#Joel will probably take a nice leap up

[smoozie]

Scar and Martyn doing the worst they've ever done during Wild Life 😔

[mawrmyy]

lucky

Joel Miller x f!reader

warnings:

18+ !!! minors dni !!!

smut, unprotected piv (wrap it up y'all!!), pet names (darling, baby, angel, etc), infidelity but not really (it'll make sense if you read it i promise) oral f! and m!receiving, driving over speed limits, alcohol consumption, dirty bathroom floors. lmk if i missed anything :)

It’s late, nearly midnight. You could be at home now, resting after a long day at work. The weekend welcomes you with open arms, and it smells like laundry detergent and fresh-brewed coffee.

The floor of the bar is sticky. You’re sure every drink that’s been spilled on the linoleum floor has a story of its own, sticking to the soles of your shoes, begging you to listen.

You ignore it, making your way towards the counter, calculating how to get as much alcohol in your system as fast as possible. Whiskey, please, you tell the bartender, and he obliges.

Now, with a cold glass cup in your hand, you finally sit down on a bar stool and allow your eyes to lazily scan your surroundings. A group of four, seemingly in their early twenties, sit at a table to your left, talking and laughing loudly. In front of you sits an overweight man with a long white beard, downing what you assume is at least his seventh glass of beer. He notices you looking and gives you a glance that practically yells fuck you looking at? You take that as your sign to look away, and your eyes continue scanning the room.

That’s when you see him, across the bar. He’s already looking at you, eyes dark and hooded. He’s handsome, probably around his late 40s, with graying hair and a short scruffy beard. You feel your cheeks heat up from the intensity of his gaze, and you look back down to the glass cup between your warm palms. 

When you look back to meet his eyes once again, you see he’s taking a swig of his drink before getting up. For a split second your heart drops, assuming he’s leaving, but instead, he starts making his way across the sticky floors, directly towards you. You swallow your anxiety, as well as another sip of whiskey, before setting the cup down with a soft thud. You watch him walk, your heartbeat quickening with every step he takes. Before you know it, he’s sitting on the stool beside you, and your heart is just about to leap out of your chest. He’s looking at you, studying your face carefully, gauging your reaction before he speaks. 

“Hi,” He says sheepishly, and you can tell he’s suddenly nervous. “I’m Joel.” He reaches out a hand for you to shake, and you take it, chuckling quietly at the awkwardness of it all.

“Hi Joel,” You say, keeping eye contact and smiling at him warmly. You tell him your name, and he smiles back, a hearty lopsided grin that you can’t help but want to kiss.

“Saw you from across the bar,” Joel tells you. “‘S a nice dress. Suits you,” He says, signaling to the tight little black dress you decided to wear this evening. You blush at his words.

The two of you make conversation, talking for over an hour about how uncharacteristically warm it’s been this winter, and Quentin Tarantino’s filmography, and why the hell are there so many shots of feet?! 

He asks you if you have a boyfriend, and his eyes follow yours as you look to the thin golden ring sitting pretty on your finger. Joel swallows, but doesn’t mention it again.

It’s nearly 1 am when you ask him do you dance, Joel? His large hand is in yours as you lead him to the makeshift dance floor near the billiard table. There are two other couples there, swaying to a song you can't quite make out the words to.

You wrap your arms around Joel, threading your fingers and resting them at the nape of his neck. He’s looking down at you, the palm of his left hand running down from your rib to your hip, where it stays. He places his right hand on your other hip and pulls you closer, still never breaking eye contact. The two of you stay like that for a while, hips rocking slowly to the music blasting out of the cheap bar speakers. 

It’s maybe two songs in before Joel’s hands start getting impatient, grazing the small of your back and palming at your ass. Normally, you’d be embarrassed letting a stranger feel you up in public, but you know nobody’s looking, each and every person at the bar stuck in their own little world. You look up at Joel through your lashes, taking in his sharp, crooked nose and rugged features. It ignites a fire in your lower belly, the way he looks at you. Pupils blown wide, lips slightly parted. He’s breathing heavily, you can feel his shoulders rising and falling beneath your forearms. It’s so intense, you’re sure that if he isn't inside you within the next minute you might explode.

You let out a soft whimper of his name, and he groans.

“Darlin’,” He says in a pained voice. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.” You smirk at that, placing your hands on his chest, tugging at the collar of his flannel. You stand on your toes and lean in so that your lips are mere millimeters away from his, and you whisper a soft–

“Want you, Joel,” before turning away from him and walking towards the bar bathroom. You’re reaching for the door handle when you hear his heavy footsteps following close behind you, and you smirk to yourself. You’ve got him wrapped around your finger.

Joel’s behind you in an instant, pushing you into the bathroom and locking the door behind you. His mouth meets yours, and it's all teeth and tongue and whiskey and mint. His hands, so big and warm wrapped around your ribs, guide you backwards until your back hits the stiff wooden door.

He’s desperate, hungry. His tongue licks into you, greedily swallowing every moan and sigh you’re willing to give him.

Suddenly Joel is sinking to his knees, paying no mind to the dirty bathroom floor or to the way his bones crack loudly as he crouches. He looks up at you with wide eyes, hands running up your thighs, fingers fiddling with the hem of your dress, pulling it up slightly. Your cheeks flush crimson, knowing full well how wet you are for him. Joel knows it too, smirking as he sees the damp spot on your lacy white panties. His fingers graze your clothed folds softly, teasing you. He leans in to press a feather-light kiss on your inner thigh, and you let out a soft whimper. 

“Please, Joel,” You say, looking him dead in the eyes. “Need you so bad. Been wanting you all night,” you add, and that seems to do it. He groans and pulls your panties down to your ankles, licking a long stripe up your glistening cunt. The two of you moan in unison, Joel’s hand holding up your thigh to get a better angle. 

“Fuck darlin’,” He groans into you, words slurring. “Such a pretty pussy. You this wet jus’ f’r me?”

“Fu-yes, Joel, just for you,” You tell him honestly. 

He’s ruthless, tongue sliding from your pussy to your clit, applying the perfect amount of pressure. Your head falls back against the door, the flickering lights above you blurring into stars as you feel your orgasm getting close.

“Joel, m’gon- oh,” you tell him. He keeps up his pace, eyes never leaving your face, the curve of your jaw, the rise and fall of your chest. 

“I know, angel,” He tells you. “Let go f’me, baby. You can do it.”

You’re a wreck. It's only been a couple of minutes, and you’re already close to coming undone on Joel’s tongue. His thick fingers prod at your pussy, slipping in easily. You can’t even bring yourself to be embarrassed about how wet you are for him or how close you are to coming when he’s hitting all the right spots. He hasn't stopped looking at you, not since he approached you at the bar a few hours ago. His eyes are glossy, as if drunk on the taste of you. He’s so handsome.

You come like that, the only word on the tip of your tongue is Joel, Joel, Joel. You chant his name like a prayer as you come down from your high, his tongue still on you, working you through your orgasm. 

You stay like that for a minute, Joel still on his knees in front of you as you catch your breath. You pull him up by the collar of his shirt and kiss him, tasting the tangy taste of yourself lingering on his lips. You’re both smiling into the kiss, and you only break apart to whisper to him–

“Fuck me, Joel.” 

He lets out an animalistic groan, and you reach down to palm the bulge in his jeans. You let out a soft gasp as he grabs your wrist to stop you.

“Not yet, baby,” He tells you. “Wanna do this properly. Take you home and fuck you in my bed, treat you real good.” You can’t help but moan at his sweet filthy words. 

Joel unlocks the bathroom door and leads you out of the bar with his hand on the small of your back. He guides you to his car and opens the car door for you, acting like a real gentleman as if he didn’t just make you come all over his face in a public restroom. 

His hand is on your thigh before he even starts the engine, and you can feel yourself getting needy again. He says it’s a twenty minute drive to his house, but you get impatient halfway through. You’re at a red light when your hand wanders to find the outline of his cock, still half-hard beneath rough denim. His head snaps to look at you, eyes immediately going dark. You look at him with faux innocence as your fingers slowly unbutton and unzip his jeans. You cup the bulge over his maroon boxers, and he lets out a soft groan. 

“Let me make you feel good, Joel,” You say, your hand still massaging his cock as it grows harder beneath your palm.

“Baby–” The car behind you honks as the light turns green, and Joel steps on the gas pedal. “Fuck, okay angel. Make me feel good.” And you oblige, pulling the elastic of his boxers down, freeing his dick. You feel your mouth watering as you hold it in your hand, long and thick and so fucking hard. You run your hand up and down the shaft a few times, testing the waters. Joel moans, and you sink down to lick him, base to tip, tasting his salty precum on the tip of your tongue. Joel places his hand on the back of your head, fingers threading in your hair as he lets out soft noises from the back of his throat. You wrap your lips around the tip of his cock, savoring the warm heavy weight of him on your tongue.

Joel’s knuckles are white against the steering wheel, his grip tightening around it as your head bobs up and down on his length. He’s grumbling and groaning, incoherent words leaving his lips as he drives over the speed limit, needing to be inside of you, desperate to fuck you into the sheets of his bed. 

The two of you spend a few more minutes like that, your tongue swirling around the head of his dick, him muttering about your perfect fuckin’ throat, so tight for him, tugging tightly at the roots of your hair. Then he’s pulling into a driveway, shifting gears and parking as you slowly release his cock from between your plush lips. You look up at him with wide doe eyes, your thumb wiping your spit from the corner of your mouth, never breaking eye contact. Joel lets out a guttural grunt before getting out of the truck. He walks around to your side, opening the door for you and taking your hand in his as you walk towards the door of his house. 

Joel pushes you against the door and kisses you. It’s gentle, a sharp contrast to the feeling of his fingers tugging at your hair mere moments ago. He reaches around you, unlocking the door and leading you inside. 

It’s warm inside the house. Joel walks into the kitchen, and you hear the opening and closing of cupboards and the sound of glass on marble. He walks out a minute later, holding a glass of water in each hand. You accept it gratefully.

You take a small sip and place the cup on the table near you. Joel’s eyes never leave yours as he shakes his head and swallows his own water. 

“Drink up, baby,” He tells you, handing you your cup once again. “Gotta stay hydrated, yeah?” You roll your eyes playfully but oblige, downing the rest of the water, feeling it wetting your throat. You only set it down again once the glass is completely empty, before taking a small step forward and wrapping your arms around Joel, kissing him deeply. His hand comes up to cradle the side of your head, thumb resting on your cheek as he deepens the kiss, pulling your chest to his so you’re standing impossibly close to each other, heart to heart. You moan into his mouth and he swallows the sweet sound. 

“Joel,” You mumble. “Need you to fuck me. Now,” He hums at your words, lips moving from your lips to place messy kisses down your throat. 

“Fuck, I will angel,” He tells you. “G’na fuck you in my bed, fuck you till y’r so full of me. Gonna ruin that little husband of yours for ya’. Be the only one to make you feel this good.” You throw your head back and moan, and Joel takes the opportunity to kiss and bite every pulse point and every vein. 

You let out a sound between a gasp and a squeal as you feel your feet being lifted from the ground, Joel’s hands cupping your ass as he carries you to his room and sets you in the middle of the bed. The soft chuckle you let out quickly turns into a moan as he pulls the collar of your dress down, mouth latching on to your bare nipples, licking and sucking at the skin. Your hands find his hair and you tug lightly at the roots, needing more, more, more. The sounds he lets out vibrate against your skin, sending tingles up the length of your spine. Joel’s mouth goes lower, kissing down the valley of your breasts and at the soft skin of your tummy, hands pulling your panties down for the second time tonight. He pulls back to luck at your cunt, glistening under the yellow lights of his room, and he lets out a pained grunt.

“Such a perfect fuckin’ pussy,” He says, fingertips tracing your outer thighs gently. You blush, suddenly embarrassed to be so bare for him. He stands up, peeling off his shirt to reveal his broad chest. He moves to unbutton his pants, but you sit up on the edge of the bed to stop him.

“Wanna do it,” The words slur out of your mouth, and you can feel Joel’s breathing getting heavier. His hand moves to your face, thumb caressing your cheek as your fingers work the button through the hole and pull the zipper down. The denim pools around his thighs, and he steps out of it, kicking it back to a distant corner of the room. He’s left only in his boxers, and you can feel yourself getting wetter at the sight of the outline of his dick against the fabric. You pull his boxers down, and this time really look. You’ve already felt him in your hand and your mouth, but in the darkness of the car you weren't able to really see him. He’s huge, thick with a slight curve to the left and neatly trimmed. God, this man. You feel more slick pooling between your thighs as you stroke him slowly. Joel groans and leans down to kiss you, pushing you backwards to lay on the bed as he climbs on top of you. He’s on his knees above you, one hand holding his cock while the other spreads your thighs open. His fingers move to your cunt, drawing small circles on your clit while you writhe beneath him at the feeling. He stops suddenly, bringing his hand to his lips to taste you. His eyes are on you as he licks the sweet taste of you off his thick fingers. You moan at the sight, and he hums at the flavor. 

“Want you inside me Joel, please,” You tell him, brain too foggy to filter any words. Joel smirks slightly, and you admire the soft rise of the corner of his mouth, the almost invisible crinkle in his nose. Joel moves to slide the head of his cock up and down your pussy, the two of you moaning in unison at the sudden stimulation. 

“So fuckin’ wet,” He says. “‘S this all for me, baby?” You nod your head furiously at the question, and Joel chuckles. “Or are you thinkin’ ‘bout that husband of yours? Wish he was fucking you instead ‘f me?” You shake your head from side to side, needing to feel him inside you. But Joel doesn't let up. “Say it,” He says. “Who makes you feel this good, angel?” You could cry out of frustration.

“You, Joel,” You nearly scream. “Only you. No one else. M’yours,” A satisfied grin spreads on his lips.

He mutters a soft Damn right before pushing into you. Your head falls deeper into the pillow at the painfully sweet stretch, your velvety walls adjusting to his length as he bottoms out. Your ears buzz, drowning out your obscene moans. Your brain is mush, the only coherent thought being Joel, Joel, Joel. 

He’s moving now, deep thrusts in and out of you, mumbling about your perfect cunt and how you feel so good around him, such a pretty girl, God you’re so fucking tight . He leans down, taking your lips in his and kissing you hungrily. Moans fall from your tongue onto his, mixing into a pretty melody, a song only the two of you know how to sing. 

“Gonna come,” You tell him. Joel’s pace becomes sloppier but his thrusts never cease, hitting spots inside you that make you see stars behind closed eyes. His lips are on your neck again, leaving marks as if they’re promises that you’re his. Your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into his ass, needing him impossibly deeper. 

“Wanna come with you, Joel,” You whimper, and he groans, his forehead falling against yours. He’s close, his thrusts becoming quicker and more shallow, and he’s so close to you, his hot skin against yours, you wish you could stay this way forever. 

“Fuck, baby,” He says, voice broken. “Where d’ya want me?”

“Inside,” You reply breathlessly. “Want you to come inside me.” A strangled grunt leaves his throat at your filthy words.

“Shit, Okay, angel. Come for me, wanna feel you,” You oblige, letting yourself fall into bliss, liquid gold and white heat flashing behind your eyelids as you come undone on his cock. Joel lets out a few more animalistic sounds before spilling inside your cunt, and you savor the feeling of his warmth somewhere deep inside of you.

You relish in your post-orgasm haze, body going limp as your eyes begin to flutter shut. You feel Joel slowly pulling out of you, and you groan in protest.

“Gotta clean you up, baby,” He says, placing a soft kiss on the tip of your nose, but you wrap your arms around him before he can move any further.

“Jus– just wanna stay like this for a little,” You tell him. “Please,” You add, and he gives in, his strong arms circling your waist and pulling you closer to him as the two of you doze off into a deep, peaceful sleep. 

__ __ __

Golden sunlight pools from the window as you wake up in your husband’s arms. He’s still sleeping, glowing under the late morning sun. You kiss his lips softly, and he stirs a little, eyes fluttering open and squinting at the harsh light.

“Morning, handsome,” You say with a kiss to his cheek. Joel groans and buries his head into the crook of your neck, pulling your body closer to his. You giggle, fingers brushing through his graying hair.

“Last night was fun,” You say, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, and he hums in agreement. “The roleplaying was a good idea, we should do it more often.” You add. “Though you really didn't have to sit on that nasty bathroom floor.” Joel pulls his head away from your warm body, looking you dead in the eye. 

“Darlin’, I woulda’ licked that goddamn floor for you.” You laugh, and he kisses your neck briefly. “M’serious. You better know that,” He tells you. You’re smiling widely, rays of sun bouncing off of your skin as Joel wonders to himself how he got so goddamn lucky. 

He briefly brought up roleplay a while ago after you ranted to him about your long day at work while he gave you a foot rub on the couch. He wasn't sure if you’d take him up on the offer, but you agreed that pretending to be someone else for a while could be a nice little escape from reality.

That’s how you found yourself at a local bar, ordering drinks while your husband sits in front of you as you pretend not to know him. All the while, Joel wondering how on earth he got fortunate enough to find you, let alone be the lucky man to marry you. And you looked so fucking gorgeous in that dress. He’s sure every other man in the bar noticed the way it hugged your curves. But he was the one who got to have you. He was the one who drove you to your shared house and fucked you until you couldn’t think straight. He was yours, yours to do whatever you pleased with.   

Joel’s train of thought is cut off as he hears the bedsheets rustle beneath you as you move to get out of bed. You’re sitting on the edge of the mattress, your back facing him as you put your hair up into a lazy ponytail. You turn your head back to look at him, eyes twinkling.

“I’m making coffee,” You say. “Y’want some?” 

“Coffee sounds great, angel, thank you,” He responds, and you smile as you get up.

“Okay, baby. Be right back,” You tell him, leaning down to kiss him one last time before making your way to the kitchen. Joel still tastes you on his lips as he watches the way your back sways with every step, leaving the room as you hum the tune of the song that was playing at the bar last night.Yeah, he thinks to himself. Joel Miller is the luckiest motherfucker alive.

a\n: zoo wee mama this took me way too long to write!! i pray this doesn't flop, but either way i enjoyed writing it. thank you for reading this far!! criticism is much appreciated <3

picture 1: King Lear by Edwin Austin Abbey

picture 2: @/ Anime♡Star on Pinterest

picture 3: @/ VSPINK on Pinterest

[from-the-clouds]

texas sun - joel miller x f! reader - vol. v

series masterlist | series playlist | writing masterlist | previous chapter | photo cred

chapter summary: You knew yourself, and the way that you could get hung up on the right kind of person. Joel was that kind of person. But you don’t like how formal this feels. So real. -- In other words, Joel takes you on your first date. pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader words: 8.6k chapter warnings: SMUT, 18+ ONLY (it's happening, folks!) - unprotected sex, please dm if you want specifics but I’m not trying to spoil too much. If you don't want to read the smut, it doesn't happen until about halfway through the chapter. Crying after sex. Angst. FLUFF. Mentions of anxiety & self-doubt, alcohol consumption.  a/n: Help! I can’t stop writing fit checks into this story!! This ended up being insanely horny but also shockingly sweet. I worked way way way too hard on it so please say nice things to me. Might need to take a couple days off because I'm really feeling burnt out. So please enjoy in the meantime.

-May 16, 2003-

Joel doesn’t like lying to Sarah.

Although, he’s not sure that he’s lying to her as much as he is simply….omitting information. Depending on who you ask, that could still be considered lying.

He’s fresh out of the shower when he steps into the living room, fishes through the catch-all basket located just inside the front door, and pockets his wallet and keys.

“Where are you going?” 

Sarah’s lounging on the couch, on her back, one of her hands slung behind her head. There’s a book opened on her lap, but she’s not reading. “You’re all dressed up.”

Joel looks down at his green flannel shirt, tucked into a pair of dark jeans. Truth be told, he’s a little ashamed he doesn’t have anything nicer in his closet. It’s not like he ever has any occasion to dress up, but he’s already feeling self-conscious and being (most likely) underdressed isn’t helping. Based on the very limited information he knows about your past relationships, you’re probably accustomed to crisp dress shirts, ties, blazers. He doesn’t own any of those things — he did, at one point, have the tux from his wedding, but he’d gotten rid of it after the divorce. Every time he saw it in the back of his closet, it made him sick. Regardless, tonight he’d done the best he could otherwise - showered, trimmed his beard, and even dug through his medicine cabinet for an old – probably expired – bottle of cologne. Hopefully it was enough. 

“I’ve uh….I’ve got a date.” Joel says. 

The theme song from That’s So Raven is blaring through the living room, but it immediately cuts out as Sarah presses mute and sits up entirely from her spot on the couch. “Really?”

“Don’t act so surprised,” Joel says. “Your uncle is coming over, though, he’s gonna drop me off and then he said he’d take you to the movies.”

As if on cue, he hears Tommy’s truck pull into the drive. “Yes!” Sarah leaps up from the couch. “I have to change first.”

“Hurry up, babygirl, I’m already runnin’ behind,” Joel calls after her. 

Tommy knocks twice on the front door before letting himself in anyways. 

“You’re late,” Joel informs, shutting the door behind him. They should’ve left five minutes ago, and the last thing Joel wants is for you to think he’s not punctual. To be fair, he’s not, and almost never is. But you don’t need to know that….yet. 

“Hello to you, too,” Tommy trails after him into the kitchen. Joel is tempted to chug a beer, or fish the half-empty bottle of whiskey he’s got in the cabinet out to take a shot — just to take the edge off. But he refrains. It wouldn’t be a good look to show up smelling of booze.

“So…who's the lucky lady?” When Joel doesn’t answer right away, Tommy presses. “Come on, Joel, who is it?” 

He contemplates telling his brother the truth, but he doesn’t want to give him the idea that he had taken his advice. He didn’t. Well maybe he did, but he knows Tommy will become insufferable if he finds out. 

“Is it who I think it is?” Tommy asks. “It better be.”

Unfortunately, Tommy knows him too well. They’re brothers, and really, Joel’s first and oldest friend. The answer is written all over his face. 

Tommy grins. “Fucking finally. Oh my god, dude, I thought you’d never-”

“Alright, alright!” Joel interjects, eyes darting nervously up the stairs, where he hears his daughter shuffling around in her bathroom. “Keep your mouth shut, I haven’t told Sarah yet.” 

Tommy raises his hands in defense, but at least seems to understand how serious Joel is. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna say anything. Are you excited?”

“Yeah,” Joel looks down at the countertop, and is compelled to be honest with his little brother. “I’m uh….I’m a little nervous, though. Been awhile since I’ve done anything like this.” 

Tommy grows serious. “Do you want my advice?” 

“Yours?” Joel feels like whatever advice he has to offer is likely questionable, particularly with someone like you. “No thanks. I’d rather make a good impression.”

His brother ignores the subtle dig. “You sure? Because unlike you, I actually go on dates. I mean, it’s been what, like….ten years?” He crosses his arms, pretends to think. It’s probably only been a couple of months since the last time Joel took someone out, and Tommy knows it, but he loves to dramatize. “I mean at this stage, you’re basically a born-again virgin. Do you even remember how to put on a condom?” 

Joel crosses his arms and glares at his brother, who begins giggling at his bad joke. “I knew I shouldn’t have fucking said anything to you,” he shakes his head.

“Oh come on Joel, you’ll be fine,” Tommy says. “Really. She’s into you. I could tell when we were all together the other night. Even when I was dancing with her, I kept catching her lookin’ your way…”

“Yeah, well….” Joel rubs the back of his neck to play off the surge of warmth he gets from this information. “Thanks.”

Sarah’s bathroom door opens, and he hears the staccato beat of her sneakers coming down the stairs. Joel points at Tommy one last time. “Not a word, understand?” 

Tommy nods just as she rounds the corner.

“Uncle Tommy!” Sarah raises her hand to give him a high-five, which they both purposely miss so they can collide palms on the downswing, grab each other’s hands and then begin a secret handshake so complex that Joel, who has seen it a thousand times, still doesn’t think he could execute correctly if he tried.

“How’s my favorite niece?” 

“I’m your only niece.” 

“Touche,” they shoot at each other with finger guns before she wraps him in a hug and Tommy presses his nose to the top of her head. Despite the fact that their little routine is costing Joel precious time, almost all the annoyance he’d been feeling with his brother dissipates at the sight.

“We all ready?” Tommy asks her, then points at him. “Don’t want to make this casanova late.”

“Yeah, of course not,” Sarah looks over at Joel with a smile that doesn’t seem entirely sincere. When she was younger and he’d gone on dates, she always had a lot more questions. Who is it? What is she like? When can I meet her? Is she pretty? Over the years, however, she became less and less interested. It was because she was smart, and had caught onto the pattern - he’d go on a date, maybe one or two more, then there’d be a long period of nothing before the cycle repeated itself every couple months. It rarely developed into anything that would concern her, and Joel always kept the details to himself.

While they’re en route to the restaurant – a little French bistro that had opened up recently — Sarah and Tommy bicker about what movie they want to see.

“I wanna see Holes. I just read the book.”

Tommy grimaces. “What about Matrix Reloaded? It just came out.”

“I already told dad I’d go to that with him.”

“So?” he looks between Sarah and Joel. “Why can’t you just see it twice?”

“No,” Sarah says emphatically. “I have to see it with dad first. It’s not fair.” 

Tommy groans, mutters under his breath. “I can’t believe you let her watch that crap,” as if he wasn’t about to do the same thing.

“She likes it,” Joel shrugs.

“All the more reason to see it tonight.”

“Tommy,” Joel warns. 

“Fine.”

“I don’t really like it, though. I just like to keep dad company so he doesn’t have to see it alone.”

“You’re too nice,” Tommy takes a beat. “Are you sure you aren’t adopted?”

“Shut up,” Joel and Sarah answer at the same time, and Joel holds his palm behind him for his daughter to slap. 

Tommy acquiesces, his truck jolting as it pulls into the parking lot of the restaurant. Joel’s heart rate picks up immediately. The car rolls to a stop and Joel turns to look at both of them. “Alright, I’ll be home by midnight.”

“Sounds good,” says Sarah. 

“Have fun,” Tommy raises his eyebrows, winks, and thankfully Sarah doesn’t see it, because she’s getting out of the truck to take Joel’s spot shotgun. He makes sure she’s settled with her seatbelt on before he shuts the door.

He isn’t trying to waste time, but Joel watches them pull out of the lot and back onto the street before he goes inside the restaurant. Really, he just needs a minute to collect himself. There’s no good reason for him to be as anxious as he is, he’s already kissed you once, and you had seemed to like it — quite a lot too. For the past week the feeling of your body pressed up against him, legs around his torso, was pretty much all he thought about when his mind wandered. Mostly at night before bed, and even today, in the shower when he was getting ready - just to try and calm down. Even now, the idea leaves him flustered.

Nevertheless, this probably isn’t even technically a first date. He hasn’t had issues speaking to you in the past, so this should be easy. Right? But what if you change your mind? And what if it dawns on you that he’s not your type? Even worse, what if you realize he’s just not good enough? 

Joel forces himself inside before he talks himself out of this. When he enters, he sees you first. You’re across the room, leaning over the small bar where a few other patrons are. Greedily, he takes you in, and it’s easy to trace your figure in the tight black shift dress you’ve got on, sheer black tights underneath. It’s sleek, stylish - not that Joel knows much about that. As usual, you stand out in stark contrast to every other person in the place. He likes it. But he feels underdressed. He’ll look ridiculous standing next to you, and he briefly considers turning around, leaving, and saving himself the embarrassment.  

That’s until you move, angling yourself towards him and scanning the restaurant, an elbow resting on the bar, a hand on your knee. You’re looking for him, waiting for him, and finally, you’re rewarded when your eyes catch. Suddenly, Joel doesn’t care about what he’s wearing. He doesn't care that he’s not good enough. At the very least, he doesn’t have to guess if you’re interested in him anymore, not with how you’re gazing at him — a soft smile and narrowed eyes that betray your enthusiasm. Sure, he's not good enough, but he decides if he’s going to go down in flames, he’ll do it trying to convince you otherwise.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Maybe I should’ve eaten a proper lunch, you think to yourself. You’ve barely touched the drink in your hand, but you’re already starting to feel it. And even though you are the designated driver tonight, for now, the slight buzz is welcome, working to soothe. 

Over the years, you’d been on your fair share of first dates. Unlike most…you don’t hate them. For whatever reason, getting to know new people had always come easy, particularly if they were the right person. Being a lawyer, you had a knack for talking yourself into or out of almost anything. So it was just as easy to let someone know if they weren’t the right person. The best part of first dates, however, was that they lacked all the things you hated — promises, expectations, and conversations that went deeper than general pleasantries. 

So all things considered, you shouldn’t feel as tense as you do right now.

There’s a few factors that might have something to do with it, and your brain turns them over,  biding your time until your date arrives. 

First is the text that sits opened on your BlackBerry.

Dad’s home from the hospital. Doing better. Call when you can. - Vince

Your father has been in and out of the hospital for the last month or so, his health rapidly declining. But every update from your brother, however innocent they may be, feels like veiled threats. You should be here. You should know this. I shouldn't have to text you about it. I can’t believe I’m the only one looking after him. A part of you wants to believe that Vincent wouldn’t play that sort of game with you, but as you’ve gotten older and grown apart, you’d gotten worse at deciphering his motivations. Vaguely, you acknowledge that you could just be projecting, and you are the only one trying to make you feel bad. 

And then there’s Joel. 

He’s running late, you hope, or he’s stood you up. And you have already promised yourself that you’re only gonna wait ten more minutes before heading home with your tail tucked between your legs. The thought of that makes you regret agreeing to this in the first place. You’d already embarrassed yourself the last time you were together, practically begging him to take you on the kitchen countertop, but he’d insisted on doing this right. You should’ve pushed harder because you’re starting to think that maybe, just maybe….a zipless fuck would’ve sufficed. Oh, who were you kidding? You knew yourself, and the way that you could get hung up on the right kind of person. Joel was that kind of person. But you don’t like how formal this feels. So real. 

He knows you better than most first dates do. You’ve told him more about your family, about your fucked up childhood, about your aversion to committed relationships more than any friend you’ve made since moving to Texas. And he listened. It should make you feel better. He knows what he’s getting himself into, and he asked you here anyways. Maybe he’s having second thoughts. 

For what feels like the thousandth time, you check your emails and take a sip of your dirty martini – your preferred vehicle for alcohol consumption. Ultimately, you like the idea of a martini more than the actual taste, but you appreciate how direct they are. You scan the restaurant one last time, doing your best to look casual, like you don’t really care. Like you’re supposed to be there alone. 

But when your head turns towards the entrance, Joel is standing across from you. 

He gives you a bashful smile, one that makes your stomach flip, and makes his way over – though he doesn’t seem to be in a rush. It’s like he knows you’d sit and wait for him for as long as it takes – you would, you will, you are. 

When he finally lands in front of you, one thumb hooked in the belt loop of his dark-wash jeans, he leans forward and presses his lips to your cheek for the briefest moment, and pulls back, looking you up and down. 

“It’s good to see you, darlin’,” he murmurs softly. The term of endearment makes your ears feel hot. You're shocked at the effect he has on you, almost can’t believe it. It scares you, too, but you want to chase the feeling. “You look great.”

“So do you,” because you’re not one to lie. He does. As good as always, but he might’ve trimmed his beard for the occasion and maybe….put on cologne? It’s hard to tell, and in your brief experience being so close to him, he’s always smelled good regardless. 

“Sorry I’m late,” he apologizes. “Can’t count on Tommy to get me anywhere on time.”

“It’s alright,” you say casually, like you hadn’t had your whole exit strategy planned out just minutes ago. “I got to have a drink while I wait. You want something?” you gesture towards the bartender. 

“Sure,” Joel answers. “How about an old fashioned?” There’s no room for him to sit, so he leans next to you, arm on the bartop, invading your personal space while you wait for your table. Your skin buzzes like you’ve never been this close to a man before in your life. Pathetic. 

He orders his drink before he speaks to you again. “Have you been here before?” he asks. 

You shake your head no. “I was planning on coming a couple months ago but….never got around to it.”

“It’s good,” he says. “I’ve been a couple times.”

“Is this where you take all the girls you go out with?” you raise an eyebrow, grateful that your voice sounds even despite the way your blood is fizzing, your heart pumping so fast you can feel it in your ears. 

Joel shakes his head no. “That’s down the street.”

“Oh?” you nod, sip your drink. Whatever buzz you’d been feeling is gone in the wake of adrenaline. “So….why didn’t you take me there, then?”

“It’s not as nice,” Joel smirks, leaning in a little closer – if it were possible. His lips are practically touching your ear, and his voice is raspy for what comes next. “And I’m trying to impress you.” 

“Right,” you can’t help but smile, pulling back so you can lock eyes. He’s so sincere you can’t even think up a clever quip in return. “How thoughtful.” 

He gives you a cheeky grin. You want to touch him, want to hold him, want to fist the front of his shirt or tug on the hair at the back of his neck and stick your tongue down his throat like you aren’t surrounded by an entire restaurant of patrons. 

It’s going to be the longest fucking dinner of your life. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You survive. 

But at a cost. 

And you don’t learn anything new about Joel, except for the fact that your memory hasn’t exaggerated how charming he is, how charismatic, how thoughtful. All the times you’d allowed yourself to daydream about him didn’t hold a candle. Enjoying the meal is difficult, because you just want to get him alone. He can sense it – you’re pretty sure, because he orders himself a coffee after dessert, and sips on it ever-so-slowly, smirking at you over the rim of the mug.

When dinner’s over, you offer to drive Joel home, since he’d gotten a ride here. By this point, the martini is long gone from your system and you sort of want to pour yourself another when you get home. Even if you don’t drink much, the nerves have resurfaced. 

He walks a few paces behind you as you leave the restaurant, taking his time, and you step to your side of the car, making to unlock it – until something grabs your bicep – briskly – and spins you around. 

It’s Joel. He snuck up behind you, you hadn’t heard, and he’s right in front of you now, pinning you between the car and his body, surrounding you entirely. He lifts a hand, cups your cheek, and kisses you. It happens so fast you let out a whimper of surprise – directly into his mouth, but he swallows it down, and cradles you so gently, but still firm. Resolute. I’m not letting you go.

When he pulls back, you notice his cheeks are flushed, ever so slightly. It makes you wonder what you could do to see them get even redder. Your arms have found their way to rest on his shoulders, and you’re boxed in, the handle to your car door digging into your ass. Without a word, just a cheeky grin, he retreats to the passenger's side of the car and gets inside. 

You settle in the driver's seat beside him, and he looks over at you. “Hope that was okay, I couldn’t wait…” he says, almost apologetically. “But I was tryin’ all night to be good.”

“Yeah, well….not much use in that anymore,” you tilt your head. “Do you want to….hang out at my place?”

“Yeah, we can ‘hang out’ at your place,” Joel quips.

Scoffing in mock offense, you offer a retort. “What would you rather me have said? Come over for a nightcap? That’s a little cliche.”

He grimaces, as if he’s in agreement. You continue. “Or would you rather I be more direct? Joel, why don’t you come over so we can have sex?”

That makes him laugh, loudly, and it’s such a warm, comforting sound, you wish you could find a way to capture it and hear it over and over again. “Oh, is that what’s going to happen?” he asks. 

“Guess we’ll find out,” You shrug, trying to play it off, in case you overstepped. Then you focus on putting the keys in the ignition without fumbling. 

It’s not a long drive back to your place, but Joel seems determined to make sure it feels like it is. Either that, or he’s trying to get you to cause an accident. First his hand is resting on the back of your neck, brushing through the hair at the base of your skull. Then it’s on your shoulder, his thumb pressing into your taut muscles. You actually have to bite your tongue so you don’t moan. It’s not even sexual, really, but it just feels good to be touched, especially by him.

Eventually, you hit a stoplight, and while you’re waiting, his hand continues to wander…and comes to rest just above your knee. His hands are fucking huge, first of all, which maybe you’ve noticed before, and there are a few scars and scratches on the backs of his knuckles. It's the weight of it, the warmth of it, the way he’s settled it so casually like it’s nothing – like it belongs there, and he doesn’t even have to ask. Of course he doesn’t. And the confidence, the cockiness. It feels like someone’s taken an arrow to the pit of your stomach, and something thick and hot starts curling down, down, down….

You swallow hard, and he’s looking at you. He doesn’t speak right away, just stares, something dark and unfamiliar in his eyes. 

“I hope I’m doing alright,” voice raspy, low, but still smooth as ever.

Shaking your head, you’re able to surface just enough over the haze of arousal. “You want a performance review?” you tease, giving a small smile. “We should hold off on that until later…” 

That makes Joel laugh again, your stomach flips, and his thumb begins to stroke your kneecap, his fingers kneading into the soft flesh, inching forward to clasp farther inward, nearly grabbing at you, squeezing. The only thing separating his skin from your own is a thin pair of stockings that end dangerously close to where his hand is working. If he finds out that he’s just a few centimeters away from meeting bare skin, you’re afraid of what could happen.

“Joel,” you warn.

“What?” he asks, voice light and innocent.

“You’re distracting me.” 

“You want me to stop?”

No. The light turns green, and you have to hold back the impulse to break every traffic law if it means you’ll get to have him just a second sooner. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“--my room is–” Joel cuts you off with another searing kiss, and it takes a second before you can conjure the self control to pull away again to finish the thought. “--down the hall.” 

“Yeah?” 

He’s got you crowded back against the entry closet of your house, hovering over you, one of his hands bracing itself beside your head, and the other slowly dragging down your body, his lips following….moving down your neck. 

“Uh-huh,” you barely can get it out between strangled gasps for air. 

And then he’s hooking his hands behind your knees. “Are you sure you don’t want, like-” Joel lifts you, and you lock your legs around his torso. “An amaretto or something?”

“No,” he’s gripping on to you so tightly it hurts, but you don’t mind. 

“I could put on….a record-”

“No,” he repeats, and you’re being carried down the hall. 

You hadn’t expected him to pounce on you the instant that you came in through the garage door. Not that you minded. It’s just that usually you’d play it a bit more coy. You’d set the mood, light a candle, have a chat. But, you suppose you don’t need to do anything to get you in the mood. You’re already there. 

Joel’s mouth never separates from you, not until you’re in your room. He’s so sure of himself, you think he might be the type to throw you into the mattress, climb on top of you and rip at the zipper on the back of your dress. But he doesn’t. You’re laid down delicately, like you’re made of glass, and he’s being careful not to break you. 

He weaves his thumb and forefinger around both your wrists, then pulls them up so they’re pinned above your head. This way, you’re completely at his mercy. When he lowers himself between your legs, and you feel the weight of his body pressed against you, you groan, fighting against the restraint, desperate to touch him. So you do the best you can and wrap your stocking-clad feet around his waist, trying to get some leverage, to bring him closer.

“Just wanna take my time with you, darlin’,” he murmurs softly, like he can read your mind. You’re starting to think he can – how else can he be so irresistible on his own accord?

Joel makes good on his promise. With you all docile beneath him, he takes the opportunity to kiss every inch of exposed skin available – even though you’re still fully clothed. Each press of his lips has you breathing unevenly – sighing, then gasping, then sharp, short inhales. When he finds a particularly sensitive spot on your neck, you can’t help but giggle and quirm. 

Joel huffs in response, releasing you from his hold, and he tilts his head to whisper in your ear. “Do you have any idea how much I like hearing that? Knowing it’s because of me?” Immediately, you lower your hands to cup his cheeks, to regard him. He can’t be serious. 

“You’re too sweet,” you mutter. 

“So are you,” he answers, and ducks his head to return to your neck. “So sweet, and so fucking pretty, too…” His hands begin wandering, one of them cupping your breast, thumb finding a peaked nipple even through the fabric of your dress and your bra. The words he’s saying are too much, you’ll do anything to make him shut up, arching your back so you can feel him – already hard – against your clothed core. 

“Joel-” 

“God, I want to see you-fuck!” he pulls back, rolls you over, and you shift your weight so he has access to the dress’ zipper at your side. He makes quick work of it, and brings you to a seated position, helping you remove it all the way before kissing you again, then abruptly stopping. He wants you so badly….but he’s trying to savor the moment. “Let me look at you for a second.”

He takes you in, the stockings you’re wearing and the matching set of black lace you’d picked out beforehand. Of course, you’d thought about this. You always did for occasions like this, but Joel had stumped you. What would he like? This….was pretty understated, but he seemed like a salt-of-the earth guy. Not what you were used to. It probably wouldn’t make a difference whether or not you were in full-on lingerie. And even if you knew he wouldn’t care, you still had wanted to impress him. All the more reason to try.

“This for me?” he asks, hooking his finger on the inside of your stockings and snapping the elastic. 

“Yeah,” you nod, honest. “I want you, Joel.” And there’s more to it, too. You’ve thought about just how badly for months. It kept you up at night, then helped you fall asleep when you couldn’t shake his image from your head. For now, you are going to keep that to yourself. But it doesn’t mean it’s not gonna slip out. Not when he’s looking at you like this. 

“Yeah?” he says, steps forward, towers over you. “I want you, too, so fuckin’ bad. So fucking pretty, baby,” Dropping back to your elbows, you feel…small. Any other time, you might sit up, try to feel some kind of control, but for whatever reason, you stay where you are.

Joel wasn’t exaggerating when he said he wanted to take his time. It’s frustrating. It’s torture. He worships you, makes sure his mouth is on nearly every part of your body before he finishes undressing you. Your ankles hook over his shoulders, his hands grazing, dragging thin nylon up and off each leg. He kisses your calves, the inside of your knees, your thighs. He uses one hand to unhook your bra and pulls it away. He spends what feels like hours with his mouth on your breasts – sucking, licking, nipping – hands cupping, grabbing, pinning you down. The whole time, he’s telling you how badly he wants you, how pretty you are, how good you’re being for him. He’s either touching you too much, or maybe not enough. It’s hard to say. Only after he’s reduced you to an incoherent, whimpering mess do you somehow find the strength to fight back. 

By this point, you’re lying in the middle of the bed, your leg hooked over his hip, the waistband of his jeans digging into bare skin. He’s still got all his fucking clothes on, which makes everything so much worse, because it’s clear whose in control here, and it’s certainly not you. 

The button of his flannel is where you start, and then you work downward. Joel doesn’t stop you at any point. You think he might, just because of how things have been going. But he’s as easy as you are, and you take him in all the same after you’ve shucked off his jeans, and he’s closer to your state of buff.

To be fair, you’ve spent enough time lingering by the windows – when he’s outside mowing the lawn shirtless, or picking up his newspaper in the morning, or doing workouts in his garage with the door open (such a tease!) – to have an idea of what to expect. He’s not ripped by any means but neither are you – and you’ve never liked that anyways. But it’s not hard to ascertain that he spends all day in the sun, lifting and hauling things around. His muscles are defined, rippling lightly under his skin with each panting breath he takes. Joel’s a spectacle – broad and tan, a line of dark hair dipping from his belly-button down into the waistband of his dark-gray briefs. You can make out the way his cock is straining against the fabric.

Once you’ve appraised him as best as you can – you can see that he’s studying you, almost like he’s anxious, like you might not like what you see. As if he doesn’t know. Ridiculous. You aren’t going to leave him guessing. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Joel,” you shake your head. “You’re a fucking stud.”

Joel’s face breaks out in a grin and he yanks you back so you’re on top of him, legs on either side of his chest. And finally, finally, you can touch him like you’ve been wanting. His skin is warm – it’s kind of hot in your room, you’d forgotten to turn on the A/C, so you’re both a little sweaty. But and it’s unclear if it’s because of the heat or just how worked up you are. It doesn’t matter, because it only turns you on even more. You trace the broad plane of his chest, hand snaking down…all the way to his boxers, but he stops you. 

He’d let you undress him, allowed it, but this…it crosses a line. Joel hooks his hands behind your thighs and begins to drag you up, up, up, while he shifts lower. It takes a second to register what he’s doing, and when it does, you try to stop it.

“Joel, wait I-” 

“I have to taste you darlin’, that okay?” His dark hair is fanned out around his head, resting on your floral pillowcase. In the dim light, his pupils are so blown out you can barely see anything else except black. “I’ll give you whatever you want, but you’ve gotta let me taste you first.”

It’s not that you don’t want it, but he’s taken you off guard, and you’re already overwhelmed by how intimate all this has been, gentle and languid while he whispers honeyed words into your ear. His mind seems already made up, and you don’t really want to tell him no.

“Alright,” you manage, and you grip the top of the headboard. 

It’s embarrassing how wet you already are. It started with his hand on your knee in the car, and you have spent the last hour clenching around nothing, squeezing your legs together and searching for friction. Anything. Well, you are about to get it.

Joel’s lips press to the insides of your thighs, once more, dangerously close to where you’re weeping for him. His nose bumps your clit when he turns his head, and you whine – hips sinking to seek the contact that he’s been denying you, and then immediately pulling back in a moment of clarity.

“No, no,” Joel’s hands immediately land on your hips to hold you in place, bringing you lower. “Stay right there for me.”

You don’t dare move. 

Finally, his mouth finds you. You think he might tease for a little bit, go slow, because he’s been doing that all night, and it’s become infuriating. But he doesn’t. He eats you out, laves at you. A hot, velvet tongue that works up a steady rhythm. It’s interrupted only by the vibration of his moans every so often, which only add to the pleasure. For a moment, you miss how he’d been talking to you before, but you’re so sensitive, so eager, that you think you’ll sacrifice anything if it means he’s not going to stop. Joel keeps you still with a bruising grip on your hips. All you can do is let him have his way and whimper his name over and over, listen to him groan in response. 

Being consistent is key for you. And Joel is nothing but. Practiced, but feral….like he’s been holding back all night. It’s been a long time, or maybe he’s just that excited, it’s hard to tell. Either way, it doesn’t matter. Can’t bring yourself to care about much more than him, the man below you working you over with just his mouth. 

“I’m…Joel, I’m-” you try to pull off again, it’s too much, but he doesn’t allow it. Even if the position he’s in is compromising, he’s managed to find a way to assert himself. The coil inside you has wound so tightly that almost every muscle in your body is tense. Now, can’t even move, not even if you wanted to, and he keeps going, your words have only made him more determined.

The coil snaps. You cry out, using the headboard to stifle your noises – not worried that it will probably leave a mark. If you get nothing else from Joel, then at least it will serve as a reminder that he was here, beneath you, lapping up everything you have to give him. The orgasm leaves you weak, trembling, but he holds you up, works you through it until the waves begin to cease, and then you’re so overstimulated, so sensitive that you start to feel lightheaded. “Fuck, Joel, I can’t-” You tug on his hair, hope he’ll get the hint and release you, but he doesn’t. If anything, it only spurs him on.

His mouth is white hot on you, his tongue damp, firm as it circles your clit and drags downward. He gives you nowhere to go, no opportunity to come down from the high, so within minutes, or seconds – at this point, you’ve lost track of time – he’s worked you up to the precipice of release, and you’re coming again, crying out to him.

At last, he eases off, lets you relax. You do, carefully, and so does he, gradually removing his mouth from you while your hand untangles from his dark curls. Joel holds you steady as he sits back against the headboard, keeping you splayed across his lap. You don’t waste your time saying something stupid like “you didn’t have to do that,” because you’re not gonna pretend you didn’t love every second, but mostly because you’re not sure you’re capable of speaking just yet. His hand catches your jaw, and he looks at you – innocently, like he hadn’t just done what he had done, like his fucking beard, and chin, and lips weren’t still wet with you. But the ornery glint in his eyes gives him away. “You liked that?” he has the audacity to ask. 

A shaky hand comes to pinch your eyebrows as you let out a weak laugh, nodding. “Yeah, Joel….yeah.”

“Good,” he answers. 

“I was right about you,” you manage. 

“Yeah?” He murmurs, and his hand skates up your arm, the other settling on your waist. It’s grounding, reassuring as your heart attempts to steady its beating. 

“You’re trouble.” 

“Yeah,” Joel murmurs, and he leans in close. “Only for you, pretty girl.” 

Your hips jolt back at the term of endearment, so much so that you feel the length of his cock, hard against your ass. It’s your turn to take care of him, but it shouldn’t be difficult, because your arousal is already building again. It’ll be much, much, easier to come again, specifically around him. Plus, right now, you are willing to do just about anything for him. You kiss him, and it’s sloppy, lick the taste of yourself out of his mouth. Heat curls again in the pit of your stomach, and you grind yourself down on him through his underwear.

Joel’s head falls back, bonks the headboard, and the thud of impact is overshadowed by his agonized moan. You reach down between your bodies, let your touch land over his clothed cock. He pants out your name. So many things you could do – with only your hand, or your mouth, but before you can decide, he speaks again.

“Wanna be inside you,” he grits out. “So fucking bad.” 

“You don’t want me to-”

“No,” he cuts you off. “No, no. I need you.”

“You can have me,” you nod, leaning forward to kiss his neck, pushing down the elastic of his underwear. Joel lets you, his hips stuttering, until he freezes. “Shit.” He reaches out to halt your movements.

You look up, his eyes are wide. “What is it?”

“I’m sorry, I uh, I left my wallet in the car,” Joel’s voice is pinched, palms leaving your body to press against his eyes, frustrated. “I brought condoms, but they’re - I’ll have to go get them.”

“I have some,” you pipe up, nodding towards your bedside table. Joel reaches for it, but it's your turn to stop him. “But I mean, I’m clean,” you say. “...And I have an IUD, so…” 

Joel pauses, stares at you under thick lashes. “You sure that…” So tentative. “....That’s okay with you?” 

You feel yourself smirk a little as you look at him. It’s not something you’d allow anyone to do. But you’re feeling a little lost in the moment. The part of your brain that usually tells you to run for the hills whenever things get too real has turned off. It’s not the first time he’s caused that, and you sort of enjoy the delusion. There’s no question. It’s Joel.  “Oh, yeah.”

The words ignite something in him that you weren’t entirely prepared for, and he’s pulling you hard against his mouth with one hand, while the other pushes his briefs down the rest of the way. You don’t get the chance to see him, to feel him, before he’s lining himself up with your slick cunt. 

It’s a soft glide of sensitive skin across sensitive skin, and you shake with anticipation. You don’t even know you have your eyes closed, focusing on the sensation, until you hear Joel’s voice. 

“Open your eyes,” he commands. “Please just-” he swallows hard. “I wanna watch you. So fucking pretty.” 

You obey, and he guides your hand to replace your own. It’s not until your hand wraps around him that you’re aware of just how thick his cock is, throbbing and leaking, and it makes you all the more eager. Slowly, you start to sink down, but it’s too challenging to take him all at once. So first, just the tip, you roll back to ease the sting, then gradually sink lower and low. 

Joel moves closer to you, holding his breath, guiding you along, propped back against the pillows. “That’s it, so fucking good, baby…”

You understand why he was moving so languidly earlier. This is meant to be enjoyed. After some time, and lots of praise, your hips settle flush with his own, and he’s seated fully inside of you. It’s a delicious stretch that your body isn’t fully ready to accommodate, but it has your toes curling and mouth hanging open, bearing down on him involuntarily. Under Joel’s watchful gaze you feel terribly, terribly exposed. 

“Keep going,” Joel encourages. So you move. It’s experimental at first, small ruts against him, getting used to the way it feels. It doesn’t take you long to find the spot that makes you abandon eye contact, throw your head back, and –

“Oh, Joel.”

“Yeah?” he asks, and he sounds strained, pinched – he’s holding back, but still enjoying every second. “That feel good?”

You nod furiously. He lets you find a rhythm that works for you, lets you take your time, and once you do, he starts to match your pace. His hands don’t stay in one place for very long. First, they’re resting gently on your ass. Then they’re cupping your tits, watching them bounce as they sway with your movements. He brings his knees up behind you, pressing his feet into the bed, and uses the leverage to fuck himself deeper each time you lower yourself onto him. 

At this point, you’re unaware of what types of noises you must be making, and you’re thankful that you’re alone so you can be as loud as you want. His cock is hitting places inside you that you didn’t know existed, and rolling across the same spot over and over and over. 

“You feel so perfect for me,” Joel says, his jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling. “So, so good, baby, so fucking pretty.” 

“Mm-hmm,” is all you can answer, nodding furiously and feeling yourself grow wetter and wetter with every thrust. 

You’re too easy for him. And you were too worked up to begin with. “Joel, I can’t-”

He slams his hips up into yours so hard you cut yourself off with a choked gasp. Then he does it again. “You gonna come for me?” he asks. “I can feel you, baby, I know it’s close.” 

“Y-yeah,” he’s got you stammering on your words. You’re clamping down onto him so tightly it hurts. But you’re so desperate to come, to feel what it’ll do to him, that you don’t stop.

“Come here,” he murmurs, hands around your waist, pulling you down so your lips are nearly touching. “Stay close to me.”

“Oh, fuck, oh-” The warmth of his body so close to yours, your hands bracing themselves on his chest, the comfort of his arms around you, all coupled with one vicious rut of his hips has you right there. Joel tilts your head back just enough so you’re forced to look directly at him – and then you come undone. 

You want to close your eyes, turn your head, but you’ve got nowhere to go, and he’s right in front of you. Joel’s touch slides up your back, draws you even closer, and you ride out your third orgasm of the night while pressed entirely against his chest, forced to be vulnerable in a way you’ve never been with anyone before. “So good, baby, so good. Such a good fuckin’ girl for me,” he praises you through it, works you through it, until you’re all but melted in his arms, and he still hasn’t pulled his eyes away.

Utterly spent, you know, distantly, somewhere, that he has to come. However, Joel takes over, flips you both so you’re underneath him, and presses himself deep into the cradle of your pelvis. He’s heavy on top of you, but the weight is somehow soothing.

“I thought about you,” you murmur, hoping it’ll help. His jaw is set, solely focused on his own release. “How good you’d feel.”

“Fuck, really?” he grunts. “I-I- did too.”

“Yeah?” you ask, feeling flush at the admission. “I thought about….letting y-you use me.”

Joel groans your name, curses loudly, ruts into you even harder. You can feel him throbbing, so fucking close, and you arch yourself up to meet him, pleasure already building again, even though you thought it wasn’t possible. 

“It’s so much better, Joel, you’re so much better–” 

Than I imagined. But you don’t have to finish the thought. The idea of you, thinking of him, seems to be enough as it is, and you feel him pulsing, warmth blooming and spreading out as he groans, throws his head back and spills himself impossibly deep inside you. If you weren’t utterly spent, the feeling of him coming – and nothing between you, probably would have set you off again. For now, it’s enough.

His whole body goes limp as he relaxes his arms from where they’re braced on either side of you, his head falling into the crook of your neck. You hear him take a few, haggard breaths once it’s over, and then a deep chuckle vibrates in your ear. “Fuck, baby.”

You rub his shoulder lightly to soothe him, and his lips find the underside of your jaw, kissing lightly his beard scratching your cheeks. For an undetermined amount of time, he remains there. Normally, you’d probably check his watch, but you’ve noticed that the one he always wears is broken, and really….you feel content.

Finally, Joel pulls away, cursing under his breath and withdrawing from you. He runs his hand through his hair, and flops on his back by your side, and you feel horribly empty. After he’s cupped your cheek, turning you gently to look at him – he gives you a tender, affectionate smile. 

It hits you like a freight train. 

He was not the type of man you dated. The men you dated liked to slap, choke, withhold. That had always been what you’d gotten off to. The more frenzied, the more impersonal – the better. That wasn’t to say Joel hadn’t been passionate. But you’d never experienced anything like this before.

You tear away from his gaze, focus on the ceiling. Heart pounding, threatening to break through your ribs, you feel your mouth dry up, your eyes burn and fuck – you’re about to cry. Try to turn yourself away from him, but he sees it. 

“You alright?”

“Yeah, just uh-” your voice catches on the lump forming in the back of your throat and cracks audibly, raw. 

“Hey– ” you hear the mattress shift, he’s moving closer, and you start to scramble. You’ve gotta leave. Get to the bathroom, compose yourself. “Where are you goin?”

“Joel, I just need to-” but his hand circles your wrist, and you don’t have the power to resist him. The bones of his hand press firmly in your cheek, turning your head so you have to look at him. There are tears in your eyes.  

“What’s wrong, baby? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Up close you can see that his eyes aren’t brown – they’re hazel. Mesmerizing, long lashes – gold and green rimming his irises. How had you not noticed that before? 

“No, no not at all it was just…” you’re talking so fast, not even sure where you’re going with the sentence. “I’m sorry, I liked it I just-I don’t know,” you stutter. Shaking your head, you cover your face. You don’t want to feel this way with him here. “I’m not used to-” 

Joel, who has never seen you at a loss for words, frowns, draws you against him. “Come here.”

“It’s okay,” he lets you press your face just below his jaw. He’s being so soft, it makes everything that much worse. Tears slip down your cheeks, landing on his skin. He strokes your hair, holds you so tightly, firmly, "It was intense, huh?” 

You want to resent the way he’s speaking to you – like you’re a child who fell off her bike and skinned her knee, and not a grown ass woman realizing how disconnected she’s felt with every other partner until now. But unfortunately, it’s kind of working. You murmur an affirmation in response. ”I’ve got you, it’s okay,” he promises. 

He holds you until the tide of emotion swells, settles, lips against your temple, his fingertips tracing up and down your spine, and gives you the time to compose yourself.

“That was really nice, I promise,” you say, eventually. And then, because he’s been so gracious, you’re honest. “It’s just been…a long time…” Forever, really. “Since I felt…”

“I know,” Joel nods. “Me too. It’s alright.” 

“Yeah,” you bob your head. He holds your face reverently, and pulls you in for a chaste kiss before tucking you back against his chest. You close your eyes, nestle against him. He strokes your hair while you listen to the steady beat of his heart.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The next thing you know, you’re being gently shaken awake. Somehow, you’d fallen asleep. 

“Hey, baby,” Joel murmurs softly. 

“Mmm?” you groan in response, exhaustion clinging to your limbs. 

“I’m sorry, I gotta get going.” 

You scoff into his neck and make a noise of protest, still not entirely roused, he’d woken you too delicately. When he speaks, his lips brush against your forehead, hands still tracing up and down the lines of your body and making you shiver. “I told Sarah and Tommy I’d be home by midnight.”

“Right,” you mutter, finding the strength to push yourself off of him and stretch. Joel sits up, very tentatively releasing you from his grip. 

“I’m sorry I had to wake you, I can see myself out.”

“No, no,” you shake your head. “No, please. Do you need anything?”

“Can I use your bathroom?” 

“Of course,” you point towards the ensuite. 

Joel collects his discarded clothes off the bed, then the floor, and disappears. You hear the sink running, watch the shuffling shadows he casts in the crack below the door. While he’s doing that, you slip into your robe and run your fingers through your hair, taking in the disheveled state of your bed, before deciding to clean up in the extra bathroom down the hall.

On your way back, you run into Joel, who looks better than ever, tanned skin glowing, a soft smile on his face. “Hey,” he says. 

“Hey.” 

“This was nice. I had a really good time.” 

“Me too.”

“Will you…” he trails off, rubs his jaw. “Will you be okay? I don’t want to-”

“I’m fine,” you say, dismissively. “I just had a moment.”

“You sure?”

“Of course.” Joel studies you carefully, and you’re prompted to continue. “I promise. Joel. This was nice.”

“It was,” he grins. “I’d like to see you again.” 

“Me too,” you don’t even think before you answer, despite everything. It surprises you, how willing you suddenly are.

“Good.” He kisses you, slow and lingering. “I’ll give you a call.” 

“Okay.”

-

part vi

taglist: @yaskna@venomous-ko@lomljigg@yeehawbitchs@ay0nha @eldahae @lol-im-done@melancholicmelanin@reggies-floatie @omniscientqueer@superflymaterial@mikkorantanev@zbeez-outlet @nadja-antipaxos @strawberri-blonde @jabbajambler @ponyboys-sunsets @kyuupidwrites @r4efromvenus @loveatfirstsight-atlastsight @korianderbandit @nicoleoeoeoe @hotgirlsshareaccounts @madisonred88 @crustyrustydusty @sflame15-blog @issybee0611 @darkemeralddiamond @grandmana @totallynotastanacc @ay0nha @virgogaia @lunarxeclipse @marysucks-blog @jabbajambler @surazim @naiomiwinchester @raindrcpsangel @dorotheapascal @mythical-mushrooms13 @chernayawidow

[chasedbyatlantic]

finally alone, joel miller

masterlist summary: IN WHICH — you and joel miller are nothing but flirty towards each other, no matter the situation. when the two of you decide to take an unauthorized visit outside of jackson, it really shows.

warnings: post outbreak!joel, jackson era!joel, gender neutral!reader, no use of y/n, fluff, implied-ish relationship, friends to lovers type beat, mentions of cheating/death/hooking up, reader is a bit of a player, stripping, swearing. lmk if i missed anything else!

wordcount: 2.3k

a/n: guys comment what u want me to write abt cuz im running out of ideas haha :,). remember to like, comment, reblog and follow for more! xoxo

—

It was a torrential downpour right now, the sun had disappeared hours ago and there was nowhere to wait it out. It was nice and sunny this morning when the two of you had left the walls, passing by the sleepy guards with no issues whatsoever. Tommy had given everyone working the walls instructions to not let you or his brother go through without clearing with Tommy first, but some rules are meant to be broken, right?

Not that you had a bad reputation, but not too many of the conservative mothers and elderly were fond of you. It had to have been because of your loud mouth, you had convinced yourself. But the weeks following yours and Joel's arrival, you were sure it was more than just your loud mouth. You were always on edge, and ready to fight people for what you needed- for Christ sake, you lived outside of the walls for ten years, you couldn't have been any different. It probably also didn't help that you hooked up with a married man or two, but that's besides the point.

You and Joel were partners, not literally, but the two of you had been teamed up for a while. You met at the Boston QZ when Marlene, the leader of the Fireflies, had tasked the both of you to move 'precious cargo'. You grew close to Joel, and eventually Ellie. After arriving at Jackson, Ellie had separated herself a bit from Joel and you, but you two remained tied at the hip, despite what everyone thought about it.

People had suspected and assumed what was happening between you and Joel, that you two were a couple and you were cheating on him with married men. First of all, the two of you weren't together, and second of all, those men wanted to fuck you, not the other way around. You and Joel had only laughed off the allegations, not really giving a shit about what anyone else thought about the two of you.

The two of you were completely drenched, right through your clothes, when you arrived at the place you had planned to visit, a Walgreens. Well, an outdated Walgreens. You could tell the place was still stocked with food after twenty years, there were just a few runners the two of you had to get rid of. You two were at the back of the Walgreens, the employee entrance. "Do we have to go in?" You asked, "I wanna stay out and dance in the rain!" You had to have your voice raised a bit, the water muting many of the room tone-like sounds.

He checked the clip in his pistol, before shoving it back in. "Y'ur actin' like we ain't gonna have all the time in the world to dance in there, plum." You hated that, plum. First of all, he knew you absolutely hated the name, second of all, plums were your least favourite fruit. "I'll feed you to those runners if y'ain't careful." You threatened him.

Joel shook his head, knowing you wouldn't do anything. It was funny, really, you saying you would hurt him. He found it cute if anything. "Ya' know what to do in there, you get one'n I'll get the others." You nodded your head as Joel silently opened the door. The three runners in there turned their head and screamed, immediately running to the two of you. They spared you some time, though, from tripping over everything in the way.

Joel went first, shooting at the one that had flew over for him. It went down without a fight, and you had leaped over its body in a careful matter. You were better in hand-to-hand combat, so you had your machete swinging to cut half a head off of the runner. When the runner you had killed fell to the floor, another gunshot and body drop was heard from where Joel was. You turned to see all three down, Joel almost grinning. "Too easy, eh?"

You shook your head, your eyes rolling. "Alright pretty boy," You said, "Help me drag 'em outside." He holstered his weapon, sliding a sly 'yes ma'am' to you before helping, knowing that would drive you crazy. It did, though you chose to ignore it. The two of you were very flirty with each other, it was a second nature in all honesty. Though, you didn't mind it, Joel was anything but ugly.

He helped you bring the former-runners outside, it only took a couple minutes - you two didn't want to go back outside, but you had to do what needed to get done. Once the two of you were finished, Joel had locked the door, which meant the two of you were stuck in here for a while. "Did the list get destroyed?" You questioned him, as he searched through his bag. Joel, not long after, took out a small piece of paper with a grin on his face. "All good."

Not too long after, you were down one aisle, Joel the one beside. You decided to sort of split up, and efficiently scavenge for what you needed to get. You two wanted to keep this place on the downlow, in case things ever went south in Jackson and you needed a place to take Ellie to. It was perfect, really, despite the few runners that were here previously. Food, water, medicine, shelter, everything you needed when the world was in this state.

The two of you were in comfortable silence, until you broke it. "Joel?" You had called out, a small 'hm?' being returned from him not long after. "What type of, uh- lotion did she want? There's forty different kinds." Your eyes scanned the shelf, reading every different label. Ellie had promised you that she wouldn't tell anyone about yours or Joel's whereabouts if you picked her up this certain type of lotion, one to help her bite be less itchy, or something.

"Uh," He began, "Nivea? 'M not sure." Your eyes scanned the shelf once more, before picking up the bottle and sliding it in your bag. It almost slipped out of your hands, you were still completely drenched from the shitty weather outside. Just as you were about to leave that aisle, and join Joel at his, something caught your eye. This is perfect, you thought to yourself, you needed a good laugh and this would crack you up.

You reached for the wrapped box, "Joel?" You had called out once more. You heard shifting around from the other side, "What is it?" He replied. You threw the box over to his side, putting your hand over your mouth as you tried to muffle your laughs. The thud of the box hitting the floor was the only other sound, other than you laughing of course.

"Really?" Was heard from the other side, "Condoms? Real fuckin' mature o'you." This sent you through the roof, honestly. Maybe it was the lack of sleep you had been getting for the last few weeks, or that this was genuinely ridiculous, but you just bursted out with laughter. Let the whole world hear you, you thought to yourself, who cares.

"I'm sorry!" You had exclaimed in between laughs, "It was too fuckin' funny not to!" You slipped past into Joel's aisle, looking for him. He wasn't there. Your laughs calmed down, "Joel?" You drug out the last part of his name, curiously stepping forward. As soon as you did that, you felt arms wrap around you and pick you up. Not arms of a clicker, no, but arms that felt too familiar to your waist.

Joel spun you around, his chin resting in the crook of your neck from behind. The roles were reversed, he was now the one with the laughing fit and you were the unamused one. You had let a few 'let me go!'s escape your lips, trying your best to stay upset, though it didn't work for long. Joel set you down after a few more spins, trying his best not to fall over from the dizziness.

Things between the two of you were complicated, you hooked up all the time but were nothing official. It felt weird, making things official during a time like this. Nobody wanted to care for someone too much, since they didn't know what tomorrow would bring. It was a mutual feeling, you were sure of it, you just didn't know what to do about it.

"I hated that." You flatly-as-possible said that to him, as you turned and faced him. He met your gaze, you could stare into his eyes all day. "That's what you get." He had simply replied to you with, this earned a confused look and a raised eyebrow from you, "Excuse me?" Joel could only hold his smile back, "They were too small, should've at least thrown over the right size."

For fuck sakes, Joel Miller. You slapped him on the shoulder after he broke the shared gaze and walked off, yelling a 'Christ, Joel!' as you chased after him. He drove you crazy, and he knew that. Not a bad crazy, not anything close to that. Whatever crazy it may be, it was mutual.

With another hour of scavenging under the two of yours' belts, you both grew tired. You were still wet from outside, your hair had started to dry, though. Both Joel and you had found an upstairs to the grocery store, it looked to be an employee break room or something like that. You had brought up a few blankets, candles and matches, and a change of clothes. You had set up the candles around your room, not as a romantic gesture, but as a light source. Obviously the power wasn't working, and the two of you needed to see what you were doing.

Joel had set up the blankets by the time the last candle was lit, a proud look to his face. You took notice, as you shrugged off your bag and bent down to untie your boots. "You're a great blanket-layer, Mister Miller." He tsked when you had said that, "No need to remind me." He took notice of you starting to unzip your pants, and push them down. He rose his brow, waiting for you to explain what you were doing.

You took notice of this after you had removed your pants, and stood back up to get your shirt, "What? I'm soaked." Joel had completely forgot about that, in all honesty. His clothes were soaked through as well, no doubt in that, he was just too caught up in the moment with you that he had pushed it to the side. He had removed his shirt as you took yours off, if someone else was to see this, they would definitely think something else was happening.

You two had stripped down to just your undergarments and towel-dried yourselves off. God bless Walgreens for carrying everything, you had thought to yourself. In no time, the two of you were dressed back up in comfortable clothes for the time being, making an unspoken decision that you guys would spend the night.

You were the first one to lay down on top of the blankets Joel had set up, Joel was looking through his bag for something. "Can we just stay here forever, you'n me?" You asked, eyes closed and sprawled out. He could only chuckle in response, "What 'bout Ellie?" Shit, you had forgotten about her. You were too caught up being with just Joel that you had forgot Ellie was at home, probably wondering where the fuck the two of you were. "Pass me the walkie," You asked, "Let me call her."

That was what you did, you went onto the right channel and began talking into the walkie talkie. It took a minute or two until you actually got a response from Ellie. She had made sure you two were fine, and not 'absolutely fucking deceased' (her words, not yours). With much reassurance and whatnot, you soon bid your farewells to her, and had promised you would be back the following day. Ellie had also made the comment saying not to 'come back knocked up', sounding like your mother. This earned Joel to yell at her from the background, but only made you laugh. You loved that kid, like your own.

You placed the walkie down, moving to one side of the not-so-bed bed. "Joel," You groaned, "Hurry up, I'm freezing." You complained. You were in wet clothes for hours, you were bound to be frostbitten at this point. Joel was your heat source for tonight, though he didn't mind, not one bit. With you basically cuddled up to him the entire night, it brought ease to him sleeping.

He shortly lay down beside you, stretching his arm out which had only caused you to lay on his chest. He was chewing something, it smelled too familiar. "What're you eating?" You had hummed, a yawn following your question. "Dried plum." He only replied, doing everything in his power to suppress his grin.

You shook your head, well, as much as you could with your head laying on Joel's chest. "Where the fuck did you even get dried out plums? That's the stupidest thing ever." Joel didn't think it was, plums were his favourite fruit- he wouldn't say anything about that, though, not yet. If you didn't want to eat any plums, he would help you out. This was another case of the olive theory. "One of Maria's friends does 'em, seriously, you should try 'em."

You bickered with him about it for a moment, dropping it the next. Joel loved when you bickered with him, it made you two sound like an old, married couple- though you weren't, not yet. He loved how you would rant on about your hate for plums, or what you had done during the day throughout Jackson. He was just happy to be finally alone with you, not being able to handle anymore time spent not by your side.

—

finally alone, mac demarco

[buckyarchives]

Graceland Too. | Ellie Williams

Pairing: Ellie Williams x fem! Reader.

Summary: Ellie didn’t care much for trusting new people, she needed to keep the ones she had. Until you came around.

Request by anon

W.c: 3.5k

warning; stab wound/ depiction of blood

Author note: hi! I’ve never written for Ellie before nor have I played the video game so spare me if it’s ooc 😅 but the fic is inspired by Graceland too by phoebe Bridgers, especially since it was playing on repeat in the background while I wrote this. Enjoy reading!

Master list | read on AO3

Ellie noticed you quickly. You walked with heavy weights on your shoulder, dragging you down and slowing your steps. With fear-filled irises and dark circles, you jumped at every sharp movement and your appearance was not often. Keeping your head down, picking at your cuticles until the blood trickles to your fingertips. Ellie watched you with curious eyes, noticing every detail she could grasp onto.

She’d never been too interested in people beyond a surface level, too hard to trust, too easy to leave her. She decided it wasn’t worth it. Joel was left and even then, it was hard knowing if he’d end up leaving someday. She needed to grasp onto that and hold it close to her chest and pray he never leaves. 

But there was something about your dark eyes and dragged feet that kept reeling Ellie in. Curiosity had always gotten the best of her in the past, no matter how much she said she’d learn from her mistakes.

“Who’s the girl?” Ellie mentions at the table, eyebrows raised in curiosity towards Tommy Joel was too busy shoveling food in his mouth, manners be damned. Tommy gave a hesitant, almost pitied look towards Maria. 

The three looked over at you, as you picked at a plate of food. Probably the only time you’d leave your room, it might be a few days before Ellie could catch a glimpse of you again.

Tommy gulped, a nervous look in his eyes. Man, did Ellie make him that nervous or was there something else there?“ She came shortly before you guys, with no family or crew. Just showed up, bare-boned and one foot in the grave. Bout around your age.”

Ellie sometimes wonders how his Texan accent has survived all these years in the apocalypse, the thought about it made her giggle. Ellie turned to look at you again, you were leaving. She watched you until you were out of sight, feeling a surge in her to follow. 

It terrified her.

“Thought you didn’t let people in often?” Ellie poked.

Maria sighed, “she was just a kid, looked scared shitless with nothing on her. Barely talks to anyone and stays in her room.” 

Ellie thought about that conversation a lot. She always searched the crowds for you, maybe Joel was catching on. He’d nudge her shoulder when he found you first, turning his head in your direction. You read books sometimes when the weather was nice but not nice enough that large crowds would be out. Over the weeks your cheeks got fuller and your eyes a little lighter, which made Ellie swell with warmth. 

Curiosity kills the cat, right? Ellie had watched you enough to know where you resided, only a little concerned that you hadn’t caught onto her borderline stalking yet. Or you did, just did a real good job at covering it up. Ellie might be a stupid fool for sneaking off one day, finding the door that led to you and taking the leap and twisting your door open. No plan, no real intentions. 

She just wanted to see you, feel the weird pang in her stomach when she caught sight of your soft-looking jaw, and your long eyelashes that always stayed low to the ground. She wondered what you smelled like, probably nice, unlike Joel who smelled like gunpowder and spite. Or Tommy who smelled of whisky and pig shit, god he’s so happy about his hogs.

The room looked empty at first, and for someone who spent most of their time in here - it was bare bones. Like how Maria described you when you first showed up to Jackson But it was warm, a stack of books on the side table, way more than Ellie would choose. A large blue knitted blanket and two large duffel bags. Stuffed to the brim with your things like you were ready to leave any moment, always ready.

Then, there you were. Having come from the bathroom, wide eyes like you were a deer in Ellie’s headlights. You gasped when you noticed her presence, stunning pink lips parted slightly. Ellie caught herself staring at them for a couple seconds too long. She wasn’t sure what to do now, not having thought this far. But then the vibrant red liquid streaming down your arm caught her eye, the way it bled from the poorly placed bandage on your shoulder.

“Holy shit! Dude, are you okay?” She shot up, the words leaving her mouth faster than her brain. Ellie’s feet instinctively came closer to you, grasping at your arm. You tried to flinch away but Ellie reached out to you, you tensed at her touch - despite how gentle and innocent it was. Eyes not leaving her face as she scammed the open wound.

“Who are you?” You studded out finally, paying no mind to the sting in your shoulder as you reopened your stitch for the third time now.

“Doesn’t matter, you're bleeding!” Ellie said, so concerned. Her time inched towards the open wound, wincing as the blood gushed out like it was her own wound. “I don’t know who stitched this, but it’s really bad.”

“I did.” You muttered under your breath, slightly embarrassed by her mocking tone and closeness. Too close, but she didn’t look like moving anytime soon.

“Well, whoever taught you is a grade-A idiot.” Ellie commented, eyes searching the area until she found the open first aid kit on your toilet. Dragging you along with her into the small, cramped space. It took no time for Ellie to begin patching your wound, no other comments or introductions. For all you knew, this random girl with surprisingly warm and gentle hands just showed up to save you from an infected gash. Ellie knew nothing of you outside the small talk with Tommy and her own observations, seeing you up close was new and exciting. It made Ellie's blood pump faster and her brain short-circuit. The weird feeling in her stomach grew as she noticed the smaller details.

A few moles and freckles littered on your skin, the wispy parts of your hair that escaped the way you styled it, the cracked lips, the small scar on your eyebrow. You were so imperfectly perfect, like looking at a beloved painting just to see the cracks and brush strokes. 

“How'd you get this anyways?” Ellie asked, you still seemed tense and off guard. But safety over comfort and the wound was still vibrant red before Ellie could get along to stitching it. You just watched Ellie with wild eyes, examining her – but Ellie didn’t fall insecure of your intense gaze. Ellie could be patient, she had Joel for a partner so patience had to be second nature. Your lips parted slightly to speak, and only a stutter came out before you took a breath. As if it pained you to speak.

“Uh, it's an old wound. From before,” you cough, watching Ellie as she dabbed the alcohol to clean it. You didn't wince or flinch as she had expected, you were tougher than she had expected. “But I keep ripping the stitches, I'm not very good at it.”

Ellie hummed, “I'll get you patched up.” she didn't question why you hadn't told anyone, it actually didn't surprise her much. Just glad you let her fix it, looks like you need teaching too.

That was how it started, the conversations between you two were small, quiet, and quick. Shortly after Ellie stitched you, you thanked her and smiled. Ellie almost fainted, her heart surged out of her chest and that unfamiliar feeling grew and grew until it began to eat her alive. But you weren't ready for that, she could tell, and Ellie was tired of losing people (even if she technically hadn’t had you yet, she hoped too one day) so she took it slow. So not to scare off the skittish, pretty girl with bad stitching abilities. 

So Ellie left, trusting that she'd see you again and be able to touch you softly. You started to search for her gaze in the cafeteria too, Ellie would send a shy three-fingered wave and you'd quirk your lip up slightly. Not enough to call a smile, but she was getting there.  Ellie hoped you wanted to see her as much as she longed to see you, even for a second. She hoped That's the reason you came more was because of her. Maybe it was stuid to thinkt hat, though.

So much so, she racked her memory for a whole day to remember the books on your side table. She only had a quick look but she remembers the work of Frankenstein and Interview With A Vampire. Joel almost choked to death on his soup when Ellie brought the subject up, told her they were old books, gothic literature. Ellie swerved the questions with ease on why she was asking about gothic literature, considering her favorite reads started and ended with knock-knock jokes and puns. 

The next day, Ellie stole great expectations from the library and practically skipped to your place. No other plan besides to see you again and offer the book. 

And by god, it worked better than expected. You practically lit up at the sight, Ellie didn't understand it until you started gushing about wanting said book, running your hands across the pages like they were a treasure. Ellie started to understand then, as you rambled on and her smile perked up after realizing this is the most you've spoken to her, ever. It was heaven.

It was an olive branch of sorts, Ellie didn't like reading but she realized she'd listen to whatever you said. And she did, as you sat next to each other, nudged between the floor and bed. Opposite from each other and shoes touching, oh how Ellie wanted to reach out and sit closer, line your thighs, and just feel you. It consumed her, but she just sat content with a smile as you read to her. Ellie started to make stupid comments, earning a smile from you that reached your eyes and breathy laughs. She would turn into a full-time fucking comedian if she could continue to pull those out of you.

Her visit started off small, maybe once a week, if you'd let her. You were still guarded but Ellie noticed your trust grow, so she shows up twice a week. Steal another book from the library and offer it to you, learning that she might as well put her heart in it too. It was so scary, being so ready to offer that to someone, but nothing in her being could ever stop the surge when she saw you. Every day Ellie would find you scooting closer, last Sunday you sat curled by the window with your shoulder touching. Ellie almost had a heartache when your finger grazed her thigh.

Joel noticed, equally scared and proud of Ellie for letting herself care and enjoy someone like that. He didn't get upset when he eventually noticed Ellie had missed curfew and came sneaking back past midnight. 

That's when it started to change, Ellie had heard you yawn for the fourth time in the past twenty minutes. She knows you would refuse to let go of the book and tear your gaze from the pages, so she took initiative and tore the book from your soft grasp.

“Hey! Merricat was in the middle of fleeing from the bullies, I wanted to see what happened.” you whined, referring to we have always lived in this castle. You really went through books fast. Ellie smiled at your enthusiasm, but hid the book behind her back and raised her chin high, teasing, and shook her head.

“It's dark and you're tired. You should sleep.” Ellie said, eyes glancing at your bed. Your face softened, like being cared for felt wrong. Ellie was determined to make it feel like second nature for you, only if you'd let her. 

“I don't want you to leave.” you breathed out like it wouldn’t fully cause Ellie to be short of breath.

Ellie just smiled, rising to her feet and offering a hand to you, you took it. Your touch burned in hers, she wanted more. “We can get breakfast in the morning and finish the story tomorrow, promise.”

You looked disappointed, and hesitant as your face dropped and your gaze fell to the floor. The sudden change scared Ellie, had she messed it up? But you took one step further, closer to Ellie's space, you looked at her. She felt a pressure on her chest, that weird feeling was back. You tugged at your bottom lip nervously, one finger searching for her hand. Ellie took it and the feeling enveloped her, brushing her thumb over your index and middle. 

“Stay?” you asked, breathless. “Just for a little, stay with me?”

Ellie gulped, yet with no hesitation. She nodded, “okay. I’ll stay.”

“Till I fall asleep?” you pushed and Ellie almost started jumping up and down from excitement.

Ellie kicked off her shoes and jacket, and you follow shortly. Ellie went to turn in your direction, a gasp almost left her lips after she saw you faced in the other direction and pulled your shirt off. She knew she should turn, be polite and let you change into the oversized white shirt in privacy, but pulling her eyes off of you felt criminal. your back muscles flexed and contoured as you threw the fabric over yourself, getting a glimpse of a long scar on your left shoulder. Whatever or wherever it came from, it looks like it hurts. It hurt Ellie thinking about that.

Which still continued to terrify her. 

You took her hand in yours and pulled the covers up, bodies close against each other as you squeezed onto the twin-sized bed. Ellie hoped you didn't notice the pink tint on her nose before you turned off the warm lamp.

It's then with heavy breaths and shaky words, with your head close to Ellie's chest, legs, and arms threatening to tangle themselves. Soft glances and fingers grazed across the safer parts of each other's bodies. It's then when Ellie told you about her bite, the immunity as you traced your finger over it. So gently and soft, you didn't flinch back or hesitate with your touch when she told you. You trusted her, oh my god, you trust Ellie. You trusted Ellie enough to explain your life before, through broken rambles as you struggled to find your thoughts.

“You shouldn’t like me, Ellie.” you whispered, the statement brought panic and despair to her forefront. Furrowed eyebrows as she asked what you meant. So eager. “I did stuff with the people I was with before, bad stuff – things I'm not proud of.”

“I don't care.” Ellie said honestly. “We all did shit, but that's not you.”

“I don't know…” you spoke, unsure of your own humanity and morality. But Ellie had never been so blindly sure of something ever. She huffed and turned to face you, a hitch in your breath as you lay only a few inches away from each other. Noses almost touching, Ellie could feel your breath on her. 

“You're just a kid.'' Ellie breathed, the sorrow and weight that filled your eyes were too much for you to carry, Ellie wanted more than anything to just relieve some of it. “Whatever you did, wasn't your fault. I know that.”

“Ellie…”

“This is a fucked up world, okay?” she stated, you nodded in agreement. “And if you want to talk about it… I'm here.”

Caring. Fuck, it was so foreign to Ellie. But for you it felt so right, everything about you filled the gaps in her chest. She just wanted to take all the pain inside of you and –

“My parents.” you breathed out a shaky breath, avoiding eye contact as you began to pick at your cuticle again. Ellie quickly grabbed your hand in hers, warm, and smooth the skin gently. You shivered under her touch. “They stole from the wrong group trying to survive, they caught them and kept them around for… services. Said it was a way to repay their debt, but then they didn’t come back to camp one time and their debt was put on me…”

“But you- you’re so young.” Ellie's eyebrows furrowed, she knew people were fucked up. Before and after, but this? Disbelief and worry laced her words. Almost a sense of protectiveness swelled in her chest that would make her hands shake if she thought about it too long. 

“They didn't care, I was the new errand girl.” you choked, Ellie looked to see tears threatening to fall. “They made me do horrible shit, every time I close my eyes I just–”

You choked on your words as the tears started to fall, Ellie surged to close to distance. Putting a hand on your head and pulling you close to her chest, the other squeezed your hand. To tell you you were safe, here in her arms, as she now decided she’d let nothing happen to you. No supremacist asshole that took advantage of the vulnerable, especially kids. Young and pretty girls with kindness in their eyes, just waiting to squash it. That was all over for you if Ellie could help it.

Shaking in Ellie's arms, you grasped her and stained her shirt in tears. A muffled and choked stutter came from you, “I'm sorry, el.”

“Hey,” Ellie whispered, bringing your face to her and wiping the tears away with the pad of her thumb. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing.”

You looked her dead in the eye, so much fear in your eyes. But Ellie swears, once your gaze focused, you softened and almost melted into her hands. Her thumb still caressed your cheek still, it warmed you in a way you've been missing for years. For a moment, Ellie let her eyes flicker down to your lips, she could have guessed they were soft – they looked inviting enough. But she knew better than to take a leap like that when you’re hurting, just come from choked tears and –

“Can I kiss you.”

“Yes.” it left her mouth before Ellie could think, like the response was on instinct. Well, it had been on the forefront of her mind for at least a few weeks now. 

Your eyes darted toward her lips for a moment, before leaning closer and finally closing the gap. Lips slanting on lips, it was better than Ellie could have ever imagined in life. You were so soft and gentle against her, like puzzle pieces coming together. Your hand fell to her waist, hesitant, like you were waiting for her to push away. She didn't, she couldn't. Another hand resting on Ellie's jaw, your hands were careful and warm. That weird feeling in Ellie's stomach that lingered when around you suddenly surged and took over the entirety of her body.

It didn't take long at all for Ellie to tug you closer, you got the signal. Not daring to leave your lips, only letting the motion grow sweeter and more passionate. Ellie rolled onto her back, pushing yourself on top of her. Each knee caging her in below you, she took the position with pride as her hands fell from your face down to your waist and back. 

When you finally let go to take a breath, you pressed your forehead to her and Ellie swears she almost passed out right there. You laughed, it sounded so sweet. Like nothing matters in the world besides you and her, right now.

Ellie suddenly understood that note from Bill, you were worth saving and no motherfucker would get in the way of that. Like a train-sized epiphany hitting her in the face.

Things only began to grow at a comfortable and slow pace from them, more and more nights sneaking off to you and eventually you sneaking to Ellie's. You met Joel, got along well and that was the most important. You ate with her in the mornings and watched movies holding hands, Joel would smile proudly seeing Ellie lighten up whenever she noticed you in a room. Life came back to your face and you didn't walk with heavy shoulders anymore.

Your relationship became wordless and tentative, filled with sneaky pecks to the cheek, reading before bed, and laughing over eggs or making fun of Joel together. (“oh god, there's two of them now.” Joel groaned when he caught you two snickering with pointed fingers in his direction after he almost tripped over his own feet.) of late nights and talks of the past, Ellie gave herself over to you, one of the scariest things ever and you only held her close with gentle touches. There were moments like these, you had snuck off to hers and brought snacks, books, and your open heart and attention. Sitting opposite of Ellie, Ellie would nudge your foot – with only a glance as to say “come here.” and you did, resting your head on her shoulder as you finished a sleeve of saltine crackers, handing a few more to Ellie. Letting herself relish in the utter peace you brought her, the moon shined bright onto Jackson and lit your face – man, you were so beautiful in this fucked up world, Ellie would do absolutely anything for you to keep it like this. Anything for you.

-

feedback and notes are highly appreciated!

tag list: @hallows3ve @sophialuvsellie

[theeoriginals]

CHAPTER 1:

MISS BLUE

“you smile over your burger, chattering brightly. so often, at our sunny kitchen table, hearing the mantra of the refrigerator i’ve thought there was nothing i could do but feed you; and i’ve always love the way you eat” - food poem, brenda hillman

summary: joel is smitten with the new neighbor.

warnings: literally none this is pure, tooth-rotting fluff.

baby blue series masterlist

JANUARY 21, 2000 

“Dad, someone’s moving in across the street,” 

“Stop being nosy, Sarah.” 

“She’s pretty, Dad! Come on, let's go say hi!” 

Joel heaves a sigh, looking up from the newspaper as his daughter practically vibrates out of her skin. “She’s probably busy unpacking, baby, we shouldn’t bother her.” 

Sarah sinks into the couch with a sigh, rolling her eyes in the dramatic fashion she’s come to adapt. Eyeing her pitiful state, Joel huffs and sighs quietly to himself before he folds his newspaper back up and turns towards her. 

“Five minutes– that’s it, alright? She’s got stuff to do, and it’s cold.” 

Sarah leaps up from the couch like she’s been electrocuted, a grin on her face that makes him shake his head at himself, because he’s oh so weak for his daughter. “Let’s go, come on– get your coat on!” 

“You’re gonna have a heart attack before we even get over there at this rate,” He huffs as she pulls him up from the recliner, dragging him towards the front door where their coats and boots reside, untouched in the laziness over the cold weekend they’d spent indoors. 

With a quiet groan, Joel bent over and helped Sarah slide her feet into her boots before getting his own on, and they zipped up their coats before stepping out into the gray Texas winter. 

Sarah wasted no time in running across the street, barely sparing a glance down their otherwise quiet street before approaching the moving truck and the woman walking boxes in and out of it, stacking them for a younger looking boy to take inside. 

“Sarah!” 

“Hi!” 

“Oh, my lord!” The woman startles, jumping slightly as she spins around to find the young girl standing a few feet away, her father approaching with an apologetic look on his features. She recovers quickly, a smile growing on her features as she crouches down to meet Sarah at eye level. “Hi, little lady, what’s your name?” 

Sarah rocks on her heels, suddenly sheepish under the woman’s full attention despite being the one to demand it in the first place. “I’m Sarah. That’s my dad,” 

The woman’s eyes shift to Joel, narrowing in acknowledgement as he ducks his head in a polite nod. 

“I’m real sorry about her, ma’am, she, uh, she saw your truck in the window and asked if we could come say hi. It’s hard tellin’ her no,” 

Sarah grins, and the woman nods in agreement. 

“With a smile as pretty as that, I wouldn’t ever tell you no,” She huffs a laugh, pushing hair off her face. She tells them her name, a pretty thing that she quickly mows over. “But I go by Blue. Probably won’t know you’re talkin’ to me if you call me anything but,” 

“Blue? Like the color?” 

“Sarah, manners,” Joel intones quickly, shooting the woman another apologetic look that she obviously waves off. 

Blue shakes her head, tucking her scarf further into her jacket as a gust of wind blows around them. “You’re a curious little thing, aren’t you, Sarah?” 

The girl nods, ducking her chin as Blue chuckles fondly. 

“Well, if you really wanna know, my daddy gave me the nickname. I had a teddy bear when I was young that was blue, and I carried the darn thing around so much he started tellin’ me I’d turn blue, and that turned into him calling me Blue. Now here I am, tellin’ my nice new neighbors to call me it,” 

Sarah’s eyes are wide in apparent wonder, and it’s a testament to how new the world is to kids, and how much it takes to grasp the concept that there’s a billion other people in the world with lives that happen beyond our reach, that we’ll never know about. 

Making a noise of excitement, Sarah shifts, wiggling uncontrollably in that childish manner that says she’s just got too much emotion for her tiny body to handle. “That’s so cool, I have a teddy bear, too, but he’s a baby teddy bear. Dad got him when I was a baby,” 

“Oh, really? I bet your baby teddy bear is way cooler than my blue one.” 

“I’ll show you it one day, and then you can show me yours,” Sarah quickly supplies. “Wouldn’t that be cool? They could play together!” 

Joel steps in, clearing his throat at his daughter’s tenacity. “Sarah, honey, Miss Blue’s probably real busy, I don’t know if she’ll have time to play with you.” 

“Oh,” Sarah looks downtrodden at the reminder, and her wide puppy eyes make both of the adults’ hearts just melt.

“Don’t worry about it, Sarah, I promise I’ll play with you as soon as I can, alright?” Blue looks up, shooting a sheepish look in the older man’s way. “As long as it’s alright with your daddy. What he says goes,” 

Joel shakes his head slowly, the smile pulling at his lips turning from the generic polite one to one of genuine kindness. “This one likes to make me think I’m the boss, but she’s the one that gets stuff done around here. Whatever works for you is what Sarah will tell me,” 

“Blue, stop your blabbering and help me carry your sh–stuff in! You can’t make me work for free, I’m a child,” 

The woman huffs, rolling her eyes at the voice that calls out from the front porch, and they all turn to look at the young boy standing there with a grumpy frown on his face. Sighing, Blue stands upright again, wincing at the creak of her knees as she does so. 

“Oh, lord,” She mutters the words, looking towards the boy. “Stop whining, Jimmy, or I’m tellin’ Mama you skipped school today!” 

The boy’s frown quickly turns into a scandalized gasp and Joel huffs a quiet laugh at the familiarity of the bickering as Blue turns to face them again. “That your little brother?” 

“Good guess,” She grins, tilting her head. “He’s a pain in the butt on a good day. Now, uh, about that playdate, little lady,” 

Her attention falls to Sarah again, and Joel finds himself content to let her pour over Sarah, knowing the little girl loves the attention. “Unfortunately, your daddy is right, I’m super busy right now– but how about y’all come over next weekend and I’ll cook us some dinner and we’ll play until we pass out. That sound good to you?” 

“That sounds awesome!” 

Joel hums, nudging his daughter. “What do you say, Sarah?” 

“Oh– thank you, Miss Blue,” 

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, sweetie,” She smiles, flicking her gaze back up to Joel. “You got a name, or am I just referring to you as Sarah’s dad?” 

“Believe it or not, that’s what’s on my license,” He teases, earning a giggle from Sarah and a laugh from Blue that sounds like wind chimes on a porch, singing in the wind. “I’m Joel Miller.” 

“Joel,” She repeats, nodding firmly. “I like it. Almost as pretty as Sarah.” 

“Well, thank you, Miss Blue,” 

“I don’t think anyone’s ever called me Miss Blue ‘til you two,” She shakes her head, looking at the father and daughter duo. “You’re trouble, I can smell it.” 

The Millers’ looked at her with matching grins, feigning innocence that was nowhere to be found. 

It was the start of something beautiful, but that is the way most tragedies begin. Beautiful and sweet.  

─────

JANUARY 27, 2000 

A firm knock echoes from the front door, quickly followed by a less-powerful rap of knuckles that abruptly stops, and Blue laughs under her breath as she walks to the door, swinging it open to find her neighbors standing before her; Joel with a sheepish look on his face, and Sarah sporting a grin. 

“Hi, Miss Blue!” 

“Hi, Sarah,” Her eyes flick up from the little girl to her father. “Joel.” 

Joel dips his head in a nod, smiling softly. “Sorry we’re early, I could hardly keep her in the house all morning.” 

Blue waves his apologies off with a smile, gesturing for them to come in. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with being excited for a playdate, I have to say I’ve been looking forward to it all week.” 

Sarah bounds in the house excitedly, clutching onto the teddy bear in her arms that wears a small onesie around its fluffy body, and has a tiny pacifier sewn into its mouth. 

“Is that your teddy?” 

Sarah nods, holding it up for Blue to see as Joel shuts the door behind him, shucking his coat off and reaching for Sarah’s despite her complete dismissal of his existence. “His name is Babydoll.” 

“That’s an awful sweet name, Sarah,” Blue smiles, brushing a finger along the teddy bear’s cheek. “You could be like me, named after your teddy bear. You look like a babydoll to me,” 

The little girl laughs, the sound girlish and endeared, and Joel resigns himself to the fact that his daughter has attached herself to their new neighbor in just 6 short days. “Daddy, I want to be called babydoll now, like Miss Blue said!” 

Joel sighed, sharing a knowing smile with said woman. “Whatever you want, babydoll,” 

“I’ll go get Blue, and you and Babydoll can get acquainted with him while your daddy helps me start dinner, alright?” 

Sarah nodded in excitement, and Blue gestured towards the living room just off the kitchen, letting them help themselves to her cozy house. “Daddy, do you think Miss Blue wants to be my friend?” 

Joel smiles, letting his daughter hand her coat off to him as she sits herself on the couch. “I think she wants to be your best friend, baby.” 

Sarah smiles happily, her nerves soothed at his words as Blue walks back in the room, the famed teddy bear in her hand. Joel looks at it as she hands it off to Sarah, noting the faded hue to its fur, showing just how long she’s had it and how well-loved it is. 

“He’s a little old, but he’s still real pretty,” Blue smiles fondly at the bear, letting Sarah fawn over it and begin her self-appointed playdate. She turns then, fixing her gaze on Joel, who suddenly gets why his daughter is so infatuated. “You wanna help me out in the kitchen, Joel?” 

“Put me to work, Miss Blue.” 

She huffs a laugh, shaking her head as he lays Sarah’s coat down over the back of the couch and follows her into the kitchen, eyeing the few boxes left lying around, half-unpacked. “I’m sorry about the mess, I’ve been working all week so I haven’t been able to get all the unpacking done,” 

Joel shrugs her off, smiling softly. “I’ve got a little hurricane in my house, this is hardly anything,” 

“That precious little girl is no hurricane,” She points an accusing finger at him, tone full of teasing that warms him from head to toe. She’s got every bit of the southern charm his mother used to tell him about, the kind that was dangerous to a man like him. She always told him that one day, a sweet southern belle would sweep him off his feet one day and he thinks maybe his denial of it is coming back to bite him in the ass. 

“She’s got everyone fooled, but she’s a menace, I tell you,” He laughs through his words, thinking of how accurate they are, and how his home is always full of Sarah, Sarah, Sarah, running about, singing songs he thinks are made up half the time, and telling him all about her friends from school, and which teachers she likes more. “Are you settling in alright, though? We’re a pretty quiet neighborhood, but the Adlers next door will talk you right into your grave.” 

Blue’s face scrunches up, a short laugh leaving her lips as she grabs a pan from the fridge with uncooked burgers sitting on it. “Burgers good with y’all?” 

Joel nods, and she points to a box behind him on what he assumes is the kitchen table. “There’s a skillet in there, if you’ll grab that for me– thank you, good sir. To answer your question, though, I think I’m doin’ alright. I have already had a run-in with the Adlers, though, it’s funny you mention them, considering they ‘bout made me late to work Wednesday morning,” 

Joel grimaces in sympathy, nodding as he runs a hand over his slightly scruffy face, suddenly wishing he had shaved that morning. “That is… that’s rough.” 

“They mean well, I know they do,” She shakes her head, laughing pitifully as he nods in agreement. “I just can’t stand the small talk, it drives me nuts.” 

“No, I get it,” He eyes her as she grabs a few scattered bottles of seasonings, her fingers struggling to reach one further back on the shelf above the stove. Joel steps forward, reaching over her to grab it and set it down beside the rest of them on the counter. “Sarah usually throws me under the bus in the mornings, I always get stuck talkin’ to ‘em,” 

“She knows how to work the system, I can appreciate that,” 

He chuckles, stepping back out of her space as she throws him a grateful smile. “Between her and my brother, I can’t win.” 

“Oh, so that’s how you could tell Jimmy was my brother the other day. I wondered if you had any siblings,” 

“Got a little brother– Tommy. He’s a pain in the ass.” 

She snorts, laying the burgers into the skillet carefully. “Aren’t they always? I damn near had to lock Jimmy out the other day ‘cause he just wouldn’t leave.” 

“This your first move out of the house?” 

She nods, pressing her lips together. “It seems a little late, I know, but I was staying in the guest house for the past few years. I stuck around after college to help my daddy out with the farm, cause he’s too stubborn to hire any help.” 

Joel makes a noise of recognition, nodding understandingly. “Stubborn old men and their animals,” 

“Oh, it’s ridiculous,” She shakes her head. “But Jimmy’s the only one left at home now, I think he’s goin’ a little crazy being there with Mama all the time.” 

“I get it. Tommy practically lived with me after I moved out– hell, I can hardly get rid of him these days,” They share a look of understanding, perpetually exasperated as the eldest siblings. “What are you doin’ for work?” 

“I run a rehabilitation center in the city,” She speaks over the sizzling of the burgers, shaking out some frozen french fries onto a cookie sheet before sliding them into the oven. “Went to vet school and decided to come back home to do what I’ve always done, just with a little extra thrown in, you know? Lots of people ‘round here don’t wanna admit they need therapy, but if you let ‘em talk to a horse for a few hours, they’ll spill their guts.”

Joel smiles, another impossible wave of admiration hitting him. “You’re just a sweet thing, aren’t you, Miss Blue?” 

The woman ducks her head, smiling somewhat shyly. “I think you’re a little more charming than you let on, Mr. Miller.” 

He shrugs a shoulder, playing coy as she grabs two beers out of her fridge and pops the tops off on the edge of her counter before sliding one to him. 

“You’ll have to bring Sarah in one day, we’ve got lots of horses I’m sure she’ll love. One of our mares just had a baby, I’m sure she’d love to meet him.”

“I think she might try to convince me to put a horse in our backyard if that happens,” Joel takes a sip of his beer, smiling when his words make her laugh as she flips the burgers in the skillet. “And you can’t tell that face no, it’s impossible.” 

“You have raised an evil mastermind in the shape of a ten year old girl,” 

He sighs regretfully, shaking his head. “I don’t know where she gets it from,” 

Blue chuckles again, giving him another one of those looks that says she sees right through his bullshit. He feels a little exposed, a little raw, beneath her gaze, but it’s like a livewire when she reaches out and touches his arm. “I knew I smelled trouble on you, Joel Miller.” 

─────

FEBRUARY 14, 2000 

“I swear he’s got it out for me– no, why are you laughin’, Blue? It’s not funny!” 

“I’m sorry,” The woman snorts through her words, hiding her face in her hands as Joel pushes her arm playfully. “I just think it’s the funniest thing that a big, strong man like yourself is shakin’ in his boots over a sweet old man,” 

Joel waves his finger in her face, making an indignant noise. “That man is tryin’ to bring harm to me!” 

She throws her head back, shoulders shaking as her laugh echoes through her living room. “Mr. Carden is a sweetheart, he has been nothin’ but kind to me!” 

“Well, yeah, I’m not nearly as pretty as you– he doesn’t have any reason to be nice to me!” 

“Alright, charmer, I know you’re just being dramatic. Mr. Carden doesn’t have a mean bone in his body.”

Joel huffs, shaking his head as Blue calms, catching her breath as he turns his attention to where Sarah’s reading quietly on the floor before them, occasionally looking up between them trying to decipher their conversation. 

A knock sounds from the door suddenly and Blue sits up with a confused look, making Joel raise his brows at her. “You expecting someone?” 

“Not unless I’ve got a secret date I didn’t know about,” She shakes her head, walking past him on the couch to head to the front door. Joel turns slightly, watching her open the door. “Can I help you, sir?” 

“Yeah, do you know the people that live across the street in that house?” 

“You mean the Millers?” 

“Yeah, yeah, you, uh, you got any idea where they might be? I’m–” 

“Tommy?” Joel stands up, sudden realization dawning on him at the sound of his brother’s voice. He stalks over to the front door, swinging it the rest of the way open as he stands behind Blue with a frown on his face. “The hell are you doin’ here?” 

Tommy scoffs, looking between Blue and Joel with growing suspicion. “What am I doing here– Joel, I was supposed to take Sarah out for dinner tonight. Valentines Day, courtesy of her favorite Uncle. I didn’t realize you made plans of your own,” 

Joel rolls his eyes, but shrugs apologetically. “I lost track of time, I guess. She’s ready to go, though– Sarah!” 

Her fast footsteps come down the hall quickly, and she lights up at the sight of her uncle. “Uncle Tommy! Are we still getting milkshakes?” 

Tommy shoots a wide-eyed look at Joel, feigning innocence. “Of course, but only after we eat dinner. Can’t have ice cream before real food.” 

“I’m gonna pretend I believe that, for my own sake,” Joel deadpans, his words earning a snort of laughter from Blue, who Tommy suddenly has his eyes on her, a wild smirk growing on his face.

“Lost track of time, huh, Joel? I’m sorry to barge in on you like this, ma’am, but it must have just slipped my brother’s mind to introduce me to his nice new neighbor. I’m Tommy Miller,” 

Blue shakes his hand, a knowing grin on her face. “I have heard plenty about you, Tommy Miller,” She tells him her name, and Joel plays it on repeat in his head, intertwining it with the twist of her lips as she says it. “Call me Blue.” 

“A real pretty name for a real pretty gal,” Tommy grins, shooting a wink at his brother, who glares over the top of Blue’s head. “I’ll get out of y’all’s hair– you’re obviously busy, and my favorite niece and I have big, big plans.” 

“Do not bring my daughter home covered in ice cream, riding a sugar high, Tommy, I’ll lock you out of the house.” 

“I would do no such thing, Joel, I’m a responsible young man,” 

“And a liar to boot,” Joel grunts, giving Sarah a tight hug as she grabs her coat off the rack Joel had hung for Blue a few days ago. “Be good for Uncle Tommy, alright? I’ll see you at home later, baby.” 

Sarah nods dutifully and lets him zip her jacket up to her chin, even though she immediately pulls it back down to her stomach. “Love you, Dad! Bye, Miss Blue!” 

“Bye, babydoll! Have fun with your uncle!” 

Sarah waves as Tommy hoists her up to his hip, walking her to his truck across the street, the two already whispering conspiratorially. Blue shuts the door slowly, turning to face Joel with a soft, but no less wicked smile. “So, since you are apparently kid free for a few hours… would you care to share a beer with me on this lovely day of love?” 

Joel nods, smiling down at her. “You askin’ me to be your Valentine, Miss Blue?” 

She shrugs a shoulder, confident as ever. “One of us had to make the first move.”

"Right you are, Miss Blue. Lead the way."  

─────

[mymoonagedaydream]

Only the Good Die Young (Part 1)

Summary: Coming home from college for the summer, you expected your days to be spent reading in your bedroom and sitting through tense to family dinners- but an old acquaintance had something else in mind for you

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Language, strong anti-religious sentiment throughout, harmful relationship with parents, irresponsible motorcycle healthy and safety measures, smoking

Author's Note: Something a bit different, why the hell not. This story is based around lyrics from Billy Joel's 'Only the Good Die Young'. What a man.

---

'Y/n! You look… healthy.' 

Those were your mother's first words as you walked through the door of your family home. Not saying how pleased she was to see you or asking how your flight was, but commenting on how you looked with her typical passive-aggressive euphemisms.

This was going to be a long summer. 

Initially you were adamant about staying at your dorm, even on your own. All you wanted was peace and space. Then your parents threatened to cut you off if you didn't come home, so here you were. 

You traipsed upstairs. Approaching your bedroom, you saw the bolt haphazardly screwed to the outside of the door. Your father had installed it when you were twelve, after he caught you watching ‘ungodly’ TV shows in the living room at midnight- Doctor Who. 

Your room had been redecorated. It looked fucking dreadful. You glanced up at the wall and a little bit of sick shot up to the back of your mouth when you saw a ‘live, laugh, love’ sticker plastered up there. 

A long, long summer.

---

Your first errand was grocery shopping. Wandering around the store, you grabbed everything on the list and headed to the checkout. Through the front window you saw billows of smoke blowing past, but you couldn’t quite see where they were coming from. 

As you stepped outside, you looked over to see a pretty big group of guys in leather jackets, most of them with cigarettes on the go. They were gathered around the corner of the building, the one you had to walk past to get home. You kept your head down, gripping your grocery bags tight and passing them as quickly as possible, when you heard one of them pipe up. 

'Well holy shit. Y/n?'

You turned towards the voice. James Barnes. 

The two of you went to high school together but, apart from the occasional stilted conversation and reluctant group project, you’d never really developed any sort of relationship. Besides, he always hung out with people your mother didn't approve of. 

And he was what, now? In a motorcycle gang? Figures. 

'Hi James. Good to see you.' You mumbled, breaking stride momentarily. His friends seemed to find that funny. 

'People call me Bucky now.' 

Nodding feebly, you gave him a polite smile before moving off again. You noticed that your face felt warm and your stomach was involuntarily tensing. Sure, he was much more handsome and charismatic than you remembered, but you had no idea why being in his presence was making you this nervous. You heard approaching footsteps and in a second he was by your side, walking next to you.

'You moving back to town?'

'No, just visiting for the summer.'

‘Are your parents still religious nut-jobs?'

You stopped and snapped your head round, in complete shock at the brazenness of his questioning.

'I'll take that as a yes.’ Without taking his eyes off you he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, placed one between his lips and lit it. ‘Guessing you won't be having much fun this summer then.'

'Probably not your kind of fun.' 

He smirked and stepped towards you. ‘Man, you Catholic girls start much too late.’

‘I don’t think I asked for your opinion, James.’ It came out much softer than you anticipated, barely a mumble. Not the kind of back-off-or-else warning you were aiming for. He was really getting under your skin.

'You didn’t, but I’ll give you another.’  

You raised an eyebrow, watching him blow a cloud of smoke out over your head and chuckle at your expression. Against your better judgement, you waited for him to carry on.

‘I'd rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints.' He stepped closer again, bringing his lips close to your ear, and whispered. 'Cause the sinners are much more fun.'

---

You dropped the shopping on the counter. The whole way home you hadn’t been able to get James Barnes out of your head, hadn’t been able to stop picturing his smirk or imagining his warm breath tickling your ear. 

You wanted to know more about him, and if anyone had information it'd be your mother. She knew everything about everyone in this godforsaken town. Sitting down for dinner, you seized your opportunity.

'I saw James Barnes at the grocery store today.'

She abruptly dropped her knife and it hit her plate with a sharp clang, making you jump.

'You stay away from that boy.' She punctuated the words by pointing her fork at you. 'He's trouble. Him and his gang.'

You hated the way she spoke to you sometimes, like you were a child. You were in your twenties for fuck’s sake. 

'He seemed nice enough.'

‘That’s how it starts.’ Your father piped up. ‘Before you know it he’s got you hooked on drugs, living in a trailer, pregnant with his deviant child.’ 

And that was the end of that conversation. 

Being away, you’d almost forgotten how messed up your parents were. It was terrifying to think that you used to be just as bad. They had you completely brainwashed before you left for college and, even now, some of their intrusive religious dogma still lingered in your subconscious. 

---

Sunday. The priest was droning on about something but you weren’t concentrating, his dull voice just sounded like a janky old extractor fan whirring behind the altar. You stood, sat, stood, kneeled, sat along with everyone else like sheep being herded, singing and praying whenever prompted. This, every Sunday for ten weeks, was going to be torture.

An hour or so into the service, you felt yourself nodding off. Your shoulders relaxed and your head felt too heavy to be held up by your neck but, just as your eyes started to close, something startled you. Startled the whole congregation. The droning from the altar stopped and heads turned towards the door, where the disturbance was coming from. 

It sounded like a shuddering motorbike engine. Then another joined. In a couple of seconds the entire church was filled with an echoing cacophony of backfiring engines. 

Someone at the back stood up and ran to the door. There was some shouting and laughing, but the noise eventually moved away, fading into the distance. Looking around, you saw a sea of indignant and sour faces. The tension hovering in the air was palpable.

‘And that,’ your mother hissed through clenched teeth, ‘is why you don’t go near James Barnes and his friends.’

You had to suck in your cheeks to smother your laughter, nodding insincerely at her words. James’ voice echoed in your head…

The sinners are much more fun.

---

A couple days later, one of your old friends invited you to a house party- or ‘board game night’ as you told your parents. Parties were usually a little out of your comfort zone, but you’d do anything to get out of their house for an evening. 

Wandering from room to room, you checked if there was anyone else there you recognised. Nope. You skulked to the kitchen and opened a can of diet coke. 

There was a hard tap on your shoulder and you turned to see James Barnes’ wide smile.

‘Hey there.’

‘Hi James.’ You muttered, taking a sip of your drink. ‘I heard your little stunt outside the church last week. You make a habit of that?’

‘Nope. Just thought it’d be nice to welcome you home.’ 

Interesting. That whole thing was for you? Your stomach started to flutter with excitement despite part of your brain screaming that he was probably just mocking you, flirting with you for a bet. To save any potential embarrassment, you went on the defensive. 

‘Gee, thanks. Are you and your friends always that obnoxious James?’

‘Ah y’know.’ He leant against the counter, folding his arms, still grinning at you. ‘We might be laughing a bit too loud, but that never hurt no one.’

You raised an eyebrow, feigning disinterest and doing everything you could to keep a lid on how excited his deep chuckles were making you. He bit his lip and your heart felt like it was going to leap out of your chest. 

‘And call me Bucky.’ He pushed himself off the counter, disappearing into the crowd.

Hours passed and you eventually realised that you weren’t really having a great time. Everyone around you was borderline hammered but you knew if your parents got a whiff of alcohol you’d be locked inside all summer, so you were stone-cold. 

You snuck out the back door, swiftly sliding it shut. Focusing more on what was happening behind you than in front, you managed to unceremoniously trample over someone’s feet. 

James, of course it was. Brilliant. 

He was leant against the wall, finishing off a cigarette. Chuckling, he held out the pack to you, but you shook your head. 

‘Leaving so soon?’ He grunted.

‘Yeah, not really my scene.’

‘Same here. Want to go somewhere else?’ Your heart stuttered at his question. You struggled to form a reply, gazing at him wide-eyed. He smirked and looked away. 'It’s alright, I know the deal. Your mother told you all I could give you was a reputation, right?'

You couldn’t hold back your excited smile anymore and his eyes lit up when he saw it. Shrugging faintly, your mind scurried around trying to find something witty and attractive to say. He dropped his cigarette butt and crushed it under his boot before slowly approaching you. Stopping a couple inches away, he smirked down at your dazed expression.

‘Come out with me tomorrow.’

---

You told your mother that you were having a day at the local library. You weren’t necessarily lying- you had no idea what Bucky had in mind, so anything was a possibility. 

He was waiting by the monument in the town centre, like he’d said yesterday. 

‘So,’ you said, prompting him to turn towards you and smile, ‘what are we doing?’

He held his elbow out and you snaked your hand through it. 

‘You’ll see.’

Much to your surprise, he took you to the fair. You wandered around, hand enclosed in his, talking and laughing for hours. He bought you a hot dog and spent ages trying to win you a stuffed giraffe, but his aim wasn’t great. You couldn’t hold back your laughter after he missed for the fourth time, so he picked you up, swung you around and shouted that he was going to sell you to the carnival. 

When both of you were tired and full, he walked you to the park, pulling you down next to him on a bench and wrapping his arm tight around your waist.

‘Thanks Bucky.’ You said faintly.

‘For what?’

‘Didn’t think I’d be having much fun this summer, but I had a really nice time.’

He smirked and scooched even closer to you, his firm thigh pressed against yours and his thumb gently stroking your hip. There was a comfortable silence for a few seconds before he muttered to himself.

‘It ain’t right.’

‘What?’

He sighed, brushing his chin against your hair. ‘Your parents. Catholics, man- they just built you a temple and locked you away. You’ve barely lived.’

‘It’s not all bad.’ You whispered, relaxing your head against his shoulder and angling your face up towards his. 

‘Maybe.’ Adjusting himself, he turned towards you and put his free hand under your chin. ‘But that stained-glass never really lets in the sun.’

He pressed his lips against yours. Your stomach flipped. His hand moved from your chin to cradle the side of your neck and his thumb brushed softly across your cheek. He pressed towards you more firmly, sliding his tongue along your lips. He tasted like cigarettes and candy floss. Your knees tensed and your thighs started shaking. He must’ve noticed, because you felt a deep chuckle vibrating into your mouth, but that only made it worse. You melted into him, just about steadying yourself by gripping the lapels of his jacket. 

He pulled away, letting your head fall into the crook of his neck, keeping a tight grip on your waist. 

‘Not bad for a church girl.’

---

‘What is this?!’ Your mother burst into your room, looking horrified and holding her phone out in front of her.

You squinted at the screen, it was a photo. You and Bucky holding hands at the fair. Shit.

‘Where did you get that?’ You muttered.

‘Angela sent it to me. She saw you there, with him.’

You stood from your bed, ready to plead with her. ‘Look, he’s a nice guy, he’s-’ 

‘He is a criminal. And if you think you’re seeing him again, you’re wrong.’ She turned and started to storm away. 

You felt anger bubbling inside, nothing like you’d ever felt before. Everything Bucky had said, his anger at your parents- he was right. You’d thought about it before, of course you had, but all you’d ever felt was a kind of defeated acceptance. Now, you were pissed.  

‘I am not a fucking child.’ You screamed.

She jerked to a stop. Slowly twisting round, you saw her face was filled with venom. ‘We’ll speak again when you’re ready to apologise.’ She hissed, slamming your door behind her. You heard it lock.

Wow, that felt good. Really good. You flopped down onto your bed. Your head was spinning but you were grinning to yourself, still half in disbelief. You’d never stood up to her like that before and you were starting to regret not doing it sooner. 

Your phone started buzzing- Bucky.

‘Hi.’ You sighed into it.

‘Come to the window.’

Your gaze darted to the far end of your room and you fumbled off your bed. After briefly scanning the skyline, your eyes flickered down to the backyard lawn. Bucky was standing underneath your window, holding his phone to his ear, beaming up at you.

‘Came to ask if you wanted to come out, figured I probably shouldn’t knock on the front door.’

‘So you break into the garden?’ You chuckled.

He shrugged and flung his free arm out. ‘It’s romantic.’

‘Sure is.’ You grinned down at him before remembering where you were. ‘I can’t Buck. One of my mother’s friends saw us together yesterday. I’m locked in.’

‘Man, you’re living with psychopaths.’ You nodded and gave him a disheartened smile. ‘Look, I know they’re your parents, but you really don’t owe them anything. Especially after everything they’ve done.’

His words echoed around in your head, slowly becoming more convincing as you considered them. Before you could respond, the light from the room below you switched on and Bucky was immediately illuminated with bright yellow light. Without missing a beat, he sprinted towards the fence and vaulted into next door’s garden. You heard a breathy ‘I’ll see you soon babe’ through the phone before he hung up.  

Your father ran out of the back door, pretty quickly deciding not to give chase. He looked up at you with anger in his eyes but you didn’t waver. You were already locked in your room for the foreseeable future, what else could he possibly do?

---

He could force you to clean all the floors in the house on your hands and knees, apparently. Scrubbing for hours and hours with him watching over you like a hawk. Your parents had pretty swiftly gone from strict but harmless religious zealots to borderline prison wardens. As soon as he left the room, you pulled your phone out and hammered out a message to Bucky. 

Will you come get me? I need out.

You stared at your screen, willing him to reply before your father came back. After what felt like ages, it finally buzzed.

On my way. Pack a bag.

You jumped up from the floor and sprinted up the stairs to your room, grabbing handfuls of whatever you could reach and shoving it into your backpack. You heard your father scurrying around on the ground floor before stomping up the stairs, shouting your name. Before he made it to your room, the faint rumble of a motorbike engine started in the distance and your heart jumped.

Running into the hallway, you pushed past your father without even looking up at him and scrambled down the stairs. You pulled the front door open and a wall of fresh air hit you, allowing you to take your first clean, deep breath of the day. Since you woke up all you’d been doing was huffing floor-cleaning chemicals.

Bucky came round the corner on his bike and you almost felt like bursting into tears. Waves of relief passed through every muscle in your body and you ran down the front steps to meet him.

You leapt on to the back of his bike, still in your pyjamas, and wrapped your arms around his waist as tight as you could. It felt like you were running entirely on adrenaline. Your parents were screaming your name behind you, but they were quickly drowned out by the roaring of the motorbike coming back to life. 

‘Shit, I’m not exactly dressed for a ride.’ You mumbled into his ear through your heavy breaths. ‘Don’t even have a helmet.’

You felt him vibrate with laughter as he gunned the engine and sped away.

‘Ah, don’t worry, you’ll be fine darlin.’ He raised his arm and flipped off your parents. ‘Only the good die young.’

---

Part Two

---

[abbystanaccount]

spontaneous one-shot y’all.... someone requested to me Abby’s reaction when she hears about Owen and Mel being together so I wrote up a little something, I’m very tempted to do a little follow up AU where this snaps Abby to her senses instead of digging herself deeper into that revenge hole, so maybe I’ll do that soon too.

I’ll probably put this on ao3 later, i still haven’t written out their break-up fic lol and I feel like I should put that in the compilation beforehand idk

It was the day after Christmas, Abby hadn’t really celebrated besides gifting trinkets to her closest friends like Manny and Nora. She’d spent the last evening away from people, finally able to read and sleep early in peace while most were off at Christmas parties. 

Abby was digging into her post-workout meal when Manny slid into the bench across from her. He hadn’t joined her in the gym that morning which was fine, he was probably hungover. Abby was going to the gym almost every day now. Getting stronger, becoming a better soldier, and finding Joel Miller, those were the only things that mattered to her now.

“Hey, Chica…” greeted Manny. His tone was weird, something was off. Abby made a face and stared at him as she finished chewing.

“What’s up, Manny?”

“Oh, nothing’s really up.”

“You’re a shit liar, Manny. Just spit it out.”

“Okay,” drawled Manny. He seemed nervous, what did he have to be nervous about? “Well I was at the one Christmas party last night with the Crew and some others. We all missed you there, by the way.”

“Hmm,” hummed Abby. It was kinda awkward between her and the Crew right now. She and Owen broke up three months ago. Maybe they could be friends again at some point but Abby could tell how much Owen would tense up when she entered a room, as if being in her presence anymore caused him pain. At least, it’d been that way for the first month. It was maybe slowly getting better when they ran into each other, but she didn’t want to push it.

“So uh, Owen was there. And Mel.”

“Obviously,” brushed off Abby, taking a swig of water.

“And they went together.”

Abby stopped drinking mid-sip. She put her cup down, Manny couldn’t be serious. “What you mean? Like as a couple?”

“Well, yes. Mel said it was kind of like a first date, couple thing. They kissed too, so uh, yeah.”

Abby was stunned. They fucking wouldn’t. Mel was supposed to be her friend and she swoops in for her ex? Couldn’t Owen find literally anyone else? Abby fucking knew something fishy was going when Mel would stop in all the time after Owen got injured from that molotov cocktail.

Suddenly she felt like the whole room was looking at her. Did everyone know? Feeling her face grow hot, Abby abruptly picked up her tray to leave.

“Hey, c’mon Abs,” tried Manny.

“I’m going back to the room, I can’t be here.” Her and Manny had recently moved in together as roommates, she obviously couldn’t stay with Owen anymore. The memories crept back up of her moving out of his room. The boxes she’d packed of her books and belongings. The many sketches and paintings Owen did of her and for her, some of which were hung up on the walls. She was always a little embarrassed whenever Owen drew her because he was starting to get quite good and the paintings were so flattering and mushy. 

For her last birthday, one of his gifts to her was a painting of the back of her head and braid with the ocean in the background. It was honestly so beautiful and she loved it at the time, but when Abby was packing up just looking at it made her break into a few tears. She left it behind because she couldn’t bear to look at it anymore.

Abby reached their room, Manny was following close behind, knowing she was upset and wanting to talk her down. She basically slammed the door behind them, she needed to vent.

“Like are you kidding me? Seriously? Him and Mel!”

“Abby, he’s allowed to date other people. You’re not together anymore.”

“Yeah, well he should date some girl I don’t know, not fucking Mel! He knows how feel about her.” It wasn’t like this was completely out of the blue, she’d gathered over the years that Mel kind of liked Owen. Abby could admit it, she would get jealous sometimes when those two were friendly. Mel was also the opposite of what Abby was like, super nice and sweet, petite with dainty features. Meanwhile after her dad died, Abby could barely hold a smile, she could be abrasive, she worked out until she felt she’d collapse. She couldn’t not compare herself sometimes.

Manny tried to talk her through it, “They were already friends so it wasn’t that much of a leap. I mean, Jordan and Leah just started dating too.”

Abby glared at Manny, he was tight with everyone from Salt Lake. “You fucking knew, didn’t you.”

Manny crossed his arms, “Abby, I don’t spread what you say to me in confidence, nor any of my other friends.”

Abby felt tears start to well, she was feeling so betrayed, “But you knew Mel liked him and was going to make a move, didn’t you?”

It was the case, she just knew it. Manny sighed, “I suggested to her that she wait, but she didn’t take my advice. I think Nora said she should. Either way, he needed to move on Abby, guy was miserable. She makes him happy.”

Abby shook her head, there was really no one who understood, who was on her side. This was so fucking pointless. God, she needed to get out on the field and take down some Scars, or maybe pull out some of their teeth back at the FOB.

“Yeah, I bet she told you everything, Manny, and you kept her intentions to fuck your best friend’s ex to yourself. You know what? Why don’t you go check up on Mel and see how Mel’s doing after her fun night out.” Abby was fuming, pacing the room.

Manny could tell this wasn’t going anywhere positive, “Okay Abs, I’m gonna let you cool off. But I swear, I’m here for you, I’m here for all of us. We can talk about it later if you feel like it.”

“Whatever.” Abby went towards the window, she just wanted to be left alone. She heard the door open and shut. As soon as it closed she felt hot tears stream down her cheeks. She knew she really had no one to blame but herself, she pushed him away, she was the one who made the relationship not work.

Maybe she just needed a good cry to come to terms with it, she couldn’t be acting a fool in front of people. She knew the whole WLF was going to talk about this, bring it up and gauge her reactions.

A sudden urge hit her. Abby didn’t keep most of the art and presents Owen got her, but she did have one. Up on her top bunk was a box of various trinkets, she pulled it down, and took out a folder with some papers in it. It was still in there, Owen’s sketch he did of her back in Salt Lake. They’d snuck out, she fallen asleep under a tree and he sketched her sleeping and wrote her a love letter. That’d been the day before everything went to shit, her last happy day.

Abby gripped the top of the page to tear it in half. She almost, almost did. But for her all her new found strength she couldn’t do it. This was more than just some silly drawing.

She stopped, looked at the paper. A rogue tear fell onto the words. Abby wiped her face, she didn’t want to mar it anymore than that. With slightly shaking hands, Abby put the picture back in the folder, back in the box, and tucked it away.

[dontasktheradiodemon]

Clonium Heist (4/3/2021)

Alastor and Telly @usedhearts sneak into one of Vox’s facilities to steal a bunch of fuel, copy all the computer files, trash the place, and frame another overlord for the crime.

It’s the first major job they’ve pulled together, it goes flawlessly, and they’re a bit giddy.

Sir Pentious

It was a dark and stormy night-- No, no it wasn't, it was just dark, unlike most nights in Pentagram City, what with the light pollution. But they were currently far enough away from downtown for the shadows to be extra deep.

Telly, dressed in a black turtleneck and with Hattie shifted into a woolen cap like robbers wear-- you've seen movies, slithered low to the ground, holding up his binoculars to scan the lab's perimeter fencing. He nodded and lowered them, letting them hang around his neck.

"Alright. Let's portal inside. You remember the plan, yes?" He looked at Alastor, expression serious. It was Serious Time now.

Alastor

Alastor’s expression, of course, was grinning—but it was a very serious grin. He crouched down next to Telly and slipped a reassuring arm around his shoulder. “Of course. Don’t you worry.” A quick peck on the cheek—since it would probably be their last opportunity for a while—and then with one flourish he changed his own dark clothes into a facsimile guard uniform and simultaneously opened up a small portal. An enthralled shadow invisible in the darkness passed through first, ducked back out to tap Alastor—coast is clear—and he opened up the portal fully. “Let’s.” He stood, taking Telly’s hand. And through they went, this portal so short he could cross through it to the other side with one large footstep.

Sir Pentious

It was definitely an odd feeling, slithering through such a short portal, but Telly was getting more and more used to Hentai's strange dimension. It no longer made him sick, at least. Once inside, Telly slithered against the wall, sticking to it.

"First, guard outpost. Let's go see which one you'll be wearing the face of, love." And he was off-- boy, could he move fast when he wanted to! Better keep up Alastor.

Alastor

Alastor has to hustle to keep up. For a split second his heart leaps into his throat as he remembers too late how his shoes tap, before he also remembers that he just switched to the much quieter rubber treads of guard boots. It is, predictably, dark, but the glow of his eyes is just enough for him to see by.

Step one completed.

Sir Pentious

Telly stopped just outside the office, the typical sounds of a bored night guard sounding from inside. He looked at Alastor, and gestured with his head-- Alastor had the gun after all. And wasn't the one who was a giant, very suspicious snake.

Alastor

For a moment, Alastor was sorely tempted to pull out his acting skills—waltz in acting all friendly, claim to be new on the job, say he was told he was supposed to get his standard issue equipment from the closet, could the senior guard help him, then freeze him and leave him in the closet, nice and tidy...

But no. Pull out an elaborate routine like that, and once the guard thawed tomorrow he would be able to describe Alastor. Alas. Well, there’d probably be enough chances later. For now, his part was the servant who killed the Duke of Cornwall.

He rapped his knuckles lightly on the door—the more he acted like he belonged here, the less suspicious and alert the guard inside would be—then opened the door. The guard didn’t even glance up from his phone. “Hey—“

Before the guard could finish his greeting, Alastor silently leveled the freeze ray at the back of his head and iced him.

He tilted his head invitingly to Telly—all clear, come in—then spun the guard’s chair around to see who they’d gotten.

Sir Pentious

And in Telly slithered, closing and locking the door behind him. He smiled at Alastor, going to the wall of monitors, plugging in a small device. He tapped away at the console, concentrated on his task before chuckling.

"I have the current locations of the other three guards. Two on the floor just below us, and the third down on the next one down. I'll start looping the camera footage for the rest of the night and then wipe everything that came before, so that there'll be no trace of your interference on it. Confirmed that the Clonium X is on the third basement level, computer banks are on the first.

"We go down to get the Clonium first, you send that through to Hentai to hold on to, then we go after the computers. Once the Clonium is taken, though, free range to cause as much chaos and steal as much as we can. Just make sure to grab diamonds, and lots of them."

He turned to smirk at Alastor again. "You ready to freeze some guards and steal some shit?"

Alastor

He eyed the guard’s badge through the ice. “Alas, poor Joel,” he muttered, then wheeled the chair away from the main guard station so that anyone who opened the door would hide the guard behind it. If anyone came in looking for Joel, they might think he’d stepped out and shut the door without noticing him.

“And you’re sure Vox won’t be able to trace all of this camera fiddling back to you?” Forgive him, he worries. He steps back to eye Joel critically, and then turns into a passable replica of him.

Sir Pentious

"Absolutely certain. I'm not doing anything that any run of the mill hacker would be able to do. The security software is laughable, to be honest. Because Vox is overconfident, as always." He made a face, and then shrugged.

And then he turned, and blinked a second, before he remembered that Alastor turned into the guard. "I must say, Joel is not a looker."

Telly took one more moment to look over his work, double checking. "Alright, we're set. Lets head to the stairs."

Alastor

“He probably doesn’t understand how the software works himself,” Alastor muttered. Damn fool could *ride* electricity, but Alastor would bet anything that Vox didn’t understand the technology that made it go, only how to sell it.

Alastor smirked at the guard. “He certainly doesn’t *looker ‘round* when someone comes in!” He had to quickly hush his studio audience. None of that, now. Take the rest of the night off. “Let’s.” He fished his personal pencil-written map out of his pocket—he’d never been very good at keeping a mental map—and headed out.

Sir Pentious

Telly no longer stuck to the wall, slithering right in the middle of the hall, back straight in his usual posture. No more need to be super sneaky now that the cameras were looped.

"Maybe I should hold the map, so you can man the Freeze Gun, just in case one of the guards surprise us?"

Alastor

“No no, I’ve got it, see.” When he finished unfolding it, it was just two standard-sized pieces of paper, one floor on each side: ground and three basements, only the important routes and rooms. “One handed.” He hefted the gun in his other hand, see, no problem. “Anyway, you’re not the one who needs it.”

Sir Pentious

Telly chuckled a little. "Alright, good then." He slithered a bit longer, taking the turns naturally, like he knew the ins and outs of his place by heart. He'd probably memorized the route.

And there were the stairs! He grinned and picked up his pace, grabbing the door to throw it open. "Down to the third basement level first, and then we make our way back up." He nodded, Very Seriously.

Alastor

Alastor nodded back, Equally Seriously. He stood near the door, waiting for Telly to open it, ready to shoot if anyone happened to be on the other side.

Sir Pentious

And open it goes!......To an empty stairwell. Phew, no surprises yet. Telly slithered inside and held the door open for Alastor.

"Alright, down we go."

Alastor

“Thank you!” He’ll take the lead. Just in case. “So, where were the other three guards when you last checked?”

Sir Pentious

"Two were on basement level one, and the third was on basement level two. There were none on basement three, but the one on level two may be down there by now, so we'll just have to be careful." He kept his voice down still-- best to keep a hold on his volume, just in case.

Alastor

“Best if he *is* down there and we can take him out before we start trashing things,” Alastor muttered. “If the guards hear noise and sound the alarm before we find and freeze them all...” This building was built like a fortress in the same way that it was armed like Fort Knox; which was to say, it wasn’t at all. Alastor wouldn’t be surprised if it was flimsy enough that causing damage in the third basement level might be heard in the first.

Sir Pentious

"True! And we won't start the chaos until going back up to the second basement anyway. So if we can take down the single guard, and then the pair is on second, we can take them down too. And then we're in the clear."

Telly had a good grip on the handrail of the stairs, his face scrunching as he slithered down the stairs. It was always an uncomfortable feeling, that.

Alastor

Poor thing. IIf Alastor didn’t need to conserve his energy, he’d have temporarily turned the stairs into a ramp for Telly. (Add “replace all stairs with ramps” to their to-do list of arbitrary changes Telly could make to Hell that would personally convenience him and irritate almost everyone else.) As it was, though... Well, maybe on the way out.

For now, here was the third basement. Alastor opened the door this time, checking for a guard.

Sir Pentious

Telly followed through the door, eyes on high alert. His non-existant ears strained to hear anything like footsteps in the silence. He nodded to Alastor and started to slither down the hall toward their destination.

Until he heard the telltale sound of guard boots, and the beam of a flashlight from around the next corner. He pressed himself against the wall, flattening himself to blend into the darkness, and nodded to Alastor to go on.

Alastor

Oh, here they go. No cover in the hallway; Alastor decided he probably couldn’t get off a shot before the guard spotted him and startled. So he tucked away his map, lowered his gun, made no effort to disguise his footsteps, and—pulling out his best acting skills—called out, “Hey,” in a near-perfect replica of Joel’s voice. He raised his hand to wave as the other guard turned the corner.

“Joel?” The guard was puzzled, but unguarded. “Why’d you leave the—”

Stage magician trick #1: if you’re waving with one hand, nobody pays attention to what you’re doing with the other. Alastor shot the freeze ray without raising it.

Sir Pentious

The zap, and there the guard was, frozen solid! Good job, Alastor, impeccable aim. Telly removed himself from the wall, and slithered over, poking at the frozen demon for a moment.

"I do love the effect of that, could make for a lovely way to incarcerate dissenters to my rule." He grinned, turning to wink at Alastor. "We can just leave him here for now, the pair are likely still above. But let's not waste time."

And he's off slithering again, hands behind his back.

Alastor

“We’ll have to find a way to make it more permanent.” He eyed the guard thoughtfully as they passed, then caught up with Telly. “Or maybe not. Maybe stick them in cages around the palace and time it so that they thaw out at noon each day to scream for a few seconds before they’re automatically re-frozen. We could install a freeze ray sprinkler system.” He winked back.

Sir Pentious

Telly laughed, and then cleared his throat, lowering from a cackle to a soft chuckling. "Yes, that does sound fun. I was going to say that it would be a simple thing to keep the temperatures low enough that they simply wouldn't thaw, but I think I like your idea better."

They reached the door to the storage room and Telly nodded. "Alright, love, once we're inside, it's your show. You ready?" He held out his hands to take the freeze gun from him, just for now.

Alastor

“Died ready.” He handed over the gun and, just for effect, cracked his knuckles. Throwing in a few snapping twig sound effects for good measure.

Sir Pentious

Telly held the gun in one hand, and with the other, he tossed open the door, slithering through first. He looked around, making sure no one was inside-- and no one was, just as he'd thought.

And then his attention turned to the Clonium X. He let out a soft wolf whistle, his mouth twitching into a smirk.

"Look at all that, beautiful, isn't it?" It was definitely something. In a big stack, a pyaramid of bars, it glowed faintly purple in the darkness, pulsing almost as if it were alive. "With even half of this, I could power my cloning machine for centuries to come. Good thing we're taking all of it, hm?"

He turned to grin at Alastor.

Alastor

Alastor beamed back. “It most certainly is! We’re going to have to find some places to split up the cache, don’t you think?”

For now, though, it was enough to move it all to the airship. Alastor stepped forward, head tilting as he connected to his terrifying tentacled friend. A portal opened over the stack, and dozens of little tentacles reached through, quickly picking up the bars, one per tentacle. He was checking for any that looked or felt different, or for any small odd devices hidden in among them; Vox’s security had been pretty poor so far, but the last thing they needed was to find out too late that he’d hidden a tracking device amongst the bars.

Sir Pentious

They would be clear of any sort of tracking or security devices-- it seemed that Vox was far too confident in himself and his reputation, not even bothering to tag ONE bar. But hey, all the better for them.

Telly held the gun casually, watching Alastor work, tail strategically placed behind him to let him sit if he needed to after.

Alastor

And so, all go through. Easy peasy. Not nearly as straining as some of his longer and more instruction-heavy collaborations, but when he turned and saw Telly had left a seat for him, he gladly sank back onto it. “Where’s that goodie bag you brought?” He wasn’t starving, but he could stand to take the edge off his hunger.

Sir Pentious

Telly already has the satchel open, and he's going to grab that big bag of jerky to hand to Alastor. "Right here, love. Venison. I asked Charlie to snag me some of the stuff that Leclerq dried from when he killed that massive elk."

He grinned.

Alastor

“And it’s a *delicious* elk! I’ve still got some of it frozen.” He ate a big handful of jerky. “I ought to make something with it. I’ve never made my venison pasta for you, have I? I should do that, it’s delicious!”

Sir Pentious

"I'd love to try your venison pasta. There's yet to be a dish you've made me I've disliked." He stared at Alastor with those adoring eyes-- even if he DID look like Joel the Security Guard currently.

"How long do you need? We should start moving up soon."

Alastor

“You flatter me!” It wasn’t a complaint. Enjoy being gazed at adoringly by Joel in return.

“I’m fine to go now.” As much as he’d love to get comfortable on Telly’s coils. Another handful of jerky and he reluctantly pushed himself to his feet and offered the bag back.

Sir Pentious

Telly took it and tucked it back into the bag. He handed the freeze gun back to Alastor, and headed toward the door, peeking out before sliding out. He held the door for Alastor after, keeping a good look out.

"Back to the stairs and then we can head up to the second floor. Find the guards, hopefully, and the.....it's time for chaos." He grinned wide.

Alastor

"*I can't wait.*" There was a dangerous edge to the eagerness in Alastor's voice. "Is there anything else on this one we want to grab for the hell of it?"

Sir Pentious

Telly paused to think and then shook his head. "Not that I can recall, but let's peek in another room and see what they have! Just in case!"

He hiss-laughed and slithered toward the nearest door, and cautiously opened it. He glanced around and let out a little hum of consideration.

"Alastor, come look at this...." He opened the door wider, showing a room just full of what looked like brass. Just bars and bars of melted down brass. "Why do you think Vox is holding on to _this_ much brass?"

Alastor

Alastor looked at the bars thoughtfully. "He wants to start Hell's biggest brass band?" He smiled impishly.

Sir Pentious

Telly snorted and rolled his eyes (all of them). "Yes, I'm sure that's why. Now I'm curious though, let's look at a couple more rooms."

He closed the door and slithered to another, opening it with less caution than the last.

"Alastor, _look_." His brow was now creased with confusion. "This one's got.....iron? Steel? Also in bar form....what in Hell is Vox doing with these?"

Alastor

Alastor shrugged, mystified. "Driving up the price by hoarding it? Stockpiling it to produce some trite new consumer electronic?" He mulled it over a moment longer. "... Whatever he's planning, what do you say we throw a wrench in it?"

Sir Pentious

Telly's baffled expression shifted to a smug smile, and he looked down at Alastor.

"I think we're on the same wavelength, dear. Yes, let's." He blinked a bit. "How so?"

Alastor

"By moving the heavy metal concert from *his* venue to *ours.* I can't check every bar for bugs tonight, but I've got a safe spot in my universe where we can dump the lot and then check them later." Even if the fuel hadn't been bugged—well, this was Vox, and Alastor wasn't taking chances with Telly's safety.

Sir Pentious

"Oh yes, an excellent idea. I wonder if he's got a stockpile of gold and silver as well--" He paused, a thought occurring to him.

"It might raise questions if _all_ of the metals were to disappear at once, Vergil doesn't have enough manpower at his disposal to get all of that. It's fesible that he could get all the Clonium, but all _this_ too? It's simply too much for his operation. We can't take it." His face scrunched, and then smoothed into a smile.

"Or at least not _all_ of it. Take maybe.....The top fifth? There's more than enough here for that amount to go unnoticed, especially if Vox's record keeping is as shoddy as his security. Yes, that should work, the top fifth of each stack...."

Alastor

"Top fifth." He eyed the stack. "All right..." His eyes dissolved into red static as he called up Hentai again.

This time the transport took much less time. He could simply open a portal beneath the layer of bricks he wanted to take, and Hentai was only needed to keep them from crashing catastrophically to the ground on the other side.

Sir Pentious

While Alastor worked, Telly got the bag of jerky out again, digging a handful out to offer as soon as he was done.

Alastor

As soon as he snapped out of it, he was looking around for Telly. "Where's—? Oh! Thank you." He beat Alastor to it. Alastor gratefully took the snacks. "We should hit this place again sometime for the rest. Imagine what we could make with it!"

Sir Pentious

"After we hit it, Vox is sure to amp up security, that or move everything somewhere else. So, perhaps, when things are more on the up and up and we don't have to pin it on someone else." He snickered.

"Let's hit the other rooms quick and then head up like planned."

Alastor

"A fine plan! Maybe we'll find that stash of gold and silver!" Off they go!

Sir Pentious

They do indeed find a stash of gold, and one of silver! And some copper, and various other metals. A total, with the Clonium, of at least 10 different metals. They snatch the top fifth of each stack and then it's time to head for the stares.

Before they do, though, Telly stopped at the frozen guard, a smirk on his face. He very casually pushed him with one claw, sending him teetering and then crashing to the ground, shattering the poor guard into a thousand pieces.

"That was just as satisfying as I thought it would be!" He said, trying to contain his cackle to a mere chuckle. "Come on, we have chaos to commit!!"

Alastor

Alastor watched with an utterly gleeful grin on his face. “He’s going to have a hard time pulling back together after *that!*” He pulled open the door to the stairway, after you. “Next one, I want to smash.”

Sir Pentious

"Well, there are two more to freeze! Next one's yours, my love." He rumbled with the cobra purr, and then his face scrunched as he started the disgustingly arduous task of slithering back _up_ the stairs.

"I want to find whoever invented stairs and beat them to double death."

Alastor

“Now, there’s a good question—why *didn’t* we stick with ramps? Humanity had to have been introduced to them first—we’ve walked all over hills, those are basically natural ramps.” He offered Telly a hand. Sorry 4 ur suffering. “We can ban stairs.”

Sir Pentious

He took Alastor's hand, if only to squeeze it while slithering up these Lucifer-damned stairs. Luckily, they only had one flight to go up currently, the other one could wait.

"Alright, be on high alert, we're looking for the other two guards first, and then once they're taken care of, it's time for chaos." He grinned and then carefully opened the door, peeking out. No sign of the guards yet. He slithered into the R&D floor, glancing around.

"Though, if you see something interesting, just feel free to grab it."

Alastor

“And what are your standards for ‘interesting’?” The doors were less heavy-duty on this level. Alastor opened one; just a lot of desks so far. Didn’t meet *his* standards for interesting.

Sir Pentious

"Oh, any sort of tech that looks strange, honestly. I'll be able to figure out what they are when we get home, no time to do that now." He chuckled and peeked through another door. Hm, nothing there.

But that's when hurried footsteps sounded at the other end of the hall. Telly, working fast, slithered into the room and shut the door most of the way, hiding himself to let Alastor deal with the guards.

Alastor

That was much too fast for a regular patrol, they knew something was up. No time to pull out his usual act. Best to give them as little info to try to report later once they thawed.

And there they were, both of them together. At least it’d be quick. “Joel, is that you?” “We heard voices, who—”

Alastor raised his freeze ray and shot the one on the left.

Sir Pentious

The one on the right yelped at the sight, immediately trying to turn tail and run-- only to run into a tail instead. He tripped and fell on his face, and Telly wrapped his leg just to hold him there. He could do that much without revealing himself. It wouldn't take long for Alastor to come take care of this one too.

Alastor

Alastor bit back a laugh as he jogged up to the fallen guard, waited for Telly to let him loose, and shot him in the back. “Some guards blockhead hires, huh?” He brought his boot down heavily on the guard’s head, smashing it into ice shards. “Hopefully he won’t remember ‘Joel’ wielding a freeze ray, that’d confuse our framing efforts a bit. You’re supposed to not remember the last few seconds before you get knocked out, right? I heard that on a radio program once.”

Sir Pentious

"I think you did more than just knock him out, Alastor. I think being smashed into icy chunks is more than enough to scramble their brains." Telly slithered out of the room and lifted the substantial part of his tail, bringing it down like a hammer on the rest of the fallen guard. Pieces of him flew in all directions, and Telly let out a full blown cackle.

"Now, let's ransack and cause chaos! Make sure to use that gun as much as you see fit, Alastor, we need to make sure there's ice all over!"

Alastor

Oh! Oh my. That was kind of hot. Give him a moment, his heart’s doing a little flip.

“Ransacking and chaos it is!” He swiped the other frozen guard’s legs out from under him, watched with satisfaction as the guard cracked into several pieces on impact with the ground, then smashed them into a few more. “One winter wonderland, coming right up.” He iced a portion of the floor, tried to slide along it, and found he didn’t get very far in guard boots. He poofed them off and slid along in his socks, firing randomly through an open door as he passed.

Sir Pentious

Telly shivered as the ice cooled the air, but he was prepared! He pressed a small button inside the sleeve of his turtleneck, and it began to buzz softly as it heated. As long as his core temperature didn't drop, he'd be fine. He slithered after Alastor, throwing open doors with wild abandon, looking for interesting things to take.

He found a few things that he stuffed into his bag, before wildly thrashing each room he was in, causing as much destruction as possible, cackling all the while. This was the _fun part._

Alastor

There was something *deeply* satisfying about freezing some office equipment and chucking it through computer screens—and then freezing the ruined computers. “What ugly things.” He kicked over a flat screen (he had the boots back on) and turned to roll his eyes at Telly. “Have you ever seen a computer that wasn’t ugly? I’ve seen a couple of custom jobs, but that’s it. I remember when electronics were art pieces! Nowadays you’re expected to stare at these things eight hours a day, and yet...” Ooh, this desk had a rubber duck on it. Why did it have a rubber duck? Alastor stole it.

Sir Pentious

"I don't know! They want everything 'sleek' and 'modern' but it just looks ugly! There's no style in it!" He shook his head, swinging his tail to shatter a frozen section of wall.

"I think that's good for this level, yes? Let's head up to the next floor and get the data, then we can shatter Joel and get the Hell out of here!"

Alastor

“They want ‘sleek and modern’? Then they ought to go for—oh, what’s it getting called these days—‘art deco,’ I think it is now? All glass and steel! Sharp angles and smooth curves! It doesn’t get more sleek and modern than that, and on top of that it’s stylish! As! Hell!” He punctuated the declaration with three wild shots. “‘Sleek and modern’ my tail. They’re just too cheap to decorate and think beveling a few corners will hide that.” He offered his elbow to Telly. Shall they?

Sir Pentious

Telly took his arm, beaming down at him. "Yes, that would make things more interesting! But alas, we seem to be two of the only demons with a modicum of _taste_, darling."

He slithered into the stairwell and then started up, face screwing up again. "You know, you don't need to be Joel anymore! The guards and cameras are incapacitated!"

Alastor

“Call me paranoid. What if those last two hit some kind of panic button when they heard strange voices?” He iced the stairs ahead of them, adding a couple of layers until it was more of a slope. Tada! A handy ramp. Isn’t he clever?

He took one step on the slope and almost lost his footing. Okay, he’s half clever. He clung to the handrail, it’s fine, he’s fine.

Sir Pentious

Telly just casually hefted Alastor into his arms, holding him bridal style as he slithered up the slope. Oh, chilly. He shivered a bit.

"Wouldn't you be able to hear or sense it, it they did?"

Alastor

Feeling Telly shiver against him immediately made Alastor’s stomach turn. Oh right, Telly was naked from the waist down. “You must be freezing in here.” He slid an arm around Telly’s back, don’t mind getting hugged by Joel. When they reached the next landing, Alastor got back to his feet and summoned up a quilt with erratic asymmetrical blocks and decorative stitching to sling around Telly’s shoulders. There. Better.

“I’ve got the broadcasting tower turned down as far as it can go right now, in case of anything he’s got listening for my frequency.” (It’s him, he’s the broadcasting tower.) “If the guards used something that broadcasts on a high frequency—like, say, a cell phone—they might be able to get a signal out without my hearing.”

Sir Pentious

"Ah, I see. Well then, good thing we just have to get the data and then slag everything else in the office area, and we're free and clear." Telly tied the corners of the blanket around his neck, smirking as he did.

"How do I look? Dashing?" He snickered and slithered over to the first door, throwing it open to get to one of the computers. He booted it up and plugged in a small hard drive, clacking away.

"Alright, downloading everything on their internal servers. Should just take a couple minutes, and then we can destroy everything and go."

Alastor

“Incredibly dashing. Like a movie villain preparing to steal the national treasury.” His expression was unusually soft as he spoke, though. Don’t worry about it, just the cold getting to him.

He leaned over Telly’s shoulder to watch him work. “And you’re *sure* V#x isn’t going to be able to detect what you’re doing here?” Asking for the thousandth time...

Sir Pentious

"No. At least, because we're not going to leave anything intact for them to trace. Vox has smart people working for him, but even they're not smart enough to piece together a hard drive from a slagged computer." He shrugged, and turned to smile at him, though there was a brief bwaugh at the sight of Joel's face.

"Alright, almost....there!" He smiled and unplugged the drive, tucking it into his satchel. With one large sweep, he swung his tail around and used it to completely smash the station, giving a few extra slaps to make sure it was in pieces.

"Now freeze it! And then to the server room. We'll destroy those and then the rest of the computers in the other rooms. Then we're free and clear!"

Alastor

Another stomp for good measure, then a solid coating of ice over all the components, and Alastor followed Telly to the other rooms. “You know, sometimes Vaggie or Charlie will complain about the hotel computer freezing. Somehow I doubt they meant like this!”

Sir Pentious

Telly laughed, nodding at him. "Oh, certainly. You know, if they'd like an upgrade, I'm sure I could whip up something better than whatever they're currently using."

He shrugged, going through another door too the server room. Telly tapped his chin a moment. "Darling, could you get me a baseball bat? I suddenly feel the urge to take up a career in baseball!!"

Alastor

“Oh, you don’t need to waste your time on the hotel’s computer.” A dismissive gesture. “If they wanted a better one, they could get their own. The princess can certainly afford it.”

He saw where this was going. He liked where it was going. He pulled out a bat and held it out to Telly. It’s got a bunch of nails sticking out of it. Why does Alastor have that bat already.

Sir Pentious

Telly took the bat with a grin, holding it up in the classic batter's stance.

"Pentell Tinely readies himself at the plate....The pitcher winds up....And!!" He swung with all his might (which was actually a LOT) and smacked the nearest server, the machine sputtering sparks as it fell and toppled into its neighbor, creating a literal domino effect of toppling servers.

"And it's a home run! The crowd goes WILD!!"

Alastor

Alastor’s invisible audience goes wild. Listen to that cheering. Babe Ruth couldn’t hype them up that much.

“What a swing! It’s sailing straight over the crowd’s heads! It’s headed for the fence! It’s going—going—GONE, ladies and gentlemen! Yessirree, that ball is out of the park!”

Sir Pentious

Telly cackled as he began to go to town on the rest of the servers, beating them all to scrap. "And now he's beating the other players to death! It's a massacre! Oh the humanity!!"

Alastor

“We’ve never seen a game like *this* before! But there’s nothing in the rule books against murder! Why, at this rate, the visiting team won’t have enough players to cover every position!” Alastor followed behind Telly, casually icing any servers that looked sufficiently trashed.

Sir Pentious

He was huffing now, puffing, and blowing these houses down-- with the bat. Every server, he made sure to obliterate into nothing but bits of plastic and metal. Once satisfied with his work, he turned the bat upside down and leaned on it.

"Phew! That was something. My arms will be sore tomorrow, I bet." He straightened, and offered the bat back to Alastor. "Alright, ready to go?"

He blinked and let out a little 'oh!'. "We almost forgot to smash Joel! Let's make sure to get him on the way out."

Alastor

Alastor took the bat and twirled it. “Let’s! Although I can just *imagine* him trying to explain to his bosses why he’s the only guard that wasn’t smashed to pieces.” He grinned viciously. “But no, better not to leave any loose ends.”

Sir Pentious

"Yes, that would be hilarious!" Telly snickered as he slithered, heading back towards the stairs. Just one more flight, Pentell, you can do it. Be strong for ~~mother~~ Alastor.

Alastor

Better not ice it this time, but Alastor’s arm was still available if Telly wanted it. “Then to go swim in a sea of stolen fuel! Not to boast prematurely, but oh, what a spectacular job we’ve done, haven’t we!” He was practically skipping up the stairs. “And this is only the beginning!”

Sir Pentious

"Oh yes, we still need to make certain to drop some of the Clonium at Vergil's. You can do that remotely, can't you? I know the coordinates for it." He will gladly take the offered arm and slither his way up those final steps. Ah, there we go, no more stairs.

He slithered through the halls, back to the security office, and entered. "My darling, did you want to do the honors?"

Alastor

“Not a problem!” He’d need somebody to peek through to make sure the coast was clear, but there shouldn’t be any problems with that.

He shut the door to reveal Joel behind it, still frozen with his head bowed toward his phone. “With the greatest pleasure.” He planted one foot on the chair seat to keep it steady. “You know, I’ve always been *fascinated* by stories of doppelgängers destroying their originals. Something about it is simply... Oh, I don’t know. There’s art in there somewhere.” He raised the bat, lined it up with Joel’s head as carefully as a golfer taking aim, and then swung it in a long, graceful arc. Joel’s head shattered into icy shards that pelted the wall.

Sir Pentious

Telly gave a nice golf clap at that masterful swing, before putting an arm around Alastor's waist. "Now turn back, I want a kiss before we go. Should be able to just portal out, yes?"

Alastor

Without answering, he shifted back into his own appearance and turned in Telly’s embrace to kiss him. Alastor had been waiting for this moment since Telly first smashed a guard. His ruthless, vicious, gorgeous supervillain.

Sir Pentious

Arms wrapping around Alastor, Telly pulled him closer, turning his head to deepen the kiss. He nipped at his lip, a hand coming up to cup his cheek, and he pulled back panting.

"Let's get home. Mission successful." He grinned and kissed Alastor again.

Alastor

“*Mmh.*” He opened a portal next to them and tugged Telly in without breaking the kiss. Celebration time—

No, no. Planting evidence. *Then* celebration.

Sir Pentious

He continued the kiss, even through the strange stomach flipping Hentai's dimension gave him, and landed with a thud back on the airship. Telly broke it then to stroke Alastor's face.

"Where did you stash the Clonium X?"

Alastor

“Over there.” A vague gesture. He’d deposited both the fuel and themselves in the airship’s storage. “How much are we sacrificing?”

Sir Pentious

"A third should be enough to make it seem like he sold off the rest. And we can dump two thirds of the diamonds as well. That should be more than enough to convince Vox."

Alastor

“Pity,” Alastor sighed. A few tentacles separated about a third of the pile from the rest, and Alastor gestured. “Care to add the rest?”

Sir Pentious

Telly dug the diamonds from his bag-- a nice large sack of them-- and sifted through. He set a couple handfuls on the ground, and then tied up the bag to toss onto the pile of Clonium to be sent.

"There, that should do it."

Alastor

And in a few seconds the pile was gone—off to bring down Vox’s wrath on some other innocent overlord. Farewell.

And Alastor could turn all his attention to Telly.

Sir Pentious

Telly was more than ready for him, already there, against him, cupping his face to kiss again. And then he was laughing against his lips.

"WE DID IT!!" He laughed louder, that typical Pentious fare, and picked Alastor up to spin him around.

"WE DID IT!!!!!!"

Alastor

“We di—!” He was being SPUN. He held on tight, laughing giddily as well. He didn’t stop clinging when his feet were back on the ground, only leaning harder against Telly. “Brilliantly schemed and flawlessly executed, Sir Pentious! And just *think* of all we can do next!”

Sir Pentious

"OH YES, THERE'S SO MUCH!! WITH THE EGG PRODUCTION NOW--" He stopped mid sentence, rushing over to the Clonium to grab a bar and then slithering as fast as his tail could take him.

"ALASTOR! CALL THE EGGS TO THE CLONING CHAMBER!! WE NEED TO GET PRODUCTION STARTED ASAP!!"

Alastor

“Yes yes, of course!” He hurried after Telly, summoning up his microphone to feed his voice through the ship’s PA system: “**All hands to the cloning chamber! It’s time to make you lot some little brothers.**”

Sir Pentious

Telly arrived to the Eggs streaming in, he counted them up-- yes, all 19, good.

"I NEED #9 FRONT AND CENTER, THE REST OF YOU, TO THE STORAGE ROOM! MOVE ALL THE CLONIUM X INTO THIS CHAMBER!" The Eggs gave an affirmative cry and rushed off, #9 stepping up as requested.

"INTO THE CHAMBER, NINE! YOU KNOW THE DRILL BY NOW!"

"Yes, Sir, Mister Bossman!!" The Egg cried, climbing in. Telly placed the Clonium into its slot and pressed a few buttons. The tube that held #9 slide shut with a pneumatic THOOMP and the machine began to whir to life.

Telly slithered back, looking up at it with manic glee-- and it began to spit Egg Bois out of the tube at the end. The came out fully dressed, and steaming, and Telly slithered over to the first one to pop out.

"YOU ARE TO STAY HERE AND INFORM THE REST OF YOUR BRETHERN THAT COME OUT OF THE MACHINE TO HELP THE OTHERS MOVING THE CLONIUM X! AND ONCE THE MACHINE IS DONE WITH ITS CURRENT BAR, REFILL IT! THINK YOU CAN HANDLE THAT, NUMBER...." He trailed off, quickly spinning to Egg to see his number. "NUMBER 390?"

"Oh of course, Mr. Bossman! I've got it all handled!! You can count on me!" 390 saluted and Telly nodded, slithering back over Alastor.

"Alright, that's that. We can finally go celebrate our victory now." He leaned close to flick his tongue against Alastor's cheek.

Alastor

He watched in amazement as eggs began popping out—just like that! So fast! No warmup, no assembly time, just instant eggs. “You could put every chicken farmer in Hell out of business with this thing.”

Sir Pentious

Telly looked back at his machine and puffed proudly. "Yes, I _could_ but why bother? My Eggs are more useful than just as food!"

He slid his hand into Alastor's, twining their fingers as he began to slither back towards the other end of the airship, where his bedroom lay.

"Let's let it work. You and I have some celebrating to do." He purred.

Alastor

“Right, yes...” Don’t mind him if he turns to watch the machine over his shoulder as Telly leads him away. Isn’t that something. “I can’t believe I’m doing burglary jobs with the smartest man in Hell.”

Sir Pentious

Telly laughed. "I can't believe I'm doing burglary jobs with the Radio Demon!"

He turned towards Alastor and pulled him close, kissing him hard.

Alastor

When Telly said it like *that,* it almost made him sound like somebody important.

Alastor leaned into the kiss hungrily, all teeth and tongue. He was going to burn down Hell with this man and he couldn't wait.

[yourneighbourpotato]

An essay and rant on TLOU II

How about naughty dog takes another year or 2 or 3 and does the same thing that sonic movie did and remakes the game and we all agree that part 2 was an unofficial fever dream. And skip to part 3 where everyone gets better development and better not dry deaths or no deaths 💞 and every diverse character isn't there just to be there 💖💖💖 but they are there as people with polished personalities and growth 💞 because as much I'd like to scream gay, lesbian, trans rights I can't.

Although the story needs some or maybe a lot of polishing. The overall ideas aren't that bad but the execution. That's where ND kind of fucked up. Graphics and gameplay may have improved but the game is so slow paced that it can get quite annoying. Graphics and gameplay sadly don't outweigh the minuses of the story.

Now let's get into some spoilers. So yeah spoiler warning.

First of all let's start with Abby. Why? Just why? What's the point of forcing everyone to play as her after she killed Joel who helped her? Also how the fuck did the least trustful character who outsmarted other survivors in 1st game just forgot all survival tactics and experience he had??? Why did Ellie just decided not to use a gun on Abbys group? Or why didn't she think of some plan to distract or ambush them??? Why were we made to chase after Abby the whole game only to see Ellie refuse to kill her? Why did we have to jump around the characters and story so much? Why was the story told in that order??? And etc.

Now. I don't mind ND killing a character but they did it way too early and way too shitty, I wish his death was more meaningful or at least they made a nice build up to that significant moment. Tbh even getting Joel seriously hurt (could've been to the point where he can't live his life like before, can't move legs, looses an arm(so he can't play guitar), can't use his body at all, etc.) that would've been enough to make everyone angry and wanting for revenge maybe even more?.. Or if they(Abbys group) wanted to get revenge on Joel so bad they could've just fucked Ellie up(make him watch her getting tortured/killed maybe) to cause even more pain to Joel who now sees Ellie as a daughter. Abbys part could've been way shorter or at the very least once again done in completely different manner. Because almost no one gave a single shit about Abby and her story and her part of the game. The game could've deceived us into thinking that Abby is a nice pal and she becomes part of Jackson and then she strikes once she gets to know Joel's weak points. Fuck it destroy Jackson like Joel destroyed the fireflies facility. Make it epic. Idk.

Or. Give players more freedom in making choices of what they want to do.? Just a thought.

I don't mind developers that try to be brave and try out new things but if you do it do it thoughtfully with passion that shines through the screen even in the darkest moments.

Now let's move on to the things I actually liked. Obviously I liked graphics they were decent and the environments looked great, not to mention how much fun you can have with photo mode. Music as always was beautiful, loved the guitar in this one too. Gameplay, well it wasn't the hugest leap forward with it because there were stuff that were just chores to lengthen the gameplay in the most boring way possible, such as get this cart to this place so you can climb up or get this wire to start electricity so u can open the gate and etc.(basically the same shit like in the last game or tbh almost any of their games, yes I'm talking to you uncharted but everything else with gameplay such as exploring was more or less fun) Killing enemies was fun, not so much fun killing dogs but you gotta do what you gotta do. Killing Abby at any given opportunity was also quite the attraction. Almost every flashback with Joel and Ellie was enjoyable and brought some tingly emotions in me and also were fun to play and experience. Ellies and Dinas relationship was for more or less okay for me and the 2 of them had some nice moments together (which. Could've been better but oh well, let's not deny that TAAAAAAKEEE E ONNNNN MEEEEEE TAKE ON MEEEE was epic) Also I like how the NPCs that you're with are always doing something even when you are standing in one place(and they also help you out with taking out enemies). I liked that we got some more details about the world of TLOU but it could've been done better. And that's probably about it.

Edit: no that's not about it, the snowball fight was lit. Playing the guitar is enjoyable(guitar hero has nothing on this part). And petting dogs is a plus as well.

Tbh I think ND will have a hard time gaining back the trust from their fans and their ex-fans. It's either they completely remake the story of part 2 or they might as well release some sort of game where we get to play as Joel in that skipped 20 year period. AND IT BETTER BE POLISHED AS FUCK. Wouldn't mind if it went little below the level of 1st game but not below the left behind dlc.

Thank your for listening to my Ted talk anyone wanting to talk and rant. Feel free to do so, share your experience. Video games are art and since art is subjective all opinions are valid. Just because opinions are different doesn't mean one's thoughts are superior to others and there's definitely no need to feel personally attacked by someone else's opinion.

[naptoons]

Broken- Erick Colon

Warnings: verbal fights, cursing.

Theme: Angst

Summary: you and Erick thought getting together would be great, you guys liked each other since you were in middle school. But never told each other, you’ve dated other people and now y’all are broken. So broken that the relationship becomes toxic.

A/N: I apologize for all the angst buttttt yah girl ain’t feeling the fluffs at the moment, I’ve been in a very let down mood so i apologize. But enjoy!!!

Proofread? : no.

Being in love with Erick consisted of bricking, kissing and makeup sex. Then back to yelling at each other and making each other mad. Loving each other started to become a chore. The push and pull of wanting to and being scared. You both thought this relationship would save you both. But y’all are far to broken for each other.

“She was all up on you Erick!!, did you not notice or you just dont fucking care?!” You yell at him for the fourth time this week, because he was so nice he couldn’t notice his friend was being too flirty, even though she knew you guys were together and you were standing obviously right there. “Y/n?” He sighs “how many fucking times do I have to tell you shes a friend?!” “ friends?! To be all cuddled up in you like that?!” “I don’t understand why you’re so fucking pissed about it y/n I’m with you for fuck sakes!” Erick huffs walking over to the sofa, you stand on the wall apart from him, fighting the urge to block his view of the tv, you weren’t done with him, cause he doesn’t seem to understand how this friend of his has a crush on him, to make matters worse it’s an ex.

“You’re probably fucking her that’s why you don’t care” you mumble with your arms crossed Erick’s leg bounces up and down trying to calm himself down, he was angry at how big of a scene you made at the party, you had leaped over the arms of Richard and Joel, pulling her hair down to the floor as you got a couple of hits in, to make matters even bigger you threw a drink at her. “Y/n-please I’m done arguing with you” he demands through gritted teeth.

“Well are you? Are you cheating on me?” You ponder, Erick doesn’t answer instead he drinks water from the glass “of course you would go back to ex, she’s everything I’m not Huh?”

“How ment times i Gotta tell your she’s just a friend?!” He yells at you standing up and throwing a glass cup close to you, your body shutters in fear. You’d never thought these arguments would result to you guys putting your hands in each other. The impact of that throw just shattered all over your foot.

“Baby—“ he shutters before two members come in, Richard and Chris looking at Erick, one in anger and one in utter shock

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Richard yells at him, walking towards him Chris grabs your arm softly moving you out the way of the shattered glass. Joel and zabdiel turn around the corner looking at your cut feet, Joel lifts you up bridal style to take care of the glass in your foot.

Joel sits you on the sink grabbing the first aid kit, he sees your somber mood, your eyes look so distraught and scared, Joel swallowed the lump in his throat thinking how he can advert your attention from what just occurred. “Hey you wanna go grab some frosty’s? Or do you want McDonald’s milkshake?”

“If their machine works” you dryly joke

“True,” he laughs a little “so what do you want? Or do you want both?”

“I want spicy nuggets and a frosty, maybe a McDonald’s caramel sundae”

“Orders up” Joel smiles, “Cmon lets go”

Sitting on the grass, you pick at your frosty slowly turning it into a milkshake anyways, Joel notices how you’re spacing out so he rubs your back softly “do you need space?”

“No, cause when I’m alone I don’t know what I might start thinking, or doing”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Joel whispers, as if theirs someone following you guys.

“I’m a mess Joel, a broken mess and I knew this all to well, I knew this before I dated him, my last two relationships were scarring, one was verbally abusive, and the other cheated, I don’t know why I thought Erick would save me, I should’ve never jumped into this relationship—" your voice cracked

“If I knew I wasn’t ready” you barely finished, but Joel caught every vowel and Constant. “I fuck up every relationship I have”

“Hey no, that’s not true, listen those guys they fucked up the relationship to not even consider how you felt, because love shouldn’t be difficult, love is when you’re so terrified of hurting the other person, of they loved you they wouldn’t have dare to break you”

“Is love constantly arguing?”

“It is if you’re arguing about something that could potentially cause you guys to separate, that means both of you are scared, and sometimes it’s a defensive mechanism because you don’t want another relationship to turn out as the last”

“Arguments are nothing but miscommunication gone wrong” Joel hums at the end “and when that happens neither party is listening, it’s just pain talking” drinking the frosty from your cup you nod your head. Yeah, it makes sense now, neither of you guys are communicating because you both are scared of your bruises resurfacing, so instead of flight, you fight instead. It’s just pain on top of pain.

“So if you want, take a break think it over, do you love him? and is it worth the wait for you guys to heal?”

“Are you saying we’re together at the wrong time?”

“No, love has no time, and it surely doesn’t wait either, I’m just saying healing takes a while, but you can still be together and heal too, communication is one form of healing” he bumps your shoulder softly

“Wow, you really do give out great advice”

“If I did, id be with my ex right now, I’m just trying to prevent you from making the same mistake”

“Thanks Joel”

It’s been four weeks since you saw Erick, you were trying to give yourself and him enough breathing room to think about your relationship. And not only that but to discover who you are within yourself. ”now or never right?” You ask yourself standing in front of their house, ringing the doorbell you Yep your foot on the welcome mat. “Aw fuck it I can’t do this” just as your about to turn around the door swings open, and there he was. Even after all these weeks, he still gave your butterflies, and your cheeks rose in color.

“Hey” he starts off softly

“Hey-um can we talk?” You ask fiddling with your bracelet, it was the bracelet he bought you back from touring, with every stop they had you always remembered to buy you a souvenir. Since you couldn’t travel along with him cause of school.

“Yeah of course come in” you walk in the house, following Erick to his room, sitting in the bed he sits across from you giving you enough space so you’re not uncomfortable or scared. He’d never want to see you make that face, specially on his accord.

“So I’ve been thinking, that we’ve been having way to many fights, this break we had from each other was much needed” you look to see ericks head looking down at his hands , his body looked so stiff and somber, he didn’t seem like himself. “But, I know that I still love you and I have so much growth for myself, I have a lot of room to improve, so just know it’s not your fault, nor is it mine, and it’s not our exes fault either, we don’t get to choose how or when we get hurt in this world, but we get to choose how we deal with the pain, and we both chose poorly” you turn your body fully towards him.

Erick looked like he hasn’t been motivated to do anything for these past weeks, you had hoped he’d be taking care of himself like you did, but this hit him in a different way. “Hey Erick, I’m not mad at you, I’m disappointed in you nor am I upset with you, I know you didn’t mean it, it was just fear talking so dont-“

“How you can you forgive someone that almost threw glass at you? How can you love someone that argued with you until they pushed you away? How can you even for a second, still love me after all the pain I’ve gave you?” Erick finally looks at you, his eyes drowning in every negative emotion you can think of. “Y/n you don’t deserve the repeat of opening and closing so much, you deserve to be happy, you deserve someone who is there twenty-four-seven, you deserve someone man enough to actually listen and value what you say, because all I did in that relationship was made you cry alone countless nights, and gave you more problems then I was worth, y/n you really are an angel, and I can’t drag you down for being stuck in the past”

You stood up from the bed still eyes laid on Erick, you stood in front of him removing his hand from his face. He looks up at you shocked and dazed. He was wondering why are you still here? How could you even look at him? “Listen, I’m not going to force you into a relationship if that’s not what you want but listen to me carefully” you pause for his answer

“Okay” he lets out an unsteady answer

“Erick, remember when I told you that even if you were a shattered glass house I would still pick you up and rebuild you?” You ask him

“Yeah” his voice simmer down slowly

“I didn’t make that promise because you were my friend, I made that promise because I know what type of person you are, Erick you’re the most wholehearted, passionate and charming man I’ve ever been with, so why the hell would I ever stop loving a person like that?”

Erick gazes at you again his breath stuck in a tight air bubble, “Erick, yeah you scared me that day, but what made me scared wasn’t the glass, it was that we couldn’t help or understand each other, so I thought I would lose you, I can’t pretend that day didn’t happen, but I’m willing to heal it, to heal us, only if you want too” you kiss his knuckles softly. You missed the way his hands fit into yours, the way he would rub circles on your inner thigh when he was driving. The crinkle in his nose when you pull out the awful dad jokes.

You missed him.

“I’m willing to try too, I love you” Erick stands up hovering over you just by a couple inches “you look beautiful by the way” he caresses your cheek In one hand, while the other holds your waist.

“You idiot, my cheeks and eyes are swollen but I’m beautiful?” You punch him softly

“Always beautiful the hell you mean?” He furrows his eyebrows, “your as beautiful as the moon dancing across the water” you giggle with a slight blush tint from ear to ear, luckily it was dark in his room, next thing you knew Erick pressed his lips on yours, passionately he softly laid your back on the bed and hovered over you.

We had to save ourselves. In order to save our relationship.

[seeksstaronmewni]

Samurai Jack Season 5 in Review: EPISODE XCVI

Things can change greatly when one is open enough to see the truth.

As the episode’s TV spot promoted (as with earlier TV spots for the season in general), it’s time for the Scotsman episode of Season 5! Enough said.

NOW, as the Scotsman proclaimed, “NOW we... CHAAAAAAAAAAAAARGE!!!!!”

This’s the first episode in Season 5 to be rated TV-PG-V (for “moderate” violence), although it’s not really that violent. It clearly could be TV-Y7-FV, but I guess that Cartoon Network is concerned about easily imitable violence such as kicking and punching (unlike Disney Channel/Disney XD), so it may never be TV-Y7 again.

NOTE: Obviously, I started working on this post on Memorial Day of 2020 in honor of our dear Scotsman. Anyway, I’m curious as to what was going on with the Scotsman’s family and what they were plotting, during the time that we’re focusing on Jack and Ashi... but we still have 40 episodes to come until the series is complete. I was too busy or lazy to finish the post before the end of the day or month (for that matter, I was mostly inactive on it for 6 months), but I’m slowly back on it, so WACH’OUT!

We start with Aku’s place... which appears much more barren than it was in EPISODE I. The episode is another Andrews-Tartakovsky duo-boarding. Just the sound of wind, but no mist full of demons for some reason. Perhaps some bombing or missile attack cleared Aku’s yard?

A tank rolls over to the edge of Aku’s yard. A soldier within signals the other tanks to advance with his horn. These tanks are designed by the late and great Chris Reccardi and @heydusty​.

The camera streaks further back to reveal another army of men riding a 20-legged, rhino-like creature, in armor similar to the exterior of the tanks. He signals his army with his horn, too.

How about another army, then?

Signaled by a woman with her bagpipes, she leads her army...

a whole army of women

Talk about girl power... compared to The Powerpuff Girls, which stopped in 2019 and wasn’t nostalgically correct enough for the last 3 seasons anyway.

Whichever one I find most attractive all depends on which hairstyle looks most attractive... like the one in the bottom right corner. Aside from that, they pretty much all look and sound the same.

The sound of wheels grows audible. Who is that man in the wheelchair?

He has a machine gun for his left leg. Slowly, the camera, defocused except on his leg, eases out.

“Ha ha! We found him!”

It is, indeed, the Scotsman. The hype-inducing Scotsman!

And he’s pretty much ready to fight!

Well... except for one thing...

“I take you out for a day of battle, and you’re dressed like you’re goin’ dancin’!”

She’s kind of bashful. Isn’t she, Scotsman?

Flora was apparently out of appropriate uniform... not that it’s the time for dancing, or dance-fighting, however they intended to take Aku down face-to-face. She looks kind of hot, but this’s not the time to be thinking about fashion or a sultry appearance.

“That goes for all of you.”

“Cover yourself!” the Scotsman yells; “You’ll catch your death of cold!” He definitely cares about his daughters--I know not how many he has, but it’s an army’s worth--but I don’t think that they’re really cold at all.

What season is it, anyway?

(Oh, and, for the shot above, Flora has tiny dot eyes X3)

“Now”, the Scotsman proclaims, “we... CHAAAAAAAAAAAAARGE!”

“EYAAAAHHHHH” he shouts excitedly, as Flora drives him into battle.

The Scotsman’s army rolls into battle, firing with some nicely-colored smoke.

*p-powaa-p-p-powaa-powaa-p-powaa-aa*

Yep. There’s that more familiar Universal/Hanna-Barbera explosion, like one would hear in Seasons 1-6 of The Powerpuff Girls, serving as the sole sound effect for this shot and repeating itself. Joel Valentine’s uses of these classic explosions are probably different from those on Sound Ideas’ Universal & H-B sound libraries as these’re cleaner in quality.

The armored creatures apparently shoot some pretty hot snot out of their trunks, leaving us to wonder what this particular animal ultimately is. That classic Anime whistle (kind of sounds like “SHELL SCREAMING WHINE DOWN”) becomes audible as the bunch of hot snot falls toward Aku’s place.

“It seems we are under attack”, Aku overhears. “Under attack?” Aku highlights, beginning to consider use for this opportunity as he slowly stretches his beard. Aku takes a peek at the war through his own kind of TV or something. “Perhaps annihilating this scum will break me out of my...

me-lai-i-i-i-i-se.” Aku streak immediately upward.

Meanwhile, the Scotsman was firing HIS LEG gun... (footage that the last TV spot advertised for the coming of Season 5 in March, well before this episode itself was advertised, also showing the same footage)

Not sure at what HIS LEG gun was firing, since Aku wasn’t out, until...

*bwssss! wb-wb-wb-wb!*

...Aku rockets out of his place...

...trailing blazing fire as he turns into a giant ball...

...bowling his way over all of the tanks. The armored creatures on which 1/3 of the army rides are next!

“You know what?” The Scotsman said, come to his senses. “This was a bad idea! Time to go, girls.” Protective of his many daughters,  the Scotsman knew what to do in such a disastrous moment: “I’ll stall him while you escape.”

“I’m sorry, old man; I think you are lost.”

Just as Aku was about to make the annihilation complete, a voice froze him: “Hold it! You’re not goin’ anywhere, you big buffoon”. Not knowing who this guy was at all, Aku looked down upon him... and he seemed pretty serious, even though he met not this guy before at all.

“The samurai is still out there, inspirin’ people by the thousands!”

“I ain’t lost, y’ tree ogre!” The Scotsman talked back, pushing his insults further and further. “After all these years, you’re powerless against him... afraid to show yourself ‘cause you know he’s out there, and you can’t do anything about it!”

“Ah ha ha! You’re just a big baby! Why don’t you go cry to your mama--”

Aku was not in the mood for being “roasted”.

*wshiiiiiing*

A third of a sword flung out of the explosion.

Aku burned him.

*psst*

Aku burned him good.

Those catchlight-y eyes don’t lie, Flora.

OK; “highlights” would be the more common term.

This’s why I began writing this post on Memorial Day 2020.

When you roast Aku, Aku roasts you back.

“Why did he bring, up, the samurai?”

A relative question: If Aku cares no longer, what else has Aku to do with his life? Must he be evil? Some centuries worth since he started ruling... I guess that the Scotsman was just trying to make Aku upset, when he could speak a better conversation than mostly insult him.

Flora stabs the remainder of the sword into the ground by his ashes. There is some inscription on it that should be interesting to decode. I wonder if there’s an Easter egg in its words...

“I be back--and in me prime, no less!”

BOOM! Souls don’t die! Of course, rather than probably being in Heaven, he’s more of a ghost who’s still able and willing... by Celtic magic, which apparently connects to the inscription on his very sacred sword. “We’ll find Jack” he plots, “and finally defeat that BIG BABY!”

Anyways... one night, probably very far away from wherever Aku’s place is, Ashi was doing some thinking.

She grew up with her mom, who claimed that Aku created everything, but now she met Jack, who told her that Aku had the world ravaged.

Ashi was raised to believe that “The samurai is the poison killing the land”... as if Aku even cared at that point; she never even met Aku. Jack’s wisdom begat conflict in her mind: “If you... let go of (your) hate, you will see the truth.”

At least it’s an otherwise peacful night.

Well. It was.

“I have questions, mother.”

Ashi began to hallucinate (or it was some kind of weird fever dream... I know not) as the moon turned into her mother’s mask. “The samurai sleeps”, she slips through her mouth. “Kill him in his slumber before he wakes!”

“How DARE you?!”

I suppose this’s what comes of wishing for the moon.

Ashi was not ready to act on instinct as this samurai saved her life, but her vision was merciless. She had questions (and had the... moon failed??? Well not the moon, just her mom), and frankly one could question if she or her mother knew who exactly the samurai was and what he looked like. She was apparently secluded from the rest of society and we know little of her life growing up, so of course she’d have questions.

From there, that very island, Ashi’s journey began, and the next morning Jack found a sea dragon to continue the journey.

Although the dolphin chirps act as a faint, echo-y sound in the scene, they stand out as more unique recording than the stereotypical Hollywood Edge recordings one would hear pretty much everywhere else, like in Spongebob or whatever.

The sea dragon submerges into the ocean and makes a giant leap into the sky! Not sure why, but it probably got them closer to land.

ANIME LINES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It might not seem too noticeable, but the animation right here looks a bit... tight/slow-paced or whatever. Korean animation’s been thinning out on ln-betweens since, like 2016 for some reason, but they still put more effort on this Cartoon Network Studios project than most right now.

“I shall not forget your kindness.”

The sea dragon gives him a snort and a roar of... gratitude?

Jack and Ashi finally made it to a bigger land (and probably not just a bigger island). Now where would they go from here?

“Goodbye.”

It looks like Jack was just going to part ways.

I’ll continue working on this post later, preferably/almost daily if not weekly. (I’ve just been very slow mentally and more autistic this year than I ever realized)

[adoranymph]

I’m not a fan of horror.

I’ve acquired a taste for things that contain horror elements, like Stranger Things, which contains moments of comedic heart and compelling character drama in addition to the horror, more so than say something with similarly disturbing horror moments like Alien or Aliens, and Shawn of the Dead, which is a romantic comedy spin on the traditional zombie apocalypse movie. And I’m more than certainly looking forward to checking out Lovecraft Country when it comes out. I’ve even gotten over my squeamishness concerning the face-melting in Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark, and the villain aging rapidly and ghoulishly into dust and then exploding in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. 

Actually, one of my favorite movies to watch with my father was the original Predator, probably because it was as much a movie about an alien trophy hunter hunting humans for sport as it was a macho action movie starring Arnold Schwarzenegger. And unlike Alien and Aliens, didn’t involve that oh-so-disturbing means of procreation we all have come to know and love about xenomorphs. Which means that no, much as I’m chill with the Predator, I still have little desire to watch its crossover with the xenomorph menace, Alien vs. Predator, all the way through. Admittedly, I have, in the past, watched clipped reviews of the Alien movies, including AVP and even AVP Requiem, which I think if I had watched in full would have made me sick. Because my curiosity just gets the better of me from time-to-time, and I know that about myself only too well.

And as much I love Michael Biehn in a James Cameron movie, and was touched by the concept of the found-family storyline in Aliens, I just don’t think I can stomach those chestbursters (ha ha).

I can’t even watch John Hurt reprise his role as “Kane” in a parody of his iconic horror scene in Spaceballs, and, like Shaun of the Dead, that’s a comedy! Even more so than Shaun of the Dead! Well, I do watch the part after when the CB sings, “Hello My Baby,” but by that point the parody of the worst part of that scene is over and done with, and there’s nothing but the joy of a dancing baby alien with Michigan J. Frog’s singing voice coming out of it while John Hurt “Kane” laments, “Oh no! Not again!”

And however compelling The Exorcist is in terms of character…yeah no, not touching that.

It is weird though given how far I’ve come in tolerating horror gore, but that’s just not a line I’m willing to cross yet as of writing this.

But back on track.

Sprinkling this in to counter-balance the PTSD I get from the mere thought of xenomorphs.

A few weeks ago, I got a taste for a different kind of horror, and honestly the kind I’ll take over gore in a heartbeat, even if both equally can get stuck in my head to an ugly degree. And that was rewatching M. Night Shyamalan’s The Sixth Sense. Probably because I got it in my head to watch Ari Aster’s Midsommar, and I still needed something else to fill out my creep-factor quota. I thought about backpedaling and watching his film before that, Hereditary, but I already know that that one ends far more bleakly (compared to Midsommar, depending on how you look at it, mind), and I needed something that was creepy and tragic, but had an ending that positively affirmed itself.

Then I remembered that The Sixth Sense sort of did that, and it had been a while since I had seen it, but I remembered it from as far back as childhood, me with my parents, adamantly not understanding how they could be fans of things like Alien and Aliens. More than that, I remember actually being able to enjoy Sixth Sense somewhat, even then. Appreciate it for its horror elements and moments of tragedy, rather than shrink away from it.

So I that’s what I did. And for all that Shyamalan has done (botching the first attempt at a live-action adaptation of Avatar: the Last Airbender chief among them), this one still gets me in the feels. Helps, I suppose, that I faced certain deaths and griefs at a far tenderer age than I was “meant to”, but even so, what Shyamalan does best, he does best here. And probably in Unbreakable and even Split too, but I haven’t seen those, and apparently after all that, Glass got panned so…yeah.

Still, if nothing else, it was fun to remember that Toni Collette was in this, and now that I’ve grown and seen her in things like Little Miss Sunshine, and clips of–that’s right, Hereditary–not be surprised, but no less pleased for her performance. Not only is she in a Shyamalan film that works its earmarks to its advantage, but she sells her character as a single mom at the end of her rope, with both a son, Cole, going through a difficult time that they can’t talk about, considering the kid knows what she’d think if he told her he sees dead people, and haunted by the death of her mother with whom she clearly had a difficult relationship. Not saying that this still couldn’t have worked, but given what The Happening did to Mark Wahlberg, color me double-rainbow impressed.

Bruce Willis too. Plus he had the advantage of working with Shyamalan on Unbreakable. So he probably knew how to play things in either situation. That and it’s honestly not a badly written character, all things considered, any more than Toni Collette’s character was. Or, even if it was, again, he sold it with his performance. He has a handle on subtle gravitas as much as he does going toe-to-toe with Alan Rickman (rest in peace) playing a terrorist.

Picked this one for the nostalgic fondness of, “Rent it on video. DVD’s also an option!”

Then you have Haley Joel Osment as Cole. And again, given he’s supposed to be this awkward kid with the added burden that he can see ghosts when no one else can and they scare him and even if he tells someone no one will believe him, any stiffness that comes with the Shyamalan style makes sense here. Death makes everything…stiff. Moreover, he sells it too. I get a lump in my throat just thinking of that moment when, after he’s at least told Bruce Willis’s character, as his therapist, about his secret, he tearfully demands, “How can you help me if you don’t believe me?”

Then there’s the revelation itself of the probably reason the ghosts come to him in the first place. Even if they’re not appearing to him with any conscious desire, some subconsciousness of their incorporeality compels them.

They need help.

In death, they’re lost, but maybe, as Cole’s still alive, there are loose ends he can tie off that they can’t. Not that he should, or even can–like I’m not sure what good he can do for that deceased housewife who clearly committed suicide to escape her abusive husband–but when he’s visited by the girl who’s mother poisoned her to death in a little fit of Munchausen-By-Proxy Syndrome, and he goes to her wake, finds the tapes that prove her mother’s guilt, gives them to her father, and the father confronts the mother about it, that got me more even than it did when I was younger and still trying to wrap my head around the concept of mothers poisoning their daughters.

That’s when things start to turn around for Cole. It’s still scary, but he takes that leap of faith, if you will, and one of the last times you see him with a dead person he’s conversing with them rather normally. Going over lines with them where he gets to play Arthur in a reenactment of the legend of the sword being pulling from the stone. You don’t even realize they’re another ghost until his teacher asks him who he was talking to and the ghost turns her head and you see the burn on the other side that obviously came from the fire that killed her. There’s just something so pure and honest in that, the idea of not only facing your fears, but doing so for the sake of lost souls who otherwise have no other hope because they’re dead.

After that is the one-two punch feels conclusion.

One being Cole not only confessing to his mother at last that he sees dead people, and her clearly starting to freak out about it, until he tells her that, “Grandma says, ‘hi’.” And communicates to her something that her mother never got to tell her herself. Of course, after thoughts of, “Oh dear lord, my son is insane,”, when the proof that Cole has indeed been talking to her mother’s spirit, that goes out the window in favor of,

“Do I make her proud?”

and she just cries and she and her son hug it out. And again, Toni Collette sells it.

Then you have the revelation of Bruce Willis’s character: he was dead the whole time! His wife wasn’t just distancing herself from him and then maybe cheating on him, he was dead and she was a widow who was simply trying to find love again. A moment of horror, and then tragedy, and then bittersweet letting-go all in the last few frames of the film. There’s the two in the one-two punch.

Not to mention my first experience of a “Shyamalan twist”. One that was set up well. Scenes constructed to lead you into thinking that of course he’s alive, details you glaze over, and then you realize, “Oh sh**.”

Which was probably part of the problem with some of his later works, where the twist became synonymous with his style, so sometimes it felt like they were put in there in future movies of his without any real rhyme or reason other than that the public were expecting them and thus somehow obligatory to the script.

Just as I haven’t seen Unbreakable, or Split, and certainly not Glass, I haven’t seen The Visit, either, though from what I understand, it almost sounds like Shyamalan went back to the same headspace he had here in The Sixth Sense, using the awkwardness that seems to come out in his work to an advantage in the found footage format. And the twist was apparently actually hilarious. Which is nice. Good for him.

Not everything someone makes is going to be a hit, even if they’re getting paid for it. But when things are a hit, sometimes, they hit so well that it can make up for all the misses. Or almost make up for them.

Honestly, Sixth Sense is, ultimately, the only Shyamalan film I’ve seen in full. But I enjoyed it no less this time, in fact, enjoyed it more now that I have a better understanding of death and grief and loss.

Guess that’s kind of a weird thing to say, but it’s that same kind of “enjoy” that comes from feeling like someone understands something about something you understand, and maybe even feel a little bit less alone for it. Not only did I experience a lot of grief as a preteen, but before that, I was the weird one that most everyone else at school generally avoided if not viciously teased, with the exception of a few fair-weather friends. All these elements and story beats used to creepy effect in Sixth Sense, along with that sense that some horror doesn’t so much horrify me as actually make my own life seem brighter rather than darker, made for a viewing experience that I place value in as I write this. (Especially given right now we are all apparently living a Stephen King novel right now.)

  So even if I still can’t handle body horror to the degree of stuff like Alien or Aliens, or David Cronenberg’s The Fly (much as I would love to see Jeff Goldblum in all his 80s hair awkward nerd glory as he romances Geena Davis), there is some horror I can handle. And figuring out why is yet one more thing that I place value in.

Keeping this link up to their donation page!

Sixth Sense Post I'm not a fan of horror. I've acquired a taste for things that contain horror elements…

[gracie-p8-officialblog]

Spilling Tea On Phantom of the Opera 2004

DISCLAIMER: I just want to say from the start that it is not my intention to offendanyone, you're entitled to your opinions and I'm allowed to have mine...

Ok, so, I just watched this movie a few days ago on my laptop and it was pretty much my first time sitting through the movie. I watched a few clips of the movie on YouTube but... Then, I decided to watch the whole movie. And this was my reaction.

Don't get me wrong! There WERE parts I liked but... That was just half of the movie... But overall... Um... It was meh. Ahem. Down to business!

My opinion on Gerard Butler as the Phantom? Um, wow. And not in a good way. I feel like this was a case of a talented performer being grossly miscast as the Phantom. I think this Tumblr post best describes on what I thought of his singing.

"He's supposed to have the voice of an angel, but it sounds like he's been gargling vinegar" ~Quoted by @faded-florals

Don't get me wrong. His voice is quite good for an untrained singer but... The Phantom is one of the biggest musical theatre roles of all time! It's right up there with Jean Valjean. It's really not a role that could go a competent singer, someone who's never sang professionally before but could be good once they've been trained up a bit. The role demands a truly great singer... And he wasn't right for the part.

His voice felt too strainy, growly and rock-ish for the Phantom. I didn't like how Joel Schumacher bought into the whole "sexy Phantom" thing and cast a hunky heart-throb, who was nowhere near disfigured enough. It's meant to be a gothic thriller novel with a small romantic subplot, not a B-grade vampire romance movie!

As for Emmy Rossum as Miss Christine Daae... it's true, her voice is good. She should know though, should she wish to excel, she has MUCH still to learn (Heeeeehee. Sorry. Couldn't resist.)

Emmy's Christine had little-to-no character growth and personality but I don't think it reflects her as an actress, but reflects more on the director and casting director because of how young she was (but more on that later)

Not only that, her Christine was SIGNIFICANTLY dumbed down and oversexualized. I mean, the entire point of the story is that Christine grows strong enough to overcome the trauma of an abusive relationship and make sure that her abuser never hurts anyone ever again but still shows the Phantom compassion and sympathy. I mean, her story arc is her becoming strong-willed enough to overcome the Phantom's pull/spell/enchantment/hypnosis or whatever you percieve it as on her! And don't get me started on her costumes because of the SEVERE lack of modesty.

The chemistry was a little flat because she was underage and her two male love interests were both in their 30s (which totally isn't HER fault, of course, but the directors could easily have cast someone else older)

Her voice, too, strikes me as being much too young and undeveloped. She has a very pretty, sweet-sounding quality to her singing but she doesn't sound rich and operatic enough to be a convincing Christine. Rebecca Caine and Amy Manford do the best job of singing the way I think Christine ought to sound- a maturing opera voice! Though POTO is NOT an opera (you wouldn't believe how many people actually think it is...), it does revolve around opera, and Christine is an opera singer, not a pop star.

And now onto... Everyone's favourite vicomte!!!!!!

C'mon people, put your bottles down. It is a truth universally acknowledged (or at least in the wee Raoul Defense Squad Circle) that Raoul is one of the greatest and most underrated boyfriends to ever exist in musical theatre and it's almost impossible to hate him because of how relatable he is.

Ladies, puh-leeze. He's much more relatable than you admit and face it, we all have a little bit of Raoul in us. Failure to see things staring us in the face, saying or doing the wrong thing at the wrong time, having a 'see it to believe it' attitude when we have little-to-no evidence on something... yeah, don't pretend you don't see a trend. Raoul is relatable whether we want him to be or not.

My thoughts on Patrick Wilson as Raoul, he was one of the few redeeming qualities of this not so great movie. Yeah, the swordfight and Tarzan leaps were a little too much but can you blame him?! And though I feel like that foppish wig made him look more like a magic elf prince than a vicomte, he couldn't control that!

His Raoul was so gentle and caring! Yeah, his acting was a bit stiff but at least his voice wasn't a chore to listen to, it has this warm, tender, comforting quality to it which suits Raoul. I really loved the way he sang "Don't throw away your life for my sake" and "I fought so hard to free you" in the Final Lair (😭😭😭) It feels like Raoul is genuinely apologising to Christine.

I know, I know... The Hadley Fraser fans are approaching with menacing expressions as we speak but let me clarify. I still think Hadley is amazing but... His Raoul kinda felt a little too shouty for me and his Raoul was closer to the LND-canon than POTO-canon (not his fault though).

Miranda Richardson (aka. Rita Skeeter) as Madame Giry is kind of weird. I mean, I know Madame Giry's supposed to be a little Strange and Mysterious. But this Mme. wasn't really Strange or Mysterious at all, or even slightly Spooky at all. She was just kind of an oddball. Popping up in random places to give warnings about the Phantom and looking at people as if she were questioning their life choices or something. As for her daughter... well, Jennifer Ellison's Meg was so-so. She's got a sweet-sounding voice and that added scene where she looked for Christine in the lair was a nice touch... But... Her Meg was kinda forgettable and uninteresting. Meg is supposed to prance around shrieking that the Phantom of the Opera is here, not whisper it in a blase manner that you half expect to be followed up with, "by the way, what's for lunch?" Not to mention, she rivaled Christine as far as low-necked costumes went.

Minnie Driver as Carlotta was spot on! Yes, I know she didn't sing the score but her acting was alright. She was very over-the-top and self-centered, which is great for Carlotta, but I felt her portrayal was a little too childish to be accurate. Carlotta is a successful middle-aged diva who's willing to scream and storm when she doesn't get her way, but she isn't a two-year-old pouting and throwing tantrums. (Yes, there's a difference.)

Ciaran Hinds and Simon Callow played Firmin and Andre, respectively. Their managers kinda felt like twits and nothing more. Also, Firmin's masquerade costume was ridiculous. The stupid kind, not the funny kind. ...Well, okay, it was a little funny.

I'm not going to touch on every song here, but I will say that "Hannibal" was beyond awful (if you thought the costumes in the stage version were a bit risque, you should see the movie ones- no, actually you shouldn't) and that "Think of Me," while very nice, was not particularly memorable. Christine's dress, however (despite its less-than-ideal neckline) was GORGEOUS, even though it looks completely out of place in a musical that supposedly takes place in ancient Alexandria.

"Little Lotte" kinda lost its charm by being spoken instead of sung. And Gerard Butler's voice in "The Mirror" was too rough and raspy for my ears and made me cringe in sympathetic shame. The title song was like a cheesy, campy B-grade horror movie tbh, trying way too hard to be spooky and chilling ("ooh, look, Phantom's Lair! It's DARK and SCARY down here!") and succeeding only in being cringeworthy. Not that I've actually ever seen a bad horror movie- or any horror movie at all, for that matter. Unless you count this one.

Christine's costume, too, annoyed me no end. She was basically wearing a corset and drawers under the dressing gown. *facepalm* The dressing gown is supposed to go OVER your COSTUME to keep it CLEAN, peeps. It's not a BATHROBE. And the amount of eye makeup she had on would terrify a raccoon. Yikes.

Though I liked the random horse because of its nod to the Leroux novel.

"Music of the Night" was so blah-slash-touchy-feely that it made me summarily uncomfortable.

I'd like to be able to say something nice about "I remember/Stranger than you dreamt it" but I have none. One thing that bugged me to no end was how Christine is no longer wearing stockings, like dude, that gives some GROSS implications. Anyways, let's skip to Il Muto!

Oh, but first I should say that "Notes" was rather a flop and that "Prima Donna" is unmemorable and indeed should probably be fast-forwarded as there's a rather unsavory bit involving a crew member showing the audience what he thinks of Carlotta's behaviour.

"Il Muto," I must say, was pretty doggone funny. Carlotta's "Your part is silent. Leetle toad," cracked me up into a bunch of giggling little pieces, and the little vignette of the Phantom tinkering with Carlotta's throat spray made her croaking later on a lot more believable.

Now for "All I Ask Of You", SQUEEEEEE!!!!!!!!! I honestly can't understand how anyone could listen to this song and still maintain that Christine and Raoul don't belong together. He represents everything she needs- stability, protection, a guiding hand and affirmed affection. She represents everything he needs, in turn- someone to show affection to and his childhood friend.

One thing I definitely think could have been left out was the scene in which Erik kills Buquet- we totally did not need to see him being chased, terrified, through the rafters and finally strangled. Gross.

And the Phantom and his rose crouching behind that statue... I think this was supposed to be sad, but there was too much snot mixed with tears for it to be sad. It was, again, gross. So was Gerard Butler's pathetic attempt at the "all that the Phantom asked of you" line. And the lack of a chandelier crash in that scene made the song anticlimactic.

And "Masquerade" was so-so but... The Phantom's entrance is anticlimactic somehow, and his Red Death costume (if indeed it's supposed to even BE the Red Death) is unimpressive. I don't like how Raoul just runs off to desert Christine as soon as things start looking ugly (yes, I realize he was going to get his sword, but still... something could have happened to her while he was gone. Duh, did this guy learn anything from "Little Lotte/The Mirror"? Just sayin)

As for Madame Giry's flashback immediately following, I like how it gives us some of the Phantom's backstory, but it seems really abrupt. You don't even realize until she's done that she was talking to Raoul the whole time- it sounds like she's just randomly reminiscing about Stuff, and if you didn't know the story you might be sitting there thinking, "who is this strange woman again?"

Also, Christine leaving wherever-it-is at, like, five in the morning to go to who-knows-where, completely oblivious to the fact that the Phantom is driving her. Whaaaaaaaaa? How'd he know she was planning to go for a graveyard stroll? Was he watching her through the mirror again? THAT'S JUST CREEPY.

"Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again" was rather mediocre and dulled down the fact that it is a Christine Empowerment™ song. Why, exactly, does Christine's father have the biggest monument in the cemetery? If he were a rich and famous violinist as his crypt seems to suggest, why on earth was his daughter struggling along as a chorus girl taking free music lessons?

The swordfight... Well... I had mixed feelings about it. Sword fights are all well and good, but... The swordfight takes away the element of mysterious danger to the Phantom. Okay, fine, Christine getting Raoul to spare the Phantom's life is a nice touch, I guess, but did it strike no one else that his "now let it be war upon you BOTH" makes absolutely NO sense after that? If she just saved his life, why would he suddenly be all, "thanks, but no thanks, I'M GOING TO MURDER YOUUUUUUUUUU"?

And "Twisted Every Way" was after "Wishing" which made ZERO sense. Plus, I didn't like how they cut most of it because in the musical, it gave Christine a spine!

"Point of No Return"? Hooooooo boy....... There are so many things wrong with this number. Let's just a list a few.

*HOW did no one recognise the Phantom through his "disguise"?! At least in the stage play, it made more sense because of how he was wearing a cloak that obscured most of his body.

*Christine's sleeves falling down over and over again were REALLY annoying.

*It was just too touchy-feely for my taste.

*The fact that Emmy Rossum was a teenager during filming made this scene gross because of the way they oversexualized Christine in this scene.

*Gerard Butler's voice in that scene made me cringe and shake my head in sympathetic shame.

*In the stage play, Christine ran from him, showing her own agenda and resistance to his pull! While in the movie, she didn't resist him!

*Now for the one that took the cake... The disfigurement! Or it would be a disfigurement if it actually made him look, y'know, deformed. Instead, as several people have put it, he looks like he got a bad sunburn or something. It's really rather pathetic. It makes him look more like a drama queen than he already is! Yeah.... I really don't like this movie.

On to... Final Lair!!!!!!!! It was a flop. From Raoul's whining and flailing around and his stringy hair flopping about (shallow complaint, I know, but it's so ugly) to Christine's sappy melodramatic "don't make me choooooooose" faces to the Phantom's prancing around with his ropes and maniacal laughter that somehow wasn't really scary at all... yeah, it was a flop. A major, major flop. And though The Kiss wasn't all that bad, all I could think of was, "She's SIXTEEN! SIX! TEEN! THIS IS CREEPY, DISTURBING AND GROSS!"

Which is why it's so difficult for me to admit that, um, I... cried at the end.

I COULDN'T HELP IT GUYS HE WAS ALL ALONE THERE IN HIS LAKE WITH HIS MONKEY AND HIS SMASHED MIRRORS AND HE WAS CRYING AND IT WAS SAD.

And then that rose on the gravestone? That single red rose? And the look on Old Raoul's face (still Patrick Wilson, by the way, under all that makeup) when he saw it and realized he wasn't the only one visiting Christine's grave? Yup, I lost it again there, too. And I really didn't want to. Because I tend to cry over movies I love, y'know? And I didn't love this movie. At all

Yet I still cried at the end. I'm not really sure why. I think perhaps it had something to do with the way the story still "got" me, deep down inside, despite the lousy casting and less-than-perfect singing and ridiculously unnecessary elements that totally didn't need to be there. It's still a tragically beautiful romance, and even a bad film can't kill that.

In conclusion, I think Mary Poppins can best express what I thought of POTO 2004.

In conclusion, I rate it a 2.7/5

[bucket-of-rice]

'The Chosen One': In the midst of a career year, Morgan Rielly has become the Leafs reluctant star.

Scott Wheeler. 5th April 2019

His nickname in junior hockey was “The Chosen One” because everyone knew just how good Morgan Rielly was — and they wanted him to know it, too.

He doesn’t like to talk about it though. He didn’t then and he doesn’t now.

“It rings a bell,” he said of the moniker.

“You get to your junior team and you make nicknames for each other and that’s just your first experience of junior hockey. And really riding the bus with older guys and experiencing what it’s like to be a young rookie with older, 20-year-old men on the team when you’re 16.”

Nine years after his Moose Jaw Warriors teammates coined the nickname, Rielly is in the midst of a career year that will conclude with a debate over his merits as a Norris Trophy candidate and the season’s best defenceman.

“Whenever I see him, I still call him ‘Chose,'” said Joel Edmundson, now a Blues defenceman. “When I’m talking to my other former teammates, we still talk about him as being ‘The Chosen One.’ It’s weird how nicknames like that stick with you forever.”

Last month, Rielly became the third Leafs defenceman to ever register 70 points in a season, joining Borje Salming and Ian Turnbull. He’s the first 20-goal-scoring Leafs defenceman since Al Iafrate in the late 1980s.

But Rielly’s success didn’t come overnight. This is his sixth season with the Leafs, and even though he’s a star now, he has never thought of himself as one.

Those who know Rielly chalk it up to his modesty.

That was true when he was with the Notre Dame Hounds, a team he captained to a national championship. After his time with the Hounds, he was selected second overall by the Moose Jaw Warriors in the 2009 WHL Draft.

“The most important thing about him is he’s just a good person and a good friend,” said James Melindy, Rielly’s defence partner at Notre Dame. “His hockey obviously speaks for itself, but he’s a leader and he was a leader at a young age on our team and it’s so good to see a friend like him do well.

“It was nice to be able to give him the puck and let him do the rest.”

Steve Watterson, a billet with the Warriors, could see it in Rielly when he refereed the Hounds’ Triple-A games. That season, when the Warriors recalled Rielly for a few days around Christmas, teammate Travis Hamonic invited him to stay at the Wattersons during his visit. By the time Hamonic — a second-round pick of the Islanders — was traded to the Brandon Wheat Kings, the Wattersons knew they wanted Rielly as their next billet the following season.

Early in Rielly’s rookie season, he had already endeared himself to the Wattersons’ children, 10-year-old Alexa, 7-year-old Brennan and 4-year-old Brooklyn. No matter what was happening, he always made time for them whether it was playing cards, mini sticks or ping pong. For that, Watterson, a lifelong Canadiens fan, was swayed into becoming a Leafs fan.

“It was a lot of fun. Morgan was full of energy,” Watterson said.

“Nothing but good memories. You can’t help but want to see the Leafs do well and exciting things for Morgan.”

Despite the fact Rielly was the youngest player on the Warriors, his teammates never thought of him as a rookie. As players graduated and moved on, that stuck with them.

“He was just one of those guys that you wanted to play with, you wanted to be around off the ice. As soon as he came in, you could tell that the guy just had a characteristic that made people gravitate towards him,” said defenceman Dallas Ehrhardt, who now plays for the Manchester Storm.

“On the ice he was such a dynamic skater and player and off the ice he was such a good teammate.”

On a team where the blueline was built around big defencemen like Edmundson, Dylan McIlrath and Kendall McFaull, Rielly played differently.

“He’s a guy that really wanted to win,” Edmundson said. “He was just naturally so talented. You could see it. When he stepped on the ice, he just took over games. You knew he was going to be an NHL player just the way he could skate and rush the puck. He could go end-to-end like nothing.”

Despite standing out on the ice, Rielly made a point to fit in with his teammate off it.

“He was just one of the guys,” Edmundson said. “Whenever I see Chose, we definitely share some laughs.”

“Whenever I think of him in junior, it’s just him picking the puck up behind the net and just going through the whole team. In the D zone, he battled hard, too. When guys went to the net, it wasn’t easy against him. Even when he was 16, he was built like a man.”

Rielly left his mark on the Warriors’ staff too.

Dave Hunchak, Moose Jaw’s head coach during Rielly’s rookie season, remembers the moment he realized there was no holding the defenceman back. It was late in a game against Prince Albert when Hunchak, who’d relied on his veterans all season, turned to the rookie for the final shift of regulation. Rielly leaped over the boards, straddled the blueline and placed a shot top corner to tie the game.

Hunchak had always known Rielly was gifted. However, the Warriors were a veteran team and Rielly had only been getting regular minutes. That moment changed everything.

“He made a move that just dropped everyone’s jaw,” Hunchak said. “He was very quiet, very unassuming, very shy person. But he had a tremendous work ethic, he knew what he wanted to do and he was consistent in his work ethic every day.”

From then on, Rielly never let up.

“His skating ability was second-to-none at that point and it was a treat to watch. He would make plays that would make you shake your head at times, but they would work out for whatever reason for him. And if he made a mistake he wasn’t shy to go and get the puck back,” Hunchak said.

“He realized that he was a bit of a risk-reward guy at that time and we had to work real hard at 16 to convince him to play in his own end first and it took him time but then he just figured it out.”

It wasn’t always a straight path.

In his NHL draft year, Rielly blew out his knee. The Wattersons saw him go through those ups and downs firsthand. They saw the tears and heard the heartbreak in his voice. They sat in on conversations with his parents as they debated the risks of rushing back.

After seeking opinions from multiple doctors, Rielly was reading off a list of pro athletes who had come back from the same injury in six months and promising Watterson that he’d best it.

“He just kept saying, ‘That’s going to be me, I’m going to find a way to be faster than those dudes and sure enough he made it back for playoffs and he had the emotion and the heartbreak but it was short-lived with Morgan and it switched right to ‘What do I have to do to get back there?’” Watterson said.

“I couldn’t believe how it played out. You just can’t write that stuff. It’s just sheer determination and he outplayed all the odds in that situation.”

When the draft came around and the Leafs picked him fifth overall, the Wattersons were there to see his hard work come to fruition.

Longtime Warriors general manager Alan Millar will never forget Game 4 of the second round of the playoffs when Rielly, who was still doing strength and conditioning and hadn’t travelled with the team, was at their Medicine Hat hotel when they arrived back at 3 a.m.

“I’ve never seen anything like it. No down time, no pouting. After he got the surgery done, I don’t know, you’re talking days not weeks and he was back in the gym,” Millar said.

“I’ve never seen a young man work that hard on rehab. He wanted back in the lineup. He wanted to win a championship. That’s a credit to him and his character and leadership. It didn’t take me very long to realize that he was pretty special, both on and off the ice.”

Assistant coach Mark O’Leary remembers two things about Rielly. One was the regular phone calls he’d get on off-days when Rielly wanted to come in to skate or work out. When the team did skate, Rielly was always the first player at the rink and the last to leave.

Two was how popular he was with his teammates and members of the community. People at the high school, O’Leary said, still talk about Rielly and the way he would help kids he didn’t know. O’Leary said he still hears people talking about the defenceman at the local Tim Hortons.

“There was no doubt inside the walls of our rink in terms of what kind of player he was going to be,” said O’Leary. “Not just the skill that he had, but probably what doesn’t get talked about enough, which is his work ethic. There was nobody in better shape. He did things outside of what normal people would do in terms of getting better.”

When he was replaced as the star rookie on the team by Brayden Point, Rielly grew into a leadership role naturally.

“He was a big part of our team, a high profile guy who I looked up to a lot,” Point said.

“He would dominate games in our league and he was fun to play with. You could see back then that he was going to be the player he is today. He was always so good. We’ve both come a long way since then. He was a great guy and still a friend today.”

Ehrhardt has paid particular attention to Rielly’s career. Part of it, he said, was a matter of the small-town nature of Moose Jaw (they all went to the same high school, Vanier Collegiate) and the way it forced them together. But there was something else about Rielly, too.

On a recent trip to Texas, Ehrhardt caught one of the Leafs’ games against the Stars and noticed Rielly was doing all of the same things he did in Moose Jaw.

“I think everybody who played with him at that time kind of knew. The way he was able to move the puck out there, at 16, he was already miles ahead of everyone around him,” Ehrhardt said.

“And it wasn’t just his skills, it was the way he was thinking through the game. He was already two steps ahead of everyone. It was one of those things where it was fun to watch. And nowadays he has just really taken off with it.”

There’s also a maturity about Rielly that was evident even when he was in high school but has since turned into a leadership role as the top defenceman with the Leafs.

In hindsight, Edmundson said he knew, too.

“Thinking back on it now, it does not surprise me one bit. Especially compared to any other D-men in our league at that time, he stood out. He’s always been that talented. He’s always been that guy that’s had high expectations and he’s meeting them right now,” Edmundson said.

After more than a half a decade in Toronto, Rielly is back to being the star he was in junior.

For that, his modesty ought to turn into pride.

“I never imagined this,” Rielly said. “I think I have been able to reflect on it now, but when you’re a young guy, you’re a prospect who is supposed to be good, and the older guys used to make jokes about me playing in the NHL one day and I kind of dismissed them because at the time you’re not there yet, you don’t think it’s realistic.

“The injury made it tough to think about where we’re at now, but man, those were fun times.”

He thinks about his time in Moose Jaw and credits his teammates for turning him into the player and person he has become.

He remembers that first Christmas break visit with Hamonic and the Wattersons. He still keeps in touch with Millar, O’Leary and all of the “really good friends” he made along the way.

“Just the relationships that we were able to build, a lot of characters,” he said, with a laugh. “We all had a lot in common. It’s strange. It really was a unique group. We all got along. We spent a lot of time with one another.”

There are a lot of Leafs games on TV in the Watterson home these days. At the end of February, Rielly welcomed the Wattersons to Toronto for a pair of games against the Canadiens and the Capitals and took them out to dinner.

“Everyone else sees a star player, but I have to admit I still just see Morgan,” Watterson said. “Even though I’m well aware of what he has accomplished on the ice, it’s a far second to just missing him as a person.”

In that moment, his journey came full circle. It was special. But he’s still not quite ready to fully give himself full credit.

“I was lucky enough to have one of the best billet families in junior hockey. They really had an impact on me, so I feel very lucky to have had that,” Rielly said. “That’s what makes the experience that much better.”

But as another season wraps up, Rielly has a coach who is happy to give him the credit. Mike Babcock, like everyone before him, says you must understand where Rielly started — and who Rielly is — to understand the season he has had.

“You’ve got to go back a number of years. He was a real high-end player drafted, you come to the National Hockey League, everyone expects you to be good right away. As a defenceman in the National Hockey League, to be good defensively right away, you don’t see it very often,” Babcock said.

“And so it has taken him some time. He’s had a great year for us. He’s a big part of our team with his energy, his preparation, his professionalism, but obviously with his play.”

Soon, that play might result in a Norris Trophy nomination.

Just don’t expect Rielly to brag about it.

[mymoonagedaydream]

Home (Part 2)

Summary: As you got closer to Bucky again, some kind of emotional crescendo was inevitable.

Pairing: Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Language

Author’s Note: I got one more part after this, so let’s call it a mini-series

---

You slept in the next morning, getting out of bed only to traipse down to the living room and lounge around in your pyjamas on the couch for the rest of the day.

It was the holidays- you were allowed to be disgustingly lazy if you wanted.

Evening came around before you knew it, the smell of your mother’s cooking filling up the house as you stared dead-eyed at the Hallmark Channel, all the white couples wearing red and green sweaters slowly blurring into one.

You were only awoken from your hypnosis by your dad leaning over the back of the couch, jingling some car keys at you.

‘I need to take your mother’s death-trap to Barnes’, you wanna come along?’

‘Really?’ You frowned, eyes darting to the clock on the mantelpiece. ‘It’s almost seven, surely they’re closed?’

‘They are, but Bucky offered to work on it out of hours.’

You gave an impressed nod, adopting your best impression of your mother. ‘What a nice young man he is.’

‘You know it, skip.’ 

He grinned as you hoisted yourself up from the couch and shoved a coat over your pyjamas, figuring that getting dressed this late in the evening would just be an absolute waste of time. 

The two of you hopped in the car, both cringing at the metallic scraping sound the engine made when your dad turned the key. 

After a tense few death-defying minutes, you finally pulled up at the workshop. Your dad honked the horn and the shutter door began to rise, slowly revealing what you could only deduce to be an extra from the music video for Uptown Girl.

Oh wait, no, it was just Bucky.

His choice to sport a tank top mid-December was definitely a bold one, but Jesus fucking Christ you weren’t complaining. Glistening with sweat and covered in grease stains, he looked like a page from a raunchy calendar hung up in an office full of middle-aged spinsters.

He waved the car in, greeting your dad with some kind of bro-hug ordeal that immediately confused the hell out of you. 

Those two were buds now? What else had you missed?

‘Hey, Lilypad.’ Bucky looked you up and down, raising an eyebrow at the plaid pyjama pants peeking out from underneath your coat. ‘Nice outfit.’

‘Thought I’d make a bit of an effort.’

‘For little old me? You shouldn’t have.’

You gave him a playful shove on the shoulder as you strolled past, taking yourself for a little tour of the shop floor while he started searching under the bonnet.

The place was surprisingly neat and tidy, you were quite impressed. The only questionable thing you found was a scantily clad centrefold torn out of a magazine and pinned to the corkboard, upon which some comedian had scribbled the words ‘Bucky’s girlfriend’.

You’d be having words about that.

Completing your journey, you re-joined the boys just in time to see your dad reach his wallet from his back pocket and wave it towards Bucky.

‘How much?’

‘You're joking, right?’

‘Let me give you something. I insist.’

Bucky chuckled, pulling a dirty rag from his pocket and roughly wiping his hands. ‘Honestly, it’s fine. It’ll be ready in the morning.’

‘Ah, you’re one of the good ones Buck.’ Your dad clapped him on the shoulder before turning to you. ‘Come on then, squirt. Dinner should be almost ready.’

For some reason, you found yourself very reluctant to leave. Jesus, you’d actually prefer to spend the rest of the evening in this cold, halogen-lit grease pool with budget Billy Joel than at home in front of a warm fire. That boy had magical powers or some shit.

‘I don’t mind sticking around, if you want?’ Bucky shot you a slightly confused frown. ‘I could go out and pick us up some food.’

‘You sure? Passing up your mom’s cooking for this place seems crazy.’

‘Least I can do, we’ll count the company as payment.’

His frown slowly melted into a warm smile. ‘Sounds great.’

You looked back at your dad, who was absolutely beaming, eyes flicking between the two of you like he was at Wimbledon. His excitement was sweet, but you knew he was only invested in your relationship because it had the potential to give him a lifetime of free car repairs.

‘Well, you kids have fun.’

After loitering around for a few minutes, you eventually headed out to pick up dinner from a nearby takeout. It was freezing and your pyjamas got pretty soggy, but your good mood didn’t waver for a second. You were really excited to have an evening alone with Bucky.

When you got back, he’d ferreted out some old car seats for the two of you to sit on while you ate.

‘So I saw the photo of your girlfriend hanging up back there.’

‘Oh, that’s just a stupid joke.’ He immediately went bright red, tripping over his words a little. ‘The guys here keep trying to set me up on dates but I always say no, so they found me a “paper girlfriend” instead.’

‘Maybe they’d leave you alone if you sucked it up and just gave it a try.’

‘I think you’d take that back if you’d seen some of these women.’

You raised your eyebrows at him. ‘Never had you down as shallow, Barnes.’

‘Oh, c’mon. I’m not I just-’ He chuckled slightly when he realised you weren’t being serious, eyes flicking back down to his food. ‘I have a pretty specific type.’

‘Maybe too specific?’

‘You could say that, yeah.’

There was that weird atmosphere again, it kept creeping up on you at the most inconvenient times. 

You just changed the subject.

Once you’d both finished eating, you watched him work for a while, quickly flicking your eyes away from his bare arms every time he looked up but definitely getting caught a few times. Oh well.

It must’ve been getting close to midnight when you started dozing off, full to the brim with junk food and warmed up by the space heater Bucky had pointed in your direction. You were almost completely asleep when you felt him softly shaking your shoulder.

‘Home time, Lilypad. You need a ride?’

You peeled your eyes open, yawning as you stumbled to your feet. ‘Ugh, that’d be great. Did you drive here?’

‘Nope.’ He turned around and crouched down a little. ‘Hop on.’

‘For real?’

‘For real.’

Still pretty dazed, you did your best to clamber up onto his back, settling your head into the crook of his neck whilst trying to ignore the all feelings that his strong grip around your legs was provoking.

He somehow managed to lock up the garage while you were clinging onto him like a baby monkey, the cold night air waking you up a little more as he started on the short walk home. 

You were only expecting a lift as far as his house, but he seemed to deliberately miss the turning.

‘We just passed your street.’

‘I wouldn’t be much of a public transport service if I didn’t take you the whole way now, would I?’

‘You never were one to do things by halves.’ You pressed your cheek against the side of his head. ‘But you know I’m not paying you for this, right?’

‘I’m sure we can come to some kind of arrangement.’

‘In your dreams, Yucky.’

‘You’re damn right about that.’

He took you all the way to your doorstep, refusing to drop you until you were inches away from your front door. After gently setting you down, he spun round, a goofy grin plastered across his face.

You chuckled, trying to find your key. ‘I probably won’t see you now until after Christmas, so I hope you have a really nice one.’

‘Yeah, you too.’ He paused for a second, his hand feeling around in his pocket, looking as though he was building up to something important. ‘I’ll see you for games night though, right?’

Oh, apparently not.

‘Right. Night, Buck.’

Stepping forward, he placed his hand on the back of your head, gently pulling you towards him and pressing a soft kiss just below your hairline.

‘G’night, Lilypad.’

---

Christmas came and went, your family had their usual two day lock-in. You ate until you couldn’t stand, played so many board games that you had them all down to a perfect science and didn’t change out of your pyjamas for two days.

Spending so much time with your parents made you realise how much you’d missed them, and how much you’d miss them when you left again.

Aside from all the warmth and loveliness of your family, there was another big highlight to your day- a text from Bucky that you woke up to on Christmas morning.

Merry Christmas, Lilypad. It wasn’t the same last year without you.

---

The evening of the 26th was games night. 

The doorbell rang and you leaped up, yanking it open and immediately pulling Bucky into a hug. You tried to greet his parents too, but it was a little difficult while you were being squeezed like a vice and carried towards the living room.

Everyone settled in while your mom made up the drinks. It was so reassuring to see that the end of your relationship with Bucky hadn’t tarnished the firm friendship that’d formed between your parents, the relaxed atmosphere between everyone made it felt like nothing had really changed since you left.

A little while after they’d arrived, you scuttled off to the kitchen for a snack, not noticing Bucky hot on your heels. You jumped out of your skin when you spotted him in the corner of your eye, a nervous laugh escaping his lips.

‘I was just, uh- wondering if we could-’ He took a deep breath, steadying himself. ‘Could we go upstairs?’

You studied him for a second before answering. He was struggling to keep still, shifting back and forth on his feet while also seemingly unable to find a comfortable resting position for his arms. He was tense and anxious, you’d never seen him like this before.

‘Is everything alright?’

‘Yeah, all good. I just thought it’d be nice to talk in private for a bit.’

‘Sure.’ You gave him an apprehensive nod and gestured for him to follow you. ‘We can go to my room.’

Dread started to churn in your stomach as you slowly ascended the stairs, his heavy footsteps clunking up behind you. Bucky was the most laid-back, carefree guy you knew, what the hell could have him so jittery?

You led him into your bedroom, hearing a low chuckle as he closed the door behind him. ‘This place hasn’t changed a bit.’

‘I think my mom likes to keep it ready in case of surprise visits.’ You sat on your bed, patting the space next to you, giving him a warm smile as he took the invitation. ‘So what’s up?’

‘I haven't had a chance to give you your Christmas present.’

‘Oh, well it’s too late now.’ You teased him, trying your best to ease some of his nerves. ‘You’ll have to try again next year.’

‘I don’t think I’ll be able to wait that long.’

Digging a hand into his pocket, he pulled out a small, clumsily wrapped present and quickly handed it to you.

‘Thank you, that’s really sweet.’ You felt it in your hands for a second. ‘Insert good-things-small-packages cliché here.’

Eagerly tearing off the wrapping paper, you felt your heart drop into your stomach.

It was a ring box. 

Your eyes shot up to him.

‘Open it.’

‘I don’t think I can Buck, I-’

‘Just, before you say anything, let me explain.’ You nodded faintly, feeling tears pricking your eyes. ‘You remember our last year together, how I told you that my dad was making me work all those hours? He wasn't. I asked him for them, cause I was saving up.’

You felt like you'd been shot in the stomach. ‘You bought it before I left?’

Flashbacks of your break-up conversation flooded into your mind. You’d been the first one to suggest separation, but you vividly remembered Bucky agreeing without hesitation, so quick that it made you think he’d lost interest in you.

‘I thought you wanted to break-up?’ Your words got a bit tangled in your mouth, the wave of emotions you were experiencing making it difficult for you to string your thoughts together.

‘I didn’t want to hold you back. I knew what the job meant to you.’

Your gaze darted back down to the box in your hand. ‘And you kept it all this time?’

‘It's not mine to give away, it's yours. It's always been yours.’ He placed his hand on top of yours. ‘I just couldn’t let you go again without it.’

Your mind went completely blank, the only sensations you could focus on were the sting of hot tears rolling down your face and the feeling of his rough skin against yours. You let your gaze slowly rise back to his face, the sight of his wide, blue eyes fixed on you making it even harder for you to untangle yourself.

Before you could even try to speak, he leaned towards you, cupping your face in his hand and softly pressing his lips against yours. 

You let your eyes flutter closed, the only tangible thought rolling around your mind was how much you’d missed this, how much you’d missed him.

It was only a few seconds before he pulled away, letting out a heavy sigh and resting his forehead against yours.

This was too much, you felt your breathing becoming more frantic as you tried to pull yourself together. You turned your head slightly, roughly wiping the drying tears off your cheeks, doing everything you could to just think without being overcome by emotion.

‘I don’t know what to say.’

‘You don’t have to say anything. Just stay.’

‘I’m so sorry, Buck.’ You felt yourself beginning to crumble again as you carefully placed the box back in his hand. ‘I can’t.’

---

Part 3

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