#path right after he just GOT BACK FROM HELL! And while he says he doesn't remember hes getting flashes and the bible says people that go

[batcavescolony]

S4 E4 Supernatural

Dean finds out that Sam is using his demon powers to expell demons without killing the host. Now I understand both sides, it's not like I'm on one side, I see both. On Dean's side a literal Angel of the Lord came down to say 'talk shit into your brother or we go after him' and he found out Sam was lying to him for like a year. But on Sam's side he found out he's like the things he hunts, but he found a way to help people with the evil thing he was given. They're both going through it, they're both scared and traumatized, they both are right and wrong.

[livinginshambles]

Hear me out, please |James Potter

Pairing: James Potter x Slytherin!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 7.5k

Summary: The aftermath of when James found out you were his 'cinderella'. James tries desperately to get your attention to get you to hear him out. A tiny twist.

Notes: Not proofread, grammar mistakes. Timeline might be a little off, but magic so whatever i guess? Sorry for the long wait, I hope you guys will think it was worth it!!

Masterlist Part one Part two

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A lot of things went through James' mind as he stood there in the Great Hall. You could hear a pin drop before Regulus finally shot into action and dashed out the hall to go after you.

The murmuring started to continue now that the first silence had been disturbed.

"Oh gosh, she's so dramatic," your sister laughed. And she put a hand on James' shoulder to pull him back to his seat.

James turned his head slowly. His attention zeroed in on the hand on his shoulder. He coiled away.

"What the fuck have you done," he spat at her.

Marla's eyebrows shot up. "We did you a favour," she stated, as if it was the most obvious thing ever.

It sent James over the edge. He grabbed her upper arm and harshly shook it.

"A favour? A favour!?" He asked incredulously. His voice raised in volume. "What on earth is wrong with you!" He screamed and looked around; his eyes blown out. "With all of you!"

"You mean what the hell is wrong with you, James?" Your other sister, Alyssa, piped up. "Why are you defending her?" That last word was spat out with so much disgust that it opened finally James' eyes to what you must have endured. He fought the urge to slap her expression off her face.

James let go of Marla's arm and pushed her a few steps back while doing so.

No, he needed to fix this. He just had to. If you would just listen to him, he would explain it all. And then he'd protect you. From every hurtful comment out there.

If you would just let him.

"Regulus," James grimaced. The boy was blocking his path and view, standing in the doorway. You were out of sight, or at least out of James's sight.

"Potter," Regulus curtly nodded at him.

"I need to talk to her."

"You've said plenty."

James 'brows furrowed, and his jaw flexed. Why was everyone deciding everything for him all of a sudden? Why couldn't everyone just mind their own bloody business? If they had, none of this would have occurred.

He would be patrolling with you in the evening, and you would make him laugh about one of your dry remarks. He wouldn't have known that it was you who he was looking for, but in time, maybe he would've figured it out. Or maybe he would've pushed his mystery girl to the back of his mind to let you and all the new feelings in.

"Actually, I haven't. I haven't said enough because everyone is saying things in my place instead. But I never got the chance to say what I want to say, and every time I do, it seems too late. I just want to talk to her." The words flew out of James' mouth, built up regret, anger, and disappointment from how things had escalated.

"Perhaps you haven't said much." Regulus looked James up and down and weighed his words carefully. "And maybe that's part of the problem. But right now, she's certainly heard enough. She doesn't want your grand words."

James closed his eyes in frustration. He wanted to protest, he wanted to scream at himself and pull his hair out, but ultimately, he just wanted yet another chance.

He hadn't expected it to be you. Not at all, but the longer he thought about it, the more it made sense, and the more it seemed... right. And he didn't know why he had been so adamant to form some sort of relationship with you, but the way his heart blossomed when you were around only pulled him further in.

James looked at the ground, as if the solution to his problems would be written down there.

"Okay," he relented.

Without a moment of hesitation, Regulus went to slam the door in his face but stopped at the box that James held put to him.

"What's that supposed to be?" He flatly asked James.

With a heavy heart, James showed Regulus the pair of glass slippers that you had left behind at the Yule ball, and that he had so carefully carried around with him.

James searched for his words his. "I've been holding on to these to return them to their owner," he made an attempt at a smile but dropped it, feeling pathetic. He wondered if he looked as pathetic to Regulus as well.

"Well, I suppose I should return them, now that I've found her." James pushed the box into Regulus' hands, threw one glance past the boy in hopes to catch a glimpse of you, and rubbed his face with both hands as he dejectedly walked away from the Slytherin dormitory.

Perhaps he could try again later.

You stared at the glass slippers in your hand. It felt cool to the touch and looked so beautiful, but you couldn’t help the bitter taste left in your mouth. With one smooth movement, you threw and smashed one of the slippers against the wall opposite of your bed. It shattered in pieces, and you had to smile at that. Even with every spell to reenforce the glass so you could actually walk on it, it broke. Then you gathered every bit of frustration you had in you, and you screamed as hard as you could, tears flowing in frustration.

You hated that you were crying. But the sheer defeat and powerlessness that you felt was too overwhelming, your voice cracked mid-scream and you threw the other slipper to pieces in anger as well. It wasn’t even about the gossiping amongst the students anymore.

You were so tired; you actually couldn’t bring yourself to care about what everyone must be thinking right now. But your sisters and James. You dug your nails into your palm.

You looked at your reflection in the mirror and straightened your posture. With your hands, you smoothed out your frown, fixed your hair and put on a wide smile. All in all, you looked psychopathic, but anything was better than pathetic. You turned on your heel and got ready for your first morning class.

James watched your empty seat in Divination class. This was the only class in which the last two years were put together. He wondered if you would show up. But he knew you. Possible more than anyone. So, he knew that you would never miss a class, because you wanted perfect grades and a perfect attendance rate. You were just like that. Ambitious.

James mind replayed your words again. He was every worst characteristic of Gryffindor; you had said to him. ‘Arrogant, prideful, and reckless’.

Next to James, Sirius was also lost in thoughts. Your words resonated in his head as well. Prejudice creates a vicious cycle. It was true. Sirius’ eyes flickered towards the other empty seat where Regulus was supposed to be. He had completely abandoned Regulus, giving his brother the cold shoulder, and despising his elitist thoughts, undoubtedly created by his mother. Because he had abandoned Regulus.

Sirius wondered what would have happened if he had tried to maintain a good relationship with Regulus after having been sorted into Gryffindor. He wondered if he would have been able to convince Regulus to run away with him.

There was a knock on the door and Regulus walked in with a blank face. He nodded his head in apology at the Professor and took a seat. The door opened again, this time with a little more force.

“My sincere apologies, professor.” You wore a smile that sent chills up James’ back. His body almost involuntarily shot up to go up to you, but he caught himself, and he longingly looked at you as you passed by instead.

After having gotten used to your discrete gestures of acknowledgement in the form of waves, smiles, nods or even winks, James’ heart tugged when you didn’t spare him a glance. You graciously took a seat and motioned at Professor Trelawney to continue.

James jumped up when class was over. His belongings had long since been packed, and he dashed towards your leaving figure.

“Y/N!” he called out to you.

You turned around and looked him in the eye. All the words that James had prepared during the rest of class escaped his mind. James felt those chills again and he finally understood that in all his years with fights between the two of you, you had been petty, threatening to take points away. You had been angry, throwing insults back at him, and you had very much been a major asshole in general. But you had never been this hostile.

“Let me say this once, so we can all be done with it, and never talk about this again, Potter,” you sharply stated. “I am sorry that I wasn’t who you wanted me to be. However, let me make it clear that this was my secret and mine to share. And I made perfectly clear that I was not going to, so your blatant disrespect to publicly call me out the way you did, is simply appalling.”

Remus called James’ name and James made the mistake to look back. When he turned to you again, you were already further down the hall, turning the corner with a steady pace.

James didn’t see you around anymore until Thursday morning. His eyes basically lit up and he repeated his apology in his head. “L/N, wait,” James tried, and he chased after you. Unlike last time, you didn’t stop. Curious students watched you two pass while James tried to match your pace.

“Hear me out, please.”

“I said all I wanted to say, Potter. Let’s stay out of each other’s way from now on.”

“After you let me explain,” James pleaded.

You laughed. “Nothing you tell me will change my mind. I won’t believe anything that comes out of your mouth.” You gave him an annoyed look.

Still, James was not planning on giving up. You weren’t the only determined one here. He grabbed your arm and dragged you into a room. Your eyes squinted and gave him the dirtiest look they could. James immediately let go of you, hands up in defence, a string of apologies following suit.

You glared at him and went to walk straight out of the room when James pulled you back again, and this time, he cupped the sides of your face, and pressed his lips to yours.

For a moment, you hesitated, utterly confused and surprisingly rather okay with the unwarranted kiss. And then anger hit you. Did he bloody think this would woo you, and sweep you off your feet and make everything alright? How dare he kiss you in attempt to manipulate you. You slapped him across the face in shock less than a second later. James blinked back at you in horror at his own actions.

“Godric, no- I- I am so bloody sorry, I shouldn’t have- I’m- I don’t know what went through my head, please wait-” You slammed the door in his face when you left. James hit his head softly against the door. And then he hit it again but a bit harder as he cursed. “What the hell is wrong with you mate,” he groaned to himself. “You bloody git.”

He stared at the dark wood of the door in front of him reluctantly. To be honest, he wouldn’t mind just staying in the room to rot away, how was he going to face you now?

“Lily, please go in my place,” he begged the redhead. “I’ll take your Tuesday shift, I promise.”

Lily shook her head. “Stop being a baby, James. You reap what you sow and I’m not patrolling tonight.” She walked past James and then turned back around.

“Some friendly advice, James, stop being so pushy. No is no, and it might have been cute as 11-year-olds, but not anymore. We’re no longer kids. But good luck.”

James reluctantly dragged himself towards the Great Hall where he could see you pick your nails in front of the door. He felt ashamed, guilty, and absolutely not ready to look you in the eye.

“Hi,” he awkwardly managed. “So about-“

“You’re late. Let’s get a move on it.” You cut him off.

“Right, yeah, we should do that- patrolling.”

It was quiet, not a word spoken between the two of you as James trailed half a step behind you. He glanced at the side of your face. Shadows and light flickered across your face every time you passed a torch.

The silence of the castle did him good, he realised. He’d much rather walk in silence next to you, than be in the midst of all that chaos that was going on right now. He smiled and stuffed his hands in his pocket happily.

“What are you smiling about,” you asked, a frown on your face.

“Hm? What? Oh, sorry.” The smile dropped of James’ face.

“Well, you don’t have to stop smiling because I said so,” you shot him a strange look. “I just wanted to know what’s so funny.”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” A beat. And then, “Lily told me to stop trying to apologise to you if you don’t want to hear it.”

You considered his words. You supposed you mostly wanted someone to be angry at. You didn’t want to hear James out and then maybe see that your anger was misdirected. You wanted to stay bitter.

“I don’t.”

“Okay, well, I’ll stop.”

“Good.”

Despite the fact that he hadn’t been able to apologise, and nothing had been cleared up between the two of you, both of you felt yourselves relax a little more. You continued to roam the corridors in silence.

The next three patrols were spent in the same basked silence, occasionally one or two words exchanged. James had so many things he wanted to tell you, but he didn’t want to ruin anything. And then you suddenly spoke up again.

“Good luck tomorrow.”

James perked up at your words. “Thank you,” he grinned at you gratefully. “Are you going to watch the game?”

You shook your head. “No, I’ll be helping out in the infirmary.”

“Did you finish your herbal research then?”

Your eyes flickered up at him in surprise. “Yeah, Madame Pomfrey and I will put it to test.” James nodded along.

“Well, if you ever need a patient, I’d volunteer,” he joked. He watched in triumph as you shook your head in amusement.

“Better check your broom for hexes tomorrow,” you replied. “wouldn’t want you to fall off your broom and break a bone or two.” James snorted.

You pulled the curtain to the side with an exasperated expression. “I was only kidding Yesterday, Potter. What on earth are you doing here.”

James gave you a weak smile, trying to hide the pain in his arm and ribs. “Volunteering to be your very first patient, of course.”

“Tell me you didn’t break your bones on purpose,” you squinted your eyes at him.

“I didn’t break my bones on purpose,” James obediently replied. He shifted in curiosity as you rummaged through a cabinet. “Is this not fixable with any spells?” He pondered when he saw you pull out several vials.

“Externally, yes. But you’d be in the same excruciating pain as if they were still broken. You motioned towards the vials. “Hence the herbal potions.”

“Is that the one with the Nettle and Dittany?” James nodded his head to the bottle on the left.

You hummed in approval, not bothering to hide the fact that you were impressed. “Who knows, Potter. Maybe you have a future of a healer as well.” James beamed in pride at your compliment.

“Just keeping my options open.” James sighed happily. He was glad that he could joke around with you again. You tapped a bottle against his cheek. He let you pour the potion into his mouth.

“Now what?”

“Now we wait.” You pulled out a stool and sat down with a notebook in case you needed to take notes of the effects of the potion. At one point, you must have fallen asleep with your face buried on James’ infirmary bed. A strand of hair was tickling your nose and you huffed to get it out of the way. James shifted to tuck it away with his non-injured hand.

You opened your eyes and jumped up. You looked around disoriented and when your eyes landed on James, who had tilted his head, you felt embarrassment creep up on you. “I’m terribly sorry, that was unprofessional of me. Are you feeling any better?”

James nodded. He sat up to prove it, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “All better. And if you get to apologise, so do I, right?” He looked at you hopefully, internally praying that you wouldn’t just march out straight away. “Will you hear me out?”

You sighed, knowing what would come next, but this time you sat down on the stool again instead of walking away.

“I didn’t know.” When you didn’t respond, he repeated himself. “I didn’t know it was you, and I didn’t know it was going to be published in the newspaper because I wouldn’t do that- you know that I wouldn’t.”

He looked at you and saw you staring back at him. He took it as a sign to continue and cleared his throat. It felt so dry all of a sudden. You quietly reached for a cup of water and handed it to him. James took a sip, a deep breath, and started to ramble on without breaks.

“Sirius found your parchment and then you sisters found it too, but I didn’t. I really didn’t. Sirius said they had already run off and he tried to fix it on his own, so he didn’t tell me, and I only found out right before you did and I would never have written such a mean article about you, because we’re friends- well, at the very least I considered us friends- and I just wanted you to like me because-” James stopped.

“What, you fancy me?” you rhetorically commented. 

James’ heart stopped and his face flushed. “No, of course not! I just- Well, I don’t know- It’s, uh I guess I just,” James tried to form a coherent answer, trying to weigh what answer would scare you away.

You frowned and let your eyes flicker across his face. “Stop it,” you shook your head in denial.

“Would it be so bad?” James murmured. “I didn’t know. But I know I liked the girl behind the paper. And I know I liked my patrol partner.” He hesitated and took a step forward. “I think you liked me too, before you knew my name.”

“Yeah,” you replied. “Before I knew your name. Once I learned it, I no longer did,” you lied. “Because we would never work. Every student said so. All the whispers and comments, insults and rumour were right.”

James shook his head.

“So, date me to spite them. Prove them wrong,” It was a pathetic attempt, but he saw the consideration flash in your eyes, and the more he thought about it, the more he started to get convinced that this was a decent idea.

“You’d have us enter a fake relationship to spite everyone?”

“It wouldn’t be fake to me,” James shrugged, getting more confident by your open attitude. “And who knows, maybe I can convince you that the guy from the paper is still inside of me.”

“This is so stupid,” you shook your head.

“Guess what,” Sirius asked Remus, he covered the page of the book Remus was reading to capture his attention.

Remus slapped Sirius’ hand away. “What,” he replied curtly. Sirius moved to sit on the table of the library. “Are you angry?”

“Mildly annoyed, yes.”

“Because…” Sirius trailed off unsurely. He hoped that Remus would finish the sentence for him, which, luckily for Sirius, Remus did.

“Because I think it’s time you guys stop pestering her. I know you planned to get James in the infirmary. Leave her be, you’ve done enough damage as it is.” He sounded disapproving. Sirius dropped himself back on the table, laying across it as if he was a sacrifice on an altar.

“Prongs likes her.”

“Yeah? Well, he’s handling it terribly,” Remus drily remarked. He took off his glasses and started to wipe them with the hem of his sweater. Sirius patted his pockets, reached into his left one and handed Remus a cleaning cloth for glasses.

“Why are you guys nice to me,” Remus asked quietly.

“What are you talking about Moony, you’re our best friend?”

“I know, but why?” Remus lowered his voice. “I’m a werewolf, aren’t I? I’m a literal monster. So why are you nice to me. But somehow feel the need to keep pranking and bullying Slytherin students? We’re in our last year. Don’t you think we should grow up?” And with ‘we’, he meant ‘Sirius and James’.

‘I know, Moony.”

“Do you now?”

“I think I’m going to talk to Regulus.”

Remus choked on his spit. “I’m sorry, Pads, you’re what?”

“I just don’t want to be like L/N’s siblings. I know I sort of am, but I don’t want to be. And you said we should start being nicer right?”

“Pads, last time you said something to him, he literally hexed you.”

“I insulted him,” Sirius heard himself say and he felt weird for a moment.

“He’s after your ass during every Quidditch game, trying to knock you off your broom.”

“Well, that’s just the point of Quidditch,” Sirius defended again.

Remus smiled at Sirius. “Alright, just be careful. Mid-terms are coming up and I’m too busy with studies to fix you up again.”

Sirius grinned. “If all goes well with Prongs, I could ask L/N to patch me up.” Remus threw a quill at him. “I think I’ll go find L/N later, see if she knows where my brother is.”

The door opened and Remus looked behind him. He did a double take and put his glasses back on to make sure he was seeing things correctly. Sirius was still laying on the table, looking at the ceiling.

“I think I’ve found her,” Remus remarked, uncertainly.

Sirius sat up and gaped at the sight on you and James, walking into the library together while talking. James was holding a pile of books and by the colour of the cover, he knew that those were not James’.

“I’m sorry, did I miss something?”

You looked up in alarm at the words and found Sirius and Remus sitting at a table in the corner. “We talked it out,” you nonchalantly mentioned. Remus gave you a smile and Sirius just stared at you. Then; “Hell yeah, Prongs, I knew you had it in you to confess.” Sirius jumped off the table and patted you on the back with a grin.

You laughed back uncertainly and looked at James with questioning eyes. James looked back at you, reassuringly. He moved all of your books to one hand and guided you to a seat with the other.

“Where’s Regulus,” Sirius asked immediately as soon as you sat down.

You raised your eyebrows. “He’s in the astronomy tower. Didn’t want to join James and I to the library.” You smiled at recollection of the younger Black’s reaction to you and James.

“No way.” He had replied. “What are you two planning?” James had looked at Regulus with an offended look. “What are you talking about? I fancy Y/N and she fancies me, so we decided to make it official.”

“Yeah, I’ll believe you fancy Y/N, but there is just no way she would enter a relationship with you of all people. What’s the deal.”

Sirius nodded. “Well,” he started, “I mean, if he wants to, he uh, the library is a public space, so he could join. If he wants.” Sirius awkwardly sat down on a chair. You squinted your eyes at him. “I’ll be sure to let him know,” you said. You watched as Sirius puffed out a sigh in relief.

You glanced down at the messy scribbles on Sirius’ paper and raised your eyebrows. You’d imagined that the elder Black would have a better handwriting than that. “Anyway, do you need help with Transfiguration as well?”

The news of your relationship spread like fire. Your sisters both received it with a sour look on their faces. “He’ll see we were right, and he’ll leave you again,” they said, purposely loud enough for you to hear it. James had just entered the room and walked straight past them towards you with a flower. He dropped it next to you and sat down beside you.

Against your will, your heart made a small jump and the corners of your mouth tugged upwards. James’ eyes flickered towards your lips and quickly looked away happily. Then he leaned in a little and whispered, “We’re not breaking up if it’s up to me.”

He shifted in his seat, subtly scooting over closer to you. “Go on a date with me tonight,” James whispered.

“We don’t have time tonight. Patrol, remember?” You argued back.

James grinned and shook his head. “Afterwards.”

“It’s past bedtime afterwards. I will not-”

“Sneak around the castle and get caught, I know. But you forget that I have an invisibility cloak.”

You laughed this time. “I’m almost tempted to take 20 points off Gryffindor for your outrageous plan.” Your eyes twinkled and James joined in. He put his hand over his heart in fake shock. “You wouldn’t do that to your boyfriend,” he squinted his eyes, challenging you.

“If he misbehaves,” you answer amusedly. But then you hummed in thought. “Fine, I’ll bite, what do you have in mind.”

James’ grin widened. “The lake’s still frozen,” he whispered. You deadpanned. “I can’t skate.”

James leaned his head against you. “Exactly, it’s the perfect chance for me to show you my gentlemanly skills and woo you.” You turned your head and breathed in the smell of James’ shampoo. "You just want an excuse to hold my hand," you mumbled in his hair. You could feel James smile against your shoulder. “I’m your boyfriend, I don’t need excuses,” he joked.

James swore his heartrate sped up an unhealthy amount when you confirmed, “No you don’t.”

He was absolutely beaming next to you as you were patrolling down the corridor, hand in hand. Your eyes flickered over to James once in a while. It was suspicious to you that he’d been quiet the entire time. James on the other hand was just looking at your intertwined hands with interest.

“Never held hands with a girl before, Potter?” You laughed, but no venom was found in your voice.

James nodded. “Never held hands with a girl before,” he confirmed, not ashamed at all for it. Why should he. You looked at him with curiosity. “What about Lily?”

James snorted. “Have you ever seen us hold hands?”

“Nope,” you popped the ‘p’.

“I was stressing a lot about being a good boyfriend, my hands got really sweaty,” James bashfully explained. You lifted both your hands and squeezed his hand a few times. “You don’t stress about being a good boyfriend for me?” you couldn’t help but ask. You immediately groaned internally and looked straight to the floor, intently watching your feet as they simply fascinatingly put one in front of the other. I mean, have you ever seen something so-. James wasn’t having it.

“’m not stressing with you. I have a pretty good feeling about us.” He sighed contently. You huffed. “Well, I have high standards, and I’ve been told I’m pretty high maintenance, Potter.” You stuck your nose in the air haughtily.

“First, you should stop calling me Potter,” he remarked.

“James,” you nodded. A chill ran up his spine. “And second?” you inquired.

“Second?”

“Second,” you looked at him expectantly.

“Oh! Right, second; I didn’t know you had a relationship before?” And just as soon as those words left his lips, he cussed himself out in his head. Great, now he seemed either a twat as if he couldn’t believe someone like you could have a relationship, or a twat who was jealous and obsessive. And it’s only the first week. James averted his eyes to the wall on his left. Ah yes, the wall seems to be made of stone. Very sturdy, very wall-like-

“No, I’ve been single pretty much my whole life.” You put on your usual sour face, and vaguely gestured to it. “Not very approachable, as I prefer.”

“Then who calls you high maintenance?” James thought bitterly, feeling the need to defend you. “Calm down, prince Charming,” you reassured him with a laugh. Maybe you could see the charm in his recklessness. “I can fight my own battles. And basically, everyone calls me high maintenance.”

The two of you walked side by side in silence again, making your way to the prefect room. You rummaged through a drawer, pulled out a document and started to fill it in. James leaned against the table. “Where do you go during Spring Break? Do you stay at Hogwarts? Because I can also stay at Hogwarts to keep you company, you know.”

“I have my own apartment.”

“You’re not even of age yet,” James pointed out, trying to hide his disappointment unsuccessfully at a missed opportunity of spending time with you.

“Professor McGonagall vouched for me,” you replied. James’ eyebrows flew up. “McGonagall?” He asked in disbelief. You just hummed in reply while you flipped the page to continue filling in the report.

“Well, if you want you can come with me?” You stopped writing and looked up at him intently. As if you were searching his face for any hidden intentions. When you didn’t find any, you gave him an apologetic look.

“That’s kind of you, James,” you smiled. “But I have Regulus staying with me.”

“He doesn’t stay at the Black manor?” James was surprised. You tilted your head. “Tell me, does Sirius stay at the Black manor?”

James quickly shut his mouth as realization dawned on him. Oh.

“Well,” he awkwardly shifted. “You’re both welcome,” he offered. You shook your head in laughing at the mental image. The thought of Regulus and Sirius living together for two weeks was just hilarious.

“I’m done, we can go.”

“Alright, I just need to pick up my invisibility cloak from the Gryffindor common room.”

“I’ll wait here,” you nodded. James offered you a strange look.

“What?” You asked, looking up at him.

“You’re not going with me?”

“What all the way up to the third floor? I think not,” you snorted, plopping down on a chair, and making yourself comfortable.

James huffed and didn’t move. “But what if something happens to me on the way there?” He dramatically sat down next to you on a different chair.

“What on earth could happen to you on the way to your room. This is Hogwarts, you know. The safest place in England probably.”

“What if a monster attacks me, and then I can’t come back, and you’ll think that I stood you up?” James retorted with a pout.

You shook your head and pinched the bridge of you nose. “There are no monsters in this castle, James, where do you think we are? You’re not going to run into a Basilisk on your way.”

James squinted his eyes at you. “But can you promise me that with 100% certainty?” You rolled your eyes in response. “Of course not, but would you take me with you and expose me to such dangers?” you sarcastically retorted.

“Well, technically speaking, and I’m not saying all Slytherins,” James held up his hands at your narrowed eyes. “Snakes are kind of your thing, right?” You closed your eyes. “Charming, you are. Let’s just go,” you sighed.

James grinned in victory as he held the door open for you. “For the record, I would totally protect you from a Basilisk.”

“If you say so.”

Sirius sat up in bed when the door opened, but no one came in. “Hey Prongs, how was ice skating?”

James removed the invisibility cloak to reveal your shivering form. Both of you drenched from head to toe, water still dripping from the locks in front of his eyes. “Got pulled under,” he stressed. “I didn’t know where to take her, I couldn’t let her clean record be tainted for being out past bedtime because of me, and I don’t know the Slytherin password, so I brought her here,” he started to ramble in a loud whisper.

Remus grumbled as he sat up too. “Bloody hell, Prongs, did you take her to the black lake or what?” And when James didn’t respond, “Mate, what is wrong with you.” He got up and walked to the bathroom to get a few dry towels to wrap you in.

James discarded his soaked clothes and dried himself off before putting on pyjamas. Then the three of them stared awkwardly at each other. “Well, she needs to get out of those cold clothes,” Remus remarked. Sirius stepped back. “Yeah, not my girl, not my duty,” he walked over to his bed and dropped down on it.

“Right.”

You woke up and the first thing you noticed was the red colours all around you. You sat up suddenly and blinked a few times. What happened? Oh, right. A hand had broken through the ice, wrapped itself around your ankle and harshly pulled you down into the freezing depths. So that means you’re either dead, or James got you out and brought you to the Gryffindor dorms instead of the infirmary because he kept your clean records in mind. Your heart filled with appreciation at the thought of that.

You looked around and found James on the floor next to you. He was curled up in an extra blanket, but it must be uncomfortable. You went to pull out your wand when you realised that you were wearing his sweater. The little shit changed your clothes, you huffed.

You quietly got up, found your clothes drying in the bathroom and slipped out your wand. With a quick levitation spell, you gently tucked James back into his own bed. Your eyes fell on the two parchments on the nightstand, and you allowed a nostalgic smile to adorn your face. You moved his hair out of the way and let your eyes rest on his peaceful face. Realising you were being creepy, you hastily turned around and snuck out of the room with your clothes and a rolled-up parchment.

“And where have you been,” Regulus sat on the common room armchair in front of the door. He looked like he hadn’t properly slept, and his tone was sharp. “And what atrocity are you wearing. Tell me you didn’t sleep with him?”

“You’re my brother, Regulus, not my mother,” you teased him. You pulled out a chair to sit next to him. “And no, I went skating, fell into the water, blacked out and woke up alive in the Gryffindor dorm. So don’t hex James, if anything you can thank him.”

There was a beat of silence. “I’m glad you’re okay, I was worried.”

“I’m sorry for worrying you. Did you stay up all night?”

“Yes, but mostly because I wanted to tell you something.” You didn’t immediately reply, waiting for Regulus to continue on his own instead.

“Sirius came up to the astronomy tower yesterday evening,” he quietly said. His voice sounded confused, as if he was still unsure of what had actually occurred.

“Are you okay?”

“Of course, I’m okay,” Regulus immediately said. “It’s just that he apologized.” He shrugged. “You think he meant it?”

You thought it over. “I think he did. He asked me last week you know. Where you are, and that if you ever want to join us in the library, you can.” Regulus nodded deep in thought.

“You know, James actually invited both of us over for the Spring Break.” You looked at Regulus to gauge his reaction to that. He looked slightly interested, though he tried to hide it.

“I suppose it’s still a month away, so we’ll see what we want then.”

You nodded and then got up off the chair. “I’m going to change into something else, before my fellow house students want to jinx me,” you said.

“You’re dating James Potter; people already want to jinx you.”

You winked at him. “Well, I’ll be damned, you’re absolutely right. Isn’t that funny? You know what, let them try,” you challenged them as you smoothened James’ sweater.

James woke up and sat up straight in bed, confused. How did he get here? He Looked at the end of his bed and saw it still neatly tucked in- hospital corners. His lips twitched up. You had left, he realised, but you’d tucked him in. He let himself fall back onto his pillow and turned his head to the side. Then he frowned, put on his glasses, and grabbed the parchment. In your lovely handwriting was a message.

Maybe not a Basilisk, but you protected me as you said. Thank you, James. (All things considered, I enjoyed last night.)

James’ eyes traced the words before he carefully placed the parchment under his pillow with a giddy feeling in his heart.

James found you in the library with Remus. His heart skipped a beat when he saw that you were still wearing his sweater. Red looked out of place on you and James absolutely loved it. Sirius shared a look with him and then the both of them decided to sneak up on the two of you, simultaneously stealing your books from under you.

You and Remus narrowed your eyes at the both of them. “I am this close to kicking you guys.” You held up your hand to show your thumb and finger pressed together. James shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “But they’re touching,” he hesitantly responded. Sirius elbowed him in the ribs and quickly handed Remus both your books back.

You sarcastically faked a gasp. “Oh, Merlin, you’re right, they appear to be.”

James cheekily grinned and pressed a kiss to your temple. “You wouldn’t hurt your knight in shining armour,” he bragged, but without any real arrogance laced in his tone. You flipped him off with a grin and pulled out a chair for him next to you. “You’re late,” you airily said.

Sirius suddenly straightened up, his attention fixed on someone behind you. You turned around and waved Regulus over. “Come join us, Reg.”

Three weeks flew by in a blur, but- even though you’ve said this so often now- your were really enjoying your time at Hogwarts again. People’s gossips and predictions about yours and James’ relationship had turned into quiet whispers and envy.

James stood up for you on multiple occasions- after letting you have a go at the imbeciles of course. You had finally gone to a Quidditch game to support James, though of course not when they were playing against Slytherin. You had spent more time in the infirmary and James had joined you a few times by hanging out on one of the empty beds, occasionally handing you an ingredient such as Wolfsbane.

After having established that you absolutely loved hugs, James was always less that a step behind you, ready to give you the affection that you were too proud for to admit you wanted. You had been a frequent visitor to the boys’ dorms as well, making yourself comfortable in James’ arms as you dozed off for a nap. On other nights, you have even managed to persuade Regulus to join a handful of times as well. You wondered what would happen when James would graduate before you, but tried not to think much of it.

“So, we are definitely going to Hogsmeade together this week, right?” James popped up behind you and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“How scandalous, are you asking me out on a date?”

“Yeah, why? You have a boyfriend or something?” James humoured you.

“Or something,” you joked. The innocent comment hit both you and James at the same time. A reminder that you two were in fact technically not really dating. You shook the thought away.

“I’ll see you at 11 o’clock,” you replied.

James grinned, “I’ll be there five minutes earlier.”

True to his words, he was waiting for you in the courtyard when you arrived on the dot. James offered you his arm and you linked yours through his.

“James?” James hummed in reply. “Does your offer about Spring Break still stand? I mean, I know it’s next week already, and it’s sort of short notice-”

James perked up. “Yes!” he said, a little too quickly and enthusiastic. He cleared his throat and lowered his volume. “Yes, you and Regulus can still come.”

You sighed and nodded in relief. “Right, because Reg and I have been talking and we might take you up on that offer.”

It was evening by the time you and James made your way back to Hogwarts. James had his arm wrapped around your shoulders, and you held his hand. James pressed a kiss to your temple every now and then. “What happened to the glass slippers?” He suddenly asked.

“They broke.”

“They broke?”

“Yep.”

“But didn’t you enchant them?”

“I did, but I was so angry at you that I smashed them to pieces against the wall like over two months ago.”

“Oh… But have you changed your mind since then?” James decided to finally ask you.

“About what?”.

“Me, and us.”

You looked at James and quietly admired him. James kept his eyes straight in front of him, too scared to look at you and see your reaction.

“Well, we are walking together, coming back from Hogsmeade. There’s not a student in sight and yet we are still holding hands,” You light-heartedly replied with a teasing smile. You squeezed his hand for good measure. It seemed enough to make James look at you.

“I’d say we’re pretty good friends-”

“I’m in love with you.”

You froze in your tracks and let go of James’ hand. Well, that took you by surprise. Fancying someone and claiming to be in love with someone- not loving but being in love- that was a next level. You smiled amusedly, successfully hiding your insecurities. “James, you’re not in love with me.”

James frowned at your response. He’d accept your rejection, but not you doubting his feelings.

“Yes, I am,” he stubbornly responded.

“No, you’re not,” you retorted, equally stubborn.

“Am too.”

“You’re not, James,” you exasperatedly said. “You’re not in love, you just fancy me because you’re comfortable.” You shrugged awkwardly. "And you only feel comfortable with me because I know so much about you. Because you poured your heart out to a stranger, and it so happened to be me.”

James bit his cheek, considering your words. Then he grinned and nodded. Your heart dropped, but not as much as it could have, because you had already prepared yourself for this. The joy behind setting yourself up for disappointment by never letting yourself get your hopes up.

“Yeah, I’m really comfortable with you.” He agreed. “Isn’t that great? Isn’t that love too? Being comfortable to the point you don’t feel the need to keep secrets anymore, where you feel the most accepted? The most at ease?”

You stared at James then cleared your throat. “So, when did you start being all knowledgeable and romantic?”

James snorted. You were adorable when you were awkward. “I’m the most comfortable with you,” he earnestly confessed to you. He carefully, as if to not scare you away, put a step forward and reached for your hand. He squeezed it softly. I mean it.

James felt you pull your hand back and bit his lip, forcing it to curl up into an accepting smile. “Right,” he cleared his throat as he tried to form a reply. But you weren’t done yet. You pulled back your hand and then threw both your arms around James’ neck as your brought him in a tight hug. You dipped your head down into the crook of his neck.

“And I’m the most vulnerable with you,” you mumbled against his skin. James sighed in relief, happiness, and love. He wrapped his arms around you protectively, as if to shield you in response.

You tilted your head sideways as you looked at James who was in front of you, down on one knee in your garden. James looked beautiful. His cheeks were slightly coloured from the cold and his hands held a small box with a ring.

“Love?” He asked, waving his hand in front of you, trying to get your attention. He didn’t sound nervous at all, in fact, he felt the most relaxed he’d ever been. This was definitely the future he’d imagined when he’d watched you laugh with his dad while bringing in the groceries. “My knee is getting numb from the cold, love. So, if you could just say yes or no,” he cheekily grinned.

You hummed in thought and then you replied, “Well, isn’t marriage a little too soon?” Your grin widened and spread across your face. “I mean, you’ve yet to officially ask me to be your real girlfriend.”

“Wait what-”

The end :)

Taglist:

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[quin-ns]

Can I request a Rafe x reader where the reader is crying and upset and Rafe sees her and goes over to comfort her but seeing her all teary eyed vulnerable gets him so hard and he doesn't ever have the shame to hide so he ends up coercing her to have s3x with him

going back through my obx requests, sorry it took so long for me to get to this. I've been writing dark!rafe a bit for an unpublished fic, but I think this is my first time posting for it 👀

Teary Eyes (Rafe Cameron x Reader)

When Rafe found you crying on the bathroom floor alone, he hadn’t planned on staying. 

He was just going to check on you, that's why he sat down next to you. You were sort of friends, and Rafe liked you enough that it didn’t feel right to just turn and leave. Really, his intentions were good.

But everyone knows what they say about good intentions—path to hell and all that.

That wasn’t really on Rafe’s mind when he started to attend to you. You were incredibly drunk and it took no prodding to get you to tell him what happened. You had gotten in an argument with your friends so they ditched you at the party, and that was after you got stood up. 

It wasn’t your night, to put it simply, and so it shouldn’t have surprised Rafe when you started to cry on his shoulder. Literally.

He wrapped an arm over you, mumbling encouragement you probably didn’t even hear. 

When you pulled back, you sniffed and sighed, wiping your eyes.

“I feel like nothing can go right for me,” you confessed shakily, blinking for clarity.

Rafe was struck with confusion in that moment, wondering why he liked your watery eyes and tear stained cheeks as much as he did.

Something within him urged Rafe to kiss you, and he didn’t resist it.

You seemed stunned and didn’t react right away. Your lips were soft, he couldn’t help himself. Rafe pushed his tongue into your mouth and cupped your face, kissing you harder.

Finally reacting, you tried to pull away.

Rafe parted from you for a moment, long enough to hear you gasp out his name.

“It’s okay,” he cooed, wiping away a tear from your cheek with his thumb. He lifted it to his lips and tasted the salty drop. He leaned back in. “You’re okay,” he muttered before capturing your lips again.

You let him guide you into his lap. He pulled back to look at you, watching as tears streaked down your face. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. You looked ashamed, but you didn’t need to be. You were beautiful like this, all fragile and weepy. He gripped your thighs to get in place, then slid your dress up around your waist.

The tears didn’t stop as he unbuttoned the front of his pants, or when he pushed your panties aside. Your weight sagged against him. Maybe you were too drunk to keep yourself up, or you wanted him too, but it didn’t make a difference to Rafe.

He kissed your neck, leaving his mark, while blindly lining himself up between your legs. 

You jerked back when the head of his cock prodded at your entrance, but Rafe wrapped an arm around you to keep you in place. 

“Stay still, alright?” Rafe hissed into your ear.

“I wanna go out there now,” you slurred, looking at the door.

Rafe tilted his head, meeting your blurry gaze. 

“We’re staying here,” Rafe drawled, pulling you down into his lap. 

You cut him off with a gasp when his cock filled you. Rafe groaned when your warm, wet walls squeezed him tight as you took him in full. 

You were unsure what to do, so you buried your face in his neck and tried to steady your breathing. Rafe’s cock throbbed inside of you as your tears hit his skin.

“You're right where I want you,” Rafe finished, voice low.

You didn’t fight him, and your gentle whimpers did nothing but make him want you more. 

[firewasabeast]

Prompt: I've been thinking about a mixture of posts on here and I'd really love Tommy going to talk to Eddie because, maybe Eddie isn't being a great friend? I've read some people think Eddie would fall in line with Gerrard (due to being in the army etc.) and I'd love to see a Tommy/Eddie argument!

When Eddie got a knock on his door at 9pm on a Tuesday, he wasn't sure who to expect. He hadn't gotten a call or text from anyone, and he hadn't ordered any food. He figured he'd be arguing with Jehovah's Witnesses, asking them why the hell they were knocking on his door so late? Usually he'd avoid them altogether, but a little piece of him felt like arguing, so he swung the door open with a dramatic sigh.

He was surprised to see Tommy on the other side of the door, hand raised in a fist, ready to knock again.

“Oh. Hey, Tommy. I wasn't expecting you, was I?”

“Um, no. Can I come in for a sec?”

“Sure.” Eddie moved out of the way so Tommy could come inside, closing the door behind him. “Want a beer or something?”

“No, I really can't stay long. I'm heading to Evan's after this.”

Right. Buck. He should've known he'd be getting a visit from Tommy. Buck hadn't exactly left work, or Eddie, on good terms two days ago. Things had been tense for a few weeks now, actually. Everything had slowly been bubbling up until Buck finally burst under the pressure and was sent home early for insubordination. He'd actually been told not to return until he could learn proper chain of command, and if he couldn't learn within a week, he should start searching for a new career path.

“Is Buck the one who sent you?” Eddie asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Tommy shook his head. “No. No one sent me.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “So you're not here to kick my ass?”

“Should I be?”

“I don't know,” Eddie answered honestly. “I don't know what you've been told.”

It was kind of a ridiculous sight right now, if you asked Eddie. Two grown men, friends for months now, standing awkwardly in his living room. Neither making any effort to sit or get more comfortable.

“Evan's been having a rough time with Gerrard,” Tommy started. “Sounds like he's Gerrard's main target.”

Eddie shrugged. “Gerrard likes to push buttons. Buck's buttons are easy to push.”

“Last week he asked Evan if he'd like a bra to go with the apron he wore while cooking.” Tommy tensed even as he spoke the words. “That doesn't just sound like pressing buttons to me.”

“He's a wannabe drill sergeant pissed about the fact he never made it through basic training. You do what he says, keep quiet, use your manners, and make him feel like he's the most important person in the room. That's how you get through a shift.” Eddie moved to sit on the couch, but Tommy remained standing. “You know how this works the same as I do,” he added.

“Yeah, I do,” Tommy agreed, although his voice was a bit more commanding now. “Probably better than you do, actually. Doesn't make it okay.”

Eddie sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Why are you here, Tommy? I'm tired.”

“To try and stop you from becoming me, you idiot. I've been where you are. I've sat beside Gerrard and watched him treat person after person like nothing but garbage. I kept quiet, I made him feel important, I followed behind him like I was his damn puppy dog. I called him sir, I did whatever he asked, I laughed along with his jokes. You know what that made me?”

Eddie was starting to get annoyed. “What?”

“Him. I was no better than him.”

Eddie's eyes darkened. He stood back up, taking a step toward Tommy. “Are you seriously comparing me to that piece of crap?”

“If the mustache fits.”

“You need to get out of my house now,” Eddie warned. He could feel his body filling with the same boiling rage that got him thrown in jail a few years ago. He didn't need that to happen again.

“You repeat to me what Gerrard told Evan two days ago and I'll go,” Tommy offered. “Tell me what Gerrard said that finally made him explode and I'll leave.”

“Or I can call the cops on you for trespassing,” Eddie replied, moving to the door and opening it.

Tommy made no effort to leave. “Go for it.”

They stared at each other for a moment, Eddie's chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. When Eddie realized Tommy was never going to back down, his shoulders slumped. “Come on, Man, just leave.”

Tommy doubled down. “Tell me what he said,” he demanded, speaking each work slowly and carefully.

“H- He... God, Tommy.” He looked away from him, unable to maintain eye contact as he recalled the event. “Buck fell while we were at a scene, bruised his tailbone. When we were sitting down to eat, Buck moved slow. He winced when he finally got seated... Gerrard saw and said th- that maybe if he... if he spent less time taking and more time giving he wouldn't have so much trouble.”

“But,” Tommy beckoned for him to continue.

Eddie took a deep breath. “But he should have expected Buck to be the woman.”

Tommy nodded. “There it is.”

“Listen, Tommy, I-”

“He could've really used someone sticking up for him. One person to step in and tell Gerrard he'd crossed a line. I get that Hen can't do anything right now. She can't risk not getting Mara back. And I know Howie can't do anything to lose Mara. But you could have said something, Eddie. You could have been there for him, but you weren't.”

And there was the anger again. “Why the hell is it on me?!” he exclaimed. “I've been going through my own crap, and it's not like you or Buck have really been around to help me out.”

“Oh, you cannot be serious right now.” Tommy's posture straightened, his body somehow becoming even wider and taller. It would have caused Eddie to pause and think about what was about to come out of his mouth if he wasn't so mad.

“Yeah, I am serious. I've needed people too, Tommy, but you guys have been too busy with each other to even notice.”

“You made the mess you're in right now, Eddie!” Tommy yelled. “You did that! You screwed up and it's on you to fix it! But Evan didn't do anything wrong. He sure as hell didn't deserve to be talked to like that, and now his job is on the line because you decided keeping the peace with a piece of scum like Gerrard was more important than speaking up for your supposed best friend. So, yeah, that's on you!” Tommy began to make his way to the door, ready to push past Eddie on his way, but Eddie wasn't finished.

“Hey!” He yelled, shoving Tommy back so he couldn't leave. “I've been trying to fix everything on my own! Trying to get my own life back! Hell, I just got to talk to my kid for the first time in over a month!”

“And who you think got Christopher to answer the damn phone?!”

It felt like all the air had suddenly been sucked out of Eddie's lungs. He stood there, his mouth hanging open as he tried to find the right words to speak. “I... Buck's been talking to Christopher?”

“Every day,” Tommy confirmed. “He calls or texts. Facetime's him every once in a while too. He's been telling Chris how you're doing, trying to get him to call you or text you. He even suggested writing you a letter.”

“I didn't know that.”

“He didn't really want you to. Christopher had promised him the next time you tried to call, he'd answer. Evan's been like a kid on Christmas Eve, excited for you to tell him how it went after you two talked.”

Eddie didn't know what to say. He wasn't angry anymore, just incredibly disappointed with himself.

“He's always had your back, Eddie,” Tommy said, making his way out the door. Eddie didn't stop him this time. “It'd be really nice if you had his.”

[evie-sturns]

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴇʀ ᴄᴀᴍᴘ - ᴍᴀᴛᴛ ꜱᴛᴜʀɴɪᴏʟᴏ

(part 3) (part 2) (part 1)

summary: you and your best-friend matt, have decided to sign up to be a summer camp counsellor for your school's summer project! will you two stay as just friends? or will this summer turn out different for you guys.

a/n: glad you guys are liking this series, this part is smutty af, but i like it, i might be wrong but i think this is a little shorter than part 1 and 2.

contains: SMUT! fluff, making out, swearing.

—------------╚══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╝------------——

he pulls away slowly as his phone lights up, he scrolls through it before letting out a soft laugh "no way" he scoffs, rubbing his eyes. "tonight were sleeping in the kids hall, like me and you, supervising.."

"you're kidding matt"

"nope, apparently theres a small cabin that connects off the kids hall, its got 1 bed that we share" he laughs

my cheeks flush, sharing a bed with matt, after this?..

-

after my makeout session with my bestfriend ,matt, we both went back to our own cabins, packing certain things to prepare for sleeping next to the kids sleeping-hall.

"xaiveerrr!" i yell, swinging the door to our cabin, hes sitting comfortably on his bed, still wearing his swimshorts as he scrolls through his phone. "y/n! i was waiting for you to come back to the lake?" he says, slightly confused.

"oh i just went into the kayak shed with matt." i smile, trying to wipe the blush off my face.

he raises an eyebrow "why'd you go in there? you totally abandoned me, i had to try make friends with fucking lincoln, hes weird as fuck.."

my mind scrambles, trying to think of a believable excuse for why i disappeared with matt into a dark shed for 25 minutes. i open my mouth, nothing comes out.

silence grows in me and xaivers shared cabin before he interrupts "no way, you kissed matt!?" he laughs, i slam my hand over his mouth "ew no what the hell!" i say defensivley.

"you're getting defenssiiivveee" he teases, my face goes cherry red. "we didn't do anything xaiver." i mutter, walking over and packing my toothbrush and pyjamas in a small tote bag.

"oh girl, i know you're not moving out right now, i was kidding!!!" he says, staring at me while i pack everything i need for a night.

"im not moving out, me and matt have to spend the night in the kids hall."

he gasps "oh my god, its luxury in there, i heard paige and dani were in there the other night, the cabin which you guys stay in is relativly close to the kids hall, so you're not actually in with the kids, its just a private room near it." xaiver says.

"oh thank god, though id have to sleep in a bunk in the middle of the kids hall." i sigh, throwing my tote bag over my shoulder, hugging xaiver goodbye.

"don't have too much fun with matt" he whispers, resulting in me slapping his arm "shut up."

-

I walk down the long gravel path towards matts cabin, its got a small sign outside which reads, 'MATT & LINCOLN' i walk up to their cabin, knocking twice. matt swings open the door, hes got a toothbrush in hand.

"where the fuck is your bag" i laugh.

"bag?" he questions

"yeah? overnight bag, like pyjamas, toothbruhs, face wash..."

his face stays deadpan "oh uh, this is all i need." he laughs pointing to the toothbrush.

"doesn't matter, lets go." i say unlocking my phone and reading the time 7:34pm

matt subtly holds my hand as we approach the kids hall, theres a small cabin about 20 meters away from it, "theres our room!" he says, walking me over to it and swinging open the door, theres one double bed with a book of rules on it. i place my bag down on the bed as matt flicks through the book

"all the campers must be in bed by 9pm, uhh, any complications call jessie in the main office.." he trails off "seems easy enough."

after a few minutes of unpacking matt grabs my hand again, my heartrate increases as he stares into my eyes, "c'mon, lets go check out the kids hall." he says before letting my hand go and walking out into the evening air.

we walk up the stairs to the kids hall, opening the double doors.

theres about 100 bunk beds, with around 200 hundred kids scattered across the room, wall diveders in some parts so its not just an open room, a group of kids are doing gymnastics, another couple are reading, its chaotic but controlled.

i look up at matt, he seems slightly overwhelmed.

instantly three six year old girls run up to us,

"are you guys boyfriend girlfriennddd!" one of them says, smiling up at me and matt. another group of slightly older girls come up to me, "can we braid your hair?"

i look at matt, hes smiling at me, a small blush painted on his cheeks, "yeah sure!" i say as one of the nine year olds pulls me towards her bunk bed, sitting me and matt down.

she giggles as she pulls out two hairbands, tying up matt's hair into pigtails above his head. matt rubs his eyes, as they start placing bows in his hair. "looking good matt" i say, nudging his arm.

-

i check my watch again, 8:55pm

shit.

i stand up from her bunk bed, my hair decked out in glitter hairspray.

i drag matt away from his makeover, "hey, we're just getting to the good part!" matt whines, "matt we have 5 minutes to have 200 kids asleep." i say, stressed, running my hand through my crispy hair.

"you guys have to be in bed in 5 minutes guys! whoever falls asleep first gets a candy!" i yell from the middle of the hall, instantly all the kids leap into bed, screaming as they gather their stuffed animals.

the whole room goes silent, apart from a few whispers, i look at matt whos got a suprised expression spread across his face. i grab his hand before walking towards the door, flicking off the light and stepping out into the night breeze.

we approach our small cabin for the night, matt opens the door, pulling me inside and locking the wooden door behind us.

"we should finish what we started earlier." he mumbles, looking down at me in the dimly lit cabin.

"what?" i whisper, but im cut off by his hand on the side of my cheek, he leans down, pulling me into a gentle kiss.

"we can't matt." i say pulling away.

"why not, you scared?" he teases.

"anyone can walk in or hear us, the walls are paper thin." i sigh.

"who said we have to do it in here?" matt says seductively

"im not fucking you in a public bathroom, thats gross." i sigh, walking over and grabbing my toothbrush.

"come with me." matt whispers, taking my hand and unlocking the door to the cabin. he grips onto my hand as he runs towards the trees, he picks me up, taking me into the garland until theres a patch of soft grass.

he waits for me to say something.

"i think i need you.." i mumble as he lays me on the grass on my back.

"tell me what you want me to do to you baby." he whispers, grabbing the inside of my thigh.

"fuck.. please fuck me." i whisper shakily.

i pull my tanktop off over my head, to his suprise i have no bra on underneath. my nipples instantly become hard as the breeze hits them. i pull down my pyjama shorts, leaving me revealed for him

"its gonna be okay baby, just tell me when." matt says, pulling his sweatpants down.

his length springs out, tapping his stomach lightly.

"oh my fuck-" i groan, throwing my head back as he kneels between my legs, lining himself up with my entrance "you gotta be nice and quiet for me, can you do that for me?" he says, holding my hand.

he slowly pushes inside of me, his length stretching me out, i wince. "breathe." matt says, "look at me sweetheart." he mumbles as he thrusts deeper inside of me, my eyes stay sealed shut. "watch me baby or i'll stop."

he pulls out to his tip, then thrusts back in "taking me so well."

i let out a loud moan, "shut up, and take it." he says slamming a hand over my mouth. his thrusts intenseify, my moans are muffled by his palm. "im gonna fuck-" i groan, "hold it for me." he says, continuing to fuck me. without warning i clench around him, letting myself go.

he abrubtly pulls out, stroking himself a few times as he whimpers, realeasing all over my stomach before collapsing down beside me.

"im so proud of you." he whispers shakily as he pulls up his sweatpants. he hands me my shorts as he stands up, pulling me onto my feet as my legs tremble. "you okay?" he looks down at me, concern spread across his face.

"mmfgh." i mumble out, still processing what just happened, matt chuckles before picking me up and running us back to the cabin.

(the next morning)

I wake up to the godawful sound of dani's voice, i open my eyes slowly looking at her as she looks down at the bed, her arms folded.

i tap matt, forcing him awake. he groans as he yawns, his eyes springing open. his face drops as he sees danielle.

"saw you two last night." she says, her arms folded.

my stomach drops.

"jessie wants you two in her office, such a shame that you have to go home so early, you were only here for such a small amount of time! guess someone didn't read the no romance between staff rule.." she tuts.

"god, i feel soo sorry for you guys, also gonna fail business class cause you couldn't even keep a job here." she says in a fake sympathetic tone.

tears well in my eyes, threatening to fall.

"oh well, go on get dressed and pack your bags, better to be prepared before you see jessie." she sighs before walking out of our cabin.

—------------╚══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╝------------——

taglist which i forgot earlier

@iammattsturniolo @iloveneilperry @tatumrileyslover @chrisstopherfilmed

@leprechaunbirthdaygirl

not too sure wtf just happened none of it workin

[solcorvidae]

I've been thinking about how Lambert, Eskel, and Geralt all deal with the trials and how it shapes them into the people they would grow to become.

Lambert remembers his past. He is angry, upset, bitter, and vindictive. He's got this fire in him that is only stoked by the pain and suffering forced upon him. He remembers the boys who did not make it: the hell they all had to go through, and he has a complicated relationship with Vesemir that surrounds it. Lambert does questionable things that Geralt is bothered by in his grief and anger. Geralt calls him out for killing in cold blood, needlessly and mercilessly.

Lambert avoids Vesemir at Kaer Morhen and mocks him when he is not around. He may come off as childish and like an asshole, but Lambert knows what he feels. Lambert doesn't lash out because he can't control his emotions or because he doesn't understand the path of least resistance. He knows. He chooses to avoid conflict with Vesemir at Kaer Morhen by keeping out of his way. He knows he can't control his emotions effectively if he is face-to-face with him for too long. He knows, and he isn't stupid.

Lambert talks to Geralt about the trials and the injustice of it all. He probably looks up to Geralt, hoping his brother feels just as angry about it as he does. He went through the Trial of the Grasses twice for Christ's sake! Why is he not more angry? Why is he so apathetic?

And Geralt brushes him off time and time again. Such is life, is his attitude. We all went through it, he says. Geralt can't be upset because there is nothing he can feasibly do about it. He didn't choose to be a Witcher. He wouldn't have chosen this life. He would have some other job somewhere else, just like he told Regis. He can't change the past. He can't go back and fix something he never had control over in the first place. Besides, they can’t inflict the trials upon a new generation of kids, not anymore. It’s in the past now, so why dwell on it? What’s done is done and thank god no other kids have to suffer the way they did. It’s over. It’s time to move on.

Geralt doesn't enjoy fame. He tells Eskel this in To Bait a Forktail. Geralt is the famous twice-grassed White Wolf. He is The Witcher. The famed Geralt of Rivia. He has expectations piled upon him the size of mountains. He's got to be the perfect Witcher, he's got to be a loyal brother, a lover, and a best friend… Geralt had expectations put upon him that set him aside from the rest since he was a kid. He hates it. Underneath the banter and the wit, Geralt accepts that this is his life, but that doesn't mean he likes it. He tolerates it because it is his reality and nothing more. If he thinks about it for too long… maybe it will consume him.

"You remember her?" he asks Eskel about his mother.

Unlike Lambert, Geralt hardly knows what it means to live another life. He doesn't have that following him like it does with his brother. What little he remembers is not enough to erase the apathy drilled into him at such a young age. Maybe he has a more strict moral code than say, Lambert, (or if you want to bring in the other Witcher schools, most of the Cats and the caravan) but that doesn't make him the most ethical person on the Continent. How could you be? After all that he has endured, the things he was taught? Where do you draw the line? He kills monsters, but like in Velen, it's hard to see where the line's drawn in the sand.

Humans are monstrous too.

Eskel, however? Maybe he's jealous. He did everything right, why shouldn’t he be? He is superiorly skilled in magic, one hell of a good Witcher. He has a reputation for it. Maybe he's not as kind as your average person, but he gets the job done. He's got a more relaxed demeanour than his brothers which reveals itself in his reputation. He's reliable. He is damn good at what he does. So why does Geralt get all the attention? The fame? He clearly doesn't want it.

While Lambert got turned into a vindictive prick and Geralt became a quick-witted nihilist, Eskel? He's exactly who he should be. Why shouldn't he be praised for it like his brother? Why should he be forced to bend over backwards to accommodate people and keep up with his reputation? For what? His skills? Ha! He lives in the shadows of Geralt who's notably a good Witcher, but he's not quite as good as Eskel.

Eskel was beaten shaped into the man he is today because of the trials, his training, and everything else. Should he not get credited for that too? Why does someone who doesn't even want his fame get all the recognition? Genetic predisposition? Shouldn't his hard work be given more consideration and praise? Thank god Geralt survived the hell of being subjected to two rounds of mutagens rather than one, but why should that overshadow the efforts, the time, and the sacrifices that everyone else around him has made? Eskel is exactly the man that they intended him to be by the end of it all. He is an efficient hunter, he is outstanding with signs, and he works diligently for his reputation. He did everything right. He does everything right. Why is that not enough?

TL;DR: Lambert, Geralt and Eskel handle their traumas in different ways. Lambert gets vengeful, Geralt gets apathetic, and Eskel gets borderline jealous. (And it breaks my heart)

[shiplessoceans]

Ways I imagine Buddie cannon could happen before season 8 starts:

#1

Buck and Eddie are doing something basic and domestic, like Buck is baking cookies in Eddie's kitchen using Bobby's tried and true recipe because Christopher is coming home tomorrow and Eddie is spiralling and pacing the kitchen because what if it doesn't go well and what if Christopher asks to move to Texas permanently and maybe he should have gone to Texas to get him instead of having his parents put him on a plane...

And Buck puts down the wooden spoon, wipes his hands off on the tea towel over his shoulder and grabs Eddie's shoulders to halt his pacing. He reassures Eddie it's all gonna be okay. Chris loves his dad. He knows his dad loves him.

Eddie drops his head and lets out a breath and Buck pulls Eddie into a hug while still reassuring him.

"You're family. You both love each other! And the rest? Hey, you'll figure it out."

He pulls back and looks Eddie in the eyes. Eddie blinks a few times, something behind his eyes shifts, like he's seeing something he's never seen before. Buck keeps talking.

"Okay?"

Eddie nods and steps forward, still nodding and kisses Buck.

Buck jumps back, and looks at Eddie, momentarily confused. Eddie's face is sure and set. He's chosen a path and he's sticking with it.

A second passes, a silent understanding built from years of easy friendship.

Eddie says only one word. It has the same inflection as though he asked him if he's down to get pizza tonight.

"Yeah?"

Bucks mouth splits into that lopsided smile that could rival the sun for it's warmth.

"Hell yeah."

And they're off. An embrace, easy slow kisses, holding each other, both mesmerised, moving together easily and learning each other in this new way. They fit together like two pieces of a puzzle and it seems strange that this should be the first time they've done this given how familiar it somehow it feels. As thought they've been doing this for years instead of minutes.

Buck pulls back first, Eddie still leaning forward, trying to maintain the contact. He only just got this and is unwilling to relinquish it.

"Woah, woah. We should..."

Eddie blows out air with his words:

"...slow down, yeah."

Eddie let's his hand drop from where it's cupping Bucks' cheek and Buck nods before rushing to clarify.

"Not that I want to!"

Eddie huffs a laugh. "Me either, Buck." He pulls away entirely and takes a few steps back to the other side of the kitchen so they are no longer touching.

Buck tries not to look forlorn at the loss, reminding himself to think with his upstairs brain. He gestures between them.

"This just feels like something we should talk about before we..."

Eddie puts his hands behind his head, looking distressed and lets out a groan.

"No! You're right, I'm messing this up."

Eddie steels himself. Walking back over to gently take Bucks hands in his own.

"Evan Buckley you are my best friend. I know you love me and I know you love Chris and we both love having you in our lives. But I've been trying to figure some stuff out lately, about myself, and what I've realised is that...

Eddie's face breaks into a smile.

"I don't just love you like a friend or brother or co-worker. Buck... You are the best person I know. And I love you more than I thought possible. "

Buck looks like someone struck him with lightning again.

"Eddie..."

"Please let me finish."

Buck nods after a beat.

"So I guess what I'm saying is: Evan Buckley, would you let me take you on a date?"

Buck laughs then, while blinking back happy tears, Eddie joins him. They laugh and then kiss and hold each other.

Buck sniffs and nods.

"Yes. I would love to."

Eddie kisses him again.

Buck shoves him playfully. "Took you long enough!"

Eddie wipes his eyes discreetly and jokes: "Hey give a guy a break! Years of Catholic repression, a shotgun wedding and being made a widower will mess a guy up for a while."

Buck grins at him.

"I like the mess."

[poetryvampire]

you and me are Rolan pantie thief truthers! I wonder if there are more of us?

But anyways I know his posh butt is a fool for some of Tavs panties, they have just gotten down relishing in each other’s embrace. Tav is leaving tomorrow to go on a week long visit to emerald grove. They will be gone for a few days… and Rolan doesn’t think he will be able to make it a week without his love…

But oh? Just from the coner of his eye he sees the dainty fabric he had pulled off them earlier… and Tav wouldn’t notice… so while Tav is in the bathroom Rolan cast mage hand and slips their panties into his robes pocket…

It doesn’t fully satisfy how much he misses Tav… but it does help ease the ache… Rolan presses the crotch to his nose taking a deep whiff as he palms his cock faster, the tip drooling with precum he wishes that wasn’t wasted on the floor but instead in you… the thought of being buried deep makes him fist his cock faster, his tongue dragging across the material desperately hoping for a lingering taste.

During his post nut clarity he will chastise himself for being a pervert… but he’s still being the material to his nose after a while, needing to feed his addiction…

He doesn’t know if he will last anymore days… or if you will ever get your panties back in one piece.

GODS this is literally perfect. I'm so so normal about this idea omg thank you 💜💙💜💙💜💙

Also rip i'm so sorry this got lost in my drafts for so long 😥

You're so so right. It would def start out like that, with Tav being away and him longing for them like a sad lil puppy. He's also totally alone so he'd feel a little more comfortable to indulge. Rolan's 100% his own worst enemy and beats the hell out of himself over the kink. He's embarrassed just how much he likes it and doesn't want anyone-especially Tav- to ever find out.

But rip once he does it boy is HOOKED. At first he promises himself only to do it when they're away, which doesn't happen terribly often. Still he tires to keep to his word...until he just happens to find a pair under the bed, surely tossed away in the heat of the moment. Before he can even form a debate he's huffing into them, rutting into his fist as fast as he can. Needless to say Rolan ends up indulging much more than he wants to admit. He makes a habit of nabbing a pair and keeping them with him when he's particularly stressed. Nothing get's him off as hard and fast. They're prefect for when he's locked in his office, desk heaping with notes and papers on a spell he just can't get right.

Of course, it doesn't take that long for Tav to catch on. At first they thought they were just misplacing them. Until enough go missing altogether. As much as Rolan tries to be gentle he's ripped some apart with his teeth or by wrapping them around his cock. And it's certainly strange how the panties only go missing right after they've worn them. One day Tav just asked Rolan without much thought. It's not like they haven't stolen his shirts or sweaters before. Terrible lair as always, it's the look of horror on the wizards face as he brushes it off that confirms it. Tav is ready to push him on it until they clock just how red(der) he's turned and it dawns on them. They decide to take a different path to broach the subject.

A few days later Tav makes a point get back from an early morning workout not long before Rolan is headed to work. As he rambles to them about the drudgery waiting for him from the other room, Tav slyly slips off their panties and neatly places them in the inner pocket of his robe. They finish just in time for Rolan to grab it from them before kissing their head and hurrying out the door.

[ottpopfic]

“We got some new campers in,” Jason eventually says “They were, really young”

“Hmm,” Leo presses a kiss into his husband's hair “How young?”

“Like four and six”

“So you young?”

"Yeah"

---

Leo and Jason talk about kids

Every once in a while Leo thinks his man’s job is bad for him.

It's a draining process that doesn’t really have an off switch, being both camps super pope. Jason gets dreams and demands from gods in the least gentle way they can possibly deliver them. Then there's paperwork (which looks to Leo like its own personal hell but that might just be him), and research and politics and travel . Jason excels at it, he's been trained for it for one, and it suits him. He's doing important work that keeps the peace and shit, it looks fulfilling and he openly enjoys it

But it also pulls on that deep-seated need for him to be the perfect soldier, that cellular-level demand to put duty and country and others first. It's destructive at times, but Leo thinks that's why the flaw is called fatal. And Leo has decided somewhere along the line that he’s allowed to be greedy when it comes to his husband ; he chased him out of hell enough to earn that right. He's also decided that he's not chasing him out again, they're both alive now and he would like them to stay that way. This means that Jason is not allowed to self-destruct. Even if Leo is a hypocrite, as he likes to run around self-destructing all the time. But Jason can pick him up and physically throw him on the bed when he starts down that path (and then lay on him until he passes out from the comforting weight of his man and sheer exhaustion) but whatever that's not the point

The point is his man looks like death after his trip to New Rome and went right back to work without a full twelve hours of sleep after doing some crazy ambassadorial work and being gone for two weeks. Leo can smell the overwork spiral starting, he's an expert as it's one of his favorite kinds of spirals to take down himself. The issue is he can't physically force his man to take a nap, when Leo was supposed to do a good chunk of his growing he spent it malnourished and sleeping under bridges, even into his thirties he's never gotten over 5’5” and is a scrawny twig to boot. He's better, the moms got some weight and muscle mass on him in his late teens when he wasn't going around dying on repeat, but not enough to physically force the 6’6” wall of muscle that is his walking marble sculpture of a husband out of his office.

Fortunately what he does have is access to a state-of-the-art workshop and a brain that can engineer just about anything. He has Rube Goldberg his man out of his office on three separate occasions just this year, for some reason it makes Jason all blushy and heart-eyed each time the fucking nerd. Something about being able to physically watch Leo’s brain work, and also that he always has the blond landing at his feet and Jason loves looking at him. It's something he's had to get used to, those piercing blue eyes tracking his every movement like him sitting soldering for two hours straight is the most distracting thing in the world

Apparently this is the main reason he needed an office, said he couldn't get any work done with Leo in the room. At the time Leo just thought it was because Jason was anxious watching him work, both of them fresh from watching each other die a lot and Leo being around heavy machinery, he now knows it's because he was looking at his ass

Whatever, whatever . What matters is that Jason needs a day off and Leo is not above getting creative. Or becoming a nuisance, he's also very good at being a nuisance. He can start by being a nuisance, the bowling balls and pulley systems aren't going anywhere. Also, he doesn't want to explain why he needs the legos back to Will and Nico, their godkid is busy with them anyway

Being a nuisance includes climbing on top of Jason's desk and possibly getting the grease on his pants soaked into fancy paperwork, but who's fault is that? Definitely not Leo’s, he's been a good noodle getting his full eight hours even with his husband gone and everything. He doesn't even let his husband start in on him, because he's the one in the wrong this time, Leo just gets himself comfy with his feet on either side of Jason's hips. He uses his ankles to hook into the armrest of the rolling desk chair to pull the blonde a little closer so he can take his face in his hands, squishing his cheeks together until his lips pucker like a fish

“You need a break” Leo scolds “You didn't even set your alarms or anything”

Jason grumbles about needing to finish something or whatnot, very illegal with the amount of sleep he's gotten after all the travel. Leo squishes his face more so he can't talk

“You need a nap,” he demands “And I want cuddles, you were gone for two weeks I'm in withdrawal”

Jason just sighs, sliding his hands up Leo’s thighs to rest on his waist under his shirt and presses his face into his hands like he's trying to soak in Leo’s touch. And that's, concerning. Usually when he gets like this it takes more than just the first try to get him to disengage, and he's way more snappy about his hyperfocus being disrupted. Leo pulls his man’s face into the crook where his shoulder meets neck, Jason immediately melts

“Hey, what's up?” Leo asks him softly. Jason does a snort huff sign that Leo can loosely translate to ‘Something was a lot more than usual and it followed me home’. Leo gets one arm around Jason’s shoulder and the other hand in his hair for scratchies, settling in to wait for his man to find English again

Jason takes a while to gather himself, scratchies don't really help with coherent sentences but it's fine. Leo just starts in on his cuddle quota and looks at the photo from their godkid's recent birthday perched on the bookshelf. Nico took it, over-excited freshly turned ten-year-old watching Leo’s disembodied fingers light the candles as Will and Jason look on with worry. It's crazy that Katie has only been with them for two years, it feels like longer

Leo really enjoys having a kid in their lives, and Katie is awesome. She's clever and spunky and is basically unspookable when it comes to magic shit (grocery stores on the other hand, not so much). Somehow they ended up in a four-way co-parenting arrangement. Legally she's Will and Nico’s, but she half-lives at the Way Station with how their schedules go. And it's great, Leo loves it and so does Jason. It's like everything is better having the kid around, everything is that much more fun getting to watch her experience it too.

“We got some new campers in,” Jason eventually says “They were, really young”

“Hmm,” Leo presses a kiss into his husband's hair “How young?”

“Like four and six”

“So you young?”

“Yeah”

That tracks. They have been making a lot of progress at Camp Half-Blood, but in comparison New Rome has been stagnant when it comes to the treatment of their youngest orphaned charges. It's been bothering Jason more as of late, especially since Katie came into their lives. Almost like looking at this little girl day in day out puts it in perspective how young they were when they went through so much. When Leo was ten he had just run away from his latest foster home because they were starving him, when Jason was ten he was a soldier.

It's damn near impossible to picture Katie in those situations, not because she hasn't gone through her own shit, but because Leo would be personally burning down everything in his way to prevent it.

But that's the difference isn't it, Katie has family looking out for her. Unlike they did, unlike those new campers do

“So whats the plan?” Leo asks, resting his cheek on his husband's hair

Jason sighs and leans into him harder “I don't know” he says “I just keep getting all upset”

“About what part?”

“I don't know. The age? Or how small they are,” Jason leans his face in even harder, his arms now wrapped around Leo’s waist like he can merge their bodies together if he presses enough “It also made me think about Katie, how small she must have been at that age. Then it got all jumbled up”

Leo might be able to read between the lines a little “You were probably that small too” he tries

“I guess”

“Do you think it's about you too, or just the kids?”

“Mabey, I don't want it to be”

“It's okay if it is”

“Is it?”

“Of course it is” Leo plants another kiss into his husband's hair “Your allowed to be upset for Puppy Jason, he didn't do anything to deserve what happened to him”

“Puppy Jason is a son of Jupiter” Jason dismisses with a snort

“Yeah, but he didn't ask for that”

“I guess”

“Hey,” Leo pulls back to meet Jason’s eyes so he knows he means it “Puppy Jason didn't deserve to be a child soldier, you know that right?”

“But he's supposed to-”

“Would it be okay for any of your godkids to join that young?” Leo pushes on, keeping his tone kind

“No! No, I would-” Jason gives a disgruntled snort-sneeze like he's trying to blow away the idea before turning back to him “But it's different ”

“How?”

“I don't know, it just is ”

“Oh, Cielito ,” Leo takes his husband's face in his hands and pulls him in so their foreheads rest together “It's okay”

Jason does a little sigh and facial motion that Leo can translate to ‘It's not’, and it breaks his heart

“I wouldn't let Puppy Jason go do war shit,” he tells him instead, nuzzling his forehead into his husband’s “I would probably just have to take Puppy Jason home with me”

“Even though Puppy Jason bites?” Jason teases with a small sad smile

“Adult Jason bites” Leo insists deadpan

“And eats bugs?”

“Have you met our godkid?”

That makes Jason chuff out a laugh, Katie is truly a ferocious bug eater, she even shares with Jason sometimes the feral weirdos. There has been more than one occasion where Leo has had to stop the both of them from eating grubs when they do the wedding in the roof garden. Like he knows they're edible, but still.

“I’d do kids with you any day,” he says, pulling his husband into a hug with his arms around his neck “You know that. But especially puppy you, got a soft spot for that one”

Jason sighs as he melts into the hug, winding his arms back around Leo’s waist. Leo can practically hear his husband's brain ticking, taking everything he said and adding what he was feeling and molding it into something closer to processing it all together. He needs a moment, Jason is good with snap judgment in crises and leadership scenarios but when it's quiet and slow-paced it can take him a moment. Leo is content to hold him as he puts things together and finds the right words

“What if I said I didn't want to keep the kids?” Jason probes after a while, hiding his face in the hug “What if I said I just wanted to help lots of kids?”

“Like foster care?”

“Would you be okay with that?”

“Why wouldn't I be?”

“You didn't have the best experience, they were pretty awful”

“I mean not all of them, the last one was pretty great”

“The last one?”

Leo pulls back so he can gesture to the room, and in turn the Way Station, as a whole

“O-oh!”

“What did you think I meant?”

“I don't know, I guess I just forgot that your moms were your foster moms” Jason's face lit up a bit at the realization “It's home here now”

“It is, isn't it” Leo smiles at him, he will never be over the both of them and home “But foster families adopt all the time. And theres people out there trying to make it better”

“Like Piper”

“Like Piper”

Piper who somewhere along the lines decided she needed to take down the troubled teen industry and expose its abusive underbelly. It's a sight to behold, the woman got her social worker license and has been using her charm-speak for good ever since. Last Leo heard (as of last week) she just finished a case with with a place that preached ‘tough love’, it was all over the mortal news.

“You could do that too,” Leo reminds his husband “You have a say in laws and shit right. Age limits are a thing, and there are a lot more adult half-bloods now”

“Make a demigod foster care network?”

“Yeah”

“You would do that with me?”

“Absolutely,” Leo says, and he means it, “I told you, I'll do kids with you any day”

Jason’s expression goes gooey and lovesick

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” he asks with a smile

“I mean you did die a bunch for me sooooo”

“I’d do it again,” his man swears like breathing

“Please don't,” Leo tucks a stray lock of fluffy blond hair back in place “I'm enjoying us being alive right now”

Jason laughs, it's cheesed and geeked and dorky, with eyes gleaming full of devotion. Leo kisses him, a solid proper kiss, one turning into many that pulls giggles out of him too

Foster kids huh, it's a full circle

“I also had to have some ambrosia when it was there,” Jadon tells him when they separate “It changed again”

“Oh, is it not our wedding cake anymore?” Leo asks with mock offense “I've been ousted?”

“It's Cheerios and chocolate chips”

“You and Katie’s after-school snack?”

“Yeah”

“Man,” Leo squished his face once more, but it's purely cuteness aggression “You need to stop being so adorable, I can't handle it”

“How is that adorable?”

“Just you and your big squishy heart” he gives him a smooch on the nose “I love you”

They kiss again, it's wonderful

“I should call Piper,” Jason says when they separate

“Uh, no.” Leo insists, pulling back so Jason can see his disgruntled face “You should take me to bed so we can take a nap”

“But I need to-”

“A nap Mr. Valdez,” Leo insists, ignoring the way his husband's eyes sparkle over the mention of their now-shared last name. It's been a year and a half they both need to get a grip “You were flying and I need cuddles. I am withering away from lack of cuddles, I’m a sheet on the wind”

“Is that so?” Jason places a kiss on a fading hickey on the side of his neck “I can think of other reasons to take you to bed, might do the same thing”

“Oh no,” Leo says, starting to push his man away “You are not getting out of nap time by being all sexy cute, absolutely not”

Jason does a snort and nip that Leo knows translates to ‘I can find ways to change your mind’, rude. And also illegal with the way he's been working. Leo starts squirming away from his husband backwards on the desk, rumpling papers and pulling an unhappy whine out of his man. Jason hooks his fingers under the waistband of Leo’s pants before he can get far

“You gonna be good and go to bed?” Leo asks, leaning back on his elbows so his husband can't get back in his space. Jason gives a puff-huff and flashes a canine, trying to pull Leo back in by his grip on his belt. Leo doesn't let him, putting a foot on Jason’s soft middle so he can't bend or pull him closer. That just makes his man whine, the big baby. Leo quirks his eyebrow and bares his own teeth, telling his husband that he means it

They have a little standoff, which includes two sneeze-snorts from Jason and one exhale of smoke from Leo, but in the end his husband relents.

“Fine,” the blond gives in with more whining “Just, cm’mere”

Leo lets himself be pulled into his husband's lap, knees on either side of his hips, and starts in on peppering kisses on every inch of his stupid handsome face. Jason makes a happy little noise and leans into the affection, sliding his hands up the back of Leo’s shirt so his fingers can trace the Lichtenberg scars running between his shoulder blades

“Nap time,” Leo demands once he feels like his man has been thoroughly smooched “And if your a good boy we can play later”

The grin that gets out of his husband is blinding, Jason eagerly scooping him up under his ass to take him to their room.

[20001541]

so about chapter 423 and how it stands as a conclusion to the ofa and afo plotline....

overall I think it's a fitting end for afo. I know what I've said before with not wanting a repeat of 410, and while this is similar in some ways it's still different enough to not bother me as we see the true afo instead of the afo clouded by hate.

while we got the "yoichi without you it's all for naught" in 410, afo at that time had his mind clouded by hatred and is mainly concerned with getting to tomura and izuku. there's no true confession of the extent of his feelings nor is there any conclusion with yoichi, besides he didn't even speak out loud then. he couldn't he was a baby, what we saw were only his thoughts. what bakugo really heard was just wah and you can see that if you go back to the chapter. that's why I wasn't satisfied with 410 as a conclusion to his character. I think 423 does a good job of this instead.

now getting into the details of 423, I'm glad we finally got to see him and yoichi have one final conversation with each other. it's what I've been wanting for the past hundred chapters and man did it hurt to read. he spent the whole story acting composed and as if everything will always go his way, but here we see him for who he truly is: just a man who is desperate to be with his brother again.

when he thought yoichi fully shattered immediately all his arrogant boasting and smiles were gone. he could no longer hide behind the persona of the demon king, yoichi's supposed shattering was too much for him. he didn't care about looking tough in front of his enemies, he made it clear that without yoichi there's no point to anything he does. this last conversation they have together really highlights just how much he is emotionally dependent on his brother.

and while the only reaction we saw from afo witnessing yoichi die in front of him was a blank stare, I feel like this chapter shows just how devastated he was to lose him. he's screaming at him to show him his face and he's trying to hold onto him as long as possible because he's scared of him disappearing again. without yoichi his life is completely meaningless and he doesn't care what happens as long as yoichi stays by his side. I think it's fitting that his last moments are spent with him begging for yoichi to show him his face and not being allowed to see it in return. yoichi didn't owe him anything after the hell he put him and many others through. all yoichi wanted was to put the fighting to an end after a whole century so he allowed the others to kill afo that way he wont ever hurt anyone again. kind of poetic to see all of the people afo victimized come together to end him as afo holds what's left of yoichi.

I still wish this confrontation was longer, the brothers should've been allowed to have their own chapter. I know some argue that yoichi wouldn't have had much to say to afo anyways as he's made his peace of what was about to happen, but maybe we could've gotten some flashbacks to their past where we see yoichi keeps trying to put afo on the right path and afo just doesn't care to hear it. I know there's two instances where we see yoichi trying to tell afo to stop what he's doing, but I would've liked to see some more of that. that's one gripe I have is that we didn't get to see enough of yoichi's perspective concerning their past. we saw some in 193, but I feel like it would've been a lot better if more was shown from his viewpoint as it would've fleshed him and their relationship out more. for now all we can hope is that we get some extra content about them in the future.

as it stands this was a good way to end their plot line. I've been worried that their conclusion wouldn't be that great, but I'm happy with what we got. I'll miss both of them dearly.

[starlightsearches]

Track 7: Eddie Munson on his wedding day.

I Got You, Babe

Track 7: Kiss on My List by Hall & Oates  - Give me a character and a fluff prompt (or give me free rein) and I'll write a short blurb or headcanons about it.

Eddie x Female! Reader

thanks for the request, my love, I hope you like it! Eddie seems like the kind of guy to throw a wedding together last minute so that's the vibe i tried to capture 💖

📼 ✨ mixtape milestone ✨ 📼

Warnings: not really, just a lot of fluff, and some language

Crying at your own wedding is sappy as hell.

In Eddie's mind, it's the easiest way to kill the vibe. Your wedding is supposed to be a party, for Christ's sake. So, even though he tears up at happy Christmas commercials and gets weepy every year on his birthday even though Wayne always makes him the same funny-looking chocolate cake he's baked since Eddie was a god damn seven year old, he is determined not to cry on the day he gets to marry you.

He's got a buzz all morning, though, and that makes him nervous. Like somebody's gonna jump around a corner and it's gonna startle him into tears—every emotion he's ever had bubbling right up to the surface while he tugs at all the layers, trying to make the suit he borrowed look right.

It's a relief when he finally gets to leave the trailer, walking down the path to the little field nearby. It's filled with all your favorite wildflowers, and everybody's managed to make it look as nice as you deserve. There's a makeshift tent for shade, a mix-match of patterned bed-sheets hanging like a canopy, all the chairs and tables anybody was willing to donate for the afternoon spread out around the dance floor Wayne and some guys from the plant put together out of old pallets and spare wood planks.

Eddie presses his sticky palms together, trying to keep his hands from shaking while he greets everybody, accepting all the congratulations and good lucks from trailer park friends and gentle ribbing from the Hellfire guys and the freshman chirping in his ear.

The wedding part hasn't even started yet, and his throat's already burning. It's not a big crowd by any means, but Eddie never realized there were this many people who cared about him.

Eddie's not gonna cry when the music starts and everybody shuts up, watching for you at the end of the sorta-aisle between all the tables. He might throw up though. Or die, maybe, with the way his heart is pounding. Wayne's standing behind him, a reassuring hand on his shoulder, and that's the only thing keeping him place.

Eddie thought all that might go away once he was sure you were gonna show, but it's actually much, much worse.

Tears are narrowly avoided once you appear. He figures out pretty quick that if he looks directly at you, he'll go off like a fountain, so he clenches his jaw and his hands and his ass cheeks, looking anywhere but your face. At the little bouquet of daises you probably picked yourself this morning, at the billowy sleeves on your dress.

He's not used to seeing you in white, but damn if you don't look stunning.

Eddie doesn't cry through the vows, but that's only because he's not listening. His head is full of static, holding both your hands in his in front of all your friends and family and friends you love like family. He'll make you repeat them again that night, when you're alone and he can bury his face in a pillow if he can't handle all the things it'll make him feel. Then he'll make you say them over and over and over again until it doesn't make him feel like he's drowning.

He kisses you when he's told, in front of everybody, and you cup his face in your hands and kiss him back.

You love him, god damn it. That shouldn't make his eyes sting, but it does. It's how much you love him that Eddie'll never, ever get over.

It gets easier after that, though. As long as Eddie doesn't remember that you agreed to marry him, and then you did marry him, and now you're married to him and he's married to you and you're his wife. If he ignores that, he's fine.

He doesn't cry while you're swaying under the Christmas lights hung around the edge of the tent, Journey's Faithfully playing through the amps he used to lug around for Corroded Coffin shows. Or at least, nobody sees the tear that slips down his cheek when he's got his face tucked into your hair, your cheek pressed tight against his chest, so wrapped up in each other it feels like you've only got one heartbeat.

Eddie almost makes it the whole day. Until Wayne.

He sneaks up on the two of you, sitting in a far off corner for a second of alone time, eating a slice of your wedding cake one of the neighbors baked from a box mix with your bare hands, laughing, and smearing frosting on each other's faces and then licking it off.

Eddie's got a few crumbs dangling from his bangs when he turns to look at Wayne, hands tucked shyly into his pockets.

"I was just wondering if my new daughter-in-law would wanna dance?"

You brush the frosting off your hands before Wayne leads you to the dance floor, swaying with you—old-school, with one hand on your waist and the other in yours—to a song his uncle played so much it's practically the soundtrack to Eddie's childhood. A song Eddie always knew was Wayne's his favorite, without having to ask or be told.

Fuck, if that doesn't already have him close to tears, lips quivering and his hands balled into fists. Eddie digs the toe of his shoe into the soft dirt, trying not to look, not to think about it.

Wayne walks you back when the song ends, hugs you tight a little ways away from where Eddie's staring at the ceiling now, willing the tears back into his head.

But he still hears Wayne say, "you're gonna take good care of my boy." Hears the tears in your own voice when you say yes.

And that's what does him in.

He's never gonna get away from all the love you have for him, all the love out in the universe pointed in his direction, saying you, Eddie Munson, are worth it. He's never gonna escape it.

And why would he ever want to?

[laundrybiscuits]

(wait for the season to come back to me tag)

Eddie doesn’t want to tell the kids yet. Steve kind of understands, but he also knows Dustin’s never going to forgive him for holding out like this. He cancels his biweekly lunch with Dustin twice before sitting Eddie down and saying, “We gotta tell him something.”

“Fuck off,” says Eddie.

“He’s twenty-five years old. He can handle it.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.”

“What the hell are you worried about, then?” Steve snaps. “I can’t keep lying to him, man! It’s not fucking fair! Just because you—”

“Steve,” says Robin. “Come on. Cool your jets, hotshot.”

Steve realizes he’s been kind of yelling, then. He also realizes that he’s standing over Eddie, who’s folded into a defensive crouch, and Eddie’s nails are in serious danger of ripping the couch cushions open. Eddie doesn’t look scared, exactly, but his face has gone inhumanly still and blank. It’d probably be worrying if there was any space in Steve for worry.

The anger’s still roaring full-tilt through Steve, though. He gets like this sometimes for no goddamn reason at all, and he knows it’ll pass in a minute, but right now the urge to break something is so, so strong.

“Fuck,” he snarls, and wheels around, storming into the kitchen.

He runs the tap just so there’s some noise as he tries to get his shit under control. Robin comes in after a little while.

“I’m—going to the gym,” Steve says, still gripping the sink hard.

“Okay,” says Robin. “Be safe.”

———

When he comes back, Eddie’s not in the living room.

“I told him he could hang out in my room for a while,” Robin says, before Steve can work himself up into a panic. “I think it would be good for him to have, like…his own private space. Not—I’m not talking about kicking him out, obviously. But maybe we could figure out a partition or something in the living room?”

“Yeah, sounds like a good idea,” says Steve. “God. I’m so sorry. He knows I’m sorry, right?”

Robin flicks him on the forehead. “Yeah, he gets it, dingus. I think he called you an ambulatory fountain of penitence once. Like, a perpetual apology machine.”

“Sure,” says Steve. “Got a lot to apologize for.”

“Nope, we’re not doing that,” says Robin, patting him gingerly on the shoulder. “I’d hug you but you’re all gross and sweaty. Go shower, you’ll feel like a person again.”

He does feel like a person again after a shower, but the Dustin question still hasn’t been figured out. He tries to bring it up again after a few days.

“I wouldn’t even have told you guys I was back if you hadn’t kidnapped me,” says Eddie, picking at his dinner. Vegan stuff is usually okay, weirdly enough, so Steve’s been learning to cook with tofu. He’s not sure if Eddie actually gets anything out of it on a nutritional level; he hasn’t asked.

“Yeah, I know,” says Steve. He’s trying pretty hard not to get mad again. It keeps him up sometimes, thinking about how easily Eddie could’ve wandered into a different bar that night. He hopes that they would’ve crossed paths sometime anyway, being in the same city and all, but maybe not. He just doesn’t know.

“So you get it, right?” says Eddie. “Why I don’t want to put that on the kids. They’ve all, like…processed it and everything. They’ve moved on, just like you did before I came back and fucked up your life again. And you didn’t even really know me.”

It’s not like he’s saying it in a mean way, but it’s deliberate. He’s watching Steve carefully to see how it lands. Steve takes a deep breath; he can do this right, this time.

“Eddie,” he says. “You know I’m glad you’re back, right? You’re not fucking up my life, I’m happy you’re here.”

“You seem a little stressed for a guy who’s supposed to be happy.” Eddie leans back and smiles. It doesn't reach his eyes. “Just seems sometimes like maybe it would’ve been better for you if I’d stayed, like, a story from your past.”

“No,” says Steve. “No. No. Never. It—might’ve been less complicated, maybe. But not better.”

Eddie looks down at his plate, silently fiddling with the golden-brown chunks of fried soy protein, and Steve realizes it might not just be about how the kids will react.

“Hey. You know it’s going to be fine, right? Dustin loves you. He wants you in his life, whatever that means, and you know he’s not gonna do anything to make you uncomfortable. Plus, he lives like one town away and has his own car, so if I keep putting him off like this he’s just gonna show up here one day and then we’ll really be screwed.”

It’s kind of a joke but it’s also really, really true. Eddie laughs, some of the tension finally dropping out of his shoulders, and says: “Okay. You’ve worn me down, Harrington. Alert the brat pack.”

[livinginshambles]

Preview: Hear me out, please | James Potter x Fem!Reader

Pairing: James Potter x Slytherin!Fem!Reader

Summary: The aftermath of when James found out you were his 'cinderella'. James tries desperately to get your attention to get you to hear him out.

Notes: Hey there, sorry for the wait. Here is a preview! It's short, but it's all i want to give yall, hehe. I love you guys. Also, it's not proofread. idk :)

Warnings: f-word, James is fed up with your sisters and shakes them a little.

Masterlist. Part one. Part two.

Part three is up!!

______________________________

A lot of things went through James' mind as he stood there in the Great Hall. You could hear a pin drop before Regulus finally shot into action and dashed out the hall to go after you.

The murmering started to continue now that the first silence had been disturbed.

"Oh gosh, she's so dramatic," your sister laughed. And she put a hand on James' shoulder to pull him back to his seat.

James turned his head slowly. His attention zeroed in on the hand on his shoulder. He coiled away.

"What the fuck have you done," he spat at her.

Marla's eyebrows shot up. "We did you a favour," she stated, as if it was the most obvious thing ever.

It sent James over the edge. He grabbed her upper arm and harshly shook it.

"A favour? A favour!?" He started to shout. "What on earth is wrong with you!" He looked around, his eyes blown out. "With all of you!"

"You mean what the hell is wrong with you, James?" Your other sister, Alyssa, piped up. "Why are you defending her?" That last word was spat out with so much disgust that it finally opened James' eyes to what you must have endured. He fought the urge to slap her expression off her face.

James let go of Marla's arm and pushed her a few steps back while doing so.

No, he needed to fix this. He just had to. If you would just listen to him, he would explain it all. And then he'd protect you. From every hurtful comment out there.

If you would just let him.

"Regulus," James grimaced. The boy was blocking his path and view, standing in the doorway. You were out of sight, or at least out of James' sight.

"Potter," Regulus curtly nodded at him.

"I need to talk to her."

"You've said plenty."

James' brows furrowed, and his jaw flexed. Why was everyone deciding everything for him all of a sudden? Why couldn't everyone just mind their own bloody business? If they had, none of this would have occurred.

He would be patrolling with you in the evening, and you would make him laugh about one of your dry remarks. He wouldn't have known that it was you who he was looking for, but in time, maybe he would've figured it out. Or maybe he would've pushed his mystery girl to the back of his mind to let you and all the new feelings in.

"Actually, I haven't. I haven't said enough because everyone is saying things in my place instead. But I never got the chance to say what I want to say, and every time I do, it seems too late. I just want to talk to her." The words flew out of James' mouth, built up regret, anger, and disappointment from how things had escalated.

"Perhaps you haven't said much." Regulus looked James up and down and weighed his words carefully. "And maybe that's part of the problem. But right now, she's certainly heard enough. She doesn't want your grand words."

James closed his eyes in frustration. He wanted to protest, he wanted to scream at himself and pull his hair out, but ultimately, he just wanted yet another chance.

He hadn't expected it to be you. Not at all, but the longer he thought about it, the more it made sense, and the more it seemed... right. And he didn't know why he had been so adamant to form some sort of relationship with you, but the way his heart blossomed when you were around only pulled him further in.

James looked at the ground, as if the solution to his problems would be written down there.

"Okay," he relented.

Without a moment of hesitation, Regulus went to slam the door in his face but stopped at the box that James held put to him.

"What's that supposed to be?" He flatly asked James.

With a heavy heart, James showed Regulus the pair of glass slippers that you had left behind at the Yule ball, and that he had so carefully carried around with him.

James searched for his words. "I've been holding on to these to return them to their owner," he made an attempt at a smile but dropped it, feeling pathetic. He wondered if he looked as pathetic to Regulus as well.

"Well, I suppose I should return them, now that I've found her." James pushed the box into Regulus' hands, threw one glance past the boy in hopes to catch a glimpse of you, and rubbed his face with both hands as he dejectedly walked away from the Slytherin dormitory.

Perhaps he could try again later.

Full fic

[bastionbibi]

"You chose the bullet, but I chose us."

[Or, the things Furuya said to his childhood lover as justifications for bringing him back.]

He warned me about you, or, more specifically, he warned me of what would become of you, if I rewrite your ending.

He warned me that your path was supposed to end that day, and if I were to force stone after stone to be built over unstable foundations, to prolong the road that is your life, I would be creating merely smoke and mirrors. And yet… he offered me this option anyway. Was it a test? Was it something else? I don't know, and would you hate me if I told you that I didn't care? Because I really didn't. He said it loud and clear with no uncertain words, that if I dragged you back from hell and recreated your path, you'll come back a scorched soul, not… my sweet Hiromitsu anymore.

But then again, were you even still my sweet, sweet Hiro?

Do you remember when we were 8? When you caught a fish for the first time? The fishermen next to us unhooked your prize and yet you threw it back to the ocean, the light of victory and accomplishment was gone from your eyes, when your brain finally understood why the animal was thrashing about, why you had to fight to yank it out of the water– Because it was in pain. It was in absolute, excruciating pain, and we were talking about eating it; we were talking about fishing, hunting, killing, scaling, eating. But you did none of that.

That animal was writhing in pain and you threw it back into the sea. You never liked seafood after that, I always wonder why, was the blood too much for you?

My sweet Hiromitsu refused to eat fish because you felt sorry for your first ever catch, it was so, so sweet, my kind, pure hearted soulmate.

You refuse to fish anymore, refuse to hunt, not even for sport. But you did kill again the last time we went to the sea, didn't you?

My sweet Hiromitsu, using a loop we both learn together in training, tying down her legs while I held down her body, Rye was there too, he held onto that massive cement bag like it weigh nothing, both of you hooking the ropes around her waist to the makeshift weight, you completely ignored her screams, didn't waste another breath before throwing her overboard. Just like how you did to your first prize, catch and release. A wet drowning, she must've died slowly.

But it was because you– we, didn't have a choice, did we? What Vermouth says, goes, and she wanted us to do a little errand and so we did.

My sweet Hiromitsu, drowning people alive.

He warned me that if you live, you will continue to fall, bit by bit, my Hiromitsu will be nothing but a cold man, heart dark as coal. But I told him that I'd rather have you like ice, than have your body decay.

That angel of death asks me, if I can live with myself, knowing the atrocities you will commit, the pain that you will inflict to others in the future, the result of your own mental undoing. You won't be able to handle the trauma of our assignments, that you will never return to my sweet, sweet Hiromitsu ever again, that the man I know you of today will be long gone when we’re 40, 50, older. But I didn't care. I don't care.

You will no longer be my sweet Hiromitsu, but you will still be mine.

So, don't blame me for that. I did that only because I love you.

I know that you feel horrible now, living with everything that you've done, the ghosts of our victims, the voices in our heads asking us why we did what we did but– it's alright. You have me, remember?

So, yes. I know it'll be painful, but I got there in time, right before you can pull the trigger. I saved you. Don't blame me now.

I sold our soul to the devil, so we can be together. Why… are you angry at me…?

…

You feel like something is wrong? Something doesn't feel right? But… But you don't know how much I hurt, you left me alone, you chose suicide, you chose the bullet, but I chose US.

I did this for us. Hiro. I did this for us. So we can be together, you and I.

…

But, but, if this really what you want, then so be it.

You want to die? You can't live like this anymore? Then so be it.

Then, you have to kill me first.

…

No?

Well… then. Will you stay alive? For me? I know you came back wrong, but you're all right in my eyes. I love you, Hiro. My sweet, sweet Hiromitsu.

[worlddevoid]

World Devoid: Episode 1.1 - This Is (Not) Your Morning

(Word Count: 1k)

---October 1st, 2000---

"Ugh, I can't believe we didn't find ANY Cryptids!" Cassie huffs as they walk back to the RV, turning around to see what their best friend is doing. "Hey Baz, you ready?" 

"We got close. I could feel it." Baz replies, bringing his fingers to his face and spreading them, dramatically, sighing before reaching that same hand out to grab the driver's side door handle. "And, I'm always ready, Cassie, you know that." He chuckles confidently to himself before giving the door handle a quick tug- only to find that it's locked.

"Thwarted. Of course." He turns to face Cassie, peering over the hood of the large vehicle, "Do you have the keys?"

"Uh, no? I thought you had them. It's YOUR parent's RV." Cassie says, crossing her arms over her chest followed by a heavy eye roll. 

Baz childishly parrots Cassie's words in a mocking tone while patting down the pockets of his cargo pants. "It'syourdadsRVehw".

After fondling the many, MANY pockets on his pants, his fingers find purchase on the singular engine key for the hefty vehicle. "Success." Baz declares triumphantly with a quick pumped fist and a head bow. 

Slipping the key into the lock, it turns easily, and a quick yank has the door swinging open with an audible creak. Baz hops into the driver's seat and reaches across the passenger side to pull up on the lock stick.

"Ugh, finally. Let's go home." Cassie whines as she opens the passenger door and gets into the patterned seat with a huff. She eyes Baz and punches his arm lightly to prompt him to get going. 

"Jeezus". Baz shouts dramatically, grabbing his arm, but very promptly jumps into action to bring the engine roaring to life. "I could have blocked that hit, you know." Baz mutters and then laments to himself, ‘They'd kick my ass in a heartbeat’. 

Cassie laughs, loud and short. "Ha! As if you'd stand even the slightest chance!" She snorts.

"What-Ever." Baz retorts, but he knows she’s right. He purses his lips and grips the steering wheel before throwing the RV into drive and rolling down the dirt path towards the main road. He reaches down towards the stereo but finds a hand smacking his away and twisting the knob herself. Cassie messes with the dial, quickly tuning it to a station playing Daft Punk's "Around The World". Satisfied, she leans back in her seat and enjoys the beat.

A loud, bravados huff escapes Baz, but he makes no move to change the station, and eventually finds that he can't help himself but to bop along to what is so obviously, a banger. His scowl is quickly replaced by a toothy grin, and he tosses a giddy look in Cassie's direction before bursting out into easy laughter, feeling the tension dissolve into a good moment.

They drive for what feels like hours, never encountering a single other car. At first, it doesn't ring any alarm bells, seeing as they left early in the morning. But as the hours tick by and there is no sign of anyone, they begin to take notice, and Cassie is the first one to bring it up.

"Hey Baz, have you, like, seen anyone else while we've been driving?" She asks suddenly.

Baz rapidly whips his head from one side to the next, sweeping the surrounding area in a sudden panic. "You know, it's funny you mention that-- I was thinking these roads were way too clear. I mean, I know we started our journey early, but we would have had to at least run into one other car by now...... Very peculiar......" His eyebrows shoot up and he squints his eyes while contemplating the lack of life signs during their trip. He thinks to himself: 'It's probably some weird holiday or we are taking an unpopular road. Nothing more'

"Well-- at least we'll get back to the dorms in record speed." Baz concludes, quickly shrugging away the thought and focusing back on the empty road ahead, putting a little more pressure on the pedal.

"Hell yeah! Rev it up!" Cassie whoops, encouraging Baz to go faster, seemingly just as eager to push away the thought. She laughs, enjoying the adrenaline rush- its presence momentarily distracting her from the budding dread in her stomach. She knows something is wrong, but she ignores it, trying her best to push the feeling down and enjoy herself with her best friend. 

Baz, blissfully ignorant to the anxieties Cassie hides, puffs out his chest with pride at the encouragement. His face settles into a smug expression as his toes push a little bit harder down on the pedal, causing the engine to roar and the large vehicle to pick up speed rapidly. He reachs into the cup holder and flicks open the black oval sunglasses he finds there. As he puts them on, he accidentally stabs his eye with one of the arms before getting them positioned correctly. "Ow." He grunts before his face returns to it's smug expression. 'This is just like Gone In 60 Seconds- hell yeah!'

As they get closer to their dorms, they see a cluster of empty cars, seemingly abandoned, some of them with doors thrown open haphazardly. 

"Baz, look!" Cassie exclaims, pointing to where the cars are, but Baz is too distracted by the music. 

Pushing 120MPH, "This Is Your Night" by Amber blasts through the speakers, as Baz has one hand on the steering wheel and the other running seductively up and down his chest as he passionately mouths the words. Only half watching the road, as Cassie shouts at Baz to 'look', his eyes fling open and he instinctively slams down on the brakes-- hard-- sending them both lurching forward. Their seatbelts just barely prevent them from flying through the windshield as they come to a screeching halt admist a sea of seemingly abandoned cars.

It takes them a moment to stop completely, but when they finally do, they come to a skidding halt millimeters from the cluster of abandoned cars- kissing the bumper of one of the vehicles. Cassie looks over at Baz, wide eyed and frightened.

...

[seenoversundown]

Sparrow Of The Dawn : Chapter Seven

Sam x Willa (Fem OC)

Warnings: Anxiety (Normal and Flying related) Mentions of Plane Crashes (all in panicked thoughts) Lost Luggage (it can be a rough time for some people) Angry Sam (if you squint) , and Fluff (but like..if you get Sam Feels, you chose this)

Word Count: 7.1k

Summary: Sam unfortunately finds himself in not so meet cute with Willa. Hopeful that he doesn't cross her path again; the world works in mysterious ways and not always in your favor.

Author's Note: I hope you're ready 🤭

Stuck In the Middle With You - Stealers Wheel "Well, I don't know why I came here tonight, I got the feeling that something aint right, I'm so scared in case I fall off my chair, And I'm wondering how I'll get down the stairs."

“Alright, repeat after me.” Quinn says after placing their car in park. They turn to me, hands extended as they explain. “No annoying man is worth your shot at this job.” 

“No annoying man is worth my shot at this job.” I repeat, also turning to face them for the pep talk they're giving me. 

“Good. Just.. don’t do anything that I wouldn’t do out of state. Most things I wouldn't do out of state are felonies, there’s a lot of red tape with crossing state lines.. so, assault is off the table.” Their nonchalant attitude about committing crimes will always make me laugh. The thing is, Quinn doesn’t look like the type of person who would commit a crime, but also definitely looks like the type of person who would commit a crime. I don’t put anything past them because I’m sure whatever they’ve done if they’ve done it, they’ve one hundred percent gotten away with it. 

“Assault is off the table.” 

“Right. My knitting needles are still available if they’re needed when you’re HOME.” a definite emphasis on home.

I take a deep breath, centering myself for the morning, trip, and week ahead. Oh, it’s going to be a long one.

“You got this, don’t you stress that pretty little head. Just text me if you’re feeling particularly violent.” 

“Okay, okay. You’re right.” I pull them in for a hug. “I got this.” Once again repeating their words back to myself. 

I hop out of their car and tug my definitely overpacked luggage from the back seat. 

“I’ll text you when I land, okay?” I call back to them and shut the door, and turn toward the entrance to the airport.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

After I checked my luggage, I went searching for the gate. I find a seat, sit down, and wait. Albeit very early, but you can never be too sure with flights. It could be busy, or they could have changed the gate; there are too many variables to things going wrong. I decided to send Sam a text to gauge when to expect him while I sit here. 

Willa: What’s your ETA?

I try to keep it simple enough, but as the minutes tick by I start to get more anxious. Why are men so terrible at texting? I wait another few minutes and text him again.

Willa: Are you on your way?

Could I be any more like an annoying girlfriend? God. Ew, don’t think about Sam and Girlfriend in the same sentence. 

I check my phone for what feels like the millionth time this morning. Where the hell is he? Scrolling through my apps trying to distract myself to no avail. I close out and open my text thread with Sam, which only consists of me texting him. He still hasn’t answered my last one, and his read receipts aren’t on so I don’t know if he’s ignoring me or just hasn’t bothered to look at his phone. Which, why would he not check his phone? We’re seated together, we’re flying together; why would he not bother to communicate with me? Unless..

No. 

No way? 

He wouldn’t bail, would he? 

I mean, I don’t exactly know him super well but.. He wouldn’t.

Right?

My heart starts to race in my chest as I begin to panic. I stand up and look around, trying to see if I can spot him through the crowd of people walking down the hallway. I stand on my tiptoes, trying to gain the tiniest bit more field of view when I see him. Casually walking down the aisle, breakfast sandwich in hand, headphones on, paying nobody any mind. 

I seethe.

He smiles at me when he catches my eye. I swear it takes an age for him to finally meet me with how slow he’s walking. Like he has all the time in the world.

“Morning, Birdie.” He says cheerfully, taking another bite of his sandwich. It astounds me how little regard he has for other people. Just living life flying by the seat of his pants, not worrying about the time or anyone else involved. Especially not if that anyone is me. 

“Where the hell have you been, Sam? We board in–” I double-check the time. “Ten minutes!” I say exasperatedly. 

“I know.” He looks confused. How could he be confused about this? The email stated explicitly boarding begins at 5:50am. Oh, it's too early in the morning for me to be dealing with this. “That’s why I’m here? Why on earth are you irritated before 6 in the morning?” 

“Why do you always show up at the last minute?” I snap back.

“I’m still early, they haven’t started boarding yet. Jesus, calm down, okay. It’s gonna be fine.” He takes the last bite of his sandwich and throws the wrapper in the nearby trash, wiping his hands on the front of his gray sweatpants. God, his gray sweatpants. I shake my head of the thought, remembering I’m angry at him and refusing to let the thought of his ass in tight tapered gray sweatpants distract me.

Oh, I could hit him, I am that mad. Get it together. You will not let this man ruin this experience for you just because he wants to be a bonehead first thing in the morning. What was it that Quinn said again?

I take a long breath in, hold it–

“He’s not worth my job. No across-state line crimes. Assault is off the table. Knitting needles in case of emergency.”

– and release. 

I choose silence instead of violence. 

The attendant comes over the speaker and starts announcing boarding schedules. We have pre-selected seats and are, thankfully, sitting on the side with only two. We at least won’t have to deal with any strangers for this leg; PMW is a small airport, so of course, we have a layover to get to the West Coast. I hope I can convince Sam to let me have the window seat. Naturally, we’re one of the last groups to board. I’m just happy I checked my suitcase and just brought my backpack for the flights so I don’t have to worry about the overhead bins. Can’t say the same for Sam though, as he stands next to me with his backpack on and duffle bag gripped in his hand. 

When our group gets called, Sam heads over first; I sort of just cower behind him like a small child. Annoyingly latching onto the back of his cream-colored henley. We take awkward baby steps through the aisle as people file into their seats. I give Sam a gentle reminder of our seat numbers, 11A, and B, in front of the wings where it's quieter but not the emergency exit.

He pops the overhead compartment open and shoves his duffle bag inside then he slides in, right to the window seat.

“Uhm. Can I..” I start nervously. “Can I actually take the window seat?”

He stares up at me. His mouth hung open, clearly confused. “Why?” he asks.

I roll my eyes, irritated that we’re holding up the line to some degree, as people mumble and push past me. “Seeing out the window.. Helps.” trying my best to tiptoe around the elephant in the room.

“Helps?” He parrots me. 

“I hate flying, Sam. Okay? Can I please just sit in the window?” I rush out under my breath, finally spilling the beans. If he had just an ounce of intuition about him. Nevermind. 

“Ohhhhh.” He says, standing up, well, standing as best he can under the overhead bin. “That’s why you were being so psychotic this morning.”

He stands up straight in front of me in the middle of the aisle, waving me in with his hand. 

“It’s not psychotic to want someone to show up on time.” I slip past him and slide into the window seat. Shoving my bag under the seat in front of me. He follows, plopping down next to me and doing the same with his bag.

“I was on time, just not early. I’m actually always on time, you’ll find.” He leans an arm against the armrest between us, placing an inquisitive finger to his chin. “I’ve not once been late since you’ve known me, have I?”

I decline to answer, and instead raise the shade on the window and pull out my headphones, ready to drown him out once the flight attendants are finished with their instructions. Because, yes I do pay attention to those. You can never be too careful. 

The plane starts to move, and instantly my heart is beating like a drum in my throat. I wring my fingers together, focusing on the friction of my hands. The heat of my palms only soothes me so much. 

Sam leans over the armrest again and whispers, “You can hold my hand if you’re scared, it’s okay.” I look down to see his palm staring right back at me. I glance up to his face trying to determine if the smile he wears is genuine or if he’s being a dick. 

My pride won’t allow me to accept the former, so I reply, “I’d rather eat dirt, actually. Thanks for making fun of me.” Then I cross my arms and stare out the window. 

“I wasn’t – Nevermind.” He adjusts in his seat and puts his own headphones back on his ears. 

The relief I feel knowing this first flight is a short one is minimal at best. Just when I get used to being in the air, we’ll have to touch back down and then I’m waiting in the airport to do it all over again. 

I pull my headphones over my ears and choose a playlist I specifically curated to be relaxing for the flight. I tilt my head back and focus on anything but the low hum of the engine. Just as I start to forget, I’m thousands of feet in the air..

Turbulence. Fuck.

I jolt upright and clasp my hands together, squeezing them together so tightly I’m on the verge of breaking a finger. I feel a hand touch my forearm. I peek open one eye, despite knowing that the only person that could be touching me right now is Sam. I look up at him, and he gestures for me to remove my headphones. 

“It’s a short flight, so they won’t go up as high. Meaning there will be more turbulence than normal as we fly through the clouds.” 

Great.

Wonderful. 

Amazing.

That makes me soooooo happy, actually. My breathing picks up, and I trying to calm my nerves and focus on my breathing. In through my nose, and out through my mouth. Sam sneaks into my line of sight again.

“Hey.” He gives me a gentle smile and I might find it sweet if I wasn’t losing my mind at the moment. “We’ll only be up here for ten minutes tops, then we descend. You have nothing to worry about.”

Easy for you to say. I resist the urge to snap at him and go back to my breathing techniques.

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I have never in my life been more thrilled to touch solid ground. Every time the plane shook, I squeezed my eyes and hands tighter. I’m surprised I made it out unscathed. Well, relatively unscathed. The skin around my thumbs bore the brunt of my anxiety when I wasn’t trying to be as still as possible. Somehow, my logic was if I can stay still, we won’t plummet to the ground to our untimely deaths. At one point, we dipped what I’m sure was a normal amount, and I swore that was the end of me. 

“I’m hungry.” Sam says to me as we walk through the tunnel to the airport. “Think I’m gonna roam around to find some.”

I stop midstep. “No. I don’t trust you. We’re going to find the gate.” I say.

A statement, not a question. 

“But Birdie, I’m hungry.” He complains, like a five-year-old. Jesus, if I wanted to tote around an annoying child, I would have had one by now. 

“We’re going to go and find the gate, Sam.” I don’t let him argue with me. “Please, don’t do this to me. I’m already stressed, and I don’t trust you not to make it worse by showing up at the last minute again.” We finally step into the gate. Airports always smell so bad, and the Newark airport is no different. No matter what time of year, they always smell like sweaty socks. Gross.

“How about this,” he counters, and I wait for his terrible idea. “We go find the gate–”

“Yes! Thank you!” I exclaim triumphantly. I honestly thought I’d have to fight him harder on that. He throws me a pointed look as we walk side by side.

“How about we go find the gate, we see it exists, and then we go get food. Together.”

I contemplate his words, mulling them over in my head. I’m not usually one to eat while flying. Due to all the nerves and stress that I’ll miss a flight or get lost. I don’t fly much for this reason.

“Come on, Bird. We have a two-hour layover, and if I don’t eat, I’ll be cranky, and there’s no vacancy in the cranky department because we both know that spot is taken by you.”   

“Hey!” I protest. He’s.. not exactly wrong, though. Am I cranky? Yes. Do I have a reason to be cranky? Yes. Come to think of it.. I don’t think I’ve actually seen Sam cranky. I’ve seen him surprised, like when I yelled at him at the farmers market. I’ve seen him happy, like when we won the contest. I’ve seen him sassy, because yes sassy is the word I’d use to describe when he bickers with me. But I’ve never seen him cranky or mad even. He always matches my snarkiness tit for tat, but he never seems irritated by it. It’s one of the reasons I don’t fully mind having to do this project with him. He’s talented, which makes the work part easier. And he’s a total pain in my ass. Mostly because I just.. Don’t understand him.

“So…” He waits with anticipation. 

“Okay.” I give in; I feel like I’m always giving in to him. “We’ll see where the gate is, and then we’ll go get food.”

We make our way through the crowd. Luckily, the gate we have to be at is just at the next terminal over, so we don’t have to walk very far. Sam, however, is a very tall man, and I find myself struggling to match his stride, even at a casual walking speed. Or what I’m sure is casual for him. I wrap my hand around his elbow and give him a gentle squeeze as if to remind him of my presence. Just another example of Sam acting like he’s the center of the universe. He does, at the very least, slow down a little after that, but I don’t let go of his arm. Just in case. 

“There’s our gate, Birdie.” He looks at it lovingly and slips his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side. “Isn’t she pretty?” he lets out a dramatic sigh. 

“Yeah, okay. I get it. Let's get you some food before you wither away and die.”

Choosing a place to eat goes swimmingly when I point out somewhere, and he turns it down. Stupid vegetarian. Finally, we end up at one of those marketplaces that’s more like a rest stop than an actual place to eat. 

Sam buys half the store worth of snacks, and I stick to just a bag of goldfish and a coke until he yells over to me. “Hey, can you grab me sushi if there’s some over there?” He points to the cooler. 

Does he really think he’s going to find sushi here? In the airport? I look anyway just to appease him, and when I find none, I check out. I grab my two items and meet him in the hallway, and we head back to the gate to sit until we board. Thankfully.

We find a couple seats next to an outlet and put all our belongings on the seat between us. 

“There was no sushi?” He looks over at me with the biggest puppy dog eyes I’ve ever seen. Jesus. Have his eyes always been that pretty?

“No, Sam. There was no sushi.” I say, hardly wanting to disappoint him. 

“Damn.” he mutters, shoving a couple chips into his mouth. 

“This is Newark. Did you honestly expect there would be sushi?” I ask, opening my bag of goldfish. 

He shrugs, “I dunno. Ya never know.” 

“I thought you couldn’t eat sushi, being a vegetarian and all.” I question skeptically, popping a few crackers into my mouth and opening my bottle of coke. 

“Sushi is my one exception.” He whispers to me like it’s a dirty secret. “Don’t tell Daniel.”  He says as if Daniel and I are in cahoots with each other to conspire against him. I’ve never even met the man. Not officially, anyway. I’ve seen him at the bar a few times, but we've only exchanged a handful of words as he’s checked my ID a time or two. 

“My lips are sealed.” I pretend to lock my mouth and throw away the key. He smiles at me, and it reaches his eyes. Bright and happy. How he manages to be in such good spirits traveling is beyond me. 

I reach between us, setting aside my goldfish, and dig through my bag for a charger. I spent so long checking my phone and staring at my empty texts from him that the battery is getting low, and the next flight is the longer one. I feel through every corner of my bag; I swore I packed it in and I don’t feel it. I open another compartment and feel around there, nothing. Another, and nothing. God damnit. 

“What’s wrong?” Sam asks, setting his food down next to him. 

“Can you just–” I start pulling out items from my bag and setting them in his hands. His eyes are wide with confusion, but I don’t care. I need to find my charger. 

In what feels like Aggie Cromwell’s endless purse of goodies, I stare down at my now empty camera bag. All the contents strewn between mine and Sam’s laps, his arms overflowing. 

“Uh.. Bird?”

“Ugh! I can’t find my charger.” I lean back in my chair, annoyed, and he laughs. He LAUGHS. The nerve of him.

“I have an extra.” he attempts to hand me some of my things back. I stare at him slack jawed. Okay?

“Well good for you!” I snap back. Mr. Overprepared Kiszka has an extra charger while I’m going to have to buy a new one. He laughs again, his eyes squinting as he does. 

“I mean I have an extra you can borrow. Hold on.” He starts to successfully hand me back my things and I crowd them around my lap. 

“Here you go.” He gives me a small smile, and I grab the charger from him. 

“Uhh, thanks.” I unravel the cord from where it's tucked around itself and plug it into the wall socket next to me. I pause just before I stick the cord into the lightning port on my phone. Why does he have an extra?

“Sam.”

“Yeah?” He doesn’t look up from the book he’s reading. 

“Why do you have an extra charger?” 

“Just in case.” He shrugs, still not making eye contact with me. I have a feeling of what he’s going to say if I press the issue, and I better be wrong. 

“Why?” I push his book out of his view. And he sighs. Oh here it comes.

“Because Birdie.” He adjusts in his seat, putting his bookmark in between the pages and looking me directly in the eye. “Clumsy and forgetful usually go together, and you’re definitely clumsy. Is that what you wanted me to say?”

I’m not forgetful. I’m prepared–I’m overprepared, really. I overpack. I plan, and I plan, and I plan. I am not forgetful. Sufficiently annoyed and again choosing not to argue with him, I start to place my things one by one back in the pockets of my bag. 

With his eyes still watching me, he says, “So.. Do you like the camera bag?” a wide smile spreads across his lips. God damnit. I knew he was going to be like this and still bought one anyway. But to be fair, it was the first bag that popped up in my Google search for ‘camera bags’. He totes his around everywhere he goes, so clearly he thinks it's a good choice. 

“I do. It has lots of pockets for all of my things.” I say.

“Like your rocks.” He holds up a black tourmaline raw chunk, and I pluck it from his fingers and tuck it securely in one of the pockets. 

“Yes, like my rocks. That one is good for travel.” I say matter of factly. My phone buzzes against my leg, drawing my attention away from him.

Quinn: Birdieeeeee, you got some splanin to dooooo

Willa: Not you too 🤦🏻‍♀️

Quinn: Hey! You’re not allowed to protest when I was just trying to be a good, dutiful, stay at home roommate and do your laundry while you’re away. HOWEVER I found these in your hamper

Quinn: [ picture ]

Quinn: I was just wondering, if your ratty old sweatpants are here.. What you’re planning on wearing there?

I groan at their text, earning a curious side-eye from Sam. When we won the competition, an email was sent out informing us that we would be sharing a double room. Despite knowing we’d be in two separate beds I still wanted to seem like I have my shit together. Ratty sweatpants do not say ‘I have my life together.’ They say I’ve worn these through every breakup I’ve ever had and are stained with no less than four different kinds of comfort meals and chocolate syrup from the ice cream I've consumed in them, too. Resulting in the conclusion that my life IS, in fact, a mess. Sue me for cryin’ out loud. My phone buzzes again.

Quinn: Are you wearing your sexy pjs?

Quinn: for HIM?

Quinn: A MAN?!

Quinn: You only wear them for me? ☹️

That causes me to laugh, out loud. 

“Everything okay?” Sam asks, concern written on his features.

“Oh, HA, yeah. Everything is fine. Just roommate stuff.” I explain awkwardly.

Willa: They are not sexy pjs just because they match. I was trying to seem like I have my life together okay. People with matching pjs have their lives together.

Quinn: [ picture ]

Quinn: That’s cold, Wallaby.

Jesus Christ. I stare at a photo of Quinn’s pouting face and promptly redirect my attention to Sam. He’s just been in his henley this whole time. No jacket, no coat, no scarf, and he usually always wears a scarf. 

“Are you not cold?” I let my impulsive thought escape my lips. 

“No.” He says plainly, turning the page to his book. 

“Did you even bring a jacket?” I can’t help myself but ask.

“I packed a jacket, yeah.” He pats his own camera bag. 

“Oh.” Well damn. How am I supposed to respond to that? He shuts his book with his finger still keeping his place.

“Are you cold?” He asks.

“I’m always cold, remember?” I say absentmindedly. 

I always come prepared for traveling because airports are cold, planes are cold, and, in my unfortunate turn of luck, it's cold where we’re going. I get a free vacation to an equally cold place. Not how I pictured California. I wore a black long-sleeve under my cream-colored Patagonia pullover to keep warm. I figured a small coat would be enough, with the beginning of April around the corner. 

“Did you want to borrow it?” He interrupts my thoughts.

“What?”

“My jacket. You said you’re cold. Did you want to borrow it?” 

My eyes go wide at his suggestion, and I can’t seem to make my mouth move in protest. I just sit there with my mouth hanging open like a weirdo, and because I’ve taken too long to answer, he already starts to pull his jacket out of his bag. Oh god.

“Here.” He says, giving me a small smile. I take the jacket from him and straighten it out. Oh. It's the rust-colored jacket he was wearing the first day I saw him at the Farmer’s Market. I slide it around my shoulders and slip my arms through each sleeve, staring down at the ties in lieu of buttons. Sam laughs as I stand there.

“It just ties, Birdie. Here,” His hands, oh god, his hands, work the delicate strings at the front. Tying them in tiny little bows. I’m exactly the same height as him as he stays seated in front of me. When he’s finished, he’s still smiling. “There you go. Perfect.” And I really look at him for what seems like the first time. Oh, this is going to be bad.

“Now Boarding Flight 2637 to San Francisco.” They announce over the intercom. Thank god.

 We’re not the last boarding group this go around so it should go a little easier. We stand slightly out of the way until it's our turn to go; this time, Sam lets me lead. Similar to the last flight, we’re in front of the wings, and he allows me the window seat. It works out better that way because he spent so long trying to fidget with the overhead compartment before sitting down next to me. 

Much like the previous flight, I fight with my nerves. I’m just hoping there isn’t turbulence. We’re in the air for almost seven hours; I don’t think I could handle turbulence for that long. I run through my routine. Taking my headphones out and wrapping them around my neck, double-checking my playlist, slipping my Kindle into an easy-to-grab area just in case I am calm enough to read. Doubtful, but we can hope. 

I clasp my hands together and wait as the plane navigates the runway. The flight attendants start their safety presentation and as always, I pay attention. I think I catch a slight giggle from Sam as I crane my neck to be able to see over the seat in front of me. Then we take off. 

I stare out the window as the ground shrinks beneath us, the wheels folding up under the aircraft. I make myself small and still, paying attention to my breathing and the speedy thrum of my heart in my chest. In through my nose, pausing, and breathing out through my mouth. My head starts to get fuzzy as I take in the smell of Sam’s cologne still lingering on his jacket. The woody notes of cedarwood, balsam, and amber calm me down a little. Has he always smelled this good? Why have I never noticed that before?

My eyes wander to Sam, curious to see how a normal person handles a flight. Secretly stealing a glance at him, I take in the profile of his face backlit by the sun from the opposite window. He really does have good genes; all of them do. It’s kind of rude, actually. His hair waves slightly, resting against his shoulders. He runs a hand through it as he casually scrolls through his phone. I lean my head against the back of my seat, feeling myself start to relax a little with each deep breath I take. 

He meets my gaze and holds his hand out to me, offering me the same comfort I previously denied him on the last flight. Again, I decline with a small wave of my own hand. I should be okay, I think to myself.  

After a bit, I’m jolted from my calm demeanor when more turbulence hits. I sit up straight and resume my position of small and still, nervously wringing my hands together.

Sam grabs my hands with both of his and squeezes gently. I look over at him and he looks so worried about me. Why does he look so worried?

“Come here,” I think is what his mouth says to me. I can’t hear anything over the rapid beating of my heart in my ears. Everything else is muffled.

He breaks apart my hands and laces his fingers with my right one, my left one having no choice but to wrap around the back of his. He tugs me a little, pulling me closer to him and I lean my head against his arm. I inhale deeply, searching for the scent that calmed me earlier. In through my nose, pause, out through my mouth.

Again and again, until I feel my heart slow, even if just by a small amount. His thumb gently rubs against the back of my hand. 

“Hey, look at me.” He says softly, as my ears start to clear up. I tilt my head up, never leaving his arm, and stare directly into his warm brown eyes. “You ever heard of the jello theory?” I shake my head no. 

“The theory is that when a plane experiences turbulence, it's kinda like a stapler trapped in jello. The stapler wiggles around but doesn’t suddenly land on the floor. So the plane isn’t going to tumble out of the sky because of a little turbulence; it’s just gonna wiggle around a bit.” 

Huh, I never knew that. I can feel my muscles start to loosen where they’re half wrapped around him. 

“Better?” He asks.

“Better.” I say. Which is the truth. I do feel better after hearing that. 

“Want to watch a movie? Help distract you a little more?” He bends down slightly, unzipping his bag and pulling out his laptop, all one-handed, as he never lets go of mine. 

“How?” Obviously confused by the mechanics, we both have over-the-ear headphones, which puts sharing out the question. And Sam doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy to listen to a movie with the sound on blast in public.

“I have one of those splitter things. Borrowed it from my brother, actually. Ya know.. Just in case.” He says, and the smallest tint of pink washes over his cheeks. He pulls down the tray and sets his laptop on top of it, again reaching into a pocket and pulling out the splitter, and clicking it into place. He wiggles his fingers at me to give him my headphone jack, and then he plugs that into place right next to his. 

“I have Zootopia, The Godfather, and uhh,” he pauses looking down at me. “Twilight.” he mumbles.

“I thought you said you’ve never seen Twilight?” I question skeptically.

“I haven’t.” and I’m almost positive he’s lying. “I uploaded it ya know.. Just in case.” he repeats for the third time today. Samuel ‘just in case’ Kiszka.

“Twilight it is.. Everyone should see it at least once.” I give him a bit of a side-eye. My belly does a flip, and I squeeze his hand tighter when another jolt of turbulence hits. He squeezes my hand back, letting me know its going to be okay. 

“Twilight it is then.” and he clicks play on the movie.

My eyes start to flutter close sometime around ‘Hold on tight spider monkey’, but before I fall asleep, I could swear I see Sam quoting the movie under his breath. I tuck that nugget away for another time.

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When I wake up, I’m still curled up to his arm, our fingers still clasped together, his head gently resting against mine. I raise my head a little, careful not to disturb him, and notice the spot of drool I’ve left there. Oh god. I sit up straight, scaring him in the process, and begin furiously wiping at my mouth. He looks at me wide-eyed, then down at his arm, back up to me, and turns back to his movie. He doesn’t say anything nor does he look upset. My face heats with embarrassment, and I scoot as far away from him as I possibly can. 

He disconnects our headphones and starts to pack up his laptop when the pilot informs us of our descent. I feel like I’ve been on a plane for ages today. Somehow, despite my nap, I still feel unrested. Must be all the anxiety. 

When the plane finally touches down, Sam is quick to get up and stretch. I can’t blame him; he’s nearly six feet tall. I can't imagine that’s comfortable. Especially with my clinging to him like a koala the whole flight. I stand as tall as I can in the cramped space and set my bag on his seat waiting to exit. I feel around my pockets, double-checking that I have everything. Where is my phone? I bend down to feel around the floor, looking to see if it has fallen between the cracks, and notice it under Sam’s seat. I grab it and pocket it. I stand up and get about halfway, only to come eye-to-eye with Sam’s bare belly button. I peer up, and he’s on his tiptoes in the overhead compartment, trying to wriggle out his duffle bag. 

Sweet Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. With each stretch and pull of him trying to get his bag out, his sweatpants shift further and further down, exposing the band of his Hanes boxers. Fuck off. Honestly. What have I done to deserve this torture? 

I stand as tall as I can and stare right at the bottom of the overhead compartment just as he gets his bag free. God, I need a fucking nap.

“We have to stop at baggage claim.” I remind him as we start to walk single file down the aircraft. 

“Right.” 

We both say goodbye to the stewardesses, both of whom bid Sam a warm farewell and don’t bother to look at me. Lovely.

“I think it's this way.” He says, pointing at the signs. I let him lead the way; if he wants to captain our way through the airport, so be it. My brain is fried, and I don’t even want to be here anyway. We walk down two flights of stairs to a carpeted area at ground level, nine carousels lined up next to each other. He takes a left to one-half of them and points. 

“They said this one.” 

So we wait. And we wait. And we wait some more. 

Bag after bag comes out, none of which are mine. I start to get restless. Stepping from foot to foot. 

“Sam.” I look over at him. I tuck my hair behind my ears and then begin wringing my hands together. “My bag isn’t here.” 

“What do you mean your bag isn’t here?” He drops his duffle off his shoulder with a loud thud.

“I mean, none of these bags are my luggage.” My eyes are wide, and my pulse picks up. “Oh god.” I run my hands over my face and start to pace back and forth in front of him. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“Hey, hey, hey.” He calls to me. “Birdie!” finally grabbing a hold of my shoulders and stopping me. “We will go check with the baggage claim office and figure it out. It’ll be fine. Please calm down.”

“Calm down? You want me to CALM DOWN?” I start to raise my voice a bit too loudly for where we are. Even though it’s nearly a ghost town down here for it still being in the middle of the day, I know I’m embarrassing him, but I can’t stop myself in the heat of the moment.

“We're in another state. This is for WORK, and my luggage is gone. I will have nothing to wear to anything they need us to do. I can’t even brush my teeth! And you want me to be CALM?” my chest rises and falls with my rapid breaths. He reaches out and snatches one of my hands and cradles it between both of his. 

“I just meant we’ll figure it out, okay?” 

A frown makes its way to my face, and I just wave him onward to whatever plan he’s internally concocted. He leans down and grabs his duffle bag, and heads off to his destination. 

When he finally reaches the desk for our airline, no one will pay him any attention. All trying to get their own affairs in order before glancing over at him. 

 “Excuse me.” he says and waits. No one looks. “Excuse me.” he tries again, and nothing. Finally, seeing a side of Sam I’ve never seen before, he raises his voice and yells, “Who the hell do I need to talk to to get my girlfriend’s luggage?” and I nearly choke on my own saliva. 

“Sorry sir, what can I do for you.” a petite young woman says to him.

“My girlfriend checked a bag, and it wasn’t at baggage claim. We’re in town for a business trip, and it’s important that she has her luggage. How can we figure out where it is?” My eyes gloss over and my ears start to play static noise at the second mention of ‘girlfriend’. I don’t even hear the rest of the conversation when he shakes me back to reality. 

“They sent it down the wrong track. She said it should be on number 2 instead of 7.” When I fail to move my feet, he questions me. 

“I’m your what now?” I ask him. Girlfriend.

“I just thought they’d take me more seriously if I said that. ‘Coworker who usually hates me and bickers with me all the time’ doesn’t have quite the same ring to it.” he says casually, putting an arm around me and leading me in the direction the receptionist sent him. “Why? Do you think I should have said something else? Fiancee? Wife?” 

“Oh, Sam, for the love of God, please shut up.” I rub my fingers over my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. Yep, I definitely need a nap.

“Damn, okay..” he laughs.

We finally make it to the right carousel and I grab my luggage. Crisis averted. I give him a small thank you, knowing he made it happen but also still being incredibly annoyed by this process. And maybeeee taking it out on him a little bit. Just a little..

We make it to the front entrance, where a man in a suit and cute little hat has a sign that says “Sam Kiszka and Willa Clarke”. He introduces himself as Christian, takes my bag and leads us to his vehicle. I hop into the backseat as Sam and Christian put the luggage in the trunk. When Sam joins me in the backseat, I don’t even bother to open my eyes. 

“He said the hotel is like a half an hour’s drive with the traffic.” He whispers to me. The faint click of his seatbelt follows. I hold up my hand, give him a thumbs up, and try to nap the rest of the way there. 

The ride feels much longer than it actually is, given its bumper-to-bumper traffic. The roads are terrible and bumpy, and he zigzags through the cars, but I try not to pay attention. I wish I had some melatonin so I could just conk out when we get there. Every curve, bump, and honk of the horn grate on my last nerve as I’m pulled from my nap and further thrust into insanity. 

I feel myself barely keeping it together by the time that we get to the hotel. Longing for my PJs, I meet the boys at the trunk to get my luggage. I say thank you to Christian and watch as Sam shakes his hand and stealthily hands him a tip. Even in my half-asleep brain fog, that still makes my stomach flip. Why was that kinda.. Nope, not even going there.

I follow behind Sam, and he opens the door for me. At least he has manners. And we wait our turn to talk to the receptionist at the front desk.

“What name is the reservation under?” He asks. I pull my phone out of my pocket and go searching for the email in my inbox. 

“Says both of us.” I pocket my phone again. 

We step up to the counter, and the young man greets us with a pleasant smile. “Welcome to the Hyatt, I’m Dustin. How can I help you?” His curly hair bounces as he talks. 

“We have a reservation under Sam Kiszka or Willa Clarke,” Sam replies. 

“You’re with the newspapers, right?” 

He shakes his head. 

“You’re in room 422. You’ll head down this way to the elevators, and you’re on floor four.” Dustin says as he slides us our room keys. Sam grabs them, handing me the extra. 

“We have continental breakfast every morning starting at 6 and going until 9 in the morning. We have plenty of amenities, like a pool and fitness center you’re free to use, just use your key to access the rooms. If you need anything else, call down to us from the phone in your room.”

We thank yet another person and make our way to the elevator. Sam presses the correct floor button and I lean against the back wall.

“The home-iest home stretch of all home stretches.” He says to me, and I just glare at him, having depleted my energy for the day. God, I’ve lost the will to bicker with him. 

The elevator dings, and I nearly hear the chorus of angels singing in the distance. My bed is calling me. Well, a bed is calling me. I tote behind Sam like the sleepy toddler I’ve become as he twists and turns his way down the appropriate hallways until he reaches room 422. The golden room. Finally. 

He places the key against the pad, the light turns green, and the sound of it unlocking is music to my ears. He steps inside flicks on the light, and starts hysterically laughing. I’m not even sure I want to know what’s so funny when I ask him, but I do anyway. 

“Why are you laughing?” his tall frame blocking my view of anything as I try to get my suitcase in the door. I shut the door when I’m finally successful, and he’s wiping the tears from his eyes as he continues to roar with laughter. I let go of my luggage handle and step into the light.

“Oh. My. God.” 

Of fucking course, there’s only one bed.

Chapter Six

Chapter 8

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