints were covered in layered segments of metal with a dark oxide coating, tubing ran over its limbs. The only skin that Jenna could see was its face. The face was almost human. Dark lines ran as veins underneath the skin, the lips gunmetal gray, as if the blood inside had rotted. There was hair, a short tangled mess of raven black. One of the eyes was distinctly mechanical, a bright, electric blue. The other was green, and looked natural.

“You are awake,” was all the thing said.

Jenna made a dry croaking sound as she tried to speak. After several seconds of halting attempts, she finally found her voice, “How...how am I alive?” It hurt to speak. She thought she might have burns on her larynx from inhaling fire.

“We have been able to repair your DNA to a degree,” the figure replied, “However the process is not sufficient to ensure survival. Do not be afraid. We will make you one with us.”

“Let me die.” Jenna begged.

“You have been selected to become an assimilator unit for the hive.” was the figure’s flat reply.

“It hurts.” Jenna felt tears running down her face, “Please, let me die.”

“Your body will be modified and augmented to assimilate others into drones for the hive.”

“Like…you? No...no...”

“Do not be afraid. Your body will be altered surgically and mechanically. Due to the extensive mechanical and radiation damage your body has endured, most of it will need to be replaced with a synthetic chassis.”

“No...god, please”

“You will remain conscious during this process.”

Jenna tried to scream but all that came out was a dull rasp

“You are afraid now, but you will enjoy it, soon.”

The figure placed an anesthesia mask over Jenna’s face.

“As your external tissue is so damaged,” it said, in that flat, synthetic voice, “we were unable to administer the nanites in the usual manner. Instead we have given you a 10cc intravenous infusion.”

“Please,” Jenna whimpered, “please kill me”

Her pleas fell on deaf ears, however, “Usually,” the figure continued, “The surgical procedures would have begun immediately, but the nanites needed time to stabilize your biological processes. We will now begin.”

It grabbed Jenna’s wrists with shocking strength and fixed them to cuffs on the table. She struggled and pulled and twisted, trying to break free, but she wouldn’t have been able to, even with all her strength in her. And she was so tired. Her heart had been racing since the thing had come in, and the adrenaline had worn her down. It wasn’t so much that she resigned herself to whatever happened, she just couldn’t keep up the fight anymore.

Jenna heard a hissing sound come from the mask as the figure reached beneath the table and twisted something. A sharp, sweet chemical aroma curled into her nostrils. As she inhaled, she could feel herself relax. For a moment she almost forgot about her troubles, but her engineer’s brain started sounding alarm bells. They’re drugging you. It had to be that.

“Please,” said the figure, its voice friendlier, more familiar now, “do not resist the gas.”

“I...I don’t,” she croaked out, “I don’t want this.”

“You do not know what it is you want.”

Don’t I? Jenna thought to herself, Maybe, maybe it’s right.

It was like falling into the arms of a lover after a long day at work. Warmth, softness. Jenna’s mind wandered to an encounter she’d had with a young naval officer she met at a Titan bar not that long ago. How her consort’s uniform had glided so effortlessly off as soon as Jenna’s quarters door closed. How her soft fingers had wrapped around Jenna’s cock at the same time she’d suckled at Jenna’s tits.

Jenna realized her pain had subsided greatly. She also noticed that she had an erection.

“Subject arousal maximized,” said the figure beside her. Jenna looked over her again. She was female, decidedly. Broad-shouldered, but delicate. An artisan’s body. How had Jenna failed to see the beauty there before? “Initiating neural reroute.”

The pain quickly came roaring back, different than it had been before. Before, it felt like her body was on fire. Now it felt like tiny teeth were chewing up her insides. She tried to scream but even as she opened her mouth, it subsided, a beautiful warmth replacing it. It was like falling into the softest bed after the most filling meal in the coziest house in the world.

The world took on a brighter, sharper appearance. Jenna could hear people talking, but couldn’t make out any words. Next to her, the figure spoke, “See, isn’t that better?” As she spoke, the woman ran a mechanical hand up Jenna’s leg. Jenna couldn’t help but curl her body up in pleasure. She closed her eyes and let herself fall into the pleasure.

Oh, she thought, I guess you know how to treat a girl.

We have much experience in providing pleasure. Jenna’s eyes shot open. She had heard the woman, not with her ears, but in her head.

The neural transceiver is already functioning? The woman said, You are a promising candidate.

Jenna’s engineer brain was working double-time in thick, deep mud. Neural transceiver?

Jenna could hear the voices again, more clearly now, and realized that they, too, were inside of her. Though every rational fiber of her being screamed to pull away, her curiosity overtook her, and she reached out.

It was like stepping through a door into a crowded amphitheater. Sights, sounds, smells, textures, tastes, movement all seemed to stream into her head from everywhere at once, as if she were both infinite and singular. She flew around the ship, it was smaller than the Huntington. She saw dozens of people and yet felt only one presence. Her mind flicked through them all, letters and numbers appearing with each figure before finally slowing to a stop in the room where she was. The assimilation chamber. Sigma-26 stood above her, warmth on her face. The nascent drone on the table, what had it’s name been?

Deep within Jenna’s mind, a part of her began fighting, kicking, screaming that this was wrong, that there were people out there who missed her. Jill and Karl. Iris and Phoebe. Chester Silvera and Jack Thorton. And Theresa, her captain. Holder hadn’t left Jenna out of spite, or anger. She had been doing her job. She had been trying to keep the others safe and alive.

And yet, the drone now in her head thought, she didn’t even try to save you, did she? She could have tried to scoop you into an ore bay, or given you a few more seconds to make it to the airlock. Instead, she left you out there, adrift. The hive found you. The hive took you in. The hive healed you. Shouldn’t your loyalty lie with them?

Jenna didn’t care. She knew that it wasn’t Holder’s fault. She resisted, trying to pull herself back from the warm light of the Hive. She could feel them working their way into her head. She felt the Hive push into her memories. No, not those!

She was 10, a boy in a flat in Dublin. Her mother has taken her sister, Penny, to the doctor. Her father is asleep, and she’s snuck into Penny’s room. She’s trying on Penny’s dresses when her pa walks in. She’s never seen him so angry.

She was 14, in the boys’ locker room at school. Everyone is showering but she can’t bring herself to take off her shirt. 3 of the other boys corner her. She hides the bruises from her parents.

She was 20, a student at University College Cork, sitting in a doctor’s office. The doctor is writing her a prescription for estrogen. He seems uncomfortable, but says nothing.

She was 21, seeing her family for the first time since starting hormones. Her mother opens the door. She’s confused, but polite. Her father sees her and screams to get out of his house, that he won’t have a faggot for a son. She leaves. It’s the last time she sees her family.

She was 27, on shore leave at Olympus Station, orbiting Mars. She’s leaving a bar, alone, again. After a few minutes of walking, someone hits her hard in the back of the head, knocking her to the ground. The man shoves a chrome handgun in her mouth and says if she makes any sound he’ll blow her tranny brains all over the decking. She thinks about her mother.

She was 28, assigned to MV Huntington, her first posting as chief engineer. The crew are kind to her, but none seek her out. She never grows close to any of them.

She was 30, her new captain wears a nickel-plated .45 on her hip. Jenna’s heart races and suddenly she’s back on Olympus. She runs to her quarters and vomits. The new First Mate knocks on her door. She opens it with tears running down her cheeks. He asks her what’s wrong. She cries for 10 minutes before she can say a word. When she finally speaks, she begs him not to tell the captain. He promises he won’t.

She’s 30. Her face is burning, she’s floating through an abyss, abandoned and alone.

Thinking back on all of these things, the last bit of Jenna Powell, the part that was fighting and screaming for her humanity, grew weary. She had never desired power, or money, or the secrets of the universe. The only thing she’d ever wanted was home. She’d never had it.

The last part of her let go of the cliff it clung to. It fell, backwards, through an infinite abyss. And where it had been, only the drone remained.

“I am a drone of the hive.” she said, “Shape me to a razor’s edge.”

* * *

1930 Earth UTC

MV Huntington mess hall

Captain Theresa Holder stood just outside the entrance to the mess hall. The crew was seated in 2 rows at the long table, nine on a side. Chester was sitting on the left side nearest the empty chair at the head.

The Captain had not told the crew to wear anything special. She didn’t like the formality, and the crew, in turn, had donned their ragtag Sunday best. Jill Campbell wore a navy blue polo. Karl Miller had tied his hair, normally past his shoulders, into a tight bun. Iris Owens was actually wearing a dress. A bright, neon-pink dress with a skull printed on the front, but a dress nonetheless.

Holder, for her part, was wearing her blue dress uniform. Deep navy wool with brass toggles, her captain’s pips on her shoulders. The Civil Navy did not award medals to be worn with dress uniforms, and so on her left breast was a patch that simply said “HOLDER” in light grey letters above the embroidered silhouette of a Shinkelobwe-class ship.

As she entered the hall, Silvera stood, “Captain on deck!” he barked. The crew stood with him. Holder stopped half a meter beyond the threshold. Funerals at sea were one of the times that regulation permitted her to wear the pistol strapped to her hip. Despite this, she made a show, while the crew watched, of removing the belt and hanging it on a hook next to the door. She pulled the pistol from its worn leather holster, and racked the slide back. She had not loaded it prior, and so manually locked it open before replacing it in the belt and turning to the crew. “At ease,” she said, and the crew sat.

She walked, not to the head of the table, but to the foot. She remained standing, and spoke.

“We are here, tonight, our number one too few,” she began, “We have lost our colleague and friend, Genevieve Powell.” She paused, she hadn’t written anything down and was struggling to remember the bits she’d thrown together in her mind as she’d shaved and showered.

“Look,” she said, dropping the air of pretense she’d held before, “Nobody comes out here expecting to die. We didn’t join a combat fleet. We didn’t sign up to be shot at or blow up troop depots or raid supply outposts. We’re miners.”

She looked around at the crew a moment before continuing, “And miners die. It’s been happening ever since humans started digging holes in the ground. Tunnel collapses, methane explosions, tidal shifts. But what happened today, that’s not something, I think, that any of us expected.

“Jenna and I didn’t exactly get along. It feels a bit ghoulish to be up here, praising her, to tell you the truth. Like I’m taking credit for something I didn’t earn. But I need you all to hear this. What happened today, it’s my responsibility. You all performed admirably in a situation that none of us was prepared for. This morning, you were asteroid miners. This evening, you’re heroes, all of you. None more so than the woman who should, by all rights, be sitting at the head of this table.”

Holder gestured in the direction of the empty place setting, “Jenna Powell died trying to get you all to safety. When you tell your friends and families about today, don’t sing praises of your captain. Heap your praise on Jenna Powell, whose loyalty and courage cannot be disputed. Chester, the bottle.”

Silvera stood, grabbing a bottle of whiskey that he had placed on the floor next to his chair. He walked towards Holder, and handed her the thick, ornate glass vessel.

Holder broke the seal and uncorked the bottle. She walked around the table, gently pouring a finger of the amber liquid into each crew member’s glass. When all had been served, she poured herself a glass, and holding it in her left hand, raised it. “To Jenna.”

“To Jenna,” the crew replied, smiles and tears all around, and drank.

After downing her glass, Holder placed it on the table and picked up the bottle. She held it high and said, again, “To Jenna.”

“To Jenna!” the crew said once more.

And with that, Captain Theresa Holder silently drained the rest of the bottle out onto the floor of the mess.

Timecode Error: Format Not Recognized

Hive Interdictor K-14

The drone lay on the table, no longer restrained. Her tired flesh would soon be discarded, replaced by metal, composite, and plastics.

Sigma-26 stood above her, “The radiation has severely damaged your body,” she said to the new drone, “your augmentations will be rather more extensive than most.”

The new drone silently confirmed receipt of this information. 26 began hooking life support tubes into the new drone’s neck. The plan was already clear in her mind. She was eager for it, eager to leave behind the flesh that had confined her and become one with the hive. To feel the electricity run through her wires and hear the thrum of motors and pumps.

26 approached, pulling down an armature from the ceiling that held a large band saw. Wordlessly, she turned it on, and began lowering it towards the new drone’s hips. The blade bit into the damaged flesh of her right leg first, right where the femur met the ball of the hip.

The new drone heard the hive through the wire, It is not clear yet how much of your body will need replacing, it said, the process will proceed in stages to ensure stability.

The blade ground through the new drone’s leg, spitting bits of meat out to the side. As it struck bone the motor bogged down slightly, and the drone felt a high-pitched vibration through her entire being. Waves of pleasure overtook her, the ecstasy of death and rebirth. The nanites in her system worked to seal off the femoral artery and other blood vessels, protecting the brain from losing its precious supply of oxygen. The external life support systems were not yet needed, but that time would come soon.

26 removed the severed limb from the table and began amputating the other leg. Another fine mist of gore sprayed out. It felt so good, the new drone felt itself grow hard as the last bit of skin was severed.

In order to assess tissue damage, the hive spoke again, we will need to access your abdominal cavity. The life support systems will take over now.

Wordlessly, 26 plunged a scalpel into the new drone’s abdomen, just above the pubic bone. She worked it around to the right hip, then back and down almost to the table. She turned then and cut upwards, under and around the lower segment of the rib cage. The new drone’s cock was nearly bursting now, and she gave in, releasing herself, firing juices all over her stomach.

When the scalpel had circumnavigated the new drone’s belly, 26 reached in just under the sternum, and peeled the skin back. It pulled and twisted and sucked, a mass of skin, fat, and muscle a few centimeters thick. It, too, was tossed aside. Another drone came in the door and retrieved the severed legs and the skin flap, whisking them away to a reprocessing terminal.

26 examined the new drone’s organs. The new drone could not see them, but could hear the hive as it wordlessly assessed the situation. The radiation damage was too severe. Her body, even with most of the skin and organs removed, was too damaged to remain.

Full submaxillial amputation necessary, the hive declared.

26 grabbed a port with several needles on the end of various bores. She gently cupped the new drone’s head in one hand, lifting it up, before gently pushing the cable in to the base of the skull. Nanites in the port flooded in, connecting themselves to nerves, building microducts to carry oxygenated blood to the brain after the next step.

When the connection was complete, 26 reached into the open abdominal cavity and began paring out organs. She started with the bladder and intestines. The new drone watched as meters of glistening tubes were removed from her. She could feel herself becoming lighter. The stomach came next, along with the pancreas. Each cut was like an orgasm in and of itself. A blast of pleasure that washed over the new drone like fire consuming kindling.

Her liver and lungs were removed. The new drone could feel her brain stem panicking, trying to force her to breathe with lungs that could not draw air. It was driving her mad, she could feel pressure building up behind her genitals again, and once more she fired off, her glistening seed spurting into the now-empty cavity.

At last, all that was left was her beating heart. It was pounding so fast, and her body was so much lighter now, that she actually thought she might be popping off the operating table under the power of its palpitations. The new drone met 26’s eyes as the latter reached for the band saw. 26 switched the tool on, its blade accelerating to full speed almost instantly. In anticipation, the new drone opened her mouth wide.

26 brought the saw down between the new drone’s jaws. It first caught her cheeks, tearing into them and spraying blood inside her mouth and out the side. She could taste it, the hot, metallic taste of her own body, the last thing she would ever taste. As the blade continued downward it met her mandible, the blade shrieking inside the new drone’s head. It passed out the back side of the bone and immediately dug into the drone’s throat. Blood spurted down it. The pleasure of it all was overwhelming. Finally, 26 angled the blade to pass up through the top of the spinal column, just below the brain stem.

As the blade exited at the end, the new drone felt her body disappear. A nuclear bomb of pleasure went off in her, her eyes rolling back in her skull. The few muscles that remained, as well as the stumps of mandible that had not yet been removed thrashed wildly, for 12 minutes and 22 seconds. When the last wave of orgasm subsided, the new drone opened her eyes.

26 was standing above her, smiling. She felt her hivemate grasp her on either side, and lift her up. It was a curious sensation. She felt so light, so free. Wordlessly, 26 strode over to a person-sized case standing in the corner of the room.

Behold, said the hive, your new form.

The mechanical body was slightly taller than the new drone’s old one. It was sturdier too, with a more muscular look. On top of the neck sat a mechanical mandible. There was no skin, that would be artificially grown over it after assembly. 26 carefully placed the new drone atop the stack, and, using a scalpel, cut away the last bits of her original jawbone.

The artificial mandible responded without command, screwing into the joint sockets on her skull and connecting artificial muscles to mechanical ones. Soon, the drone could feel small actuators gripping the blood vessels inside her and making permanent connections. 26 stood back and watched the process. Finally, she reached behind the new drone and removed the life support tube from the plug. The new drone became momentarily dizzy during the changeover, but 26 was quick to connect the body’s hookup to the port on the skull.

Step forward, came the voice of the hive.

The new drone complied. Wordlessly, she turned around, facing herself away from 26, who began fixing armor plates to the back of her skull, covering up the sensitive port. When 26 was finished, the new drone turned back to face her. She stared down at her new hands, sleek and metal. She flexed her fingers, feeling the power of them. A full diagnostic ran automatically, the results appearing in the corner of her vision, confirming all systems were functioning as designed.

“What is your designation?” 26 asked the new drone.

The new drone looked at her, and said, “I am Sigma-38, assimilator unit.”

Welcome, Sigma-38, came the voice of the hive, we will do great things together.

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

Skeleton's kid is trying to sneak on his dad to scare him but they're really not good at it and he already spotted them five minutes ago. For the main 10.

Undertale Sans - He pretends he didn't saw them and dramatically flops on the floor when the kid finally "scared" him. He's ded. The kid got worried when Sans didn't wake up, only to fall in his trap as Sans suddenly revived to catch them as a vengeance. The kid is screaming in glee as he's tickling them to death.

Undertale Papyrus - He ducks and grabs the kid as he flies above his head in surprise, before reversing the situation and throw him in the couch. The kid giggles in surprise, even more when Papyrus starts to playfully attack him as a revenge.

Underswap Sans - Blue falls on his back as the kid tries to handcuffs him with a scarf, screaming he's under arrestation. Blue is fake crying in offense, begging the child to have mercy on him. Then suddenly, he frees himself and runs away at the nose of his kid, who screams in shock and starts to chase after him.

Underswap Papyrus - He playfully says that the kid got him but that they're going to regret it. And regretting they are when, just before going to sleep, Honey flops on them on the bed and refuses to move, letting them scream and struggle as he's not moving an inch. Honey can't stop giggling at their misery.

Underfell Sans - He catches the child midair with his magic and keeps them in place above his head, slightly out of reach. The kid is screaming and trying to get to him, moving their arms and legs all around in despair as Red is teasing them for their lack of sneaking skills.

Underfell Papyrus - That's it, you asked for it! He throws a bone at the kid and starts to fence with them in an epic sword fight. Unfortunately, the child is too powerful for him and Edge ends on the floor, vainquished, begging the child for mercy and offering sweets as a peace offfering in exchange of his life. The kid gladly accepts!

Horrortale Sans - He was about to catch them but got too slow. Both the skeleton and the kid are surprised when the child goes right through his head hole like a golf ball. Oak is wincing in pain, but that's not really the kid's fault. He just bends over and catch them as they fall from his head, quite confused about what just happened. Oak chuckles at their face and hugs them. He has a headache but that's fine.

Horrortale Papyrus - He "accidentally" drops the cookie he was holding in his hand for five minutes "for no reason at all" on the table and chuckles as the kid snatches it and runs away with it above his head, screaming in victory. Who could have known it would end like this? Clearly the child is too smart for him.

Swapfell Sans - Nox can't stop laughing when he sees his kid wearing his old captain's helmet, way too big for them, struggling to walk straight with how heavy the thing is and knocking into every piece of furniture in an attempt to sneak on him. The kid gets angry he's not respecting them and says he's going to fight them, then proceeds to throw tiny bones at him that don't even deal one damage. Nox is playing the game, and once the kid actually does 1 HP damage after 30 minutes of trying, he falls on the floor, defeated. Clearly, his kid is the true captain of the royal guard and can have his title.

Swapfell Papyrus - Rus is lying on the floor, his kid hitting his skull with a pillow again and again while Rus is crying with exageration. "how dare? my own child, betraying me! the child i fed 20 times a day two years ago! you broke my heart, i will never get over this!" He then gags and dies on the floor. The kid doesn't buy his bullshit though and keeps hitting him, screaming it's for the dozens woopee cushions he put in their bed. Well, it's kinda fair, he might have deserve that.

Fellswap Gold Sans - The kid jumped on his back and is now munching his skull angrily. Wine doesn't stop reading, simply letting go a "HOW INTERISTING, MY CHILD IS A WARRIOR AFTER ALL". He then closes the book, suddenly stands up, making the child fall in the couch in a scream, before he smiles at them and says that if they want to fight, they should always do it facing the ennemy. The kid summons the tiniest blaster Wine ever saw to "pew pew" at him. Damn, his heart is full of rainbows now, he didn't expect this.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - He genuinely didn't see the kid coming and lets go a holy shriek of surprise, throwing himself on the floor to escape whatever is attacking him. His kid is in the couch, laughing, very entertained. That's also his doom. The kid will take every opportunity he can to scare the shit out of him now. It's working every time. Coffee wants to cry.

[idunnoficsorsumthing]

Virtue

Bobby Nash x Reader

Warnings: 18+ do not read if you are a minor.

Summary: you are done being friends with benefits.

The noises the neighbors must have heard a couple of minutes before should have made you feel embarrassed. When you first started sleeping with your captain the both of you agreed strictly to let go of some steam. A secret. You were his dirty little secret. You agreed with it because you had been pining for him for months. His charisma, his ability to have snarky remarks towards completely incapable people on the job. His eyes were filled with pain, and hurt. While he put on a smile, and spent time with his found family. You knew why he was just screwing your brains out instead of taking you out on dates. Athena left him in shambles, and now the honorable captain was screwing the rookie. He wouldn’t be able to face the team if he did. You stare at his ceiling while you let your thoughts infiltrate your mind. You knew you should get up, take your clothes and leave. “Your neighbors must hate us.” You chuckle as you get up from the bed, you didn’t bother covering up, hoping he’d look up from his phone and see you and beg you to stay. “Well, next time I will have to take it easy on you then.” He said, you look at him, and he was looking at you for a response. You just stick out your tongue as you throw on his shirt.

You get home from Bobby’s house late, and you had a shift early in the morning. You saw the hickey Bobby left on the base of your throat. It wasn’t even red anymore, it was turning purple. You signed, you once heard Hen say that she thought Bobby drank respecting women juice in the morning. The thoughts of that joke lingered through your mind as you crawled into your own bed, still wearing the captain’s shirt. He might miss his LAFD shirt. however, as long as he was not asking for it back you weren’t going to remind him who has it. You heard your phone buzz, as you reached for it. A text from a detective you met when you gave s testimony about a case at court last week. Want to have dinner with me friday? Detective Greg Howard, he was good looking with broad shoulders. You answered back agreeing to it. Not like Bobby and you were exclusive. He almost immediately texted back. Great, I’ll pick you up at 7. You read the words. You were on shift till 6:30, and you wouldn’t have time to get home. You told him to just swing by the station to pick you up.

The days from Tuesday evening till Friday felt long. Starting from Wednesday evening you were on duty, and starting from that it felt extremely long. Just looking forward to the weekend. Bobby and you had the unspoken rule where you would flirt with him and he would ignore it. Everyone wrote you off as being flirty because of your playful personality. You were flirty with everyone, Hen would get noticeably flustered whenever you made a flirty comment. “Anyone want to go out tonight?” Buck asked when all of you were on the way to an emergency call. The sirens blaring in the background. The others were chattering in the background about how Buck needed to shut up, and that after a 72 hour shift nobody wanted to spend any more time with Buck. “Y/n?” Buck asked seeing as you were the only person who hadn’t responded. “Oh no, I’ve got a date.” You said, you looked over to the front to see Bobby’s reaction. There was none however. “Come on, afterwards we’ll hit the club?” Buck asked. You were hesitant. “Buck, what makes you think her date will end after dinner?” Eddie teased him. The others laughed. “Actually I bet 50 dollars that Y/n won’t go to the club with you.” He said, this erupted chatter from everyone betting money on how well they expect your date to go. “You shouldn’t go betting on a woman’s virtue.” Bobby said, resulting in the others being shut up. “I bet 20 dollars on getting laid tonight boys.” You said, mainly you just said it to piss off Bobby. You were outraged at him saying something about your virtue when he was the one fucking you whenever he wanted. The others laughed at you. Bobby clearly wasn’t. “Well, can’t see how we can’t both be right.” Buck flirted. Referring to the money he betted on you joining him tonight at the club. You were cut off before you could say anything to Buck as you arrived at the scene.

The call ran late, and you quickly showered, and got ready. Your mind went hauled over the thoughts of Bobby being mad at you, even if he didn’t say anything specifically you could tell his demeanor changed. Guess he didn’t like you making that joke. You shouldn’t care, you don’t care what he thinks of this. “You’re looking nice.” Hen said, stepping into the dressing room. “You’re not gone yet?” You asked. She shook her head. “You know if it bothers you. Just say so and we won’t make jokes about your love life.” She said, after a moment of hesitation. “It’s all good, Bobby just got on my nerves.” You said, Hen adjusted her glasses. “Bobby was the problem?” She asked, visibly confused. You shrug as you adjust your short cocktail dress. “It looks nice, very sexy.” She said, You look in the small mirror above the sink. “ All for you, hot mama.” You said, turning around, giving her a smile. She chuckled. “I wanted to look not slutty for the dinner but slutty enough to hit the club afterwards.” You tell her. She nods. “One thing is for certain, you’ll definitely get some tonight.” She hummed. That’s what you were hoping for. You walk out of the dressing room, and decide to quickly get something from the kitchen area really quickly. Bobby was standing by the kitchen island pouring himself a cup of coffee. “You’re still here.” You said, he nodded. “You look gorgeous.” He said, he had a certain look on his face. A mix between stoic, and the face he made before he’d kiss you. You stepped closer, taking his mug from his hand, raising it to your lips, taking a sip. “Don’t go.” He said, you looked at him. You had been hoping for a while he’d ask you to stay. All the late nights at his apartment. “So it is okay for you to ruin my virtue but can’t let anyone else touch me?” You asked, your tone stern. You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction. The word virtue were like poison in your mouth. “Okay, I shouldn’t have said that.” He said, you nod. You put his mug down in front of him. “You know when we started sleeping together I hoped we’d become more.” You said: “but it’s clear you don’t want that.” He didn’t look at you directly. He just stared at your hands. It was clear he was trying to formulate what he wanted to say. But, you heard your name being called from down the stairs. “Well, Captain unless you have something to say to me I’d better get going.” You said you didn’t give him time to respond,almost running down the stairs. You were greeted by Greg who looked nice in a casual button up, and blazer. “Hi, you look amazing.” He said, you thank him as you walk out with him.

Greg was nice, he took you to a nice restaurant, and got an entire bottle of nice wine for just the two of you. Conversation flowed between the two of you, as the two of you were swapping stories. After dinner he brought you home, and you were about to invite him in when he kissed you. It took you by surprise. You follow his lips movement. “I’m sorry.” He apologized when he was catching his breath. You give him a smile. Instead of saying anything you press your lips against his again. Kissing Greg was new and enticing. Nothing like Bobby at all. You had to take charge here, arguing with yourself as you missed the taste of peaches. You broke off the kiss realizing that you didn’t want to invite him in tonight. You hurried up inside of your apartment complex. You check your phone for the first time since the start of your date. You didn’t think Bobby would have sent you something. But, the wave of disappointment hit immediately when you saw he didn’t text anything. You saw the dozen texts Buck sent asking you to join him and some of the others from the team. It was only ten thirty right now, you open the door again, and walk out trying to flag down a taxi.

When you finally got to the bar Buck had sent you the address of. Chimney, Eddie, Hen, Buck and Bobby were sitting at a corner table. Beer bottles and multiple shot glasses covered the table. “Oh my god, y/n you’re here” Chimney cheered when he saw you. You sat down next to Buck who quickly put his arm over your shoulder to whisper something in your ear. “Bobby has been in a mood.” He slurred. You take one of the shots in front of Buck, and down it. Letting the burning sensation trickle down your throat. You didn’t realize what a bad choice of alcohol Buck made, and you desperately needed a chaser. You take the Coke in front of Bobby and take a big gulp. “Jezus Buck what was in that.” You hissed. The others were laughing about a joke made by Bobby about your inability to just drink alcohol. “So Y/n, your attendance means you did not get lucky?” Eddie asked. You shook your head. “Well, the night is still young.” Hen interrupted. It wasn’t clear to you what she bet on but now you knew. You let out a laugh. “Want to double it then?” Eddie said, Hen looked towards you. Then she looked over from Buck, and then to Bobby. “I’ll take that action.” Hen said, grabbing some money from her pocket and putting it on the table. “A Ben Franklin?” You gasped as your eyes widened. “You just love losing money huh, Hen.” Chim said: “ I’ll go against it.” You were starting to feel uncomfortable. “I’m getting another drink.” You said,pulling Buck off his seat to help you carry more drinks. You move across the dance floor. “So what did you bet on?” You ask him, as you lean on the bar waiting to be served. “That you don’t have sex.” He said, you laugh. “I was counting on you to help me win.” You whined. He chuckled, he really was one of your best friends. “I thought the same. Until I noticed how Bobby has been depressed since he heard you went out on a date.” He said, you look over at the table to see Bobby chuckling about something Chim said.

When you go to the bathroom a while later you didn’t realize you were followed in. “I want to explain.” he said, you continued washing your hands while he locked the door behind him. “Well, I don’t want to listen.” You murmured. You refused the urge to look up at him. “John said I’d lose you like weeks ago.” he said: “ and I still let it happen.” John was his friend from AA. He didn’t attend daily anymore but still kept in touch, sometimes he’d tell you things you weren’t sure he told anyone else. He stood close enough now. You could feel his breath on your exposed back. You look up, looking him in the eyes through the mirror. “ He also said I need to stop punishing myself by sleeping with you.” He said, you turn around, he stepped back to give you more room. “So now sleeping with me is a punishment?” You ask him. He got visibly annoyed by how difficult you were being. “I am always seeking atonement for my sins.” You were going to speak, asking him what the hell that had to do with you, he got to it first. “I couldn’t resist you, and I knew it was wrong, you're younger, and i’m your captain.” He said, your expression changed, it got just a little softer and you couldn’t let that happen. “So I'm just a young piece of ass then. Great” you said sarcastically. The look on his face said he was just about to shut you up. “Stop being a brat.” He snapped. You looked furious. “Let me make things easy for you. I'm leaving.” You said, trying to push past him. He pushed you against the wall instead. You loved it when he was taking charge; it came so naturally to him. He pressed his lips against yours, the two of you let passion take over. You moaned softly as his fingers found their way to your dress straps, letting the straps fall down your arms. You knew you shouldn't give in, but the feel of his lips on yours reminded you of peaches. The dress was bunching at your waist, he looked at your breasts as you were not wearing a bra. “God, you’re gorgeous.” He said as he touched your sensitive breasts. A moan escaped your mouth, as he peppered kisses along your neck.

You could see the desire in his eyes, and it only made you want him more. He smiled as he had your right where he wanted you, moving his hand from your breast to under your dress, moving your panty to the side as he started touching your clit. You nestled your face in his blouse to hide the moan you let out. You had your arms around his neck, however you moved them to his belt to help him out of it. “I need your cock, please.” You whined, the tension already getting too much from him playing with your clit. “I need you too. But, listen. Are you listening?” he asked, applying a little more pressure. He started adding two fingers inside you. You moan as a response. “I don’t allow myself to love anything.” he said: “haven’t for years. I thought if I allowed myself to fuck you but not love you. I was seeking atonement.” You nodded. It was hard to pay attention when he was touching you like that. You whimpered his name as you started to cum around his fingers. The grip you had around his shoulders tightened. “I love this.” he said, you wish you had the energy to argue with him. Instead he loosened his belt and pulled down his pants and underwear to expose his cock. “I love it when you are so cock hungry that you’ll do anything for me.” He said, he picked you up, pushing you against the wall as he inserted his cock inside of you he gasped at the tight feeling. You let out a moan still sensitive from your previous orgasm. “ The others are going to wonder” you said, he started moving. The two of you tried to keep quiet. He held your chin tightly. “Don’t think of the others when my cock is inside you.” he warned. It turned you on when he gave orders like that. He noticed that you liked it. “You always get turned on when I give orders?” he asked. When you said something completely inaudible. He started playing with your nipple. While he repeated the motion of fucking you. “Be a good girl and answer.” he said, you nodded. “yes” you moan. He pressed his lips against yours, as he entered his tongue into yours. He started to become sloppy signifying he was about to cum. “I’m gonna cum. Please just let me cum” you asked him. Your ask made him pick up his pace a little and quickly you felt your wall tighten around his cock, as you moaned his name repeatedly till you felt your legs tremble. The tightening of your walls caused him to cum inside you. He didn’t pull out of you immediately instead he was trying to catch his breath while holding you up. He carefully pulls out and sets you down on the ground. He was making himself decent. While you pull the straps over your shoulders again. You looked in the mirror, and it clearly looks like you’ve had sex. You tried to fix your hair by raking your fingers through it.

After cleaning yourself up a little, you and Bobby made your way back to the table with the others. The team started loudly cheering when the two of you sat down receiving stares from others who were enjoying their evening. “ What the fuck?” Eddie said he was so certain he was going to win that bet. Bobby noticed Buck was going to open his mouth but he was quicker. “One remark about my age and I will punch you.” Bobby told him. It didn’t stop Buck from saying something stupid. “I was just going to ask if she gets special treatment, old man.” Buck asked. Bobby punched Buck in the arm. This time Bobby placed his arm protectively over your shoulder. You leaned into him, as you overlooked some very sore losers throwing money on the table from their lost bet.

[headfulloflettuce]

The Human Who Fooled All of Prythian

18. Family Meeting

Note: I would like it to be known that I love Kallias and Viviane and that they're an absolute power couple. The woman literally kept his court together during the years he was gone and now they finally get to be reunited. In other news, I have discovered the 'read more' function on tumblr.

Aquilo wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep. Unfortunately, that right was denied due to his official duties.

I didn’t actually expect those two to show up.

He had of course been truthful in giving Edur his well deserved punishment, but it wasn't exactly common for fae to show up at the training grounds the way they did. Even with permissions, most would think twice before taking up a soldier’s offer and walking straight into a lion’s den. Aquilo, to put it simply, was impressed.

Their actions warranted respect. The blonde one’s confidence is contagious, and Ophelia is...well, beautiful. That was the only way to describe her. From her hazel hair that looked like maple leaves and eyes that held an entire Autumn forest-

Aquilo shook his head, trying to focus on the soldiers training before him.

“Another lap!”

The soldiers continued with no complaint, though Aquilo could see their exhaustion.

Get your head in the game Aquilo. Now was not the time to think about a female’s lips, or the way her skin was perfectly tanned, making her stick out in the winter landscape-

“That’s enough for today!” Aquilo dismissed his trainees, stomping off to the changing rooms, his ears slightly pink.

Damnit.

He entered one of the palace’s side buildings, grabbing a bucket of water and pouring it over himself; the cold clearing away any unwanted thoughts. Aquilo quickly changed into his formal attire, walking back to the main palace. A soldier, stationed on one of the garden paths, saluted the captain as he passed by. Aquilo gave him an acknowledging nod, but wasted no time on pleasantries. With the solstice approaching security had been heightened, soldiers stationed nearly at every corner and door. 

Wish this festival would end soon so we could go back to our normal routine.

The Winter Solstice was a wonderful holiday, one of Aquilo’s favorites. However, the amount of things to keep track of had always overwhelmed him, not that he would ever let it show. His High Lord and Lady needed him in top condition, and they would get no less.

Preparations were in full swing with courtiers and maids ran back and forth within the main palace. From food, to decorations, to potential debates, the Court was attempting to prepare for anything that may occur.

Aquilo stopped before the door to the High Lord’s office, knocking on it three times.

“Come in.”

Aquilo stepped inside, bowing. Kallias didn’t look up from his work, simply waving him over. Aquilo approached his ruler.

The man needed a break. Kallias had always been pale, but his eyebags currently made him look like a skeleton.

Aquilo stood awkwardly as Kallias said nothing.

“How did the meeting with the businessmen go?” Aquilo prodded.

Kallias groaned, putting his head into his hands, “As well as one would expect, badly. Things are stagnating culturally and economically.”

Aquilo nodded sympathetically, “I am sure it will get better.”

You and Viviane have been working very hard, there’s no way it’s going to go to waste.

Kallias hummed, staring at the papers in front of him, “Amarantha’s reign really screwed with any projects we had at the time. The war with Hybern just made the situation worse. We also need to tackle the lack of food due to Spring being out of the picture.” he sighed, “I think we have no choice but to start considering larger trade routes with Autumn or Summer.”

Aquilo tensed at the thought of dealing with Beron.

As if reading his mind Kallias nodded in agreement, “It’s not ideal, but it may be necessary, so please prepare for it.”

Emotionally or physically?

Kallias’s look answered; both.

“Oh, how is that disciplinary program of yours coming along?” The High Lord’s cold blue eyes met Aquilo’s.

“It’s going well sir.”

Mother, the shame he felt reporting the Eduro incident to Kallias…

“Good. I don’t need us gaining a reputation for military corruption.” The High Lord noted.

“I will ensure that never happens.” Aquilo’s voice gained an edge. If there was one thing he would protect it was the reputation of Winter Court’s military.

Kallias ran a hand through his hair, “My apologies, we got sidetracked. You had a report to give.”

“No problem my lord.” Aquilo straightened his back, “Security measures have been heightened since the war which has led to a decrease in conflicts out on the streets and major cities. We’re currently spreading out our military units to more rural regions to offer them additional support.”

Kallias nodded, tapping a pen on the table as he thought.

“My men…have reported Night Court soldiers traveling by forest in the direction of Summer again.”

We both however know of their real destination; Spring.

“How many times has this happened already?”

“We have twenty five recorded instances sir. Three times just this month.”

Not counting the potential incidents my men simply didn’t spot. Night Court soldiers were known for their discretion. Always hiding in the shadows.

“Those winged bats really think they can get away with anything?” Kallias snarled, his icy demeanor breaking to reveal a blizzard underneath.

Aquilo shivered as the temperature of the room dropped.

The poor maids will have to scrub ice off the furniture again.

Suddenly, a black blur burst into the office, making the two men break out of their tense scene.

“Kallias! Look, look!” Briar practically yelled, waving her arms around, pausing as she saw their expressions, “Oh, I am sorry, are you two in a meeting?”

Aquilo had to admit; it was wonderful seeing the mortal become more comfortable within the palace. When she had first arrived she stuck to her room, avoiding most of the staff members.

“Yes, we are, is this something important?” Kallias took a deep breath, the temperature in the room returning to normal.

“Oh, it’s huge!” she ran over to the large desk, “Look at this perfume!”

Kallias and Aquilo immediately both recoiled.

“Briar, no!” the High Lord warned, trying to snatch the bottle away from the human, but Briar pulled back, “You know how…strong the scents of Winter Court perfumes are.”

“Not this one!” she insisted, “It’s a new release, just try it!”

“Briar, you know I am not a big fan of these things.” Kallias tried to reason with the child.

“Aww, pretty please!” she pleaded, “I promise you’ll like it!”

Kallias physically pulled back as Briar waved the bottle in his face.

“Briar, are you terrorizing Kallias again?” Viviane chidded, stepping inside, smiling gently.

“Viviane!”

The Lady of Winter smiled at the young girl, “Yes de-”

“Try this perfume!”

Viviane’s expression instantly fell, her hand protectively resting on her pregnant stomach, “Absolutely not, and didn’t I tell you to not go near the perfumery street?”

Briar groaned, grabbing a napkin and spritzing some of the perfume onto it.

“Briar no!” The three adults tried to stop her, but nothing happened.

Viviane approached Briar, sniffing the air, then taking the napkin and taking another small whiff.

“Where did you get this from?” she asked quietly.

“Evelyn gave it to me!”

Viviane shook her head. Her sister was always trying new things; for better or for worse. In this case, certainly for the better. 

“Kallias, smell it.”

“Love, you know how I fe-”

“Smell. It.” Viviane walked over to her husband, thrusting the napkin into his arms, which he reluctantly smelled, his eyes widening.

“This…is actually good.” he paused, looking at Briar, “What is this?”

“Perfume.” Briar looked smug.

“I realize it’s perfume, I mean where did you get it?”

“One of Evelyn’s personal servants got it.” Briar explained, “Apparently there is this new perfumery that opened up near one of the city’s centers outside of the perfumery street. It's affordable so the maid bought this bottle and began wearing it. When Lady Evelyn inquired about it the maid gave the perfume to her to try.”

“Wait, are you talking about the new perfumery run by two women?” Aquilo perked up.

“Yeah!” Briar nodded vigorously, “That one! Though I believe they have two guys working there too. A fae and his father to be more specific. Why do you ask?”

Wait, Ophelia worked with another mal-

Aquilo coughed, hoping the group didn’t notice his hesitance, “The two ladies running it just stopped by the training grounds.”

“What?!” Briar stared at Aquilo, “What do you mean they visited? Why?”

“You remember the Edur incident, yes?”

“Of course!” Briar huffed, Viviane ruffled the human’s hair fondly.

“Well, those two were the victims of that situation.”

Specifically Ophelia.

Aquilo couldn’t help but bristle at the memory.

“What were they like?” Briar asked curiously. 

“They were quite interesting. Cosette, she’s the blonde one, she definitely has a spine, while Ophelia….” 

Was a forgiving individual with an unparalleled grace and friendly demeanor.

“…has quite the positive attitude.” Aquilo had to stop himself from voicing his true thoughts.

Stay professional brain.

“Do they both make perfumes?” Viviane chimed in.

“Oh um…” Aquilo paused, “I don’t actually know, I didn’t ask.”

Briar groaned, “For being the royal captain of the guard I would have expected you to ask more about peoples’ identities.”

Aquilo nodded.

She was right, it was irresponsible of him.

Viviane shook her head, “Aquilo, she’s not being serious.”

Oh.

”How long has this been on the market for?” Kallias looked at the bottle thoughtfully.

“Uhh…the maid said the group has been selling perfumes for the past couple months.”

Kallias quickly set the bottle aside, rummaging through some papers, “Hmm…based on the business ownership reports I’d guess it’s the fae called Cosette.” 

“So we do have information on them!” Briar’s face lit up.

“Yes, albeit minimal since they’ve only been active for the past couple months.” Kallias nodded, looking at the reports.

“It's very hard to get a hold of the perfumer. Since they’re a new business they still have a very small team and thus she’s constantly busy making perfumes.” Briar pouted, “Me and Evelyn tried to visit several times undercover but she was always gone or occupied with existing customers.”

“Why go undercover? Simply visit under the royal name.” Viviane smiled mischievously. 

Briar rolled her eyes, “That would make a bad impression! Besides, I am not a royal.”

“Please don’t worry about using our names to get somewhere.” the High Lord tried to reassure her, “You're our guest and a human on top of that. It would be irresponsible of us not to provide for you to our fullest extent. That includes you having access to everything you may need or want.”

Briar looked unconvinced by Kallias’s response.

How long will it take for them to stop being so possessive? They were practically smothering the poor girl with their affections.

Aquilo kept his face neutral, hoping he wouldn’t have to watch another argument between his two rulers and their unofficially adopted child.

“Just because I am a human living in Winter Court under your care doesn’t give me the right to parade around throwing titles at random business owners!” Briar retorted.

“Wise words dear.” Viviane interjected with a polite smile, sensing a growing conflict, “It’s good to remain humble. Now, how about instead we all go together? Kallias, you have been complaining nonstop that there are no good business people in the city, we should go meet the owner to establish relations!”

“Yeah! Diplomacy or whatever else Lucien likes to talk about.” Briar quickly agreed with Viviane.

The head of the guard cringed internally as the two High Fae missed the true root of the problem.

The issue wasn’t time or the desire to network, it was that the human was lonely. She was surrounded by beings that barely understood her and treated her like glass. Briar needed a friend, not another sycophant that wanted to get close to the rulers of Winter Court through her.

Kallias nodded, following his wife’s lead, “That’s a good idea. How about we go after the Winter Solstice though? We’re all quite busy right now and preparations are taking up all of our attention.”

Viviane nodded in agreement, while Briar huffed slightly.

“I was looking forward to meeting her though…” Briar muttered.

“Although I am sure the perfumer is an interesting conversation partner, we still don’t know much about this business. Seeing how they behave in the lead up to the solstice and during it will help us gauge their intentions and legitimacy.” Kallais spoke calmly, not wanting to take an unnecessary risk. 

Aquilo understood his High Lord’s preference for caution when considering the perfumery businesses’ past activities within the city. 

I wouldn’t want to endorse something potentially illegal either.

“He has a point.” Viviane’s voice was soft as she looked at Briar, “If the business seems fair and good after the celebrations are over then we ourselves would love to go and see the place with you.”

“On that topic, how is the perfumery street investigation coming along?” Kallias turned back to his head of the guard.

“Not well my Lord. Any tracks we try to follow always lead to dead ends, and proving the usage of drugs is challenging due to magic wards.��� Aquilo sighed.

Kallias’s eyes narrowed in frustration, “If this continues half of my damn court will become addicts.”

“I am sure this new place isn’t like that!” Briar glared indignantly.

“We can’t know for certain.” Some ice seeped into Kallias’s voice, the temperature of the room throbbed.

Aquilo coughed.

Please don’t freeze the mortal sire.

Kallias took a deep breath. An argument now wouldn’t help anyone.

“Just try to keep an open mind.” Briar shivered slightly, a flash of guilt passing over Kallias’s face.

“Alright.” he nodded, yet his tone remained cold, “I promise to keep an open mind when we go to meet the perfumery owner.”

“For such a simple bottle the scent sure is good?” Viviane sniffed the napkin again, making Briar smile.

“Well, looks aren’t everything.” Kallias said, his voice devoid of humor. Perfumery street had taught them all that the hard way.

Viviane shook her head at her mate’s moodiness, approaching him and gently stroking his messy hair, “When was the last time you slept Kal?”

“Yesterday?” Kallias took a deep breath, relaxing against his mate’s touch.

“Haha, if you were in bed yesterday, I would have remembered.” Viviane winked suggestively.

“Okay no, ew. We don’t need to hear about that!” Briar exclaimed.

I agree. We don’t need to hear about that.

“I just want to make sure the event goes well. Tensions are high right now and we can’t afford-”

“Aww just admit you want to beat Helion’s Winter Solstice celebration.” Viviane kissed his cheek gently.

Kallias grumbled, but didn’t argue.

Aquilo restrained the smirk that wanted to escape. His High Lord has always been a competitive one, despite the cool exterior.

“How about, instead of working yourself to the brink of seeing the Mother herself, we go get some food in you?”

Kallias nodded, kissing Viviane's hand, “I would love that Viv.”

Viviane booped his nose, pulling him up, “What do you want for lunch Briar?”

“Can we have the chicken the cooks made yesterday?”

“Of course dear.” Viviane smiled. They had been trying to get Briar to try different foods but the human was stubborn in her ways, insisting she didn't want them to waste more money than necessary, sticking to simpler dishes.

The two rulers didn’t stop the young human, permitting her to eat whatever she wanted, merely suggesting alternatives.

“What do you think of trying a different type of desert today?” Viviane asked gently.

“Hmm…”

“Perhaps Eclairs?” Kallias’s eyes sparkled as he walked on Briar’s other side.

Briar seemed conflicted. Eventually, her curiosity to try a new sweet treat besides ice cream won out, “I would like that.”

Aquilo watched the group leave, chatting happily, trailing after them quietly.

I wonder what Ophelia’s favorite sweet is?

Next: Chapter 19 - Memento

Back: Chapter 17 - All Things Magic and Mystic

Masterlist

Tag list: @rcarbo1

If you want to be added to a tag list let me know :D

[nighthoundsworld]

As I now feel like the main pioneer for the Next Avengers fandom I’m gonna start something (that’s probably not gonna be consistent) called Head-canon that’s probably 1000% true and todays Topic is on the very awkward subject for our Next Avengers ✨PARENTS✨ specifically Mothers

#1 James and Francis are complete Mamas Boys without a doubt so this post will be about them. Now not saying they don’t love their dads because they do………but come on now if I had a mom that looked like this I’d be a mamas boy as well

(James)

#2 James wears a Red hourglass necklace around his neck and never removes it because it was the last thing Natasha gave to him before she went to fight Ultron and ultimately died (This is the new canon because I said so, so if our Next Avengers come back in mainstream media expect this to be a thing)

#3 The Day Steve and Natasha left to fight Ultron which lead to their deaths Natasha was forced to inject James with a syringe that had sleeping medication because he wouldn’t stop screaming and crying and wouldn’t let go of Natasha mind you that at the time James was only 3 which grew his fears of Needles

#4 The only Picture James has of his Parents is them dancing at their wedding, it’s the only picture he has and he stops himself for looking for more because every second he spends looking at that picture reminds him of what he lost and what he’s never able to get back

#5 Although James is Captain America’s son and he’s held at such a high regard and given such respect he acts more like Natasha. His hairs the same shade of red, He leans more towards the spy in him than the goodie two shoes solider, his hero costumes primary color is a red and Black jacket with a star etc overall he leans more towards Natasha in the personality department

#6 James biggest secret that no one knows but him is he knows Ballet, he practiced in secret for years and perfected the craft and everyday he ends his day by looking at a Russian Ballerina Music Box and watches it twirl as he thinks about her

(Francis)

#7 let’s get this out the way right now Francis was not planned 😂 LOL He was an accident Baby that Clint and Bobbi made on their 3rd Honeymoon but never the doubt the idea of Abortion never once crossed their minds as they agreed that little Francis was gonna be there’s 100%

#8 Francis being the only one who actually was able to live a portion of his life with his Parents Bobbi tried her hardest to give him some sort of normalcy in hiding with the Freedom Fighters (or whatever they were called) she taught him all the basic things and even made a small area for him where she’s read him bed stories every night and promise him a better future

#9 Bobbi’s nickname for Francis was “Her Little Birdy” or “Franky”

#10 evidently when Bobbi’s death came Francis was 10 years old. A group of Ultron bot’s found their base and she led the fight to stall while Clint helped everyone evacuate. She gave Francis her Goggles and made him promise that no matter what never loose hope in fighting to save the day before Eventually Clint was forced to carry Francis away leaving the boy to watch as the last time he saw his Mother she was fighting for her life in which she ultimately lost

#11 Francis keeps a picture of Bobbi in his pocket at all times so he never forgets his Mom’s face along with the fact that he never takes off his goggles the least he’ll do is just rest them upon his head hiding them within his hair

#12 he customized his Bow so that it can turn into a Bow Staff along with two separate Batons the same Bobbi used as he trained himself with the art of the Bow Staff in honor of her. He also carved out a small Mockingbird within his Bow for her

#13 every year on her Birthday he leaves flowers and one of the children’s books she read to him at her Grave where he talks to her and gives her a recap of what happened in the past year promising her he’d never give up fighting for what’s right

Overall these two are complete Mamas Boys and again like I said I don’t blame them look at who their moms are

[piratefishmama]

Live to Serve (You) | Part 2

“You have to come with me!” Steve had been following him through the palace for the past half hour, his lessons being cancelled for the day in lieu of the evenings’ festivities giving him more than enough time to pester his best friend and personal servant as the poor boy tried to do his chores. The day was one of celebration! The anniversary of the Princes’ birth, which meant there’d be a grand party in the palace in the evening, all manner of Lords, Ladies, potential future matches for the Prince to marry, that… well, Eddie was required to attend that.

He even had an outfit for it, even the servants were to look like respectable attendees at the sixteenth anniversary of the Princes’ birth, even if they were only there to serve the guests.

Main issue of the day though, Steve had gotten himself up and thrown Eddie’s whole daily routine off by ambushing him in the earlier hours to harass him.

“I can’t leave the palace, Steve you know I’m not allowed to.” It was like talking to one of the stone walls. Steve’s incessant pestering wasn’t about the party to be held later in the day. Steve wanted out for a few hours.

He wanted out, wanted to escape the seemingly endless labyrinth of stone corridors and walkways that made up the palace, wanted to go for a ride, but most of all, he wanted Eddie to go with him. “Okay but I’d be with you! It’s not like you’d be going on your own!”

“It’s not about whether or not I’d be on my own, Steve. It’s—” he finally stopped in his step, turning to face the boy that’d been stalking him long enough to wander into an area that he wasn’t actually familiar with. Steve had never been in the servant halls, the ones not lined with any carpets or portraits, just dark back passages lined with candlelight to light the way. “You know I don’t have the freedom to leave… don’t act like you don’t know that.” As much as he liked Steve, and he did, he adored the Prince, him and all his whacky quirks, the boy made his head dizzy sometimes, made his heart thump faster, his skin warm and tingly.

He could be awfully naïve sometimes. “M’not, I just—I just want you to come with me.”

“You spend most of your days with me, Steve, why not go with Thomas, or Carol? I’m sure those two would love to spend time with the Prince.” A young Lord and Lady, betrothed since their earlier years, the Queen had introduced them to her son half a year ago and they’d been sniffing around for scraps of attention ever since. Eddie hated them, they treated him as if he weren’t there, as if he were a normal servant, they’d even demanded he serve them. Steve had firmly put his foot down there.

Eddie only served him.

“Eh, I’ll see them tonight, you’re the one I wanna spend my day with.” Eddie was glad for the candlelight being the only real source of light, for certain a window pouring sunlight would show the warmth upon his cheeks at the comment. “What if we get permission from the Captain, or I ask my mother, if I get a yes from one of them, then will you come with me?”

He didn’t expect Steve to be able to pull that one off. He hadn’t been let out of the palace grounds since the day he stepped foot into them, his whole world was that palace, he wasn’t an employee, he was a slave. He didn’t get paid for his work, he got food, drink, and a bed to sleep in, but he didn’t get paid, he was working off debts that his father had racked up.

Still didn’t know how much his father actually owed. Or if his nine years of service had actually put a dent into it. He figured he’d probably never know, his life would be one of servitude, at least they weren’t cruel to him. At least Steve was nice to him.

So, because he didn’t expect Steve to be able to pull it off, with a heavy, put upon sigh, he replied “fine, if, and I do mean IF, the Queen, or the Captain, preferably the Captain as he’s the one who’d hunt my backside down for leaving, says yes to me leaving the palace grounds, I will go with you on your ride. ONLY if one, or both say yes. Actually. Both. You have to ask both.”

“Both?”

“Yes, both, I’m not risking my head because you want a jaunt through the wilds with a servant. They both need to say yes before I’ll go.”

“I could just—”

“No, you couldn’t, maybe when you’re older my Prince, when the crown is yours, maybe then you could just order me to go with you” Steve at least had the decency to duck his head, Eddie knew him too well, knew him well enough to know that stepping closer, and gently placing fingers to his chin to lift his gaze to his own, was a thing he could freely do unpunished. “But until then… while the King is away, the Queens’ word is law, and I remain chained to these walls.” Unfortunately that was something he had to remind Steve of often, so often that even he couldn’t wait for the day that Steve would take the crown, for sure the ideas that prompted those gentle reminders were just as perfect as the beautiful little moles littering his skin.

Steve didn’t even try to pull away from the pleasant touch, it carried his gaze to Eddie’s, why would he pull away when Eddie’s touch brought him so much comfort? Instead he lingered there, thinking, until Eddie pulled his hand back of his own volition and Steve had to fight his own urges to chase it. He dampened his dry lips with a swift swipe of his tongue, “so... if I get them both to say yes, you’ll come with me?”

Eddie still didn’t believe he could, so with a great amount of softness, he answered with “mmhm, I promise.”

It brought him a great deal of surprise when Steve dragged the Captain of the Kings guard to him an hour later to announce with a beaming grin that, “you can go with me!”

“Excuse me?” Eddie’s eyes flitting between Steve and the much larger man at his side, a man who looked at Eddie with thinly veiled amusement.

“Kid, you’ve been stuck in this place for nine years now and to my great surprise, you haven’t tried to escape once, you got one chance to prove you won’t bolt if given the opportunity, and this is it. Queen says just make sure you have her son back in time to prepare for the festivities tonight, he’ll need—”

“A bath, and suitable attire, I’m aware.” Eddie spoke as if on autopilot. Bathing would take an hour at most, his hair would take half that time and getting him dressed even less. Eddie was already calculating how much time they’d have to be out of the palace.

They’d have... plenty of time, the sun hadn’t even fully reached its peak yet!

“Good. Have fun boys, Eddie, don’t do anything that’ll have us hunting you down.”

Faintly, in the back of his mind, Eddie knew that at one point, he’d had a plan for escaping. He knew that he’d planned to scope out the palace, map his new prison out until he could slip out unnoticed but then he’d seen Steve and all plans had just, floated away. They hadn’t returned, he knew the palace inside and out, knew all the little holes he could slip out of, but he’d never planned to escape it.

How could he leave his Prince behind?

That faint resurfaced thought lingered in the back of his mind when he made his way to the stables not long after, having told Steve to meet him there as he had to change his attire to something more suitable for riding. He didn’t have a wide selection of clothing to wear, his wardrobe now limited to off white shades in shirts that sometimes looked a little too baggy on him, and brown pants he could tuck into his boots, but at least he could tie up his hair into a messy braid with a long cord he’d saved from an old shirt, he could still look good.

The other maids fondly told him he looked like a noble with his hair all tied up like that, that he still had the posture of nobility at times but in a good way. The littlest Lord was still in there somewhere.

And he was still excellent with horses.

He didn’t even notice Steve had joined him until he felt the softest of touches brush upon his hair yet he didn’t startle. He instead found himself turning away from the mare saddled for him, which had been contentedly munching hay out of his palm, to bless the Prince with a warm smile that dimpled his cheeks. “My Prince” he greeted forever fond of how those two words always lit the boys face up with the cutest of flushes.

“Your uhm... your hair looks nice like that” now his turn to feel warmth in his cheeks, he wished he hadn’t tied it up now, couldn’t hide behind it like he craved to be able to do. It was just them in the stables, just them and the horses, the Stable Master having taken one of the colts to have his hooves trimmed and shoes replaced. “You should wear it like this more often.”

“It needs a trim...” now down to the middle of his back, out of a tie it was long and unruly.

“I like it.” Maybe it didn’t need a trim then. Steve seemed to shake himself of whatever thought he’d gotten trapped in though, because he turned his head to the horse, abruptly moving to her side “so! Uhm, do you— I assume you haven’t ridden before, right? I thought that perhaps you’d want to ride with me? On a horse with me I mean.”

“You... wanted us to share a horse?”

“Well, I mean, I could ride and you sit behind me and hold onto me?” Eddie was almost tempted to hide the other horse, just accept his offer, as the mare, a beautiful sooty black coated mare named Sombra, was the only one he could presently see.

Sommer, the Princes’ white mare, was still in her stall, saddled but out of sight.

Had he been a braver sixteen year old boy, or still a Lord he’d have probably said something particularly daring, a sly quip lingering on the tip of his tongue about how if the prince wished for it, he could just ask him to hold onto him, but he neither had the status, nor the courage to voice it.

The Prince may have often referred to him as a friend but surely there were lines he couldn’t cross.

“I... I can ride” oh god was that disappointment? No, it couldn’t be, why would it be? “I uhm, I learned to ride when I was young, before I came here.”

“Oh... did you come from a farm or something?” He’d never told Steve where he was taken from. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t like he’d be going back, but it was awfully cute that Steve had not yet put the clues together.

Honestly what farmhand knew how to read? Or write in cursive? Or write at all?

“Or something.” He chose to answer with instead, smiling softly. “Sommer has her saddle on in her stall, she’s ready to go.”

“Right. Right ok, yeah that makes sense, or else Sommer would have been the only one saddled. Right.” Flustered and cute, the boy would never not make his heart happy. “I’ll just... yeah.” And off he went to gather his steed, leaving Eddie to gently stroke down Sombra’s long face before guiding her out of her stall, rounding her great form, putting one foot in the stirrup, and pushing himself up onto the saddle.

It’d been a long time since he’d last rode a horse, both his legs and his reach now longer, his grip stronger. He still knew exactly what he was doing though. Still knew how to coax her into a gentle walk, how to guide her out of the stables and how to make her wait for his company. “Where exactly are we going, Steve?” He asked once his companion joined his side.

“Catch” Steve tossed a pair of gloves into his waiting hands, a simple, thin but beautifully crafted leather that vaguely matched his own “they’re my old ones, figured you wouldn’t have any.” Answering an unvoiced question when Eddie looked at him in question. “Just follow me.”

“Why did you bring gloves for me if you assumed I’d be sharing your horse?”

“No reason” he answered so quickly Eddie wished he’d have had the guts to lie and claim he didn’t know how, certain he’d now never know what the reason was. “Let’s go!” Steve didn’t give him a chance to wonder though, the Prince already off toward the palace gates, forcing Eddie to put the thought to the back of his mind and push Sombra to catch up.

He was free.

Once they made it out of the city walls, the open fields greeted them, he could see the kings road that’d take him back to Forest Hills, that’d take him back to the people he’d left behind, could see the treeline that hid his past within its dense embrace, the little homesteads, the children he’d once played with, the mothers who’d once braided flowers into his hair then quickly removed them so his father wouldn’t see.

He missed the subtle scent of flowers whenever the wind made his hair dance. He couldn’t even remember their faces anymore, just that they’d cried for him as he was taken away.

They weren’t staying on the kings road though, although they were headed for the treeline, they were veering off to the right, toward what Eddie knew to be just fields, seemingly endless stretches of land between villages, dotted with the odd farmhouse here, an inn there, maybe a small grove of trees. It didn’t matter though, as Steve didn’t seem to have a plan for their excursion.

There was no end goal in mind, just two boys chasing each other on horseback through the wilds, feeling the wind in their hair, the freedom of it all, no responsibilities, no lessons, no chores, just them passing the time, goofing off as if they weren’t naturally separated by the largest difference in status known to man. A servant and a Prince. As if they were just two friends, two boys playing in the fields without a care in the world, there was no greater feeling than that.

So of course, it had to end eventually. It had to end with the setting sun that called them back to the palace at a steady trot, their hearts light and laughter dancing between them, Eddie’s hair having fell loose through the day now flowing freely in the breeze and a subtle weight in Steve’s pocket from an interesting rock that Eddie had found and presented to him as, as Steve decided it to be, the BEST birthday gift he’d receive that evening.

It was at the city gates when Steve realised Eddie had slowed to a stop somewhere behind him, the boys eyes lingering on the Kings road off toward the forest, the wind gently rustling through his pretty brown curls, hands tight on Sombra’s reins as his gaze remained fixed there on those woods, on the road that’d lead him off to freedom, to wherever he wanted to go.

“…Eddie?” That soft gaze fell upon him once more, a small smile graced plush lips, and Steve knew he didn’t have to worry about a thing. “You coming?”

“…Yeah” He gently nudged Sombra forward toward the gates at Steve’s side once more “let’s get back, my Prince, before the Queen crucifies me.” Eddie had freedom within his grasp, and he’d chosen Steve.

Part 4

[struwberrii]

hello, good day!! I'm here for the matchup :))

1. Romantic

2. I go by she/her and I'd like it to be with a boy

3. the captain of johzenji (? I don't remember his name tho

4. Well, the most important of all: someone respectful, with me, and with the relationship. Someone who is not afraid of loving me, that is funny, or can match my humor. I'd also like someone who can take the iniciativa and the lead overall. Someone who can take care of themselves, mentally and physically!

5. For me, I would go with: honest, confident, and funny. I can be kinda awkward sometimes. I usually get along better with introverts. I also like to talk a lot with people, and I like to listen to them too. Pretty honest with everything i say, I'm a bad liar lmao.

6. I love reading! mostly fantasy (those of glass is my fav <3) and romance, too. I tend to pick up random hobbies, too, so I like to do a little bit of everything. A plus can be napping? I just love to sleep (basically, just be in my bed)

7. I'm more of a physical touch and act of service kind of person (also gift giving) and for receiving, physical touch, and quality time:)

8. My dream date is definitely an amusement park! (I'm still waiting for it)

9. well, I don't know if this has a name, but it would be like a dark academia but soft (? like brown, nude, and soft colors (? I'm more to the chubby side, 1.63, brown curly hair, freckles, and moles (I actually have the same as Sakusa lol)

10. ENFP :))

This is all. Thank you for reading me 🫶🏻 please take your time, I'll be waiting! (English is not my first language, so sorry for the mistakes)

match up: hajime iwaizumi ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

hope u like ur matchup!! also ur name is kiyomi? that’s so cool !!

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

iwaizumi comes off as very strong and bold, but he is also very caring. you can see that in the way he interacts with oikawa lol. i also think he’d be the type of person to take the lead over most things especially if you’re too uncomfortable to speak up about it. like he’s the type of guy to send your burger back because you asked for no tomatoes

i also think iwa would be the type of person to constantly motivate you to be better while also being careful not to pressure you into stepping out of your comfort zone

he is like the definition of amusement park date and i just know he’d win you so many cute plushies, maybe even a goldfish lol

i can definitely see iwas love language being physical touch, and i can also see him going for a partner that he can connect with on an emotional level and have similar personality traits with, and your personality type is very comparable with his since he is more of an introvert who assesses a situation before diving in. he’s definitely the type of guy to think before he speaks or makes any rash decisions

[missathlete31]

Left Behind Chapter 4

Previous Chapters can be found on my Masterlist Here

Chapter Summary: Javy finds an unexpected ally in his thinking and Hangman loses a bit of himself

Warnings: Prisoner of War- brutality

It was three weeks after the funeral, when Javy was feeling the perfect mix of tipsy and emotional, that he first said out loud his thoughts on Jake not being dead.

The Daggers were on their grievance leave and though Mrs. Machado begged her son to come back home to New Orleans with them after the services were over, Javy refused, opting to stay with a couple of the other pilots in Miramar. The team seemed to be on a revolving schedule, a few going home each week while others stayed local. Javy had a feeling it was so he himself was never left alone and he appreciated the effort, accepting their phone calls and text messages every time.

Coyote's anger with the team over their inactions during the mission to help Jake had subsided from that first day on the carrier. The time between his outburst and the Seal Team finding Jake's crash site had been a lonely blur. He had turned away from the others, no matter how much they had pushed, and he hurt himself because of it. He hadn't been sleeping, his dreams filled with the images of planes going down and Jake's face screaming at him about leaving him behind. He hadn't been eating, his stomach tossing every time he even tried because he thought about a starving Hangman trapped in wreckage. He hadn't been living, cooped up first in his bunk on the carrier and then back at Base Housing, holed up under the covers in his bed as he mourned the only man who ever had the guts to bully him out of his own head.

Javy assumed he would be alone with his grief when the news of a body being found in Hangman's jet arrived but instead the team rallied. Even Captain Mitchell and Admirals Simpson and Bates seemed to make it their personal missions to ensure Javy was taken care of during some of the most difficult weeks of his life. It was hard to stay mad at them. It was hard to hate them.

Of course it wasn’t always easy to just completely forgive. In the three weeks since the funeral and four weeks since Hangman went down, Javy had those challenging moments, when the white hot rage of injustice burned inside the man. When he wanted to hit something, throw something, scream until his throat was nothing but a raspy whisper. Days where he lashed out at everyone and everything around him. But eventually he learned to quash those feelings, the long days of watching guilt eat at his teammates hurting Coyote more than he thought it could.

Staying mad was just more pain he would be adding and at this point Javy had already hurt enough to last a lifetime.

None of the Daggers were doing particularly well with the loss of Jake Seresin. Javy wished that his best friend could see that he actually was well-liked and respected (no matter how much the blonde deemed himself 'the bad guy'). Nobody laughed like they did before, nobody joked, nobody teased. They all had nightmares, Javy could tell, but they never talked about it. Their drinking habits became heavier, especially those that flew the mission, and it wasn't unusual to hear the sounds of one or more of the team throwing up in the bathroom before the end of the night.

Rooster was the worst of course, being the one that Jake had taken the missile for. Everyone could see the shadows under his eyes become more and more pronounced as the weeks went on. Javy thought he would feel some kind of joy from it but instead he just felt sad. Jake made his choice in the sky that day to save Rooster for a reason and it wasn't so that Bradley could spend the rest of his life feeling at fault because of it. If Javy was a stronger man, a better man, maybe he would have reached out and told Rooster this. He knew from the way Maverick, Penny and Phoenix seemed to hover around the mustached pilot that they were all telling him the same thing, but Coyote knew the words would mean more from him. He tried, numerous times wandering over to the depressed Lieutenant, huddling next to him over a bar top both trying to find the right words at the bottom of a bottle, but he never did, and Rooster never talked either. The silence between them speaking the wrong kind of volumes.

The group stayed mostly at the Hard Deck every night, becoming a sort of ritual, gathering around the dart board and pool table that they always used to but without anyone playing. No one had the heart anymore. They were a subdued group, usually one or more of them would visit the cemetery at some point in the day so Hangman was fresh on everyone's minds. Javy himself had been going every day so far, trying to understand what his heart and gut were telling him every time he clutched the tombstone with his best friend's name etched in it.

Because something didn't feel right about it and Javy just couldn't understand why he felt this way.

When he tried to think logically, taking his heart and his emotions out of it, the man assumed it was because of all the unknown variables. Jake Seresin was dead but no one really knew how.

Was he killed the minute his jet was hit by the missile? A dead stick before anyone could even react?

Or did he sit in his cockpit after saving Bradshaw and try to gain back some control? Was his mind struggling to stay calm and remember his training only to die on impact with the snowy ground? Did he try to eject? Did the ejection not work? Were his last moments spent counting down the moments until the flying coffin he was trapped in met foreign soil?

Or did he survive the crash? Fanboy and Bob said they didn't see an explosion so maybe Jake was able to salvage his landing? Was he stuck in the broken plane, injured and cold, looking up at the sky for some help only to see everyone fly away? Did he turn back to try to free himself only for some of his left over fuel to meet a spark from his dying engine and create a fireball strong enough to char the pilot's remains?

Or was he found by someone, or multiple someone's, who stumbled across this trapped man and tossed a grenade and watched with glee as an American life was lost.

Every one of these scenarios broke Coyote's heart but nothing felt right. Was Jake Seresin dead? That was his biggest variable because every time Javy asked himself his gut answer was always 'no' first.

He didn't plan on telling anyone what was going on in his head, unable to take the looks of pity or concern that would flash on the team's faces. He figured he would just live with it, this unanswerable question, the truth of his best friend's demise. It would be awful but it would be his burden to bear, until he himself met his end.

But something about that night at the Hard Deck made Javy's lips loosen. Maybe it was the tequila Fanboy was feeding him, or maybe because some random stranger played the song 'Slow Ride' and Bradshaw had to disappear outside with Phoenix for the remainder of the song and a few minutes after. Maybe Javy just wanted someone to share his troubles with. Either way he sat there on the barstool as the low voices of his teammates mingled around him and traced along his glass of beer. With no prompting and no preamble, he opened his mouth with a long sigh.

"I don't think Jake's dead" Javy announced softly, his fingers still tracing the condensation on his pint. He didn't look away, afraid to see the reactions of the others but he could tell that all other conversations had stopped. A tentative arm reached for his, the purple painted nails indicating that it was Halo. Coyote turned his head to the left to see the woman watching him worriedly, biting her bottom lip. "That's-" she paused as though thinking of her next words carefully, "that's completely normal Javy, sometimes it's hard to process-"

He shook his head immediately, "It's not a processing thing" he told her, told all of them listening, "I know Jake was shot down and I know there is a body in Jake's grave. I just- I just don't think it's him."

Payback was on his other side, clearing his throat to get Javy's attention. Before he spoke, the man's eyes flickered to the others before settling back on his distraught friend, "Why would you think that?” he asked calmly, much calmer than the situation called for.

“I don’t know, just something in my gut” Coyote finally swiveled in his seat facing the rest of the team. Fanboy held his drink half way to his mouth, a comical pose that held no merriment by the look of sympathy on the man's once jovial face. Omaha was next to him, looking uneasy, his eyes trekking to his WSO for guidance in how to proceed. Halo kept her arm on Javy, tight, reassuring, but her face was amiss, her grim smile too forced, her mouth opening but only the sounds of mumbled platitudes coming out. Rooster had disappeared again, without Phoenix this time, no doubt Maverick or Penny taking him aside after the pain of the song from before. With no Bradshaw and no Bob, who was home visiting his parents, Natasha looked lost, staring up at Javy's face with a forlorn look of hope, as if she was waiting for Javy to say he felt the way he did because he had Jake stashed in his room, the blonde alive and well and excited to have pulled off the greatest prank in the history of the Navy.

But Javy didn't have that proof; he had no proof actually, just a gut feeling.

"I know it sounds crazy-" he began again.

“It doesn’t” Payback patted his back softly, sliding over a glass of water as though that could cure Coyote's confusing words, "and it's not crazy to feel that way man."

"It's not" Halo reassured as well, mustering up some agreement from the rest of the squad, “when someone passes so suddenly it can be hard to-“

"I told you" he didn't mean to snap, but Javy's temper was so short nowadays, so quick to burn like they told him his friend did. "It's not about processing; I really don't think it was him in there. The body was so burned maybe h-he-" a small sob almost shattered Javy's resolve but he held firm, "maybe it wasn't him."

Omaha shook his head, "But it was his plane man."

"I know-"

"And his dog tags-"

"I know-"

"Who else could it-"

"I KNOW!" Coyote screamed back, "GOD DAMN IT NEIL, I KNOW!"

The crowd's noise dulled, the other bar patrons all turning to see where the outburst was coming from but all Javy could see was his teammates, the way Neil stuttered back like he was struck, how quickly Halo removed her hand from his arm, how Phoenix and Fanboy flinched, and even Payback looked to step back. They all think you're insane, a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Jake told him, this is why you should have kept your mouth shut.

But it was too late for that, too late to take back the words, to go back to their night and pretend that Javy hadn't ripped the Band-Aid off the gaping wound that was the loss of Hangman and expose it to the air around them all again.

It wasn’t fair. Not to any of them, Javy thought to himself, when Jake was his best friend and his brother to grieve. Throwing this on the others, whose own relationships with Hangman were timid at best, wasn’t right. Javy heaved a bone weary sigh as he stood up from his barstool, noticing both Payback and Halo’s hands out to guide him as though even the task of standing up were too much for the damaged pilot.

Maybe they were right.

“I’m sorry” Coyote mumbled, looking first at Omaha and then the rest, “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No” Callie’s face softened, the look of pity that enveloped Javy’s days now, plastered on her face, “it’s important to talk these things out, just maybe not-“ she spared a hand to emphasis around them, “-in this type of setting. Why don’t we head back to base and we can all talk-“

Javy shook his head, “no forget it-“

“Hey Coyote” Reuben reached for his shoulder, clutching it with purpose, grounding the man back to them all and out of his own head, “you just caught us a little off guard okay?” He leaned in closer, “but we are here for you, alright? To talk, to listen- let us be your sounding boards.”

“If you want to hit someone I vote Omaha-“ Fanboy cut in with the most humor any of them have been able to muster since the mission. The younger man was rewarded by a squawk of indignation from Neil, “why me?” the Caucasian man asked as he elbowed Mickey in the ribs.

“Because you’re more punchable-“

“What? No way man, you’re the punchable one-

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Guys-“ Callie’s voice cut through the bickering before she turned back to Coyote with a worried glance, matched by Payback as he wrapped his entire arm over Lieutenant Machado. Javy, who thought he was laughing at the antics of his teammates, realized with horrifying realization that he was actually crying, full sobs wracking his body before he could even begin to reign in his emotions. Tears welled up in his eyes and like a dam breaking, they began to run down his cheeks. He hitched a breath, shuddering, betrayed by his body but too lost to feel embarrassed. His team closed ranks, all of them pushing forward, Halo and Payback taking the most space, touching him, grounding him, but Omaha, Fanboy and Phoenix all finding spaces to do the same.

Cocooned in this invisible blanket of support, Javy managed to catch his breath, “I just thought-“ he exhaled through his nose, “I thought I would feel it more” he told them, all eyes watching, attention rapt. “He was my best friend…- shouldn’t I… wouldn’t I have felt it more?”

Callie ran a hand gently over the side of his face, her fingers light but comforting, making Coyote close his eyes and lean into it. “You feel it Javy, it’s just mixed with shock so your mind gets confused-“

“But every time I go to the cemetery I don’t feel him. It’s wrong somehow, it’s not- it doesn’t feel like Jake is in there-“

“It’s only been four weeks” the Asian woman reminded, “and grief comes in stages, different for everyone. There is no right or wrong in it. Your feelings are valid, no matter what they are-“

No matter how insane they are, that voice in his head sounded again. Javy felt his stomach drop, the knowledge that the others could never feel the same way as him, would only placate his thoughts with hand holding and hugs. He should have known, and he did in reality, but it still hurt. Coyote hung his head for a moment in loss before he turned back to his team. “I think I need some air” he informed, moving from the group though they all seemed to dislike the prospect.

“I’ll join you” Payback offered, the others looking to offer as well but Javy waved it off, needing some time to think on his own. “Thanks” and he found he really meant it. It was nice of his team to worry about him so much, to offer so much after everything, “but I think I need some time to myself.”

“Don’t stay out too long” Phoenix warned worriedly, sharing a look with Halo who seemed to hate everything about this idea, “and don’t go home without saying goodbye.”

“I won’t” he promised, mostly because Reuben was his ride anyway and he was way too tired to walk back to base from here.

“We mean it” Callie pulled him in to her arms for a moment, holding him tight. There was a time, a different lifetime it seemed with how these past weeks have gone, where Javy would have given anything to be held by Halo. His decade long crush on the woman, which he had denied to Jake pointedly for years, had seemed useless now, but it still felt nice to have her so near. Callie cared, and Javy would always hold love for her despite his now broken heart.

When Halo finally released him, Javy headed towards the back door of The Hard Deck. He could feel the others watching him, also picking up in his peripheral a concerned Penny Benjamin looking at him as well, but he stayed on task, getting himself outside and into the cool breeze of the night air quickly.

Coyote headed down to the beach, tossing off his shoes and leaving them behind a planter on the deck as he trekked barefoot through the sand. When he was close enough to the ocean to see it despite the darkness but far enough to not get wet, the man stopped. Javy sat his butt in the sand, uncaring that the grainy particulars would undoubtedly get everywhere. Instead he looked out at the ocean, the calming sound of waves crashing rhythmically deterring the sobs that were threatening once more. He was never the biggest ocean person, his time spent growing up in New Orleans meant he had some excursions to the Gulf waters, but it was never Coyote’s thing. Instead he looked to the skies, to something unattainable to the average person. To be a Naval Pilot, to be a part of the best of the best, afforded Javy so much in his life, but it also took. The sacrifices, the grueling training, injuries, near death experiences, suicide missions that they actually fought to be a part of, losing teammates, losing his brother- the price was seemingly too much to pay. Coyote couldn’t help but wonder if it was all worth it.

He looked up at the night sky, the stars barely visible in the light pollution of California, and wondered if peace was possible after the life he lived. Would there be a time when Javy could even look at a Jet without thinking of his best friend? Could he meet one of the daggers and not see their smiles become forced and tight as they asked how he was or how he was dealing? He didn’t think so, especially not now, but he did know that time always moved on and as did people and eventually what hurt so harshly today could be just the tiniest pinprick tomorrow.

He wasn’t quite sure if he wanted that either.

A noise disrupted his thoughts, a quiet clearing of a throat behind him. Javy turned around, surprised to see Rooster of all people having followed him. The older man looked uneasy and unsure, no doubt not wanting to overstep. He nodded shyly to the space next to Coyote, “can I- can I join you?” he asked softly.

Javy nodded, choosing not to speak. He watched Bradshaw kick up some sand as he walked closer, sitting down with an audible grunt before positioning himself to look at the ocean just like Coyote was. The two men sat in silence for a bit, not quite comforting and bordering on awkward as the minutes passed. Finally Javy couldn’t take it anymore, looking to his partner and tilting his head, “why are you out here Rooster? Did they send you to babysit?”

“No” the man shook his head, “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Okay, what about?”

Bradley sighed, "I don't really know how to say this" the brunette spoke up softly, refusing to look anywhere beyond the ocean waves, "I feel cruel even bringing it up but-"

"Just say it Bradshaw."

Javy was reward with another sigh, as though saying the next words were painful to Bradshaw. "Phoenix told me what you said to the group before, how you said you don’t feel like Jake being dead is real.”

"It's a common thing to say after a sudden death-“ Javy repeated Callie’s words and platitudes without thinking but he wasn’t really sure why. It sounded disingenuous to his own ears and he noticed Bradshaw flinch when he heard them as well.

“But you really believe it” there was a desperation to Bradley’s voice, and it stirred something in Javy’s own gut, “you don’t think he’s dead.”

Coyote thought about lying but refused. So what if Rooster thought he was crazy, the others already did. “No” he told the other man, “I don’t. I don’t think he’s gone.”

“Me either.”

The darker skinned man’s head looked over so quickly he might have gotten whiplash. He stared at the man next to him, his eyes boring into him, looking for a mocking smile or anything to say that this was all a sham. Instead Bradley met his gaze with a surprising amount of resolve. He seemed to notice Javy’s uncertainty in believing him because he opened his mouth to offer some explanation. “You were right that day in the debrief,” Rooster informed, his voice sounding shaky, “ I- I didn't think he was dead. I should have spoken up but I couldn’t. I’m sorry.”

Coyote blanched, not expecting the words. When he regained his head, he narrowed his eyes, unsure of Rooster’s motives for such a secret, "Why are you saying this to me? Why now?”

Bradley turned back to the water for a moment before meeting Javy’s graze enough to show the other man the tears in his big brown eyes, “Because I think he’s still out there” and the man stopped when he felt Javy suppress his sobs next to him, “I think he’s alive.”

“Tell me why” Coyote all but whispered, finding an ally in his thoughts as comforting as it was frightening, “why do you think that?”

Rooster leaned closer, pulling Javy into his conspiracy theory without realizing that the younger pilot had already been to the same conclusions for weeks now. “At first I thought it was from my guilt, that I was just refusing to accept it to protect myself but then I started thinking.” The mustached man closed his eyes, “there is so much of the mission that is a blur, it all happened so fast, but after Hangman was- after he was hit, I turned around and did a lap.” He opened his eyes and turned to Javy, “I looked for him.”

“And what did you see?”

“No explosions” the man shared, “no fireball on the ground. He didn’t burn up like that on impact.”

Javy pondered the words for a moment. Both Bob and Mickey had shared the same sentiment, citing that when Jake’s plane fell to the ground they were unable to see exactly where it ended up because there was no fire or smoke in the air. For Jake’s body to be charred so badly, the explosion that would have been needed should have been seen by the WSO’s. Therefore Bradley was right, Jake couldn’t have burned on impact.

One scenario crossed off Javy’s list.

But the younger man wasn’t ready to give Bradshaw too much credence, instead opting for indifference as he shrugged his shoulders, “So maybe he blew up after impact? His plane caught fire and hit his left over fuel, his ammo ignited-“

“An explosion like that would have-“ Bradley paused, sparing a glance at his teammate, “the body wouldn’t have been in one piece.”

“How did you know it was?” Javy asked, because as far as he knew the casket carrying Jake was closed from the minute the Seals brought his body to the carrier.

Rooster’s face paled as he rubbed the back of his neck apprehensively, “Mav told me, he read the report.”

“So the body was burned-“

“Like a flash fire ripped through it.” Bradley finished for him.

It dawned on Javy that neither man was using Jake’s name anymore, talking such gruesome details was only possible if they kept it impersonal, “and an explosion of his fuel tank-“

Again Rooster spoke up, “would have… scattered the remains more.”

“You don’t know that for sure though”

The older pilot frowned, “I guess I can’t say for sure” he admitted, “but from a physics standpoint, it doesn’t make sense. A force of energy that large would destroy whatever is in its path not just burn it. It would have shattered everything, even his plane

Javy looked over, again hearing new information, “his plane wasn’t destroyed?”

“It was crushed in the front but the Seal Commander’s notes said it looked more from impact. Other than that, he wrote that it was just burned.”

Another scenario crossed off, though Javy had no misgivings that the information Bradshaw was providing him was heresy at the moment. He would have to ask Simpson to see the records, or go to Mav and beg the renegade Captain if he couldn’t get the Admiral on board. He looked back at Bradley, “He could still be dead though, if the enemy found him-“

Bradley shuddered, “that’s my worst fear' he told him devastatingly, "that he survived the crash, that he was alive and waiting for us but then they found him and- and-" he couldn’t seem to continue verbally but Javy flinched as his mind pictured the rest. Jake huddled in a broken cockpit, injured and alone, praying for rescue but only seeing enemy forces coming onto his position. A sneering foreign face coming through the snow and laughing as they set fire to his plane and Jake burned. It was unimaginable.

“I guess it’s possible but I don’t think-“ Bradley sighed, “I don’t think he’s dead Javy, and you don’t either and maybe that makes us crazy and maybe we are completely wrong but it has to count for something right?”

It was insane but Javy felt himself nod along, “Right” he whispered back.

Coyote felt Bradshaw grip his arm tightly in his grip, “I know Jake and I didn’t get along and to be honest that was my fault as much as his. He instigated but I was angry and I took everything as a personal affront.” He shook his head, his brown curls bouncing lightly in the moonlight, “I never hated him-“

“I don’t think he hated you either.”

It was painful how much Bradley’s face softened at Coyote’s words, “I think we could have been good friends if we really tried, god knows we were competitive enough to bring out the best flying we could from each other. And in the end Jake, he proved even my worst taunts wrong.” Rooster looked down, “I will always feel guilty,” the brunette shared, “Hangman sacrificed himself for me, he took that missile for me, I can’t every begin to understand why he would ever-“

“Because you were his teammate” Javy cut in, a sob threatening, but he swallowed it down, “because you were his wingman, and because he thought your life meant more.”

Rooster shook his head, giving a watery grimace, “it’s not worth more-“

“Not if you don’t live it. Wallowing in your guilt isn’t what Jake would have wanted; it isn’t what he would have done it for. So stop alright? You have to-“ Javy sighed heavily, composing himself, “you have to keep living, we all have to keep living. For Jake.”

“For Jake” Bradley echoed with a nod and they both turned back to the ocean and sky once more, still too many questions to find true peace, but comfort found at least, together.

Halfway around the world, Jake Seresin was offered the same opportunity to look up at the sky, though it was daytime for him. It was the first time since his crash that he had been allowed to breathe fresh air, to see anything other than his dingy and dirty makeshift cell, and the sun’s strong rays were so bright, they made the blonde pilot wince.

Being outside was his reward for being good today. For not making any sounds and eating what little provisions his capturer’s gave him without a fuss. His first few days Jake had spent being as obnoxious as possible; talking loudly and even going as far as singing that damn Rooster song, ‘Goodness Gracious Great Balls of Fire’ to piss his enemies off. They didn’t appreciate his efforts, showering him with abuse until he was unconscious every time. But Hangman was stubborn, and despite the horrendous pain that pulsed through his body in waves he just continued talking.

Finally the Captain, the same one that the American made such a great first impression with, moved to snapping one of Jake’s fingers every time he talked out of turn.

It only took a day for all ten to be broken.

They moved to cuts then; slashes across Jake’s skin that were deep enough to hurt like a bitch but nothing that he would bleed out with. Soon Hangman was filled with the half-healed abrasions, his arms, legs, torso and back covered like a Picasso painting, but still he talked and sang.

They moved to harsher beatings, longer durations, anything they could do to break his spirit. Hangman took it all with a cocky bloody grin, laughing at their form and telling them his grandmother could hit harder. He asked them if all their countrymen were this pitiful and a bunch of pussies or was it just them. He wondered out loud if they should call for some women to show them how it’s done. They took his body and all but threw it into the wall after that quip but once Jake regained consciousness and spat out the tooth he lost from the impact, he started speaking again, louder this time.

One day Hangman decided to sing the National Anthem each time a soldier hit him. It was the Whitney Houston version, with all the high notes that Jake couldn’t hit since his balls dropped, and everything. He got through seven times before he was pistol whipped so hard he collapsed to the ground and woke up hours later with his face lying in a pool of blood from his mouth.

Yet still Hangman talked and still Hangman sang.

He naively thought he could break them first, the beatings and torture bad but the American could take as much as he could give, and he was certainly holding his own.

Until one week ago, when the captain sent a guard to choke Jake so hard he broke his larynx.

When Jake awoke once more from the loss of oxygen and the pain of the break, he had no voice left to sing or talk. All he had left were whimpers, which his capturers informed him he wasn’t allowed to do anymore either. If Jake made any sound at all he was being punished; and no more little beatings or cuts, the enemy turned creative after seeing the success of choking. Hangman found tight grips closing over his throat for even the smallest of noise now, water boarding with freezing cold river water if he dared to be heard by anyone, or thrashing of punches and kicks until he was rendered a puppet whose strings were cut, no strength to even lift his head. His only respite came in the blackness of unconsciousness.

The Captain was ruthless but effective; he broke the Hangman persona in less than a month, leaving only Jake behind.

Hangman was an annoyingly cocky, smug asshole but Jake was already a broken man. He had lived through abuse his entire childhood, had learned to be silent for fear of his father and mother. Facing similar threats with different enemies brought Jake back to these years of his youth and his mind followed suit. He huddled himself in a corner, curled in a protective ball and ignored the food being offered to him. He lost weight quickly this way, though he already had been down pounds since his capture. His eyes looked sunken and hooded, his skin pale and stretched across what were once strong and tan muscles.

The Captain noticed the change and for the last six days if Jake didn’t eat the food given to him it was shoved down his mouth until he had to swallow for fear of asphyxiation. Then he was drenched in buckets of water to ‘wash it down’ leaving the pilot shivering in his cell and a guard standing next to him to announce if he whimpered and was deserving of another punishment. Most of the times the soldiers lied, their chance to get back at all the annoying and berating Hangman had done his first few weeks. They all laughed as they spoke up excitedly in a foreign language, Jake understanding enough of what they said when the Captain returned all but too happy to call for a choking or water boarding.

Today Jake barely had the energy from his torturous days to eat, staring at the disgusting concoctions thrown in front of him with a turned stomach. Unfortunately, he didn’t think he could last through another punishment so he picked up the food with his poorly healing fingers and ate what he could. When the Captain came by to check he mockingly gave Jake pats on his head like a dog, praising him patronizingly and saying how well he did, before he called for some guards and started talking rapidly in their language. Jake worried, expecting something bad, only to be hauled to his feet that hadn’t been able to hold his weight for days anymore, and all but dragged out of his cell and out of the underground barrack he had been kept in.

Outside, Jake assumed he was being executed. That with his spirit finally broken the Captain no longer had use for him (they had long since given up on getting actual information from Jake, his lips were sealed on that despite all the torture inflicted), and now was just going to get rid of him the best way they could, a bullet to the brain and a one way ticket to a different type of hell. But instead he was let go, Jake knew it wasn’t to run off, but instead he was allowed to sit in the snow and feel the sun. The warmth of the rays on his skin, the cold of the snow on his butt, feelings that didn’t involve fists or aches. Feelings that if Jake closed his eyes he could pretend he was somewhere else, with friends or his team, playing in the snow on a winter’s day.

He got five minutes out there in peace, until just like every ‘prize’ he earned during his captivity, it ended in pain. This time Jake was unceremoniously thrown into the half frozen river nearby, his body landing half on ice and half submerged, the blonde unable to tell what impact actually hurt worse. He had no energy to swim, let alone fight a current but his torturers knew this, the captain waiting with some men about three miles downstream to catch an icy Hangman, hypothermia setting in so bad from the temperatures that he was barely shivering when the winter’s air caught his sodden body.

“Come on Mr. American” the Captain leered as they pulled Jake’s wrecked body back up the hill, “let’s go back inside, we have so much more fun to have.”

The blonde stay silent, fear of chastisement too high, but he managed to turn his green eyes up to the sky once more. He looked at the sun with a heart as broken as his body, unsure if he could even find the strength to pray for a rescue anymore or if he should just pray for the end.

[autisticprentiss]

Sleepover

Emily Prentiss X reader, part 2/?

Reader cats are named after my rats lol

/ Thursday 8th, 11:45pm. Seattle / 

It strikes Emily as quietly domestic, sitting in bed next to each other, doing your own thing on your tablets in companionable silence. 

She checks her watch and discovers it's almost midnight again, and reaches down to pull her tablet on the charger. You see her starting to move out of the corner of your eye and follow suit, leaning over Emily to place your tablet next to hers on the nightstand. 

Emily basically manhandles you into the same spooning position you started in last night,smiling as she pulls and tugs at you until she's comfortable. You don't think you can get more comfortable than being in her arms, anyway she wants you. 

Emily breaks the silence, "You think it's bad that I like cuddling you more than Sergio?" 

You laugh and shake your head slightly, "Nope, unless I wake up with you headbutting me because you're hungry, I think I prefer you over my cat too." 

"You have a cat too?" She asks.

You nod, "I have two, they stay with my neighbours while we're away." 

"What are their names?" 

"The oldest is Janeway, she's almost 10." You pause at the look Emily's giving you, she stares at you, before laughing, "Janeway? You nerd."

"Hey!" You exclaim, "She's a very well respected captain. Asimov is 4, I call her 'Azi' mostly. They were both strays that claimed me as their human not long after I moved to D.C." 

"Janeway and Asimov." Emily shakes her head,  she's smiling, "Does Reid know he has nerd competition?" 

You roll your eyes, and turn yourself back onto your side, body tucked into Emily's. 

"Goodnight, Em."

Tonight you fall asleep first, Emily's fingers tracing a figure 8 on your arm lulling you into a peaceful sleep. 

Only once she's very very sure you're asleep, does Emily change her pattern to hearts, a small, invisible, expression of her growing feelings for you, an attempt to acknowledge those feelings silently, but still outside the privacy of her mind. 

When she'd invited you to share her bed last night, it had been an impulse, no thought given to her crush on you but it was becoming undeniable, and Emily is sure when the team returns to Quantico Penelope will see right through her and double down her efforts to convince Emily to ask you out. 

Emily tries to push the thoughts from her mind, forces herself to breathe evenly and falls asleep. 

In her dream, Emily gently headbutts your shoulder a couple times until you stir, laughing at her and turning to face her. 

"I'm hungry." She whines with a smirk. 

"You're not actually a cat, you can get up and get your own food." You try to tuck yourself back into her body, but Emily pushes your shoulder down, until you're on your back and she's hovering above you, hands next to your head.

"Maybe what I want to eat is already in bed with me." 

/ 2:22am /

Suddenly you're awake, the bed shakes with the force of Emily sitting up.

"Bad dream?" You ask. 

She mumbles something and nods slightly, her eyes look heavy. You pull her back down under the blanket and into you, making her the little spoon and hoping it might help her feel safe enough to fall back asleep. 

You both fall back asleep quickly, Emily's 'bad dream' temporarily forgotten as she melts into you. 

/ 7:30am / 

Emily's been avoiding eye contact with you all morning, she turned the small TV on almost as soon as you both woke up, the news the only thing stopping the room from drowning in silence. 

You glance at her again, she's pulling her boots on and you figure you have to ask now before she leaves the room and you both get swept up in the case details again. 

"Do you wanna talk about it?" 

Emily finally looks up at you, and for the first time in a while, you actually find eye contact comforting instead of stressful.

"Talk about what?"

"Your bad dream? It can help to talk it out," You've had plenty of bad dreams yourself, and while you've never talked about them you've always appreciated when someone offers to listen.

Emily shakes her head, her shoulders relaxing slightly from how she's had her whole body tensed, on edge and jumpy all morning. 

"It wasn't really a bad dream," She clocks your disbelief before you can school your face into a neutral expression, "More like a jumpscare really." 

You just nod, knowing she's not telling you the whole truth, and follow her out the door to the lobby for another day of crime fighting. 

/ 

[ashbrat488]

Flower In The Desert - Chapter 16

Captain Syverson Fanfic

Violet dragged herself out of bed, the sound of the waves entering through the open patio doors of her bedroom. She exited her bedroom in the rental she shared with Matt for a few days, their getaway to visit the gulf and relax.

The aroma of coffee wafted into her senses as she entered the kitchen, but it hit her with a wave of nausea. Matt turned to her, concern evident in his eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Just not feeling great. How did you sleep?"

"Honestly, I haven't slept that well in so long." He offered her a cup of coffee that she promptly declined, leaping to her feet to make a quick dash to the nearest bathroom. "Vi?" He knocked softly on the door as he heard her groan, followed by the sound of running water.

He waited patiently as she opened the door with a frown. "Must have eaten something that didn't sit well with me last night. Can you make me some tea?"

"Sure."

Violet grabbed a blanket from the couch and settled into a chair on the patio, gazing out at the water. After a few minutes, she smiled up at Matt as he handed her a cup of tea and took a seat beside her. "Thanks. So, how are you, Matt?"

"Um... alright I guess. Still feels like we did nothing."

"Yeah," she offered with a sigh before taking a sip of her tea. "We join the service because we think we're going to be helping people. But we never stop to ask if they want our help..."

"I guess I never thought of it like that until now." Matt leaned back in his chair as they both sat in silence for a few minutes. "Have you kept in touch with Syverson?"

"Yeah, we chat every few days. He said it's even worse there now that we're gone."

Matt sighed, glancing at her. "So what is it with you two?"

Violet chuckled, her cheeks slightly flushed as she set her tea on the small table between them. "He worked under my dad at the start of his military career, so I was around him a lot. I was very obviously smitten with him. And he was sweet, but completely respectful. When I saw him again in the desert, I don't know. It just clicked for both of us..."

"Well, at least something good happened then, huh?"

"Right," she responded with a grin, glancing back to the water as a wave of melancholy washed over her. "Hopefully he'll be back soon..."

"I hope he makes it back to you safely, Violet."

"Yeah... me too." Violet stood up, stumbling slightly as dizziness overcame her. She caught herself, falling back onto the chair, and Matt quickly rose to his feet beside her.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Just stood up too fast is all." She waved his concern away and walked into the house ahead of him. "Let's go down to the beach for a while."

***

Violet and Matt were sharing a laugh as she unlocked the door to the rental when she heard her phone ringing from inside. "Shit." She quickly opened the door and grabbed her phone from the coffee table where she'd left it. "Hello?"

"Flower..."

"Eddie..." She smiled at Matt as she entered her bedroom for privacy. "I haven't heard your voice in a few days. I miss it."

Syverson sighed. "I know, baby. I'm sorry."

She took a seat on the edge of the bed, her hand unconsciously resting on her stomach, sensing the stress in his voice. "Are you alright?"

"Not really. You?"

"Yes... I'm in the Gulf with Matt until tomorrow. I wish we had time to have an actual conversation."

"I know, flower. I'm sorry."

Violet stood up to pace with a sigh. "We need to talk about something, Eddie..."

"Okay..." he responded apprehensively. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing is the matter. I just--" Her voice got cut off by the sound of gunfire on the other line, causing her to freeze in her spot. "SY?!"

"Fuck! I have to g--"

The line fell silent after the sound of an explosion, and she continued to yell into the phone. "Sy? Eddie? EDDIE?!"

Matt opened the bedroom door upon hearing her screaming into the phone. "Vi? What's the matter?"

She dragged her eyes up to him, her cheeks already wet with tears, as she held up the phone. "It's Sy... he..." She brought her hand up to her chest, her breaths growing rapid. Matt rushed across the room just in time to catch her as she blacked out, fainting into his arms.

"Vi!"

Chapter 17

[redlinereblogs]

i am feeling too much about our captain tonight

Jonny wonders what it says about the state of things when he gets the call from Brisson instead of Patrick.

The call is brief, professional. Awkward, stilted.

“There’s just–just so much to do. Things are really coming together pretty quickly. He’s actually in the air now. Going back home. He just want–I. I just wanted to make sure you heard from–you know–just heard about it, now that it’s official.” Pat pauses, gathering his thoughts, his courage. Then, more delicately, “He just wanted to make sure you knew, Jon. And he wanted to make sure you knew that this wasn’t...”  He trails off with another pregnant pause. “It’s just about hockey. Not..not anything else.”

When Jonny lets that go without reaction, Pat continues–slipping quickly back into agent mode after that momentary detour into something akin to friendship–going on to explain what’s going to happen, at least what the plans are right now. “The paint’s still a little wet but you get it.” Jonny doesn’t get it actually. He doesn’t get it at all. He wants to go back in time three minutes and decline this phone call.

He continues to listen with half an ear as Pat outlines the plans. When the calls are officially going to be made, what the teams are planning to post on their respective socials, the statements that are going to be released.

“We’re drafting some things for Patrick now. Want something for him to review when he lands. Kyle and Danny are both getting something together too.” Another of those loud silences. Jonny hears an inhale of breath and then, “We’ve got some time if...if you wanted to maybe...” Pat trails off and Jonny just lets the unspoken question hang for a moment. And then one more. “Just something to think about. Again, like I said, still plenty of time.”

But there isn’t really plenty of time, is there? Jonny thinks as Pat wraps up the call. There isn’t any time left at all.

The rest of the week feels like a dream––well, not really a dream. But not quite a nightmare either.

He walks from the kitchen into his office and forgets why he came in here in the first place. He then turns to go back only to pivot and head into his bedroom, only wonder why the fuck he’s in there now too.

He searches high and low for his phone to find it on the charging pad, right where he left it before hopping in the shower.

He drives all the way to Fifth Third only to remember that he actually left the house to pick up a grocery order.

He keeps losing count on his reps in the gym so he’s not even really sure if he’s hitting his performance goals but decides he doesn’t give a shit and just puts down the bar. He tries to breathe through a sudden pressure in his chest and behind his eyes and avoids making eye contact with the trainer he’s working with. When he feels like he can breathe freely again, he settles back down for another set and thinks about nothing but the rep count.

He goes to bed early just to spend most of the evening staring at his ceiling.

The days move on, simultaneously quicker and slower than usual, and the trade whispers turn into a roar.

He ignores calls and texts from his mother, his father, David, Dave, Sharpy, Duncan, and Crow.

Brisson sends him a text when more of the finer points have been finalized. Paint’s dry now, Jonny thinks. Brisson’s follow-up text has another questioning nudge about a statement but Jonny leaves him on read.

He waits for something from Patrick–a text, call, hell a fucking email, anything–and is sorely disappointed.

You should reach out, a traitorous part of his mind whispers and he viciously tells it to shut the fuck up as he increases the incline on the treadmill.

He wakes up too early from a terrible night’s sleep, reaching for someone who isn’t there. He hears an echo of laughter as he tries in vain to slip back into sleep. Good morning. The memory filters in, hazy and soft and warm. There’s a smile in those familiar blue eyes and Jonny can feel the joy in it. I know. It’s too early. Go back to sleep, babe. He throws off the covers with a curse and goes to take a shower. It’s quick and cold and he doesn’t think of anything at all.

He finally FaceTimes with Brent after the man threatens to come down and check on Jonny in person. His last text was a screenshot of an airline ticket order page and a lame dad joke about Jonny making an old man use such a significant part of his “fixed” income just because he couldn’t be bothered to answer the phone.  

“What the fuck are you talking about? Fixed income,” Jonny demands as the call connects.

“I’m a retired man now, Jonny.” Brent smirks a little. “Gotta watch those pennies.”

Despite himself, Jonny snorts but tries to cover with, “Weak, man. That was weak.”

“Eh, not one of my best but–” Brent shrugs. “Got you to answer.”

“Yeah,” Jonny concedes with a sigh. “Guess it did.”

There’s a pause then and Jonny’s not entirely sure how to fill it so Brent does it for him.

He talks about Dayna and the kids. How coaching is going. How the extended family is fairing. In the middle of some story about Brent’s stoic father-in-law babysitting the girls and getting roped into playing dress-up, Jonny finds himself cracking a smile. It feels awkward on his face in a way he doesn’t want to think about too much.  

Eventually their talk, as it always does, shifts back to hockey. They talk about the team a bit. Jonny rants probably more than he should about the state of the locker room. The front office. The press. The fans. The whole fucking mess of the season.

Jonny doesn’t talk about his health; Brent brings it up anyway. “You know I understand, Jonny. I understand what it’s like when your body just won’t cooperate anymore.”

It’s not the same, Jonny wants to snap but he knows it’s true–at least, it’s partly true in a way. They trained alongside each other before the bubble and Jonny saw just how much Brent wanted and how little his body cared about that. But, Brent’s body stopped cooperating with him after injuries. He had something he could point to, something tangible. He had the scars he could show if he wanted; he had something everyone could see and understand and sympathize with.

Some days Jonny feels like no one believes him and he doesn’t know how to make them understand. Don’t they know him by now? Don’t they see him at all? Haven’t they all watched how much of his body and soul he’s given this sport? How much of his heart he’s given to this team? Don’t they know he’d be in the lineup in a heartbeat if he could? Can’t they see how much he’d give up just to be able to make magic on ice again? Don’t they know he’d sacrifice anything and everything he had and more just to hear them cheer to Chelsea Dagger one more time?

Jonny doesn’t talk about Patrick. Brent brings him up anyway. “Jonny, you know it’s not personal, right? You know it’s just about hockey. You know it’s not–not about anything else.”

Why the fuck does everyone keep saying that? Of course it’s fucking personal, Jonny wants to lash out with but he knows that, again, Brent’s probably more right than wrong. More than anyone else, Brent nearly knows all there is to know about the story of Jonny and Patrick. He was there for the glorious beginning and the miserable end and every step along the way. Brent knows that, despite the mess it was at the end, Patrick wouldn’t do something like this to Jonny to be personal. He knows Patrick wouldn’t ever twist the knife in this deeply. And, on some level, Jonny knows it too. He’s just not ready to rise to quite that level just yet. This level is fine, thank you very much and he’s planning on staying a little while.

When Jonny doesn’t offer anything in response, Brent soldiers on. “Have you reached out to him at all?”

“...no.”

A sigh. “Are you going to?”

“...no.”

Another sigh. “Jon.”

“What?” Jonny snaps.

He doesn’t understand why this is his problem. He’s not the fucking chicken shit who made their agent make the call. He’s not the coward in this.

Also, he’s not the one leaving. Patrick’s the one jumping ship and abandoning him. Patrick’s the one leaving him alone with a bunch of glorified strangers in a locker room that doesn’t feel like his anymore. Patrick’s the one leaving him behind in a city that used to fête them both like kings and now treats Jonny like an uninvited house guest overstaying his limited welcome.

So what if their relationship had burned out in a fiery mess of devastating heartbreak? And, so, yeah, maybe Jonny had kinda, sorta, maybe been the one who’d fucked things up between them before. But he’d done that for Patrick’s own good. How could Pat still not understand that? Jon hadn't understood what the fuck was happening to him and couldn’t play anymore and was taking the season off and he didn’t want to hold Patrick back. That’s all it was supposed to be. He was just going to take some time, sort this shit out, and then everything was going to be fine again. It was never going to be forever. They were going to get it back. Are. They are going to get it back.

Doesn’t Patrick know that? Doesn’t he see? Doesn’t he know that the pair of them are always going to find each other again? Why can’t he see that? Why has he forgotten? Jonny hasn’t forgotten. Jonny knows they are it for each other. He knows they were solid once and will be solid again. He knows he fucked them up before but that they are going to find their way back together again. But that can’t happen if Patrick leaves. Hockey had been the miraculous catalyst that brought them together the first time and it was going to do it again, Jon just knows it. He fucking knows it. How the fuck is hockey going to be the thing that helps them bridge the fractured mess of their relationship and find their way back to each other if Patrick goes to fucking New York to play with the fucking Rangers.

“Jon.” Brent’s face on his screen is a picture of patience and understanding. Jonny wishes Brent was standing in front of him right now so he could punch him for it.

“Pat’s the one leaving,” Jonny all but spits out. He’s said it. He can’t believe he said it. “Pat’s the one who decided to get out and didn’t have the balls to even fucking text me about it.” He lets out a sigh and then, “I don’t understand why I have to be the fucking ‘bigger person’ in this.”

Brent waits a beat, considering. “Because you have to, Jonny.” At Jonny’s blank stare, he simply repeats it, “You just have to.”

Jonny opens his mouth but Brent’s quicker. “I know,” he instantly agrees. “I know. It’s all fucking bullshit. It’s fucking low he had Brisson call you. It’s bullshit that management put either of you in this position and you’re stuck in a rebuild you didn’t sign up for.”

Brent takes a beat and waits for Jonny’s eyes to meet his. “And it sucks that you’re out right now. I know you want to be out there playing more than anything. It sucks that you’re gonna come back to a room without him in it. It all just fucking sucks, Jon. But you have to be the bigger person right now. You just–” He shrugs. “You just do.”

Jonny doesn’t really think that the argument that he has to be the bigger person because he just has to is as compelling an argument as Brent seems to think it is but he lets it go. He nods once and makes a few noises of agreement and they wrap up their call.

He lets Brent’s words stew in the back of his mind as mindlessly browses Netflix before giving up and deciding to just start dinner early. As he’s watching onions brown, he decides that he can almost understand Pat asking Brisson to make the call. If Patrick had been the one to basically pull a “it’s not you, it’s me” on him and then shut his phone off for six months, Jon’s not sure if he would want to call him either.

He eats his dinner standing in the kitchen, because pulling out one of the stools or heading to the couch seems like entirely too much work, and flips on the TV. He watches the NHL Network’s talking heads discuss the latest leak in the Kane trade news and wonders why they even bother pretending like they don’t already know what’s going to happen and when. He’s pretty sure Brisson has already sent all the forthcoming statements to the producers already. The facade they are putting up that they are still not 100% sure what’s happening is laughable.

Jonny flips off the TV, puts his few dishes into the sink, and pulls out his phone. He’s pretty sure Brent’s argument is flawed but he also knows that Brent’s advice hasn’t ever really steered him off course before. He opens his messages and types up something quick and to the point. He reads it once and then makes himself send it before overthinking it too much.

not really sure what to say but just hope you know that ill always be on your side. you were always the best in any locker room and youll kill it with them. always rooting for you. go all the way this year. for the both of us

He reads it once more and then quickly adds,

you were the best part of all of this.

There, Jonny thinks as he swipes the app closed and locks his phone. Done.

He goes to turn on the faucet to start cleaning up when his phone buzzes.

thx jonny

i know it was a bitch move to have bris call you.

Jon stares at his phone and debates how he wants to respond when the composition bubble appears. It floats in and away for what feels like hours before another message comes through.

i just didn’t know if i could through with it if i talked to you first and i think i have to try jonny. i have to

Jon’s response is quick.

i know you do. you should do it. you deserve it.

And then he adds,

i meant it peeks. youre gonna kill it. you and breadman are gonna be magic out there

More of the bubbles. we’ll see.

Jonny waits. He's not really sure if that message needs a response. He decides it doesn’t and moves to slip his phone away when another message buzzes in.

you are the best part for me too

Jonny stares at the message for far too long before locking his phone and putting it away.

He turns on the faucet to start his dishes and thinks that he may have been wrong earlier.

Maybe there is plenty of time left after all.