#Checked back in on it and it's still rancid

[honeylemony]

Every day it's astonishing to me how people can hear that an indigenous group has historically been called a slur (L*pp) and yet seem to flail like a baby when trying to make the connection that L*ppland might be a continuation of that racist slur. Like. Yes it's a place name. It is named that because sámi lived there. They were being racist. The place is named after the slur. ""I thought L*ppland was just a place in Scandinavia"". It is. It is the place where sámi lived and it's named after the slur.

[creepycatboyz]

Your art is so good!! It’s pretty much the whole reason I got Tumblr because I saw your art looking for a reference. I love your art style!!

oh god that makes me really happy to hear :'>!!! thank you so much and im glad you like my art !!!

[peanutbutterandbananasandwichs]

.

[apocalypsegay]

the way disco elysium plays with and ultimately shatters the concept of "camaraderie" in the police and the military truly is So. Good.

it introduces you to kim who is this ideal of the Brother in Arms - you meet him and you know. he'd lay it all down for you.

you then proceed to realize this is a kim thing, not a cop thing, despite the skill that informs you about it being The Cop Camaraderie skill

the rest of the cops are not just unhelpful, they're cruel. they're a boys' club of toxic masculinity, homophobia and joking about how they abuse their power, like when jean stole mustard from a homeless man. if harry begs them for help, the greatest kindness the operator can do for him is pretend he didn't hear and cut the connection to save harry's pride. the more you put into this skill, the more the rancid underbelly of policing and policemen as individuals in this system comes to light.

and that's before we get into the plot-relevant stuff, how martinaise was abandoned by jean and co because jean was too damn busy trying to make a point to harry than do his fucking job.

then there's the bond between the paramilitary squad. unlike the cops, they're tight, a family to each other, and it makes them completely immune to reason the moment the Head of their hierarchy gets murdered. and this head of theirs, the most rational, most charismatic of them all, their leader, still was a monster who, for His Men and their Morale, saw kidnapping some poor girl and offering her like a human sacrifice to the pit of animals that was his squadron as a Rational course of action.

maybe there's love there, in a way, but it's the kind of love that wholly depends on seeing your circle as the only people deserving of life, and the rest of the world as insects.

and i think abt how so many other stories that try to be cop or military critical still fall into that trap of believing that the people in these environs are a Family doing their Best, that they got each others back and thats all that they need to get through this!(whatever plot event is happening)

and not that its like. a cesspool of keeping each other in Check or maintaining that Family only by Othering the rest of the world

[yandere-romanticaa]

Darkness loomed over Penacony as you ran barefoot across the dimly lit streets, the drunk passerbys oblivious to your rushed footsteps and heaving chest.

It has been six months since you felt the cool fresh air on your own. Six long, hellish months of bizarre captivity that made your head spin. Boothill was the personification of a locked and loaded gun, constantly on the chase for his next IPC lackey to shoot, or if he was in the mood he would hop on a totally different planet which no one knew about, which naturally only made him want to go even more.

The pain of trying to keep up with him was horrid. Rancid even. Scrapes and bruises, hell, even broken bones became a mild concern once you started to see the plethora of wanted posters which had your face plastered over them.

Solid bounty to boot.

Whenever you would bring up these concerns, Boothill would let out the most hearty laugh, his head thrown back so hard that his hat would come off. He would then proceed to smack you across your back, proudly saying that it was his own personal little way of claiming you.

No person with any common sense would dare come for you.

He would just shoot them dead on the spot.

"That's not a threat pumkin'!" he would say as he casually drank his drink, the alcohol swishing and swaying in the pristine crystal glass. He drank it all in one swoop before setting it back down on the counter, his gaze laser focused on you.

"It's a promise."

From the corner of your eye, you could see the way his hand was resting on the holster of his gun and came to the wise realization that you believed him.

Through trial and error, you have come to terms with the fact that Boothill will keep his promises, particularly if they were related to you.

Running away from him in the overcrowded bar was... was most definitely not the brightest idea but it had worked. It was indeed still working, even with your aching feet and burning lungs. Your entire body begged you to just stop and take a breath, but that option was impossible, because you knew all too well what was in store for you.

As if on cue, you heard him before you saw him.

Endless echoes of shouts, yelps and strings of curses followed you as you continued to flee from him. Boothill pushed, shoved and kicked absolutely every single person onto the ground if they dared to stand in his way, not giving a flying fuck - oh how satisfying it was to curse in front of him since you knew that he could not - any of them were hurt.

"Come back!" he yelled, his voice heavy and hoarse.

You did not turn around, such a luxury was not possible. Against your body's wishes, you ran.

He pursued.

A chorus of shots rang in the air, all of which were too close for comfort. None of the bullets were meant for you as the Galaxy Ranger was being pursued by the Bloodhound family, each one barking orders and insults at each other as they did everything they could to keep your so called lover in check.

As if Xipe themself had acknowledged your efforts, you spotted a tiny alleyway which was perfect to hide in. Boothill had lost his momentum due to his own pursuers, giving you precious seconds to decide on your next course of action.

And with the way you could feel your feet physically give into the pressure, you made your way into the pitch dark alleyway, carefully tip toeing around any possible source of sound. With a sigh you sat behind a large dumpster, the ultimate coverage in this time of need.

A faint glimmer of hope formed in your heart. It was hard to focus on anything other than the fact that you were free from his grasp. You'd much rather take in the stench of trash than his robotic arms, the memory alone making you shiver.

Behind the safety of your dumpster, the streets sounded like a mini warzone.

How typical of him. Being subtle was never his style.

Everything he did, Boothill did to be the biggest menace and pest known to society. He would tell you stories of his escapades as his eyes trailed over your whole body like a starving wolf, his sharp pearly white teeth almost looking like knives in your eyes.

Oh how he loved to sink his teeth into your neck. The noises you let out only seemed to spur him, giving him more motivation to mar your skin. Even now the traces were there, nasty and crude. Tracing a few fingers around your throat, you felt the raging pulse point becoming heavier and heavier, as if it was getting ready to pop and burst right in this dingy alley.

If it were not for the sounds of gunfire, you would have believed that your own heart was going to betray you. There was no way that no one was hearing this, the sheer intensity so strong and dizzying. Hot white pain seeped into your lungs and quickly made its way into your veins, chaining you onto the ground.

That's easy prey, you suddenly heard his voice in your head.

The second they're too scared to move, well I'll be fudged, that's when you shoot pumpkin'.

And you had quietly agreed with him on that summer eve. You could still recall how he hid you both beneath some bushes as he went to scavenge some food for you, showing you some tips and tricks along the way. You could recall the way the thorny bushes had wounded you, pricking the soft flesh of your arms, fresh droplets of blood coating the mostly dry ground.

It hasn't rained in ages on that planet, if you recall correctly.

Rain. What you would give for the fresh scent of the rain. The harsh droplets would mask the yelling, the roaring thunder could perhaps comfort you in some odd way.

And just like that, you wish had come true.

A single piece of evening dew feel on your cheek, the liquid oddly warmer than it ought to be.

You could not be bothered to care.

Closing your eyes, you decided to bask in the first moments of glorious freedom you had managed to steal for yourself.

Boothill had taught you well, ironically enough.

There would be no more yelling, no more loud gun fights, no more long distance traveling. No more needy Galaxy Ranger who wanted you to pay constant attention to him 24/7. You already knew where you wanted to settle somewhere, a quiet and quaint place, a place oozing with peace and serenity.

Much like this dumpster, but a lot more pleasing to the senses.

The streets were quiet and the only sound that could be heard was the music in the distance, a sound so hauntingly pleasant that it made you feel -

Quiet.

Why had it gone quiet?

Like a phantom he emerged from the shadows, his all too familiar silhouette taking over the entire alleyway. His footsteps were slow, methodic. Well calculated.

And like a true phantom, he never left you alone.

His presence was dark and imposing, testing out the waters to see whether or not you were going to come out on your own or if he had to get his hands dirty.

However, he did not give you the luxury of thinking.

"Found ya." he said through gritted teeth, his red eyes gleaming like stars in the night.

Stars you would have a hard time looking the same ever again.

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet-Cute - Kid's Story - 12

Source for pic

Imperfect 12

Word Count: 5443

Tags and Summary can be found here.

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Notes: Aaaaand we're down bad in the angst stage of this fic. I hope you guys are ready for it, because it's going to take a while before we're back to happy. I've envisioned that last scene before the cliffhanger FOR MONTHS in my head. That and what follows. I hope I did it justice. I love you all, but I hope I managed to crush all your pretty little hearts. Do tell me all about it in the comments! But refrain from being murderous, I still have to get to the happy ending!

Here's a Spotify Playlist I created for this story if you want to check it out!

Masterlist

The rancid smell of the docks is overwhelming. Rotten fish carcasses left too long in the sun, half-devoured by the gulls; stale water splashing softly against decaying wood; and worse: the stench of the nastiest breeds of humans, gathering to add to their list of unending sins. Himself included. 

Kid has lost track of time since he dropped you off, with nothing but the twinkling of stars and the lonesome chirps of crickets to mark the progress of the night. 

Victoria is shrouded in shadows and silence, both acting as punishment for his actions. His hands grip the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles have blanched, and he can’t stop thinking about his mistakes. 

“You should’ve walked away when you had the chance, man.” Heat’s in the passenger seat, feet propped up on the dash, arms behind his head. Kid closes his eyes and tries to swallow the lump of guilt that’s lodged in his throat. 

“But you had to be a selfish son of a bitch.” Heat turns his head, and Kid keeps his eyes closed. He doesn’t need to open them to know what’s facing him, though. Half of Heat’s head is gone, his brain blown to shit by a PKM machine gun bullet. The Kevlar vest is nothing but a silly adornment, riddled with bullet holes and still-fresh blood. 

Wire laughs in the backseat, a low, rumbling sound. When he speaks, his voice sounds different from when he was alive. His vocal cords sound completely crushed under the weight of the pillar that collapsed on top of him, flattening him into an unrecognizable lump. “Crawling back to the Pit like a dog with its tail between its legs? I knew you couldn’t stay away.”

“Coward.” The word echoes in his head in all their voices. An amalgam of misery, dragging him down with clammy fingers filled with shame. 

“If you couldn’t keep your promise of getting us out of there alive, Captain, you could’ve at least kept your promise to Kill.” Bubblegum pops his chewing gum loudly near Kid’s ear, and he wonders how he can do that when his lips are melted together by the unforgiving heat of the scorching flames that devoured his body. 

“You told him you’d stay out of Hellpit,” Quincy’s voice comes out in a wheeze, a charred hole in the middle of her torso leaving no doubt about the fate she suffered. “And look at you! You’re back already? Tsk…”

He senses Hip and Reck there, too. But they don’t speak. They never do. They got blown to shit right in front of him. Nothing but red mist, blood, and gore left behind. Nothing to bring home. Yet they still judge, they still make sure he carries the guilt on his shoulders. 

Kid removes his hands from the wheel and presses the balls of his palms against his eyes, trying to snuff out their accusations, their ugly truth. But they don’t stop. They never did, and they never will. 

“You hurt her,” Quincy says.

“Aren’t you ashamed of hitting a woman? Your woman?” Heat scolds.

“Daddy warned her to stay away, warned you, but you were never very good at taking orders, were you, Captain?” Bubblegum speaks right by his ear, and Kid swears he can feel the hot breath warming his skin. “Perhaps if you were… we’d all still be alive.”

“Shut up, shut up,” Kid mutters between clenched teeth. “Yer dead, yer all fuckin’ dead.” His voice trembles with desperation and guilt. They’re right.

Wire chuckles, his voice gravelly and rough. “We are. Because of you. And that’s why we’re here. You think a few hours in the Pit are going to help you? That you can drown us out with punches and silence our voices with blood?”

“SHUT UP! Shut the fuck up!” Kid slams his fist into the dashboard, and the plastic gives, cracking and leaving jagged, sharp pieces, splitting in a morbid mimicry of what’s happening to his heart and soul. 

“You’re still running away. From us. From her. From yourself,” Wire continues. “You will always be a coward.”

He wants to scream. To roar and tear his chest open. To lay himself bare and let guilt and pain wash him away. To be cleansed of his sins, to free his conscience… to rest.

Instead, he takes a deep breath, opens the door, and gets out of the car, leaving his demons inside, though their ghostly voices still linger in his head. 

The warehouse is dimly lit and looks as rotten as all the decaying souls inside. Poorly drawn graffiti lines the outer walls, fighting with splotches of rust in a silent battle to see which can overtake more space outside the building. The graffiti is losing. 

The man at the door tilts his head in acknowledgment and lets him in without a word. Inside, the air feels thicker, heavy with the scent of sweat, blood, and testosterone. This time, he didn’t call ahead, so he means to find Apoo. He doesn’t have to look around too much before Apoo finds him.

“Eustass, you bastard,” Apoo cackles, handing him a can of cheap beer. “When I called last week, you said you were done with me.”

“Put me in.” Kid doesn’t ask. Doesn’t plead; he doesn’t need to. Apoo will taunt him, annoy him, and then put him in. He always does. 

“Roster’s full. Wrap your dick back into your pants and find another place to itch your fists. I ain’t got room for you tonight.” Apoo’s snake-like eyes glint under the dim lights. 

“Put. Me. In. Apoo.” Kid’s clenching his jaw so tightly his ears nearly pop from the effort. 

“Geez, man. Calm your tits, I was joking. I’ll find you a spot. Drink that beer.” 

As if on cue, a roar erupts from the crowd watching. The fighter inside the cage drops to the floor, bloodied and beaten. Apoo shrugs and signals the cage handler.

“Clear that useless pile of trash from the cage. Eustass is in the house!” The crowd cheers. The regulars know him, and they’re always down for a good show. 

“Yes, Captain. Go on. Be a monster, you’re so good at that. Run away from us. From her. Run. Run. Run. Coward.” 

He can’t even identify who the voice belongs to now. The roar of the crowd is deafening. Finally. 

Kid knows they’re right. Monster, coward… he’s both. And perhaps that’s all he’ll ever be good at. There’s no use pretending. He should never have thought he had a chance at something else. A chance with you. 

He was always meant to wreck it. 

The cage door swings open with an ominous sound as they drag the limp body of the previous fighter out. Kid’s blood rushes to his ears, his hands clench, itching to hit something solid. 

And the voices?

They finally drown.

-*-

You didn’t sleep at all. 

Tears threatened to spill all night, but you wouldn’t let them. It was stupid, but you felt that if even one of them slipped from your eyelids, it would mean you’d have lost the battle. That you’d lost Kid. And that was unacceptable. 

Sometime during the endless night, you decided you wouldn’t give up. You wouldn’t let Kid wander out of your life just like that, not when it was clear you meant so much to each other. You would just do what you do best: fight for Kid. 

Fight until he gets it through his thick skull that you and he are meant to be. 

At breakfast, you put up a strong front and a smile on your face, giving your father no chance to unwrap his ‘I told you so’s.’ Not when you’re ready to fight for your relationship. 

After lunch, you barge into the garage like a hurricane following a storm. Shoulders held high, chin up, and determination fueling your steps. When you see Kid, the previously rehearsed speech goes out the window. Your heart beats like an ancient war drum inside your chest, and all you want to do is wrap your arms around his neck and pull him to you. 

He’s sitting inside Victoria, so you approach without hesitation, pressing your lips into a thin line to keep them from trembling. No weakness. 

You lean down, then jerk back with a shocked gasp.

“What happened?” Kid’s face is a mess, again. Purplish eye, split lip, dried blood caked in his eyebrow. “Kid!” Your eyes wander to Victoria as he pulls out the cracked dashboard. “What the hell happened? Did you get into an accident?”

Taking two steps back, you survey Victoria’s condition, looking for dents or any indication of what could have happened. She’s fine on the outside, which means… Kid did the damage himself.

“Nothin’ happened. Please, go home.”

His words hit you like a slap. He’s begging you to go away. He hasn’t even lifted his gaze to meet yours. 

“Talk to me, Kid.” You lean down again, extending your hand to touch him, but he climbs out of the car with the dash in his hands and puts an insurmountable amount of distance between you, even if it’s just three steps. 

“No. We ain’t doing this anymore.” He still doesn’t look at you. He turns his back and places the large piece of plastic on his workbench.

“Are you really giving up on us? After everything?” You already sound breathless, and you’re still at the beginning of the battle. 

The very air stills and hums, like it’s alive with your grief. Kid grasps the edge of the workbench, his muscles coiled tight with restraint. 

“You won’t even look at me?” An indignant scoff parts your lips. “You need to stop doing this! You can’t be hot and then cold; wise one minute and dumb as a rock the next!” Kid looks over your shoulder at you, but can’t seem to hold eye contact. 

“I know I didn’t ask for commitment. But at least show me trust. Trust in the way I feel about you, but mostly…” You swallow down a sob, clenching your fists to stop your hands from trembling. “Show trust in yourself, Kid.” 

You take a step forward, and he takes one back, eyes on the floor and clenched fists holding up his walls against your vicious strikes. 

“You said I was your girl! You called me yours, like I mattered!” A sob tears through your throat, and only by sheer will do you force your tears down. “You said I was special, Kid! What changed, huh? What changed between yesterday and today, Kid, because—”

“Ye wanna know what fuckin’ changed?” Kid roars, his eyes finally snapping up to meet yours. They’re wild and red-rimmed, filled with the exact same kind of pain you’re feeling, but brimming with the shame and guilt you're trying so hard to rid him of.

You bite back the rest of the sentence that was already halfway out of your lips when he closes the distance between you with two angry steps. “This is what fuckin’ changed!” Without giving you a chance to react, his hand is at the hem of your shirt, lifting it and exposing a dark bruise on your side. 

You gasp as he takes in the blemish. It looks terrible, you’ve seen it. It’s large and purple, about the size of a grapefruit, and hurts like a bitch. But you try to school your features back to a more nonchalant expression. And fail miserably. 

Kid removes his hand with a resigned scoff, and your shirt falls back into place like a sad curtain fall at the end of a tragedy. 

“I fuckin’ did that,” he says, his voice hollow.

“It was an accide—”

“It don’t matter!” Kid waves his hands in the air, eyes widening as he shakes his head. “I still fuckin’ hurt ye! What the fuck don’t ye get?”

Kid turns away from you when you try to reach him again. He slams Victoria’s door so hard, you have no idea how the glass didn’t shatter altogether. 

“I am the fuckin’ monster yer father warned ye about!” He runs a hand through his already dishevelled hair, and the split on his lip opens up when he roars the words. “Angry! Dangerous! Volatile!” A loud, insane cackle leaves his lips next. “I ain’t changin’, sweetheart!”

Your throat tightens, and tears flood your eyes again. He’s not allowing you inside his walls. He doesn’t let you climb them and drag him away. He’s given up.

“Stop, Kid, please…”

“This is me! I’m a fuckin’ mess! A tickin’ time bomb, waiting to blow up in yer face.” Kid lets out another dark, humourless chuckle. “Run away while ye can.”

You step forward again, undeterred. Your relationship with Kid is nothing but a war zone, with battle after battle. Each one more exhausting and draining than the last, with barely enough time in between to allow you to breathe. 

You’ll be damned if you’re going to desert it without a proper fight.

“You’re doing it again. Pushing me away, thinking you’re protecting me, when all you’re doing is hurting us both. You want to drown in guilt and shame and self-loathing alone, so I can be happy on my own?” Your scoff nearly makes him flinch. “You’re just trying to punish yourself, Kid!”

Kid lifts his head, his gaze falling on yours, and for a moment, he looks so lost that you dare to hope. You keep trying to pull him to you, begging him to take the rope you keep throwing over the walls and either break through or let you in.

Anything.

“You think this is exactly what you deserve. That you should be alone, buried in pain and guilt with no chance of absolution.” You force back a whimper. This hurts you as much as it does him.

“Shut the fuck up,” he pleads with a growl, shaking his head and averting his gaze again. 

“No! No, Kid! I will not shut up!” The shrillness in your voice is as high-pitched as it is desperate. Your nails dig so hard into the soft skin of your hands that you already know they’ll leave red, angry marks. “I’ve seen who you are when you stop trying to blame yourself for every mistake!”

“Stop talkin’!” he roars.

“I’ve seen you smile and be happy! I’ve seen you try to be better! I’ve seen you stay!” Your voice falters as your breath hitches, but you keep ramming on those walls as hard as you can. “You made me feel safe! And—” You can’t fight a watery sob, nor the tears that crash down when it hits your throat. “—and wanted, Kid! Please… God, please… fight for us!”

“There’s no ‘us’ anymore.” The finality in his words is what shakes you to your core. He’s done this before. Pushed you away so many times, trying to be the asshole everyone paints him to be. 

Is this the final straw? Is this where you finally draw your limit and simply stop fighting? Because it hurts. It hurts so much to be the only one carrying all this weight. How can you keep fighting when it suddenly feels like there’s nothing left to fight for?

“Ye know ye don’t belong with me. Ye know, deep down, that yer meant for more; bigger, fancier things. Someone stable, safe, rich.”

The feeling of déjà vu almost takes you down. Your father uttered those words to you a long time ago. They hurt then, but now? Now they make you bleed. 

“I’ve fucking had that, Kid.” It’s the second time you’ve told him this, but you still know it won’t stick. “I told you.”

“But that’s what ye fuckin’ deserve!” he growls, eyes blazing with fury and a wish to be right.  “Not—”

“I don't want that!” you snap, voice cracking under pressure. “I only want—”

“—me!”

“—you!”

The silence is so heavy it almost bounces off the walls. You're both staring at each other, chests heaving, wearing your hearts on your sleeves; bleeding out emotions through your pores.

It’s not enough. 

You realise that as soon as he takes another step back. 

“This is the only me yer gonna get. The screwed up, broken and beaten up Eustass Kid. The one with nothin’ else to give but anger and pain. Ye don’t want that.”

And round and round in circles you go. 

A deep sigh leaves your lips as they tremble through the tears. It’s enough. For today, it's enough. You’ve depleted your ammo for this battle, and you need to recharge. 

You turn your back on him, silently vowing to return tomorrow and try again. “Clearly, you still have no idea what I want.”

You’ll keep trying. You have to. Because you know he’s worth it. Even though he’s shattering you into tiny pieces every time he pushes you away, you know he still holds the power to repair them.

If only he allows himself to. 

-*-

The next day, you try again. 

You figure that with sleep comes clarity, and perhaps today Kid is more willing to listen to you, to give you another chance, or, better yet, to give himself a chance. 

However, you didn't expect to be greeted by a ‘closed’ sign and no sign of either Kid or Killer when you arrived at the garage. 

Kid doesn't answer his phone, nor were you expecting him to, honestly. He's been ignoring your calls and texts since you came back from the road trip. You try Killer next, and he declines the call. 

You're already thinking that he might be busy when he texts you in reply. 

Killer: Hey, City Girl. I'm kicking some sense into him right now. Talk later? 

You reply with a ‘yes, please’ and let a smile wash away your worries. Killer instantly knew what you wanted before you even spoke to him. And he's talking to Kid, so maybe he can speak some sense into his thick skull. 

You hope. 

-*-

“Wanna tell me what the fuck happened?” Killer looks around Kid's living room. There's a pillow ripped to shreds, a bunch of crushed beer cans, and a half-empty scotch bottle. Kid’s on the floor, curled against his knees like a wounded dog, eyes empty, red-rimmed, and head swimming with alcohol and regret. 

“I happened,” Kid scoffs. A truth hard to swallow, but a truth nonetheless. 

“Elaborate. And don't fucking lie to me. I already know you went to Hellpit, even after promising me you wouldn't anymore,” Killer sounds pissed as fuck. He even removed his bandana to address him, which means business. 

“I fucked up, Kill. What else?” The slur in his voice comes from more than just the alcohol. It's deep pain, guilt, and shame, too. 

Killer sits on the couch and crosses his legs. “I got time,” he deadpans. “Spill.”

Kid fights with his conscience first. He's ashamed to share his faults. But then he looks up, and there's no judgment in Killer's face. There never was. Not once since he's known his best friend - his brother - has he laid judgment over his actions. 

So he talks. He starts at the nightmare because, really, that's where the shitshow began. He explains how you pulled him out and how he took advantage of that. Of you. 

Killer doesn't judge. 

“I could feel her tremblin’ against me, man. She was terrified that I would leave or push her away. Ain't even needed to hear the words. I could feel it.” Kid runs a hand through his matted hair and sighs. “And I didn't want to leave, Kill. All I could think about was how natural it felt to hold her. How good it would feel to wake every fuckin’ day with her in my arms.”

“So what fucked it up?”

A scoff leaves his lips before he resumes the tale. He talks about how everything was running smoothly until it wasn't. Until that fucker Basil Hawkins pointed out the differences between you and how much you didn't belong in Kid's world. 

“I saw it, I fuckin’ saw it. She was in her element. Usin’ posh words and bein’ all icy. Put him in his place, that's for sure. But made me see she's far off my league, man.” Kid reaches for the bottle, but Killer intercepts the action. 

“I'll make you coffee instead.” Killer gets up and navigates Kid’s kitchen like it's his own. “So was that it?”

“If only…” He tells his best friend all about how you told him that he's what you wanted, that it’s him you chose. And then… then comes the hard part. The part where he has to admit that he hurt you. 

Once he starts, though, he doesn’t shy away. He tells Killer how he only saw red when he heard you call his name in distress. All he could think about was getting the motherfucker away from you and then… punish him. 

“She tried to stop me and— fuck,” Kid groans into his hand. “I pushed her. I fuckin’ laid hands on her. Her back slammed into the payphone, and I only snapped out of it ‘cause she fuckin’ yelped!” 

He punches the pillow hard. Maybe not for the first time, since the fabric gives, and it deflates in a sad little poof. 

“Her eyes, Kill— fuck. She was scared.”

Killer places two mugs of coffee on top of the end table in Kid’s living room. Their steam swirls in the air, stealing time away before Killer even speaks. 

“You didn’t hit her, man,” Killer deadpans, his voice steady in a world that hasn’t stopped shaking since it happened. “And she wasn’t scared of you, Kid.”

“How the fuck do ye know that? Ye weren’t there!”

Killer raises his shoulders, twisting his lips into a sad smile. “She ain’t like that, Kid. She didn’t stop fighting for you once since she met you.” Killer leans forward, elbows steady on his knees. “She wasn’t scared of you. She was scared for you. That’s different.”

“Ye don’t know.”

“Wanna bet? How many times did she knock on that door? How many missed calls?” Kid’s silence is answer enough. “I rest my case.”

They drink their coffee in silence, Kid eyeing the scotch bottle like he’s being tempted by the devil himself. He gets up to set the mugs in the sink, and stays there for a beat longer, just staring at the black smudge at the bottom of it.

“I still ain’t right for her. I never should’ve led her on.”

“Aye, so you’ve fucking said. And still you can’t keep your hands off each other. Face it, Kid, you and she are meant to be together, no matter how hard you try to push her away.” Killer talks as if he’s teaching a preschooler his ABCs, like it’s common sense, as easy as breathing.

It’s not.

“I ain’t gonna pretend I’m not poison.” Kid turns the faucet and fills the mugs before rinsing them and setting them aside. 

“You’re not poison, man,” Killer scoffs, rising from the couch to lean against the counter and stare his friend down. “You’re damaged, sure. Hurt? Damn right. Broken? In fucking shambles. But you’re not beyond saving. Everybody deserves redemption.”

Kid’s head hangs from his shoulders. He’s heard that speech before. Every once in a while, Killer tries this. It never works.

“You need proper help. Professional help. Therapy, not the fucking end of a bottle or to rage against everyone and everything.”

He’s said this more than once, too. 

“I ain’t fuckin’ doin’ therapy, ye know that.” He tried it for a few months after he was discharged from the army. Never really worked, he fucking hated it. Hated having to speak and open himself up to a fucking judgy stranger. Fuck that shit.

“Why, Kid?” Killer snaps, a little growl slurring his question. “Is it because you think expressing your feelings is a weakness, or are you scared to break apart once you let someone see what’s on the inside?” Killer shakes his head. “Maybe you’re just afraid of who you’ll be once you’re not broken anymore…”

Kid walks away from Killer, pacing the room like a caged lion. Nowhere to go when the world is breathing down his neck. 

“Guess yer therapy is workin’ right!”

“Aye. I never miss a fucking session, Kid. I lost my friends, too. I can’t compare our situation, and I never meant to, but I’m broken too, brother.” Killer places one hand over Kid’s shoulder. He doesn’t squeeze, he’s just there. “And talking helps.”

Kid purses his lips together, jaw tightening, and doesn’t let out another word. Instead, he turns his back on his friend and faces the window. 

Killer knows that’s his cue. So, he picks up his jacket and keys and heads for the door.

“You’re not alone unless you choose to be, Kid.”

-*-

Luffy is having a party. One of his ragers, something more chaos than entertainment. You promised you’d make an appearance, even though it’s the last thing you want, but then decided to use the get-together to your advantage.

Kid has been avoiding you. He keeps leaving the texts you send unread, doesn’t pick up your calls, and you even stopped showing up at his garage because he kept the ‘closed’ sign in place, and you were feeling guilty that he was losing clients over this. 

That’s why you begged, pleaded, and even resorted to bribery. And it worked. You made Killer promise to bring Kid to Luffy’s house by any means necessary.

It’s a long shot, you know that, but it’s one you hope works. Kid would never go to one of Luffy’s parties of his own volition, and Killer told you he would try his best, but he wouldn’t make any promises. 

You can’t help the fluttering in your stomach from how nervous you are. Kid’s been very adamant about keeping you out of his life, and this is your only chance at speaking to him. It feels like hours pass between casual conversations with your friends until you see a glimpse of red near the entrance hall.

Muttering a quick excuse to Nami and Robin, you move, eyes peeled and, sure enough, there he is: black tee, jeans, a scowl, and attitude for days. He doesn’t want to be here, so you should account for his bad temper before you approach him. 

But you don’t even care.

Making a beeline towards him, you evade sweaty bodies and flailing limbs, reaching him already breathless. “Kid!” you urge, speaking over the loud music. “Let’s talk.”

He grimaces, shooting Killer an accusatory look before the blond disappears into the crowd. Only then does he look back at you. The wounds on his face are still very fresh, but it’s the growing shadows in his eyes that worry you the most. 

“I should’ve known it was a fuckin’ trap.”

You reach for his hand and pull him to a more secluded corner. He doesn’t pull away, nor does he resist you, but you don’t really know how to interpret that reaction. You don’t dare to be hopeful, but you don’t want to be downright pessimistic either.  

“You don’t even need to say anything, just let me speak, please, Kid. Please.” You squeeze his hand, eager eyes pleading with dull, amber ones. He opens his mouth, ready to contest, but closes it and nods instead. 

“You’ve been trying to push me away since the day you realised I was much more than just another girl. You keep saying you’re broken, that you’re a monster. Dangerous. And I keep coming back, Kid. What happened at that gas station wasn’t your fault. You were protecting me. I’m not scared of you, Kid. I never was. You know why?” 

You pause, but he doesn’t answer. “Because I know who you are here,” you whisper, placing your open palm against his chest. “You’re just a man who’s learning how to be whole again. And that takes time and effort.”

“Yer wastin’ yer time on me,” he drawls, eyes shifting without catching your gaze.

“I’m not. You don’t get to decide that for me. It’s always been my decision, not yours. You say you’re all the things my father warned me about, and I already told you I accept all of that, because it’s all part of you. But you know what?”

You take a tentative step towards him, one hand holding his, the other still on his chest. You chase his gaze until you trap him against your own.

“You’re not just that. You’re not just angry and dangerous. You’re also the man who called me his girl, who took me to the beach, and threw wet sand at my hair. The one who gave me his jacket to keep me warm and taught me how to fix a car. The man who held me close and told me he wasn’t going to leave—”

The words get stuck in your throat, and you swallow down a sob. It’s now or never. He needs to understand how special he is to you.  

“I love you, Kid. So much.” The words are barely a whisper, but you feel him flinch, his breath hitching, eyes widening, and his throat working to swallow a lump. 

“Don’t do this… It just makes it harder,” he whispers, taking a step back and avoiding your gaze. 

What? How is he still pushing you away?

“Harder, Kid?” you croak. “This was never easy. I’m barely holding on as it is…” Your confession makes him flinch again, but the shadows in his eyes recede. For a few moments, the world stops, and there’s only you and him.

You, him, and the lightest flicker of hope.

Until he shakes his head, drops your hand, and disappears back into the crowd. 

-*-

You lost him. 

Not just emotionally, but physically. He’s nowhere to be seen. He vanished.

Thinking he's already gone home, you take another look around, trying to locate your friends to say you’re leaving, since you feel emotionally exhausted. You weren’t expecting to confess to Kid that you love him, but it happened.

And it didn’t change a thing. 

You have no idea what you are going to do now or where you are going to go from here. But you’ll figure it out. You always do.

But then you see him, across the room. 

Kid’s sitting at the impromptu bar, a high table Luffy set up with beverages and stools. He looks weary, ready to call it a night even though he’s nursing a drink. There’s a storm brewing behind his eyes. 

With a deep breath, you decide to try one more time. Maybe this time’s the charm, you hope. One of you has to give. Either he sees reason, or you give up. There’s no in-between.

You’re two strides in when Kid looks up. His gaze locks with yours, something unreadable behind his eyes. Shame? Sorrow? You can’t quite tell.

He swallows and, without breaking eye contact with you, reaches out and pulls a girl by the waist straight into his lap. 

You stop, heart thundering against your ribs. You barely acknowledge who the girl is or where she came from - does it even matter? She’s laughing and flirting, placing a hand on his chest. Kid’s hand grips her waist, and your world starts to shrink. 

He wouldn’t…

You know what he’s doing. Your mind knows he’s using every method he can think of to push you away, to make you see he’s not good enough for you, but your heart… your heart is in your throat, ready to spill out and shatter into tiny pieces. 

Kid narrows his gaze for a second, and then his hand slithers up the girl’s spine, settles on her nape, and curls around her hair. Your move. You’ve lost count of the times he did this to you…

You can’t breathe. The air is stale, there’s not enough oxygen in the world to fill your lungs.

You try to speak, but no sound leaves your lips, so you just mouth the words: ‘Please, don’t’. You desperately shake your head, pleading, begging him not to do this. He can’t throw away what you have like this. Because if he does…

Then what the hell have you been fighting for all this time?

You take another step forward, and your legs wobble. Your vision swims. Are you crying?

Kid is still looking at you. He pulls the girl down, leaning in, angling her face so he can kiss her.

You shake your head again, a breathless whisper leaving your lips, an unheard plea: “Don’t… please… no!”

And then—

Darkness.

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|Chapter 13|

[seat-safety-switch]

If you ask your crazy uncle, the government is always buying stuff it doesn't need, for way too much money. I don't know about that – the last time I got a paycheque for prison labour, it was real affordable – but I do know that the place to go for gettin' cool stuff is the government surplus auctions.

Think about running a government. You gotta have a lot of stuff. Like, ten or fifteen Jeeps. Probably three hundred thousand coffee makers. A gajillion pens. One of those TVs that shows what number you are in line when you're waiting for your passport. When the government is tired of having all this shit around, they plunk it on Bad-Looking eBay, and then degenerate hustlers buy it in the hope of getting a good deal.

Last week, I regret to inform you, the government made a huge mistake. They let me have a fire truck. Sure, it's not like a "real" fire truck – the military used it up north, so the colours are all wrong, and the siren is bilingual – but it still puts out fires. Which is a huge upgrade from before. Previously, my fire-safety protocol in case one of the half-century-old shitboxes filled with rancid gasoline in my yard finally went kablooey was "move away."

Importantly, it turns out that nobody wanted to buy this worn-out old fire truck. It just sat there, unloved, in a surplus auction in deepest darkest northern Quebec. I wasn't going to bid, and then I thought about how lonely it must be. Its firefighter buddies had ditched it for a younger, sexier model. None of the municipalities wanted an old fire truck, out of fear that it might be unreliable, or expensive to fix. Only new stuff for them. It's safer, they no doubt said. How could I stay my hand from bidding eighteen dollars?

The good news is, even though I ran up a significant gas bill driving it home, I have already made a lot of that money back from charging people to extinguish their houses. Turns out when their place is on fire, they'll pay just about anything, and not really check the credentials of the asshole who drives by to spray it down. Best part is that I don't have to pay for any of the water I take out of the hydrants, so I've been hydrating really well, too. My pee has never been clearer.

So the next time your weird uncle(lette) says that it's time to stop letting the government buy so much shit it doesn't need, set their house on fire. Once they're done negotiating with me, they won't be such big fans of private enterprise, either.

[burningembers91]

Breaking Eggs - Park Gyeong-Seok x Fem!Reader

Follow up piece to:

Loving You From Afar The Shape of You Family Unit The Artist's Muse

Synopsis: In an attempt to bond with Na-Yeon, you decide to bake cupcakes.

A/N: Based off of this ask

The kitchen looked akin to a bombsite. Flour caked the countertops and floor, cake mixture clung to the ceiling, the thick, gelatinous concoction dripping its sugary contents all over your once pristine kitchen. You were on your fourth attempt to bake cupcakes with Na-Yeon, but everything seemed to be going wrong. You were an excellent chef, but for some reason when it came to baking, you were a walking disaster.

The first batch of cupcakes had burnt to a crisp, the rancid stench still lingering in the air. While making the second batch, you allowed Na-Yeon to pour the sugar in, which resulted in the entire bag being dumped unceremoniously into the mixture. You were forced to run to the store for more sugar before attempting the third batch, where you forgot to add the sugar entirely. The mixture for your fourth batch currently painted the walls and ceilings of your kitchen, along with you and Na-Yeon after the electric mixer went haywire.

You were trying so hard to find the funny side of things, but your inability to bake even the simplest of recipes was beginning to frustrate you. It had been Na-Yeon’s idea to bake something for her dad. He’d been working so hard recently, teaching both day and night classes and she had wanted to do something nice for him. She sat giggling on the countertop, spooning cake mixture from her cheek into her mouth. “You have flour on your nose,” she laughed, her toothy little grin warming your heart. She was covered in cake batter, her Hello Kitty dress smeared with butter. “So do you,” you smiled back, grabbing a tea towel to wipe her clean.

Life with Park Gyeong-Seok and Na-Yeon had been so perfect recently. You’d been worried that Na-Yeon would find it hard to adjust, but she loved having you around. Even at her young age, she could see how happy you made her dad, how much more he smiled when you were around. Her current treatment had stabilised her cancer, and for the first time in a long while, you could all breathe a little easier. Gyeong-Seok’s new job and your combined income meant there was more money to do family days out. You went to the zoo, the arcade, and soft play, and Na-Yeon was able to act like a little girl for the first time her life. She could run and jump and play with other kids without her dad worrying about her health. She was still sick, but doing better than she had been, and Gyeong-Seok couldn’t help but wonder if you had something to do with that. His daughter was besotted with you, and he finally had the family he’d always dreamed of.

“Right,” you sighed, surveying the disaster-zone that was your kitchen. “Shall we clean this up, and then we’ll try one more time.” You managed to clean most of the mixture off the walls and ceiling, before starting on the fifth batch. This time, everything seemed to be going according to plan. “Ok,” you said, checking the ingredients list. “Next up, we need 4 eggs. Na-Yeon, can pass them to me?” She picked up the box with two hands, the concentration evident on her face as she handed them to you. You went to take them, but your hands slipped, and the entire carton fell to the floor, smashing all over the tiles. You both looked at the mess of yolk and shells, silent as you surveyed the damage. You could feel the frustration in you rising; not at Na-Yeon, but at yourself. A task this simple shouldn’t be so hard to complete. “You broke all the eggs,” Na-Yeon observed, her child-like ability to always speak the truth bringing a smile to your face in spite of everything. “I did,” you sighed. “Should we just go and buy some cupcakes? I think we’ve made enough mess for one day.”

You headed to the store, piling your basket high with cupcakes, cookies and a bottle of wine that you would most definitely be opening when Na-Yeon went to bed. You returned home, sinking into the sofa as you watched one of Na-Yeon’s favourite TV shows. You weren’t sure why, but today had deflated you, had made you feel like you weren’t being a good stepparent. What kind of adult couldn’t follow a simple recipe? If only you knew that Na-Yeon didn’t care about whether or not the cupcakes were successfully made. She’d found the whole day hilarious and her chubby little cheeks ached from laughing.

Gyeong-Seok arrived home later that evening, greeted by his daughter who went jumping into his arms. “Me and mummy made cupcakes,” she smiled, pointing to the store-bought ones that you’d arranged neatly on a plate.

Mummy. She’d called you mummy. You and Gyeong-Seok looked at each other, your eyes misty as your heart swelled. Is that how she saw you? you’d never set out to take the place of her mum, regardless of her absence in her daughter’s life. Gyeong-Seok could see the emotion in your face and had to swallow his own. “You did?” he cried, tossing his daughter up in the air while he waited for you to come back down to earth. He picked up one of the chocolate flavoured ones, complete with pink icing, taking a big bite. The frosting caked the tip of his nose, eliciting a squeal of delight from his daughter. Taking your places round the table, you told Gyeong-Seok about your day, minus the almost complete annihilation of the kitchen.

When it came time to put Na-Yeon to bed, she insisted you be the one to tuck her in. “Mummy reads stories better,” she smiled. There it was again, the name you’d never expected to be called, but one that filled your heart with so much love. You read her to sleep, before heading into the living room, gratefully accepting the glass of wine handed to you.

“She called me mummy,” you smiled. “Are you ok with that?” “Why wouldn’t I be?” Gyeong-Seong cupped his hand to your cheek. “I’m ok with it if you are.” You nodded, taking a sip of wine as you snuggled together on the sofa. Your life was perfect, so perfect in fact that you weren’t entirely sure the whole thing wasn’t a dream. As Gyeong-Seok got up to refill the glasses, he looked up.

“Babe?” he asked, “why is there cake mixture on the ceiling?” “Oh, we had some… technical errors.” “How many technical errors?” He smiled. “About five,” you admitted. “It did not go well.”

You no longer seemed to care about the failed baking though. You’d made a huge step in your relationship with Na-Yeong today, one that you never thought would be possible. You’d never really given much thought having a family of your own before meeting Gyeong-Seok. But now, as you sat entwined on the sofa, you realised you were the living the dream you never realised you’d had.

[inkyrainstorms]

started reading The Strange Case if Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde and— holy shit??

i don’t. what the hell. holy shit??

someone please tell me if i’m missing something here, because as far as i can tell— Hyde trampled a kid at a crosswalk, got accosted by her family and Enfield, and even though the kid wasn’t even hurt, really, just got frightened, everyone there got such a rancid vibe from Hyde that they made him pay over 20k in modern currency for it. and. he just?? HAD that much money sitting around?? to sign a check and call it a day???????? what the fuck

i’m still reeling why are we moving on from this Enfield. Get back here Enfield.

[skipper1331]

Loyalty and Love // Leah Williamson

warnings: dead family member

Leah was a gooner through and through, never been seen in a different club jersey than the arsenals as she was arsenals biggest fan.

She went through all the youth team stages until she reached the senior team. Her body was full of loyalty to the club while your career path was very different - something Leah did not like about you.

Your career started at your hometown club near Bavaria, Germany, until FC Bayern München became aware of you. You were the only girl in the league and still scored the most goals. So to be fair, your actual club career started at the FC Bayern academy. You started there at the age of 10 and played there until the age of 16.

At 16 years old, you said good bye to Germany and played for Ajax in the Netherlands. You played two years for them and enjoyed every second with the Ajax family, yet after those two years, you transferred to AS Roma. You had many transfer offers, inside the league and outside of it but even though, you had transferred a few times already, you had one rule: never play in the same league with a different club. Roma sent you on loan to Olympique Lyon where you won the champions league and the league, each time as a key player of the team. OL offered you a real contract which you gladly signed - winning the treble. After three years in France, where you had learned a lot technical stuff but also had developed further as a person, it was time for a new challenge. A new club and country.

Spain was calling, FC Barcelona to be exact. After a teary good bye, you left for good - it was time to shine at Barcelona.

Your talent was magical, you could score from every angle, no matter the position and the fans loved you.

You had been nominated for numerous awards, won many of them yet still you were the kindest person. You always made time for the fans, signed jerseys, took photos and chatted with them. You were down-to-earth.

Of course you had haters, people not liking your volatility but you didn‘t care. You had a mission and would continue it, no matter if you had no fan at all or a the whole woso community behind you. So while your job was to score goals, you only had one goal in mind.

You loved the Spanish weather, you loved the City, you loved the girls. They made Barcelona your home and more than that. Playing alongside Alexia, Mapi, CGH, Aitana and literally every one on the squad was amazing. It was the way they played and the mentality they had that fascinated you.

The first season at Barcelona was the season you won the Ballon D‘or, while still being so young. The combination of the playing style that you learned in the individual clubs in each country also made you Fifas the best. You were the best.

On the pitch, every opponent was afraid of you while off pitch they adored you. It broke your heart to leave Barcelona, the City you adored. So why did you leave? It was the thing you had to do. The thing you promised yourself at the age of 16 when you left Bayern - Arsenal would be your last stop ever. The thing you promised someone. Your retirement club, you would stay there forever - as long as they offered you a contract.

-

While everybody had greeted you with open arms at your arrival, the skipper kept her distance, only talking to you when necessary. Leah was skeptical to say at least, some things bothered her about you. She didn‘t appreciate your transfers nor respected them. Every country? Really? Why Arsenal? Her childhood club? How long did you want to play here before you stab the team in the back? When another country became interesting? Maybe the US? Sweden?

And then the tape. The strip of tape on your shoulder, it didn‘t make any sense to her. It didn‘t seem like you had problems with your shoulder nor an injury in the last few years (which she had obviously checked) so why the tape? She - well actually everyone, never saw you without. When it slowly started to look rancid, the next second it looked like new again. When you changed, even in the shower after playing it was always there. Were you hiding something?

Leah didn‘t like you, it was clear as the day but (even if she would never admit it out loud) you were a fantastic footballer. Your feet could do magic with the ball, from assisting to scoring to defending, everything you did on the pitch was faboulous. That, she had to appreciate, maybe you would help Arsenal to win the league.

This season. who knows how long you‘ll stay.

-

After your first month with the gunners, you knew for sure, your heart and brain realized it for the first time: after years, you had finally fulfilled your promise.

You felt peace, nothing more. Maybe you could forgive yourself someday.

-

Over time, Leah‘s dislike towards you turned into much more - hate. When you were near the blonde, she would glare at you or leave the room,

the moments you tried to talk to her, to get to know her, she ignored you and

she would rudely comment on the things you said.

After months of trying, you just stopped. If she doesn‘t want to talk to you that‘s okay. You didn’t have to be friends - colleagues, that‘s it.

-

"When I visited Greece-" you started to tell Lia about the beauty of the country when her work wife cut you off, "wow, Y/L/N, a country you didn‘t play in, really respectable" Leah spat, rolling her eyes. Lia smacked the back of her head, her behavior unbelievable.

It was no secret that the defender felt some sort of dislike towards you - noticeable for your team mates and especially for the swiss as she knew Leah like the back of her hand.

"Ignore her" the midfielder stated, asking you to continue your story.

"It‘s fine" not in the mood to tell the end of your Greece-story, you left the two LW‘s joining Vic as she juggled with the ball.

"You really need to stop that" the swiss international grumbled, "she‘s actually really nice"

"And her loyalty sucks! I won’t let her ruin this club"

The brunette watched the blonde march away, arms crossed.

-

Leah‘s behavior continued like that, rude comments sent your way, cut off mid sentence and ignorance accompanied you every single day. But your mindset was clear: you couldn’t be bothered by her.

You understood that Leah was skeptical of you, you‘re new and played for several clubs but on the pitch you played your absolute best each game. You deserved at least some respect.

-

"Where‘s hopper?" Leah asked - you’re never late. Her new nickname for you showed her antipathy towards you yet hiding it well enough, so other people outside of the team wouldn’t get suspicious.

"She‘s on her way home for a few days" Lia replied calmly, not wanting the blonde to explode.

You had texted Lia about your plans earlier this morning - she was your friend after all. Just because she was great friends with Leah, didn‘t mean you couldn’t be friends with her too. Like I said, you were friends with the whole team, just not with Leah. Besides you enjoyed talking to Wally as it was in your mother tongue, conversation flowing with an ease.

"What the fuck?! She does know we‘re playing a derby this weekend!" The England captain growled, marching out of the changing room, already calling you. Who do you think you were?

Her calls went straight to voicemail which only angered and frustrated her more. why were you so infuriating?

The defender was quick to approach to Jonas - what was the thinking letting you leave? Did he even know about this?

"Why did you let her leave?!" the woman asked loudly and harshly. You made her blood boil. "Is she playing on Saturday? You should kick her out of the squad! This behavior is unacceptable" she scolded.

Even though Leah knew the team would need you, she was too caught up in her anger.

"Who are you talking about?" the coach asked rather confused. Was he missing something?

"Your new signing" she huffed out frustrated, how can he be this clueless?

"She‘s not here. Apparently at home in Germany, did you know about this?"

"Oh! Yes, I know about this. It‘s in her contract"

"What do you mean? In her contract?"

"She‘s allowed to leave, no matter what day, at-" he looked at his watch, checking the date, "at the 20th of March for three days. One day to get there, one day to stay, one day to leave" he explained.

"Why?"

"I can’t tell you that"

-

On game day, you arrived on time at the stadium, your favourite defender already impatiently waiting for you in the locker room. When you entered the room, she was about to stomp over, telling you how your behavior was unacceptable and jeopardizing the team but something told her not to. Your shoulders were sagged, your eyes red and puffy as you had bags under them as well - it looked like you had been crying for awhile and not sleeping either. You looked small and sad, but not the sadness-sad, somehow it looked like grieving-sad or guilty-sad. Leah didn't know if her analysis was correct, after all, she didn't know you as you weren’t friends - not even close to that - and to the others it seemed like you were your usual self.

As you walked past her to get to your cubby, she grabbed your hand. "Are you okay?" she asked, genuinely concerned about your well-being. Her stone cold persona towards you was gone for the moment, eyes scanning your face - what was wrong? How can she help you?

"I‘m fine, Leah"

Her hand had a firm grip on yours yet it was so gentle and soft - it was almost like you could feel her 'caring' about you.

But you knew, she only cared about the team and not about you.

"Thank you for asking, though" you smiled a bit, before leaving her touch and walking over to your cubby.

You didn't want to be rude to her because it seemed like she was dead serious about her question. Besides, if you wanted to have at least a somewhat normal work-relationship with her, this might was a step in the right direction.

However, you had to admit, the feeling of her holding your hand was quite nice and made you hope for eventually being friends one day.

-

The game started with you on the bench as agreed with Jonas. It was his decision if he wanted to put you in or not and you respected either way. You were thankful enough that he had shown so much understanding about your family situation, so you wouldn’t be the one to complain about not playing.

Next to you on the bench sat the one and only Leah Williamson, who watched the game very carefully, attentively and critically - the same as you did. In your heads, the two of you analyzed what happened on the field, every bad pass, every unused space or loss of the ball was noted while you tried to come up with solutions. While Leah stated her analysis to everyone at half time, you talked to the relevant person what they should pay particular attention to - most opponents had the same playing style, even if the tactics were changed. Overall, it wasn't the played game in general that mattered, but rather the individual players on the field. If you watched them long enough, it wasn't too difficult to outplay them and their team - Leah and you knew that.

Both of you got subbed on in the 74th minute, the defender doing her job brilliantly while you ran down the wing. The game seemed like it had shifted as soon as the two of you took in your positions. Chances were created, space was used, passed connected perfectly - in all honestly, Tottenham didn‘t have any control over the match anymore, thanks to Leah and your critical eyes.

The score changed when Leah sent a ball flying towards you. With one quick motion, you dribbled around the defender, firing a shot on goal - Tottenhams goalkeeper stood no chance.

That evening a special chemistry was born between your favourite defender and her favourite hopper.

-

If you were hoping that the 'how are you' question meant something, you were wrong.

Her arrogant attitude got worse, as did her mean behavior towards you. You thought that maybe, just maybe, the link up on the pitch earned you enough respect that she at least refrains from commenting. Yet she questioned everything you did and not only that: you were regularly asked whether you would leave the club at the end of the season or whether you would leave one season after that. At this point you felt helpless, you didn’t know what her problem was with you - she seemed like a nice person towards everyone else.

"Come on, Leah, leave me alone" you grumbled as she stood next to you in the locker room with her arms crossed. Especially today she was getting on your last nerve. You hadn‘t slept well the last few days and the bickering was getting more and more exhausting.

"You weren‘t concentrated today" she stated, "this isn‘t acceptable at Arsenal."

"Leah-" Wally tried to stop her but there was no chance. She wouldn’t hold back.

"No, she has to know. She‘s played at enough clubs to know that she has to give 100%!"

"As if you haven‘t had a bad day before"

"I can keep things professional"

"No you can‘t! If you could, you would leave me the fuck alone. You are all judgy but never played somewhere else than Arsenal, so get a fucking grip. At least I have the experience of other leagues"

The whole changing room gasped, Katie smirking, happy that you stood your ground. Leah’s behavior was ridiculous. And this time she took it too far.

On an emotional level, your week had been absolutely shitty.

It‘s like a haunted house, only you‘re the ghost.

On an physical level, you were exhausted.

So, neither emotionally nor physically you could deal with her at the moment.

"Watch your mouth-" the defender started before you cut her off.

"No, you will watch yours" your pointer finger angrily poked her chest, "Listen to me closely, I will not repeat myself. You, Leah Williamson, will stay away from me. I‘m not your friend, I’m not your mate, I’m your colleague, so treat me with damn respect" with that you grabbed your stuff and left.

Leah was breathing heavily, your anger awfully attractive.

"Why are you being like this?" McCabe asked, the girls in the room waiting for an answer. This couldn’t be just because you played for several clubs and she was questioning your loyalty - there had to be more.

"Because she‘s hiding something! I won‘t let her ruin this club" she growled, sitting down in her cubby.

"What should she be hiding?" Steph questioned, you seemed like an honest and truthful person.

"She literally left for three days out of nowhere!"

"She did that when we played at Barca together too" Laia added. She had never thought about that before. But Leah was right, it was unusual to not show up at training when you weren‘t injured or sick, especially since it was in the middle of the season.

"See!"

"I still don’t see the problem" Steph shrugged her shoulders, "she‘s a lovely person and you would know that if you gave her the chance to show it" with that the Australian left. You were such a lovely girl, at least someone had to defend you. Partly, Steph could understand where Leah was coming from - that girl was bleeding Arsenal red.

After Steph had left, the other girls started to leave too, Leah and Kim the only ones left.

Leah was sorting through her bag, checking if she had everything she needed when Kim broke the silence, "Her brother died when she was 16. The 21st of March is the day of his death"

Leah stopped her movements, "what?" she turned around, the colour leaving her face.

"That’s all I know"

Kim grabbed her bag, walking past the blonde, about to leave, "I’m disappointed in you, Leah. We're a family here, and you didn't show her that. Have you ever thought about why she played in every league? You’re criticizing but not questioning. You doubt her loyalty, but she hasn't transferred within the league - doesn't that show her respect for the club she‘s played at?"

"Kim-"

"Have a nice evening"

Alone in the changing room, Leah tried to process the information, now it made sense that you were at home for a few days. It was his anniversary.

She had been a complete ass to you without knowing your story - she still didn't. However, for the first time she felt something like interest. She wanted to get to know you. She wanted to know your story. But most of all she wanted to apologize. You seemed like a sweet girl.

Of course, most of her questions were still unanswered: the tape? Why did you transfer so much? You‘re young.. but for the first time she didn't care. She fucked up and was determined to start over.

I‘m disappointed in you, Leah.

-

At home, the defender sat on her couch, eating some food while the tv was showing her favourite show. This wasn’t right. She couldn’t wait till tomorrow. She had to talk to. Now.

Leaving her food on the table, the blonde called Lia, asking where you lived. The Swiss was hesitant to tell her as she wanted to protect you but Leah sounded genuinely upset about her own behavior.

"Please.. I- I‘m in the wrong here, I know that now. I don‘t want her to go to bed angry or feeling like she‘s not a part of the Arsenal family."

After that, the Swiss texted your address, the England captain already on her way.

When she arrived at her destination, she felt nervous. She rang the bell, hoping you wouldn’t open. She wasn‘t prepared at all - she didn’t know what to say or how to make things up with you.

In that moment, she realized maybe it was a hasty decision to just show up in front of your door and apologize. It wouldn’t be deserved to accept the apology straightaway.

"Leah?" you said surprised.

"Hopper" it was almost inaudible as you had knocked the air out of her lungs. You looked breathtaking. No, it wasn‘t something fancy - you wore an oversized shirt and some shorts while your hair was down but you looked naturally beautiful.

"What are you doing here? I told you to leave me alone"

"I- um.. I came to apologize?"

"Are you asking me that?"

"I came to apologize"

"Go home, Leah-"

"Give me a chance-"

"No. Look, I don’t know why you are here or what your problem is but I don‘t want to play your sick games" you stepped back, closing the door, leaving the defender dumbfounded in front of your home.

"I know about your brother!" she called, helpless on what do to. But as soon as the word 'brother' left her mouth, she regretted it.

The door was thrown open, "what did you just say?!" you were angrier than ever. Your family had always been a sensitive subject.

"I know about your brother" the audacity Leah had to repeat her words was unbelievable.

She squeezed herself inside, looking around.

"I swear to god, if you don‘t leave-"

"I‘m really sorry" she turned around, you didn‘t know if she was talking about your brother or how she had treated you and neither did she. Either way, it made you furios, you were balling your hands into fists, trying to stay calm.

"Is that him?" she asked, walking to the picture frame on your shelf, "what‘s his name?"

It was a picture of the two of you as kids, both of you wearing Germany jerseys as you grinned in the camera - one of your favourite pictures.

And that made you explode. How dare she come to your home, implying to apologize which she wasn‘t and then act nosy.

You marched over, grabbing her at the collar of her shirt and pushing her against the wall, "leave me alone" you weren’t shouting but you voice was loud, clear and firm, almost intimidating.

Her breath hitched, "I can‘t" you were so close to her. She could see all tiny freckles, those which only appeared when you were in the sun. She was intrigued by you. Her eyes darted around your features, the wrinkle between your brows slowly disappearing.

You didn‘t know what came over you, but in less than a second, you smashed your lips against hers. Teeth were clashing, all anger and frustration purred in, hands gripping and pulling as both of your minds went blank. Neither of you could think about anything else but each other.

-

The day she stood in front of your apartment, wasn’t brought up again yet you had to admit something shifted in your dynamic that night.

The chemistry you had on the pitch only grew, Leah assisted while you scored countless of goals.

Her behavior wasn‘t as bad as before anymore, she started to greet you, say good bye or other acts of kindness yet every once in a while a snarky comments left her mouth.

After Arsenal had won the conti cup against Chelsea, the celebrations were on the rise when you entered the club. You saw some girls dancing around, some lingering at the bar and others sitting at the table.

You joined the girls at the table, sitting down next to Stina. Lost in conversation with the Swede you didn‘t notice a blonde defender standing right behind you with her arms crossed and a pout on her face, "you‘re sitting on my seat, hopper" she grumbled, the pout increasing.

"Sit somewhere else" you replied, not looking up as you continued your conversation which had been rudely cut off by the English woman.

"There is no seat left"

This time you turned around, looking up from your seat as the defender glared at you.

It was the first time, you had seen her tonight and she looked absolutely gorgeous with the outfit she was wearing.

"I think you‘re old enough to deal with that, aren‘t you?" you smiled sarcastically at her, once again turning to Stina.

"I am" she stated, a smug smile plastered on her face. With the alcohol in her system, she simply sat on your lap, one arm going around your shoulders while she started her own conversation. Weirdly confused but somehow not minding, you let her be, your arms going around her waist to support her. No one said anything about, most of them not realizing what was happening or simply not caring - as long as you weren‘t fighting everything seemed fine.

The night continued like that, chatting, dancing and enjoying the time.

"Could you let me get up, please? I‘d like to have another drink" you asked the defender who immediately got up, "can you bring one for me too?"

"Sure"

She smiled shyly before you left, sitting back down, Lia looking at her with a 'tell me right now what‘s going on' expression.

"What?"

"Seriously? What‘s going on between the two of you?" the Swiss asked, Leah‘s eyes already back on you as you stood at the bar, ordering.

"Nothing"

The defender’s brows furrowed when a man approached you, standing way too close to you, her jaw clenching.

She saw you taking a step to the side, intending to signal the man that you were not interested. In responds, he only stepped closer.

Angrily, the blonde stood up, marching over, "is everything alright here?" her hands settled on your waist, pulling you protectively towards her.

"Everything‘s alright, mate" the man slurred, stepping forward, "I’m just getting to know your friend."

Leah was quick to step in front of you, her hand holding onto you to know you‘re safe, "leave my girlfriend alone or I will break your nose" she threatened.

The man held his hands in surrender before he left.

In an instant, she turned around, cupping your cheeks, checking if you were alright.

"I‘m okay" you stated. What just happened? Girlfriend? Weird man? Break his nose? Girlfriend?

"Here‘s your drink"

She took her drink, resting her hand on the small of your back, guiding you back to the table.

What‘s just happened?

Lia was the only one left at the table while the others had joined the dancers. You were about to sit down on an empty chair when the blonde pulled you on her lap - roles reversed.

Raising an brow, "There are enough empty seats this time"

"I don’t care, hopper"

"I‘ll join the rest on the dancing floor" Wally said, winking at Leah whose cheeks turned red.

"You‘re so beautiful, you know" the England captain said, cheeks turning a deeper shade of red.

"How many drinks did you have?" you giggled, your fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns along the back of neck. "Not enough to punch that guy" she growled.

You laughed, "you‘re cute when you‘re jealous" not so sober yourself.

She squeezed your hips in responds, resting her head on your shoulder.

Both of you enjoyed the silence that came over you, also enjoying the closeness you shared in that moment. Leah wasn‘t forgiven and she knew that yet she couldn’t stay away from you. Somehow you were addicting.

For once, it was nice not to argue with the blonde but to enjoy her company. She was cute, you couldn’t lie.

"I‘m very sorry for my behavior" she whispered, "I’d like to start over again" you turned towards her, eyes locking, "I’m not asking for your forgiveness, just for a chance to show you that I’m not an awful person. You are a part of the Arsenal family and I’m sorry for treating you otherwise"

You let her words sink in. She was right, she couldn’t ask for your forgiveness because too much had happened already but starting over seemed like an opportunity for the both of you.

"I’m Y/N"

-

The next weeks, Leah was the sweetest person to you. Each morning, she greeted you with the widest smile and when she left the facility, she always made sure to tell you good bye. She treated you with respect and listened to everything you had to say. She was amazed by the stuff you had to say. She couldn’t care less if it was something as simple as your favourite colour or an opinion on something. Everything you said was important to her.

Soon the small talks turned into longer conversations until they were endless.

In matches, when somebody fouled you Leah was the first to stick up for you, arguing with the opponent before she argued with the ref (of course after she had made sure you were okay.)

Slowly but surely, Leah earned your trust and appreciation.

She wasn‘t just anybody - she was Leah Williamson and once she had set her mind, you couldn’t stop her from doing it.

She wasn‘t the Leah you had met at your arrival - she changed for good. She was much more. She was funny, loving and caring, attentive and respectful - she was actually an amazing woman and your friend.

-

Standing in the kitchen of Leah’s apartment, you made dinner for the both of you while she sat on the counter watching you and eating the ingredients.

The atmosphere was tranquil and relaxed as music filled the background.

Peace.

"His name‘s Sebastian" you turned around, grabbing another ingredient out of the fridge while you avoided Leah‘s eyes, painful stings in your heart. You wouldn‘t cry, not now. "He‘s three years older than me" you inhaled sharply, trying to compose yourself as you continued to cook. "You would have loved him, he was a big Arsenal fan, watched every match" you chuckled, "but was the worst player of all time. He never really was a sports guy anyway, he was rather the calm type of person. He loved to cook - that‘s actually one of his favourite recipes" you nodded your head towards the food splayed out on the counter.

The dish you were making had brought you so much comfort after his death. It felt familiar. Sometimes, you imagined him standing in the kitchen, so concentrated that his brows would furrow as he cut the vegetables or when he seasoned - never a drop too much. He was very particular when it came to cooking, but rightly so, because when he did it, it always tasted absolutely perfect.

"He used to be my best friend"

Your heart broke into pieces saying it out loud. He wasn‘t just anybody - he was your brother, the only man you ever loved and him more than anyone.

The two of you had a special bond, you basically owed him your entire career. Because it was him who kicked the ball around with you for hours,

because it was him who drove with you to training when your parents had to work,

because it was him who always watched your matches,

because it was him who always believed in you, even when you were on the verge of giving up.

He was your biggest supporter, the person who believed you could be the best footballer in the world one day and the one person who made sure that you had a life outside of football.

And even though you would have never shared your charger with him, you would have given him your lungs, so he could breathe.

"What happened to him?" Leah asked, her voice gentle, testing the waters if it was okay to ask or too much.

"When-" you closed your eyes, holding back the tears that were about to fall, "I was at a birthday party. At some point during the night I asked him to pick me up because I wasn't feeling well. He did it without hesitation. On the way home we- we got hit by a car and crashed into a tree. Both of us were conscious but he was coughing and bleeding very badly. It looked very bad. I prayed to every god I knew that they should take me and not him- they didn‘t listen" tears were streaming down your face as you aggressively cut the remaining vegetables, "his last words were 'make me proud' and i remember shouting at him but it was too late. I told him I loved him- he took his last breath with a smile on his face"

Silence filled the room, small sniffles the only thing being heard. You grabbed a tissue, blowing your nose and another one to dry your tears, "I am- was blaming myself for what happened, so I left home as soon as I could"

Leah was listening carefully, her heart aching seeing you in pain and the pain you had been through.

"I always complained about others leagues, because they seemed so easy and everything" you chuckled at the memory, "and he always was like 'you can‘t complain if you haven‘t played there'" mocking him, the most german accent in your voice, "so that’s what I did. I have played in several leagues but I always knew Arsenal would be my last stop"

Everything made sense now, Leah‘s heart broke even more, realizing what an absolute ass she was while you only had one goal in mind - to make him proud.

It was never your plan to ruin Arsenal, you wanted to stay there to fulfill the promise you had made in the night that changed your life.

-

Leah saw you with different eyes now, her heart was beating for you in more than one way. She admired you - for the way you play, how strong you are and how hard life had been for you yet still smiling throughout it.

She had to protect the ray of sunshine and the feisty beast you could be. You weren‘t just anybody - you were Y/N Y/L/N, the best footballer in the world.

The defender was a 100% sure, your brother would be more than proud of you and the woman you became.

But she also knew what she had to do. You deserved an apology, even more than that - you deserved every good thing in the world. And if she could she would take all your pain away.

-

It was in the middle of the night, all lights turned off besides in the kitchen of the blonde defender. She sat at the kitchen table, one sheet of paper and a fountain pen in front of her.

Dear Sebastian,

I’m Leah, Leah Williamson.

I've been playing for Arsenal my whole life. I've had my best and worst moments at the club. All of my best moments had to do with my team, my friends, my family, whereas my worst moments had something to do with my performance or injuries. Unfortunately, because of my loyalty and love for the club, I was blinded from seeing the important things - your sister. I never understood why she had transferred so often - it seemed like she was volatile and didn't understand loyalty and love. But she does - she does that more than anyone else.

Her loyalty was only ever dedicated to you.

She is an incredible person and I’m so sorry for the way i treated her at her arrival (I will tell her that, this time when I’m fully sober and explain everything). But I’m writing you to tell you that I like your sister, more than I ever thought I would. To be honest, that‘s the first time I’m admitting it to someone, I didn‘t even admit it fully to myself - but I do. I like her. And I guess, this is me asking for your blessing.

A blessing that I can treat her right if she lets me,

a blessing that I can always support her,

a blessing for one chance with her.

I know, there is much too make up for and my behavior will never be excused - no apology could be strong enough for what I have done - but I want you to know that I will regret it till the rest of my life.

So while you may be her biggest fan from paradise, I want to be her biggest fan from earth.

I promise to do everything in my power to be the best person she deserves.

Sincerely,

Leah Williamson

With a lighter in her pocket and the letter in her hand, she went outside on the balcony. The night was chill and quiet, the perfect atmosphere as the moon shone brightly. Her nerves were calming down and her mind seemed to find rest as she looked up in the sky, "one chance" she whispered, burning the letter. She watched the ink and paper slowly disappear, the smoke rising into the night sky. She knew it was unrealistic to expect any sign of positive responds but was it wrong to hope? When the letter was fully burned, she waited till the smoke was completely gone before she went back inside, turning off the kitchen light and making her way to bed.

When the blonde woke up the next day, she made her way to kitchen immediately, needing her morning tea. She frowned and froze.

"Hello?" she called.

No response.

She had turned off the light last night, didn‘t she?

She sure did!

Was this her sign? Was this the sign that the letter arrived?

It was his blessing.

-

"Hey" the blonde greeted you with a wide smile when you entered the changing room.

Matching her smile, "good morning" you walked to your cubby.

"What are you doing tonight?" she followed you, the smile not leaving her features. Someone woke up in a good mood, you thought.

"Going home, eating, then sleeping" you replied.

"Do you want to watch the Arsenals men game tonight? With me?"

"Are you nervous?" you asked, the defender fidgeting with her fingers as her cheeks were slowly turning red, "I’d love to watch the match with you."

And if you thought her smile couldn’t have gotten wider, you were wrong - the smile she sent you was from ear to ear.

"Perfect" with excitement in her body, she pressed a peck to your cheek before she happily skipped out of the room, the other girls watching the interaction that just happened closely.

"Are you blushing?" Katie laughed loudly as you embarrassingly turned to your bag, in fact blushing.

-

Half an hour before kick-off you rang Leah‘s doorbell, takeout in your hands. You weren‘t in the mood for cooking and Leah‘s cooking skill were eh, e for effort?, also you had been craving Chinese all day long, so that‘s what you got.

"I brought food with me!" you grinned, pushing yourself inside as soon as the blonde had opened the door.

"What did I do to deserve this?" she asked chuckling at your eagerness as you walked in her kitchen to get some plates and cutlery.

Cheekily, you replied "Nothing, I was just hungry"

Serving the food on the plates, you sat down at the table with Leah, comfortable silence filling the air while the two of you ate dinner.

Something was bothering Leah though, you could tell. Every now and then it seemed like she wanted to say something yet she closed her mouth quickly after.

"I‘m sorry for my behavior" she mumbled, "when you arrived at Arsenal, I mean" you looked up from your plate, meeting her eyes for a brief second, "I was skeptical about your loyalty and it got out of hand" carefully she laid her hand on yours, hoping you wouldn’t pull away.

You didn‘t - you wanted to hear what she had to say.

"I‘m really sorry and I know we started over, but I need you to know how sorry I am, this time without any drink in my system. You’re the most loyal person I know, I just didn‘t notice it"

"Leah" you said gently, "look at me, please"

The defender raised her head, looking at you with unsure eyes, rapidly tapping her foot under the table.

"Thank you for telling me. I guess I would have been skeptical too if I had played for the gunners my whole life" you told her, "I’m not excusing your behavior because it wasn‘t nice or appropriate but I don‘t have any bad blood against you either. In fact, I enjoy your company" you pulled her hand from hers, only to put it against her side profile, softly caressing the apple of her cheek.

Subconsciously, she leaned into your touch, "I‘m very sorry"

"I know"

The unspoken 'why' barrier was finally removed.

-

"Arsenal will win, I can feel it!" the defender stated, flopping down on the couch. With a bowl of popcorn in your hand, you sat down next to her, somehow your thighs touching even though the couch was big enough. "Liverpool is a tough opponent"

"Oh stop it! None of that"

Making herself comfortable on the couch, she turned on the tv, ready to see Arsenal win.

Getting comfortable yourself, you pulled your legs on the couch, leaning towards the armrest on the other side which earned you a glare, "what do think you‘re doing?"

"Oh, sorry" in an instant your feet were on the ground.

"No, what are you doing over there? Come here" she nodded to the space between her legs, signaling you to cuddle her.

With red cheeks and a racing heart, you crawled over, settling between her legs as your body melted into hers, head resting on her chest while her arms wrapped around you.

Leah was sure you could hear her racing heart and even though she desperately tried to concentrate on the match, she just couldn’t. With you in her arms, she wouldn’t ever want to think about anything else. You looked so precious in her arms, eyes fully focused on the tv.

"You are so beautiful" she admired, looking at you with heart eyes.

"What?"

You prompted yourself up, looking at the blonde who was smiling dazedly at you, "you are just so gorgeous" her fingers started to play with your hair as she got lost in your eyes, "let me take you on a date"

It was crazy how the mood had changed - from apologies at dinner to cuddling on the couch to asking you out.

"Okay" you smiled shyly, cheeks crimson red as your skin tingled.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah"

You stared at each other, eyes shining with adoration and passion, both of you slowly leaning in.

When your lips met, the world seemed to stop spinning, fireworks exploding as you melted into each other and Arsenal getting themselves on the scoreboard. She kissed you so gentle and tender - the complete opposite of the kiss you had shared before.

Everything was perfect.

-

After many many dates, the blonde asked you to be her girlfriend. None of your friends surprised at this point - you had always been obsessed with each other.

The two of you had been caught kissing several times, not even trying to hide it. Leah loved kissing you but she also loved physical touch in general, always holding your hand, having her arm around your midsection or her hand on your thigh while driving. She couldn’t get enough of you.

-

"Come to bed" the blonde whined, waiting for you to join her under the covers. Weirdly, neither of you could sleep good at night without being in each others embrace, so it became your routine - either Leah would sleep at your home or the other way around - this night you were at Leah‘s, and obviously you had stolen a shirt from her wardrobe as your pajamas - which she liked very much. You looked so cute in her clothes.

When you joined her, her arms were immediately wrapped around your body as she pulled you close, pressing a good night kiss on your temple.

The next morning, you woke up with hair in your face and a head resting on your chest, the blonde defender still peacefully asleep. You stayed like that for awhile, your hand gently rubbing her back before you slipped out of bed, ready to make some breakfast and your much needed coffee.

Since it was the weekend and your day off, you decided to surprise the England captain with some self made pancakes - you knew she loved them.

While Leah woke up due the feeling of your absence which turned out to be correct, something she didn‘t like. Sleeping without you was awful already but waking up without you? absolutely horrible.

Grumpily, she made her way out of the bedroom, the smell of pancakes hitting her nostrils, lightening her mood in an instant. Following the smell, she found you in the kitchen, only wearing a sports bra and some of her old Arsenal shorts - you looked cute - booping your head to the non existing music, no doubt that you were humming some song. Silently, the defender walked up behind you, her arms smacking around your stomach, "gosh, you scared me!"

"Sorry, baby" apologetic, she pressed multiple kisses on the side of your neck, fingers tracing along your sides.

You inhaled sharply when she traced along the stripe of tape on your shoulder, she had never brought it up before, respecting whatever story was behind it.

"You- you can take it off" you whispered breathlessly, anxiety and fear creeping through your body.

"Are you sure?" her lips kissed the other side of your shoulder, trying to calm you down and ease your mind.

"Yes, just- be careful, please"

and that’s exactly what she was. All of her moves were gentle and careful - you weren’t afraid that it would hurt pulling the tape off but the story behind it.

After the tape was ripped off a big scar was displayed on your shoulder, "it‘s from the car crash" you said, pain shooting through the healed wound. It wasn‘t an injury pain rather the type of phantom pain - suddenly you were back in the car.

"It‘s a constant reminder of what had happened - something that‘s my fault" you admitted, fighting the tears, "I started to cover it up but make up didn‘t work, so the physio at Ajax taped it. And since that day, I do it all the time"

Leah‘s heart broke at the vulnerability she was seeing, your posture seemingly weak and exposed.

"Is this okay?" Her pointer finger traced over the scar..

"Yeah"

..not in a way that made you uncomfortable but in a way that made you feel like you didn’t have to be ashamed of it.

"What about this?" for a moment you didn‘t feel her touch at all before she pressed featherlight kisses over your scar.

"yes"

Tears were streaming down your face, all of your walls broken down now, Leah made you feel perfect the way you are - because you are.

"I‘m proud of you"

Everything came crashing down, a sob escaped your throat and within a second, you were in your girlfriends arms, crying into her shoulder. The tears that you had not allowed to shed in previous years, fell all at once now.

The England captain hugged you through it all, letting you cry as long as you needed - she wouldn‘t go anywhere.

She had promised your brother to do everything in her power to be the best person you deserve and that‘s what she did, does and will do.

She kept her promise and you did too.

Arsenal was always half but never whole, Leah‘s begun to feel like home.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Wicked Games 13

Warnings: non/dubcon, cheating, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: you had a one night stand. Or did you?

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Sweetheart,” Steve’s voice sends a bristle up your neck as his apartment door opens. You crinkle the mostly empty bag of pretzels you discovered in the back of the cupboard. They’re stale. “I got you a surprise.” 

He strolls in with his usual valiant triumph. You sneer as you smell something rancid. He has a paper bag in his hands and a reusable shopping bag on his elbow. You clamp your lips tight and gag, putting your fist to your mouth. 

“Oh god,” you choke out, “oh--” You race over to the sink and wretch. “What is that?” You spew up the belly full of pretzels. “It smells like dogshit.” 

“Shwarma... Tony suggested it--” 

“Get it away from me! I asked for pickles!” You snarl and grip the counter as you puke. Your whole body shakes as you empty your guts. 

“No problem, don’t gotta be rude about it.” 

“You did this to me,” you snap between mouthfuls of bile.  

He puts down the grocery bag and walks out with the paper one. You grumble and roll your eyes back against hot tears. 

You’re left trembling and barely standing as you cling to the edge of the granite. This is miserable. If you’re not soul-suckingly hungry, you’re sick to the bone. You close your eyes as your mind stirs along with your stomach. 

All those things he’s said. The little snippets of what could or might happen. The uncertainties. ‘Your symptoms could be worse’ or ‘we don’t know what the serum will do’. What are you? A lab rat! 

You turn on the faucet without lifting your head to rinse the vomit down the drain. You would rather have stayed with Barrett. That thought, that mistaken whim, fades away. No, you wouldn’t. You’d rather not deal with either of them. 

“I called a doctor. He’ll be by later to check on you. Make sure everything’s fine,” he affirms. As if that’s some comfort. You’d prefer if he’d just take you somewhere to get rid of the thing. “Hey, I can’t hear what you’re thinking but I can hear your heart. If you’re mad, tell me.” 

“Why do you think... I’m mad?” You pant and pause to rinse out your mouth, spitting the water carelessly at the sink. You push yourself straight and huff. “You don’t care at all. You’re not the one...” you clutch your stomach. “...suffering.” 

“I care. You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” he argues. 

“Sure,” you drag your feet over to him, “where are the fucking pickles?” 

“Just...” he bends down as you do and catches your hand before you can reach into the bag. “Sit down and relax. I’ll get you whatever you need.” 

“What I need is an abortion--” 

“Shut the hell up,” he keeps a hold on your hand and yanks you up. “Don’t you say that to me again. Got it.” 

“Ow,” you wince and writhe in his grasp. “It was a fucking joke--” 

“First, it’s not funny. Second, watch your language.” 

You furrow your brow and wriggle until he lets you go. You rub your chafed skin and back up, “fine, Captain. Your order is my command.” 

You slump away and sit at the table. Being still reminds you of the small aches that are getting a bit more noticeable each time you stop. In your hips, your back, even your tits. You lean on the table with one elbow and watch him. He takes out a large jar of pickles. 

“Chocolate sauce?” You ask. 

“You didn’t say,” he goes to the drawer and grabs a fork. He brings both to you and puts them on the table. 

You pop the lid off with almost no effort. You hesitate for a moment but your hunger overtakes you. You reach in with two fingers and pluck out a thick dill. You bite into it, the juices flowing down your chin.  

“Mmmph,” you gnaw on it until it’s gone. Your cheeks are full as Steve backs up.  

“I did get chocolate. Oreos and some candy bars but you really shouldn’t eat too much of them--” 

“Give them,” you demand as you shake a hand at him. 

He sighs and drops them next to the pickles. 

“You should try something more substantial. I could do up an omelette or chicken and rice--” 

“Bland,” you dismiss his suggestion as you tear open the pack of oreos. You make a sandwich with two of the cookies and half a pickle. You shove half in your mouth and growl. 

“God...” he mutters. 

You look at him with a flash of rag. You chew and swallow and stand. 

“Now you think I’m gross, huh?” 

“No,” he watches you placidly. “I’m just concerned--” 

“You weren’t that night when you didn’t put a damn condom on. Fucking a stranger.” 

“I just told you to watch your language,” he sniffs. 

“You’re not my goddamn father. I haven’t seen him in a decade and good riddance.” You stuff the rest of the cookies and pickle into your mouth. 

“Right.” 

You tilt your head and munch rapidly, another streak of agitation rising. 

“What? You think I have daddy issues? Funny how men say that instead of thinking that they might be the issue.” 

“I didn’t say--” 

“No, you’re just standing there like—like a dumbass.” 

“Last time,” he warns. 

“Or what? What are you going to do, Steve Rogers? Can’t get me drunk this time, so maybe you’ll just hold me down and ra--” 

“Don’t,” he grabs you by a fistful of hair. He’s fast and strong. You yelp. “That’s not what happened. You wanted it. You said so.” 

“I was blacked out. I don’t remember,” you sneer through your teeth. 

“You keep saying that but I can hear your pulse pick up--” 

“Ouch. What is it, Cap? You only pick on the weak? You can’t fuck a drunk girl so now you gotta rough around a pregnant woman--” 

He lets you go and raises both hands. His blue eyes are dilated and his jaw is square and sharp. “Enough. Alright. Enough. I went out and got what you want. Sit down and eat.” 

You stare at him and rub your scalp. He sighs and drops his arms. 

“Don’t act like you had it better before,” he shakes his head and picks up the shopping bag. “Or that you can do better than this.” 

His words slice through you. It must be the hormones but self-awareness can’t take away that ache. He isn’t wrong, even if this isn’t what you want. You stagger back and sit. 

Look at you. You’re some pathetic animal eating pickles and cookies. You’re disgusting. You’re... lost. 

[omgfangirlland]

I saw an edit video of Edna from incredible and now I want an Edna reader. If it's an Edna reader x MCU.. How do you feel it would go if reader is the daughter of Lex Luther? (I'm really starting to get obsessed with a Dad!Lex Luther.. Thanks to you). He's a great dad but reader wants her own path. She makes costume for both villain and heroes (kinda like leo zelinsky from marvel).

I think Edna reader would be better be in invincible.. They could really use a better outfit (the durability, designs or whatnot)..

Going to a baby baptism tomorrow, so I'm double posting today 🫠

When I first saw the show and reread the comics- all I could think when seeing Nolan's cape was Edna screaming

I'm giving you a DC x MCU x Incredible crossover btw

BUT let's start EARLIER.

Lex isn't given the womanizer persona Brucie has, he still seems to get women, but doesn't go out of his way to be a loose cannon- which is why he was so surprised when one of his few escapades yells from the crowd of the conference he was at, storms her way throught security and pushes a baby into his arms and throws a folder of documents.

He doesn't really register more beyond the fact that you're his baby, doesn't hear the lady call you a little demon, and sure as hell doesn't hear the reporters go crazy, all he sees is you, a baby. A baby that looks at him and frowns while babbling, like you're judging him.

He's smitten. And the cameras catch how he fights a smile and how his eyes tear up as he brings you to his chest, and despite pouting, you nuzzle closer. The internet goes crazy with the drama- mostly memeing about Luthor actually being a human and not a robot in disguise and how even baby you knew the man was rancid(the netizen's words, not mine)

Luthor doesn't care, he didn't care even then, when the first thing he did after craddling you to his chest was to turn his back to the crowd and leave the platform with a spring in his step, ignoring how his assistant scrambled to take the folder your mom left behind before running after him.

Man was on a mission- a new mission! And firstly- he sued for full custody, no visitation rights, and to make sure the woman didn't argue, he threw in a nice, one-time check. He was a father now- and he sure as hell isn't letting someone who essentially threw a baby lamb to a grown wolf.

But he soon understood why your mother called you a demon- he's never seen a baby throw a tantrum over a slightly off black jacket mixed with true black pants. Honestly, he enjoyed letting you dress him. He enjoyed talking to you, like you understood it all, and maybe you did, but he wouldn't get just how much you got until you started talking.

Now, Superman got nervous- for the baby but also because Lex hasn't done anything in a hot while. When he visited the man, Lex just threw him a glance from his seat at his office desk before turning back to you in your high chair with a huff and continued feeding you. "My daughter is more important than you, Superman. Get off your high horse."

You just squinted at the Kryptonian, judging his bright, clashing colors. And Clark pouted, not because Lex was busy with his kid now, but because he's never seen a baby judge him like this. He, now, wants to be your favorite(only) uncle.

Lex refused, downright glared daggers at anyone who even suggested getting you a babysitter. Like EXCUSE YOU- he has two hands, a baby wrap, and can multitask, thank you very much. But I'm quite sure this need for you to be with him 24/7 stems from his deadbeat dad.

Lois is slightly more willing to interview Lex if she can hold you, and Brucie(before any robins) is the designated baby snatcher at every gala(despite how much Bruce may argue against it). Lex doesn't know how he does it- but Bruce always somehow gets you, sits in a quiet corner of the room, as close to his chest as possible, and judges and gossips with you about the others, Brucie persona gone.

"See Madame Cobblepot? She's hiding a drug lab in the basement of her manor in Gotham... and the mix of feathers with fur is so tacky." And you just babble in agreement. Lex would be more angry if it didn't keep you from being overwhelmed, fussy, and away from the eager hands of the old people itching to pinch your cheeks.

Your first, true word, not pa, ba, or da, is ugly as you point at Lex in a light green with purple and gold details mock suit, the tailor was clearly disappointed about, but didn't dare to say anything. "... I thought it looked nice...?" He was hurt for many reasons. You just give him a blank stare before sighing. "Ugly, papa."

Lex resigns to a deep forest green with a lilac flower embroidered modestly around his chest pocket. And if anyone asks, your first words were dada, and daddy.

He got his licks back after you called out Clark for wearing an ugly tie and suits three sizes too big. Brucie sadly didn't go unscathed as you clocked his Admiral blue pants and Azure blue jacket. Dick snorted while Bruce pouted, shoulders slumping in defeat. Richard was sitting on his lap, and little toddler you were sitting on the boy's lap, so Bruce wrapped his hands around both of you and squeezed gently, making both of you whine. "Mean children, both of you." His huff had no real bite to it.

The thing that turned you into a costume maker was seeing a compilation of heroes and villains tripping over their capes. That simply won't do. Not when you could do something about it.

Like you can give a pass to Superman and Batman, Clark's cape is essentially a shield and helps add to his friendly superhero bit, and Bruce's is a glider and helps him melt into the shadows, hell, even Doctor Strange's cape had a use. You could give them a pass... Barely.

(My cat left my lap because I shifted one millimeter while typing. I'm hurt and sad)

But others, like Mr. Magneto, Omni-Man, and Mr. Miracle, were just using them for flair, which you understood, but you couldn't have it. (You can't even look at Captain America and his Puerto Rican flag looking costume)You couldn't start with either of them, but your father was having a business in Gateway City, so your first victim client will be Wonder Woman.

Lex could only watch in shock, and a bit of pride as you talked to Wonder Woman, showing her your drawings of possible better costumes than the flashing hazard she usually wore. He was as mesmerized by your little designs as she was, all modern but clearly Amazonian inspired. It'll be more flexible, and it'll protect her legs and chest more. You even had a mood board for how she could style her hair.

Wonder Woman smiled at you after your explanation. "And do you think you're up for the challenge of doing it, little one?" And Lex was ready to build you an empire at the way your whole face shone while nodding at the superhero. But you could do it on your own... well, not right now, sadly, the tools were too heavy to weld the armor on your own.

By the following week, Wonder Woman had her new costume, moved better and faster in it, and after getting her feedback, you went and started plotting. In a month's time, everyone's weak points were exposed by a barely 10 years old girl on live TV.

"Omni-Man?"

"Someone stronger than him, for example Superman, could take hold of his cape and launch him into the sun, that is, if it doesn't rip. Overall, his costume is just fabric, and we know Viltrumites get hurt if they get hit by enough force. Superman or a deadly strong laser could easily take out his limbs to incapacitate him... or just decapitate him."

"What about Sonar?

"Minimal gear, hit the back of his knees or elbows to pop them out of their sockets, but I guess the biggest problem is getting close enough without him blowing your head- bullets wouldn't work either. Could just distract him by angering him so he'd be too adrenaline high and emotional to pay attention and have someone smash a rock into him from a safe distance. He wears pants and just a shirt... not much of an armor."

"...The new hero, Black Panther?"

"He gets punched a lot, unless the mask obscures his vision, I think it's a skill issue."

"And you'd be willing to make costumes for both Villains and Heroes?"

"Business is business."

The camera slowly moved to Lex, who was smiling and wiping away tears, the mics picking up him calling you his little business woman.

Your first client was Tony Stark. Frankly- he did it because he thought you were a funny kid. And he wanted to see if you saw any flaws or weak spots in his armor- which the latch not immediately opening on the shutdown of the suit was your first concern- but the man just wanted some new fancy, one of a kind, suits.

Your second was a very reluctant Magneto. He loved the cape. But you were right in it being a hazard, especially if it got caught in his own powers. The third was a frowning Nolan. He didn't appreciate you saying Superman could kill him- alas, he didn't get to say anything as you saw him and immediately showed him the designs you've made long before.

He won't tell you how much better it felt to punch, knee, or elbow now that he had reinforced joints and padded gloves. And he'd rather eat kryptonite than admit he flies better without the cape. But he did let Debbie teach him how to leave star reviews.

T'Challa's mask, in fact, was blinding his sides, and the Green Lanterns quickly used your plan of action in a desperate move to deal with Sonar.

Slowly, your business started blooming, and your father started whining more and more, begging just for a hint at the weaknesses in your costumes. "Dad, I love you. No." He just pouted and whined more.

However, your proudest work was the costume designed together with Kon, for purely sentimental reasons. It wasn't the best of the best design-wise, but it wasn't terrible either. You simply loved it because of how much fun your little brother had making it with you while making fun of your dad.

[divinees]

𝐌𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐟𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐬 | distant!hyuck x heartbroken!reader

↳ wc: 940 words

synop: after a heated argument with your (ex) boyfriend that led to your break up, your cold and forever awkward bestfriend finds you at the beach, and tries his utmost best to make it up to you.

an: my first ever fic AHHH!! im pretty nervy about this and how it turned out and even though i checked, there’s probably some grammar mistakes that escaped me….ignore those plis…but i mean its all for fun and shits and giggles so who cares anyways ….enjoy i guess!! ^^

the light blue sky was filled will spread out clouds that blocked rays of sunlight to fall on the languid sea, waves rolling in slow and heavy. it was a relatively good day. sunshine spilling everywhere before all of this happened…

your now ex boyfriend broke up with you in a frenzy, in a heated argument where he admitted that he cheated on you and threw profanities left and right, a kind you would have never thought you’d hear from him, out of all people.

tears had already wet your face multiple times, and god were you tired. so tired of today already. but there was only one place you could possibly go to calm your racing thoughts before inevitably sinking into your mess of a bed, ridden with clothes and the rancid smell of him. the beach.

your car keys were probably still in the ignition, your phone half-buried into the damp sand, your blouse tied around your waist as your skin was exposed to the now chilly weather, left in only a black camisole. but who cared anyways? no one was at the beach in the middle of september, sat there all slumped with poorly wiped away mascara and a destroyed self-esteem.

no one but the one person you knew would find you sooner or later. the one person you can recognize just from his timid steps and the round shinchan keychain hitting against his car keys. the one person that now stands besides you, peering down at your seated figure, eyes scrambling at the thrown phone which would go off every 5 minutes with new texts from your friends, and your neighbors which had seen the full argument unfold before storming off here.

you knew he wouldn’t speak first. he never did. as much as donghyuck was your best friend, he would never change, and you just had to accept that. he had always been cold and distant in a way that drove you insane, but he still always succeeds to let you know he also has your back no matter what.

never once did he peep a word about your relationship. the only thing he did was comfort you silently when you went through another rough argument with your ex, leaving you to sniffle and sigh in the quietness of his apartment, one blanket thrown over the both of you as he would manspread and cross his legs in the most relaxed matter, allowing your head to hit his shoulder when the crying hit too hard on your body.

but that’s all there was. and sometimes it did infuriate you. to an unfathomable degree. in a time where you needed at least an “you’re ok”, he stood there. and guilt enveloped your whole being when you thought like this. you had known him since forever. it was too late to change now. so with the unfleeting thought that he would simply sit in your presence, you didn’t even bother to look up at him.

“you have goosebumps.” he states with an awkward tone, now joining you on the cold sand. another notification hits, and he eyes it again before reaching over to turn it off and shaking all the sand out of the charging port. your eyes stay unmoving from the sea, expression unreadable.

“i know.” the wind picks up that hits your unclothed skin again, making the man next to you wince internally. in a swift movement, he reaches around your waist, catching you off guard as you finally look him in the eye, feeling your blouse slip off as his act now forces both of you into close proximity. feeling him fumble with your blouse, he tries his utmost best to keep eye contact.

“um, you should really wear this...” immediately as the blouse comes free, he backs away, scratching the back of his head as he diverts his eyesight to anywhere but you. the last thing he needed was you in his peripheral after that. he could feel you burning holes on the side of his face, before he finally speaks again.

“i heard about the…argument.” his head is now bowed, sitting criss cross on the sand as he picks on his sleeve or does really anything to escape your fiery gaze. “i really don’t want a recap, hyuck.” his eyes slightly widen as he hears your raspy voice from all the crying before returning back to his still expression.

“i just wanted to give you this. just incase.” in the sand rests a purple crystal, or also what science would call an amethyst. in a world of many beliefs, you had always chosen to settle yourself into these fine crystals and gems, knowing all their meanings and having a massive collection of them. but potent warmth spreads against your chest as you figured that donghyuck had done research to get you a crystal that brought in calming energy and helped relieve emotional pain, just in time after your breakup.

although you had as many amethyst as stars in the sky, you took this in your palm with such frailty, donghyuck thought the crystal was defected. “you probably know what it means…” he tries his best to fill in the silence, clearly too much out of his comfort zone to realize how much you treasured it. “it’s beautiful, hyuck.” a big smile spreads against your mascara smeared face, another breeze hitting both of you as thin strands of hair blew into your vision, his own rising and meeting your eyes with much more comfort.

and you swear you could see a subtle smile on his once stoic face.

[teddypines]

The aftermath

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

Sumary: The aftermath of a not so great mission. Reader x task force 141, Fem!reader (she/her pronounce)

Note: This is a rather long one, it bit angsty and i might make a part 2 to this. I want tf 141 in Schotland!! Also yes the picture up top does not match the vibe of the story, but it's a funny picture. Art / picture is from pintrest, credits go to the creator

To Scotland Part 2

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

Location: Safehouse, unknown. Date:  somewhere in September. 20XX

Both Gaz and Ghost lay on the only two beds in the whole safehouse, Gaz more hurt then Ghost, but both still beaten up quiet bad. Soap kept watch for now as Price went out to try and contact Laswell and any share or form while Y/N tried to make something eatable out of there rations. They’ve been stuck in the safehouse for over 2 weeks and with both Gaz and Ghost hurt things just didn’t look bright.

Soap sighed and stood up from his spot next to Gaz and Ghost. He quietly left the room to go check on Y/N and the food. He was tired and didn’t really get much sleep at night, not with Y/N clinging onto him like a koala. He didn’t mind it a lot since it kept him warm, but the way she slept on his arm made him wake up every hour or so. 

Y/N looked up when Soap walked into the small kitchen. “How are they doing? Any better?” She asked worriedly. “Gaz, was awake for a few minutes and Ghost helped me clean his bandages this time, so i would say they are getting better just very slowly.” Soap answered as he stood next to Y/N by the stove. “Bloody hell, what is that?” Soap asked the moment he had a look inside the pan. “I’m not sure, I tried to make stew, but with what little we have it is kinda hard to make it. I’m hoping the Captain comes back with something more useful after his call with Laswell.” Soap nodding also hoping the same thing.

<-------------------------------------------------->

Price did come back with something useful for the stew and a promise that they wouldn’t have to stay in the safe house for much longer. An evacuation team was on the way. 

Soap and Price made sure the rabbit was skinned and gutted before Y/N cut it and put it in the stew. When Ghost walked into the room. “Fuck what is that smell?” “Rabbit and you should be back in bed.” Price answered Ghost’s question before walking over to his lieutenant. “Come on, back to bed Simon, you are not supposed to be out of it.” Ghost groaned at Price, hating how he used his name to get him to do what he wanted. He quickly, but carefully, made his way to Y/N “Just let me kiss the lass first, then i'll go back.” 

Y/N looked up at Ghost. “It’s good to see you are a bit better, but please do as John says and rest. Don’t want you to be even more wounded than you already are.” She said while lifting Ghost’s mask just to be above his nose. “And just one kiss” Ghost didn’t listen to her, leaned down and gave Y/N one long kiss and two short ones before kissing her forehead. Soap then helped Ghost back to his bed in the other room, practically forcing him back and away from Y/N. 

“Want one too, now that they are gone?” Y/N asked as she made her way to Price, who slowly nodded his head. “Please.” They both smiled and Y/N wrapped her arms around the captain. “Thank you for making food for us these past two weeks, lass, made it less rancid” Y/N laughed and then gave Price his well-deserved kiss. “Better now?” “So much better.”

Soap came back into the room and rubbed his eyes a bit. “Is it okay if I nap on the couch for a little while? At least until dinner.” “Of course Johnny, I'll get you a blanket” Y/N said to the tired Scots man. She pulled away from Price and walked over to the chair near the couch to get Soap his blanket. She proceeds to tuck Soap in before he drifts off to sleep.

<----------------------------------------------------->

It took another week for the evac team to find them and to pick them up from the safe house. By that time Ghost was much better and his wounds started to heal nicely, but Gaz was still out of it. Y/N walked next to the carrier Gaz lay on while the medical team took him to the plane. They wanted to look her over too, but she refused. Just needing to know that Gaz was safe on the plane first before anything else could be done or checked on. 

The medical team could finally check on Y/N and the others once Gaz was safe on the plane with Nikolai. Turns our Price had been hiding a broken rib and a bullet wound for three weeks. Ghost was still the same, but got some morphine to deal with the pain. Soap and Y/N were both fine aside from some scratches and healed wounds.

“We got some food for you all on the plane” Laswell said as she helped Ghost on the plane. “Something not rations or gross” “Like a hamburger?” Soap asked as he sat down next to Y/N with a blanket. “Sadly, no, it’s chicken noodle soup with a piece of bread if you like.” Laswell answered. She sat Ghost down on one of the medical beds. “We could get you hamburgers once we’re back at base.”

Soap pouted a bit as Laswell tells him that there are no hamburgers, but he was happy that there was chicken noodle soup to warm up to and to have something that is actually food for the first time in weeks. He did however hope that Y/N would make rabbit stew once in the future, just to see if she could make it even better with real ingredients. Y/N looked over at Soap and smiled. “What ya thinking about?”

“Just food and you.” Soap answered with a big smile. “Ah, so two of your favourite things, I see.” Y/N remarked as she slowly lay her head on Soap’s shoulder. 

They all got settled on the plane, got medical attention even when it wasn’t really needed and got as much chicken noodle soup as they wanted. Nikolai got the okay from Laswell and started the plane, taking his favourite task force back home.

<---------------------------------------------------------->

Location: secret military base, England  Date: 29 September, 20XX

Y/N made her way over to the medical wing, a care package from Gaz’s mom in hand. Gaz was still out of it, but he was slowly getting better. Of course it worried the others, they hated seeing someone they loved hurt. As Y/N stepped inside the room Gaz lay in she turned on the lights. The steady beeping of Gaz’s monitors filling the quiet room. “Hey, Kyle, your mom sent you a care package again. She’s worried, you know, just like we are. She feels bad that she can’t come over and take care of you.” Y/N started to talk to Gaz in a quiet tone. She sat down on the chair next to his hospital bed and started to unpack the care package. “I promised her I would take extra care of you on our last call so she made you a bigger care package than last time.”

Y/N pulled out the first item out of the box and smiled. “She put in a framed picture of your family. I’ll put it on the nightstand so they can watch over you,” She explained before putting the picture on the nightstand next to the bed. “Owh and look at this, it’s a little sheep plushie, owh and their name is fuzzy” Y/N melted as she took the sheep plushie out of the box. It almost made her want to cry. Just wanting her Kyle back with her. She placed the plushie in bed with Gaz and continued to go through the box. 

“There are some drinks and snacks in here too and i think your mom put in a bottle of stock for soup.”

“Yes, it’s beef stock, and there is a pack of funny pasta’s in here for the soup. I’ll make you the soup when you’re better. Wouldn’t want to waste any of this good soup without you having a taste of home” Y/N said as the lump in her throat got a bit bigger. She looked at the door, closed, and then back at Gaz. First she put down the care package and then crawled into the hospital bed. “Please get better soon Kyle, I miss you, we all miss you.” Y/N whispered before crying herself to sleep next to Kyle. 

<-------------------------------------------------------->

Location: secret military base, England  Date: between 11 October, 20XX and 26 October, 20XX

Entry’s out of Soap’s Journal.

October, 11th, 20XX Y/N hasn’t been eating a lot lately. It worries me. I try to get her to eat, but she just won’t eat a lot. I get that she is worried about Kyle, we all are, but she can’t stop taking care of herself, yet she did. John said it will pass once Kyle is up again, but I have a feeling that won’t be for a little while. 

October, 13th, 20XX I talked to Simon about it, he sees it too. Both John and Y/N are looking worse than when we were in the safe house. We try to help them, it works a bit. Works more when Simon does it, but then again he has more balls than me.

Called home today, mom is worried too. She said that if Kyle is better again we can all stay with her and dad at the farm. I think that would do all of us a great deal of good. Just hope Kyle wakes up soon. 

October 17th, 20XX Simon got Y/N and John to eat properly today, took us 2 hours of fighting and 30 minutes of trying to comfort Y/N, but they ate. 

The doctor’s say that Kyle is getting better, but that he is taking his time. He did wake up for a bit when one of the night nurses checked up on him last night. She said he asked about us. 

Kyle’s mom sent a care package again, this time with mostly stuff for us and not Kyle. I might call her tomorrow, tell her how things are going. 

October 20. I caught Y/N sleeping with Kyle again today. I really hate seeing her like this. John is doing better tho. He’s been sleeping with me and Simon a lot at night. Y/N sleeps with Kyle most nights, scared he might die when she is not around. 

21 October, 20XX Kyle is finally doing a lot better, still not awake, but doing better enough to give Y/N a calm mind and to get her back in bed with us. Eating is still an issue, but we are working on it. 

We saw Alex at base today with Laswell. It was nice seeing him again, he looks good. Farah is rubbing off on him and it shows.

October 25, 20XX Called mom again today. Well, Y/N took over after about 10 minutes, she needed to hear my mom’s voice and that everything was going to be okay.

Simon and I talked about going to my parents after Kyle wake’s up. He thinks it’s a good idea too.

October 26, 20XX Kyle finally woke up. We are all over the moon and he is doing great. Y/N is making the soup she promised to him when he was out of it and John and Simon are staying close to Kyle.

We all talked about it and once it’s okay for Kyle to leave we are going to my parents for a month or 3.

[carlyraejepsans]

Rate UT characters on likely they are to eat spoiled food

premise: as monster food does not spoil, this speculation is based on how i think they'd treat human food in the post pacifist ending

frisk. trash burger. enough said. (also i hc that they grew up on the streets, so... not a lot of chances to be picky with your food.)

sans. second most likely. there's milk in the fridge bought specifically for him to drink out of the carton whenever frisk's or papyrus' friends come to visit, like a stereotypical disney channel older brother (he loves being annoying on purpose). it's been there for a month. he's still not done with it. it's probably rancid. enjoyer of food and lover of even shittier food. mr worst burger on the menu. he is ESPECIALLY gross about food and he is gross about it on purpose, he will peel an apple for papyrus and then take a bite out of it before cutting him a slice. and then call him a wuss when he acts disgusted. ("stop being a baby bones, we have the same germs anyway" "NO WE DON'T. *YOU* HAVE GERMS! AND I DON'T WANT ANY OF THEM!!" "why? they're pedigreed" "OUGH!?!!"). he mostly uses it as a chance to make a gag (or a lack of gagging, lol) but his strong stomach did also come in handy in the early days of papyrus' interest in cooking

mettaton, of sequins-and-glue hamburgers fame. he's technically tied for 2nd place with sans, but i put him in third because i feel like sans does it on purpose, for mettaton it's more like... a side effect of starting life off as a ghost. few people question it since he's a robot now.

alphys. she doesn't go out of her way to do it, but she buys her snacks in industrial pallet-fuls to reduce social interactions to a minimum, so by the time she reaches the last 3 or 4 packets of blue takis, they're well past their expiration date. not that it stops her. now, this wouldn't happen on the surface because she gets better and has a solid support system, but if monster food could spoil back when she was going Through it with the amalgamates, i feel like she'd either be too depressed or tired to care and eat it, or she'd tumble into a "g-god. you can't even take care of your own f-food. is there anything you can't fuck up" self-deprecation spiral and lose her appetite altogether

flowey. did it to see what would happen. nothing did. never did it again. tbh I just don't think he eats much of anything, spoiled or not.

undyne. getting into the "wouldn't eat spoiled food" tier. she actually thinks it's really gross but papyrus tricks her into doing it by challenging her machismo. she gets SO sick from it. they do this aprox 3 times a month. rinse and repeat

asgore. he's a gardener, and i can see him working in a community garden on the surface, so he'd have access to a lot of fresh produce, for both himself and to give away. however, if some of it were to go bad, he'd probably cut off the affected bit and eat the rest so it doesn't go to waste.

toriel. she is SUPER careful about expiration dates and mold and checks to make sure all she owns is still safe to eat almost weekly. this level of care, however, is mostly meant for other people, not herself, but she would really rather not eat anything that's gone bad. same reasoning as alphys', IF monster food could spoil when she was still in the RUINs, i could technically see her biting the bullet, if only because 1) she was also heavily depressed and struggling to take care of herself, though i think she might sooner skip out on the meal altogether, rather than eat something spoiled, and 2) the awkward stares from the other monsters in the RUINs supermarket might not be something she's willing to deal with on any given day.

papyrus. he would NOT. no way. master of cleaning, germophobe extraordinaire papyrus (well, not really, but he plays the part). if toriel is meticulous, papyrus is obsessive. there better not be a SINGLE spot on his food. and no lines or plaid patterns either!! he WILL wash it untill it goes away. with soap probably. canonically a picky eater to begin with (his picks are just weird as balls). can should and WILL get on sans' ass about his unhealthy eating habits, and that includes eating food that's gone bad.

[jadeshifting]

— SUPERNATURAL SCENARIOS ( romance w/ Dean, sibling bond w/ Sam vers. )

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MOTEL RITUALS

there's truly nothing like the mundane but essential routines of the hunter lifestyle—checking into yet another sketchy motel, dumping weapons onto the bed, flipping through a dusty lore book under flickering yellow light

you and Sam bicker over who gets the room with the least stains, while Dean throws himself onto a bed with a sigh, boots still on ( you give him a rancid look for that. ) maybe you all order greasy takeout, end up patching each other’s wounds in the bathroom, or perhaps you sit in silence, loading bullets and preparing for the next day

YOU'RE BAIT

during a hunt, you’re chosen to play the bait ( yay? )—maybe for a vampire nest, a shapeshifter, or a demon deal gone wrong. Sam’s reading over the plan, looking skeptical, while Dean's smirks at you mockingly, saying, “You sure you can pull off the helpless act, sweetheart?”

of course, when the moment comes, you hold your own way better than expected—Sam's grinning and clapping you on the shoulder triumphantly, and even Dean has to gruffly admit that he underestimated you

ROAD TRIP ROMANCE

you, Dean, and Sam are on a long-haul road trip between cases, taking turns driving the Impala down empty highways at night and napping in the passenger side or the backseat

Dean teaches you how to drive Baby ( very reluctantly at first, because no one touches Baby, but eventually he enjoys watching you take the wheel. ) his hand guides yours and he directs you with an unusual calmness, the kind he really only reserves for you ( he's never been that nice to Sam when he makes a mistake driving )

you and Dean share quiet, stolen moments at roadside diners, and he always insists on ordering for you, claiming he “just knows what you’ll like.” you roll your eyes, but when he keeps ordering things that you actually like, you slowly realize he's been paying a lot more attention to you than you realized

A HUNT THAT HITS TOO CLOSE TO HOME

one of the cases you go on mirrors something from your past a little too closely—a town you once lived in, a victim who reminds you of someone you lost, a creature linked to an old trauma. you try to play it cool, but Sam notices, Dean notices, and by the time the hunt is over, you’re staring at the motel ceiling, totally unable to sleep

Dean tosses a beer at you from across the room, the cure-all that he thinks can dull the pain of anything ( works for him ) muttering something about, “you’re thinkin’ too much. can't do that with this job.” though you see the way he looks at you out of the corner of his eye, the sympathy

A CLOSE CALL

after a hunt goes sideways, the three of you barely escape. no one talks as Dean drives off into the night afterwards, the Impala cutting through the darkness and providing the only bright spot you've had this whole job. from the passenger seat, Sam’s staring out the window, lost in thought. you’re in the backseat, watching the reflection of neon lights flicker across the windshield

while Sam isn't paying attention, Dean takes the moment to reach back and rest a hand on your arm, providing some wordless reassurance after the tough few days you've had

HIGH TENSIONS

you and Dean end up in an unusually high-stakes situation���maybe a cursed object binds you two together, or a witch’s hex forces you into an emotionally charged confrontation. the point is, the tension is thick. your faces are inches apart, the heat of the moment demands something break it. Dean smirks, “you gonna stab me, sweetheart, or finally admit you wanna kiss me?”

( i'm not coming up with what happens after that girl that's all you. go get your man. or stab him. up to you no judgement here !! )

CLASSIC "HUNTER'S FIRST TIME" CHALLENGE

early on in your time hunting with them ( regardless of whether they're teaching you to hunt from scratch, or you have experience ) Dean and Sam decide to test you ( it's Dean's idea )—maybe it’s your first time handling a shotgun, setting up salt lines, or exorcising a demon. Dean's making jokes the whole time, Sam is decent enough to try to explain things scientifically and guide you

it's up to you whether you completely botch it and end up having to scramble to fix it, or get saved after your mess-up, or if you totally blow it out of the water and shock both of them with your competence

INTEL GATHERING AT A SMALL-TOWN BAR

you guys have to pull a classic hunter move—blending into a small-town bar to gather information

Dean is flirting with the bartender for leads ( and you're giving him the nastiest look out of the corner of your eye, though you're trying to act like you don't care. Dean brings you one of the free drinks she gave him as an almost-apology, though it's up to you whether you forgive him or not )

Sam is trying to stay on track ( while failing to keep Dean in check ), and you’re somewhere between the two—maybe charming a witness, maybe listening in on a suspicious conversation, maybe getting dragged into a bar fight that you absolutely didn’t start, but that Dean definitely finishes for you before you all head back to the motel

MIDDLE-OF-NOWHERE EMERGENCY

one random night, the Impala breaks down on some forgotten road, no cell service, no town for miles. Sam’s got the map out, trying to figure out where the hell you even are, while Dean is cursing under his breath as he's halfway under Baby’s hood, lamenting how this could've happened when he takes such good care of her

the forest around you is too quiet, shadows stretching unnaturally long. maybe it’s just a busted radiator. maybe someone did it, and now something is watching

DANGEROUS JOB

on a particularly dangerous hunt, you get injured—nothing fatal, but more than enough to scare the shit out of Dean. whe you wake up, you're in a motel room, bandaged up and with a dull ache emanating through your body, though it's bearable

Dean sits at the edge of the bed, jaw tight, refusing to leave your side. he’s pissed, but not at you—at the world, and this stupid job, and himself for putting you in danger. the air is thick with unspoken feelings, and when you try to joke about it, he just mutters, “you scared the hell outta me, sweetheart.”

NO ONE TOLD ME IT WAS THIS MESSY

there's a moment for you where you realize hunting isn’t just cool lore and cool weapons—it can truly be brutal

maybe this moment happens when you’re stitching up a deep wound in a gas station bathroom ( yours or one the boys' ), or dragging a body to salt-and-burn it while trying not to gag. Dean slaps you on the back like it’s nothing, Sam gives you an approving nod, and you stare down at your hands, wondering what you’ve gotten yourself into

DEAN ( JEALOUS MESS )

you run into another hunter ( maybe an ex, maybe just someone overly flirty ) who’s a little too friendly with you. Dean acts like he doesn’t care, of course, but his entire demeanor shifts—his jaw clenches, he gets snarkier, and suddenly he’s pulling you closer, his arm resting on the back of your chair like it’s the most natural thing in the world ( you know he's never done that before )

later, when you call him out on it jokingly, he doesn't laugh—he grumbles, “I just don’t like people touching what’s mine, alright?” or some variation of that

SAM ( RELUCTANT WINGMAN )

Sam catches onto your and Dean’s growing romance before either of you even admit it. he's constantly giving you knowing looks, poking fun at Dean relentlessly, and occasionally drops casual remarks like “would you two go somewhere else to do that?” while you and Dean are going back and forth, making you both glare at him

he also becomes your confidant in the whole thing—originally, he gets grossed out when you talk about his brother with him—he ends up being someone who genuinely listens when you need to talk about Dean’s walls and your own feelings

GOING IT ALONE

in a reckless moment, you decide to try to take a case on solo, perhaps in an attempt to prove something ( to yourself or to them )

Dean and Sam find out too late, and they have to race to get to you before things go south. maybe you handle things yourself perfectly fine, or maybe you don’t and they have to save you. either way, after they show up and it's all said and done, you see the fear in both of their eyes at the realization that they could've lost you, though Dean's is quickly masked with anger. “you ever do that again, I’m handcuffing you to the goddamn Impala.”

HIGHWAY CHASE

a run-of-the-mill case takes a turn for the adrenaline-fueled and cinematic—you’re flying down an empty highway in the Impala, Sam loading a shotgun in the backseat while Dean grips the wheel, radio blaring classic rock. maybe you’re being chased, or maybe you’re doing the chasing. either way, the energy is sky-high and the air crackles with the electricity of a thrilling hunt

DOMESTIC MORNINGS AT THE BUNKER

imagine a slow morning at the bunker where you're not being chased by a demon or the gods: Sam reading at the table with a cup of tea, you curled up on the sofa with your coffee

Dean walks in, his spiky hair sticking up in all different directions, grumbling about how you and Sam wake up way too early

you tease him for being lazy, he steals a sip of your coffee in retribution ( even though he has his own and he doesn't even like yours. ) Sam rolls his eyes at your playful back-and-forth. it’s rare, these quiet moments, but you cherish all of them

HEART-TO-HEARTS IN THE IMPALA

hunts are tiring—physically and emotionally—and after one particularly taxing one, you and Dean drive alone in Baby, silence filling the space between songs on the radio. Sam is asleep in the backseat with his face mushed against the window, and the road stretches endlessly ahead

you both talk about the things you’d normally never say in the daylight. he tells you about his fears, his regrets, things you've never heard him say out loud, especially not with Sam around. maybe it ends in a kiss, maybe just a promise, or maybe it dissolves into silence as the two of you mull over all the things you said. either way, it’s a turning point

A HUNT GONE WRONG

a simple salt-and-burn ghost hunt turns into something much worse. the spirit isn’t what you expected—maybe it ends up being a vengeful god, an ancient curse, or something that shouldn’t even exist. point is, it's unbelievably far off from what you were expecting

the three of you barely make it out, retreating to the Impala, covered in dirt, breathing hard, the realization settling in: “we weren’t prepared for that.” it’s a humbling moment for you guys, a reminder that even experienced hunters don’t always have the upper hand

QUESTIONING EVERYTHING

during one of your run-of-the-mill hunts, you find out that the creature isn’t evil—or maybe the real monster is human. you’re forced to make a choice, one that goes against everything hunters are supposed to do, everything you've learned so far. maybe you keep it a secret to protect the object of your hunt, or perhaps Sam and Dean find out. either way, you’ll never look at hunting the same way again

DIVE BAR CONFESSIONS

you, Dean, and Sam hit up a dingy dive bar after a hunt. Sam’s rolling his eyes at you and Dean trading flirtatious jabs at eachother, but when Dean gets up to grab another drink, Sam leans over to you and gives you that classic protective brother talk ( you're shocked, Sam's never like that )

he gives you the whole "Dean’s been hurt before" rundown ( as if you didn’t know that, come on ) and that if you’re in this, you’d better be "all in." you're wide-eyed and nodding

later, Dean finds you outside the bar under the neon glow of the overhead lights, asking what Sam said. you can feel the weight of his past in his eyes, and it's up to you whether you tell him or not

SOMETHING IS FOLLOWING US

this is a long-term arc, something has latched onto the three of you—maybe a ghost that won’t move on, a demon keeping tabs, or an entity drawn to your energy. no matter what town you’re in, it’s there. watching. waiting

you're more perceptive than the boys, and you notice that something is up. the hairs on the back of your neck stand up sometimes, you're whipping around in an empty room to check behind you, eyes flicking to the empty window, just because you feel eyes on you. the boys don’t fully believe you at first, they think you're just paranoid from hunting, but the signs are undeniable

you eventually get your big fat "I told you so," moment, and it's one of the most satisfying things in the world

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