#aka the only week of the year I had to be at work for 6+ hours every day

[miniatureliterature]

How does my daughter always know the perfect (read: worst) times to have a sleep regression.

[soobieedoo]

Formula of love ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ l.dh

Synopsis | Y/N is a diligent pharmacy student at NCityU. Ever since she was a kid her parents have instilled their high expectations on her. Therefore, Y/N has always had 4 goals, Get a degree, Get a good job, be financially stable, and absolutely in all circumstances stay away from distractions — including love of any sort.

During her freshman year of university her friends somehow convinced her to go on a dating app “for fun” where she meets Lee Donghyuck. She miraculously hit it off with him only to realize that he has made her focus falter and ultimately broke it off. Since then, she believes even more that love is a distraction that she cannot afford.

Lee Donghyuck — or better known as Haechan around campus, is a carefree, charming and fellow pharmacy student who also has a passion for music. He has recently transferred to NCityU to join their music program as he plans to pursuit both his passion for music and pharmaceuticals.

Y/N is working at the campus clinic. She has kept herself busy either through her studies or her job and is proud that she has eliminated all distractions…but wait, what is lee donghyuck aka said distraction doing in HER breakroom? and why is her heart beating like crazy?

PAIRINGS | pharmacy student! haechan x fem! pharmacy student reader

GENRE | social media au, some written, comedy, crack/humour, fluff, college au, non-idol au, exes (ish) to strangers to lovers? pining but its mutual haechan is just more obvious, she's a little grumpy towards him, slight angst eventually?

WARNINGS | swearing, sexual jokes, kys/kms jokes, mentions of drugs and alcohol

| AUTHOR'S NOTE: hello hi! this is my very first smau! i had this idea pop up in my head and i've always enjoyed reading smau's and i thought i would take a crack at it! please note that this is a work of fiction and that this does not reflect the real lives of the idols involved! this is only for entertainment! i apologize if there may be inaccuracies with job descriptions and diff majors in uni. if u read this i hope u enjoy !

STATUS: ongoing! (started 09.07.24)

~ no specific update schedule! if not everyday then maybe every other day!

masterlist

profiles 1 + profiles 2

#1 - ice cream run

#2 - welcome home haechan

#3 - face to face

#4 - thank you choi beomgyu

#5 - strictly business

#6 - respectfully

#7 - failed disguise (written)

#8 - opening week

#9 - the music booth incident

#10 - we are not strangers

#11 - haechan’s mission

#11.5 - the first shift (written)

[zvaigzdelasas]

[ABC is Private US Media]

Attacks on the international airport in Port-au-Prince generated headlines worldwide. Coordinated assaults on multiple prisons freed thousands of prisoners over the weekend. But all that could be just the beginning of what an increasing number of Haiti experts are openly referring to as a full-blown rebellion against the country's sitting government.

I was speaking to a senior diplomatic official in Haiti on Monday, a very sober and calculated person not prone to hyperbole. In discussing the situation, I used the word "gangs" and he cut me off.

"I would stop using that term if I were you," he said, arguing that gangs are what you find in American cities. In Haiti, there are multiple large criminal groups with enormous firepower, now unified with the stated goal of toppling the sitting government.

"They are armed rebel groups and this is civil war," the source said.[...]

Some 80% of the capital is under gang control, if not more, according to the UN. Those groups have fought each other and the government for years[...]

But things have fundamentally changed in the last month. We will get to the "why" in a moment, but consider the following:

-Haiti's dozens of gangs, largely grouped into two competing alliances, have seemingly set aside their differences and rather than attack each other, are working together to attack the government.

-The gangs are not hiding their goal. It is a change in government. Gang leadership, most notably a man called Jimmy Chérizier, aka Barbecue, has said the fighting won't stop until the unelected acting Prime Minister Ariel Henry is no longer in power. He's called for Henry's arrest.

-The gangs have launched a series of well-planned, massive attacks against key targets around the city. Nearly 30 police precincts have also come under fire, many completely taken over or destroyed. Government buildings have also been attacked, including one just 500 meters from the U.S. embassy. There is random, sporadic violence constantly around the city, but these attacks are strategic and targeted.

As to the why—gangs have long sought to fill a power vacuum left behind when President Jovenel Moïse was assassinated in July 2021. But an inflection point came last month.

Henry, in charge since just a few weeks after Moïse's death, had said he would step down by early February. But then, he changed course. The U.S.-backed Henry said the security situation needed to improve before he could leave and new elections could take place. Last week, he committed only to holding elections in August of 2025, a full 18 months away.

That appeared to be the final straw.

In a way, this gang-fueled violence is the armed manifestation of widespread popular anger against Henry and his government. Ordinary Haitians are furious over the ever-worsening poverty, hunger, and violence we've seen under Henry. He is a near-universally loathed public figure.

It is not hard to find people in Port-au-Prince who fully support the actions taken by the gangs, even if they are terrified that they themselves or their families could be collateral damage.

It is not that most in Haiti support the gangs or the chaos they cause. Far from it. Most despise the death and destruction they’ve wrought in the country. But for now, some feel the gangs are the only group capable of forcing Henry out.[...]

Remember this staggering fact: in this democratic country, there is not one elected leader serving at any level of government anywhere in the country. No elections have been held since 2016.[...]

So the rebellion, the attempted revolution, has begun--alongside the seemingly never-ending suffering of millions of innocents.

6 Mar 24

[d0wnb4df0rf1cm3n]

Someone's there.

Bucky x Reader

Summary: When you walk home from the office, someone seems to be following you home. Your best friend is not happy about that.

Word Count: 2.5K

Warnings: Stalking/Stalker-Ex BF, Domestic Abuse, Anxiety, Angry!Bucky, Protective!Bucky, Panic Attack

AN: This is definitely not what I intended to write when I started but anyway. Have good day my dudes!!!

You stepped out of the office, pulling your coat tighter around you against the night. It was mid-November and New York was getting colder and colder every day that passed by. You were excited about Christmas - it was one of your favourite times of the year. The lights that went up from apartment to apartment, the tree and ice rink in Rockefeller center that you and your boyfriend - Nathan - visited every year, you and Nathan driving up to Boston to meet your family. Well, your ex-boyfriend.

You'd broken up a month ago. He'd been laid off about a year ago and taken up drinking to fill the time. Nathan was not a very nice drunk. He'd yell and throw things when he was angry, which was most of the time when he was drunk, and then beg you to come back, saying that he needed you and that he'd clean up his act as soon as he got a job. You had a well-paying job - secretary to the Avengers - but Nathan was always the higher earner of the two of you. You could hardly sustain his lifestyle on your job, but you stayed. Why? You had no idea.

Nathan was a smart guy, he got picked up by some major firm headquartered in Manhattan just over a month after he got laid off. He was back to his old routine of leaving the house at 6 and coming back by 8 - you hardly saw him anymore.

And much to your dismay, the drinking didn't stop. Sure, he slowed down. He couldn't risk ruining his reputation at his new workplace. So he limited the drinking to after work. But he never stopped.

The throwing vases became throwing punches, the yelling became constant threats, consoling words became consoling sex.

You did well to hide the new bruises from your colleagues, although your act was not good enough to fool everybody. You'd let your guard down in the toilet, rolling your sleeves up to wash your hands, just as Natasha Romanoff. Yes, Natasha Romanoff aka the Black Widow aka the world's best assassin.

She didn't mention it there, but you were called to a meeting with her soon after. She sat you down with a glass of water and asked you a simple question: "Are you safe?"

Your wide eyes and trembling figure gave you away.

Nat implored you to break up with him or to at least come and live at the compound for a while - just until you figured out what you wanted to do.

You turned her offer down, stating that you were fine. You'd be fine. She fixed you with a stern glance, but even Natasha Romanoff couldn't force you to do something you didn't want.

Bucky, on the other hand, was a completely different story. He'd noticed the bruises long before Nat had, and gone out of his way to try and make your life easier. He sent you less paperwork to file, fewer menial tasks to do, and even put in a request for you to be moved to the New York office. In his eyes that meant you'd be further away from Nathan.

The next week, you both moved to Manhattan.

The bruises started to get darker, and more visible around your body. You dropped the short-sleeved dresses and low necklines in favour of long-sleeved turtlenecks with trousers.

Bucky worried for you. The dark rings around your eyes, the ghostly pallor of your skin. He was determined to save you. The only issue was he had no idea where you lived. New York was a big enough place that he'd never run into you. He knew you didn't live in Brooklyn, but that was about it.

The night where it all came to a head was after a Stark Gala. There was a group photo, where Bucky's arm rested on your hip while your arm rested on his. Nathan was pissed. He'd been sitting on the sofa when you came home, the photo open on his phone and a half-drunk bottle of whiskey in his hand. He pushed you into a wall and slapped you, his rings cutting into your face. He yelled every manner of words in your direction, calling you a 'slut' and a 'whore', and telling you that you were worthless. You cried, fresh bruises forming on your neck where he gripped you and blood dripping down your face.

You took his berating for the next few hours until Nathan retreated onto the sofa, sitting down and muttering under his breath. You opened your mouth, trying to defend yourself. Wrong move. Nathan stood up, even more agitated than before. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey that was almost finished and brought it down on your head.

The next thing you remember was waking up to 4 white walls. You were in a hospital, your hand being gripped tightly by someone. You tried to escape from the vice-like grip when a thumb ran over your knuckles. You knew those hands.

"Bucky." You whispered, your eyes still adjusting to the light. Your voice was sore from disuse, but the way that Bucky's eyes lit up, you would have thought that you were singing a love song just to him.

The calmness in your heart faded as soon as your brain caught up with you. You tried to convince Bucky that he needed to go but he shushed you gently.

"Shh. Don't stress yourself out. You're safe. I promise." The red rings around his eyes gave him away. Bucky had been crying. Over you.

You held his hand tightly that day. And the day after. And even the day after that. You weren't sure if you would ever find the strength to let go.

By the time you were out of the hospital, you'd moved back to Upstate New York - Bucky had made sure that you would never have to set foot in the city again if you didn't want to.

You returned back to work as normal - the restraining order you had filed against Nathan made your mind rest easier. The whole team was happy to have you back and smiling again, but they made sure to check in with you a hell of a lot more than they used to. Clint would swing by with an apple, and accidentally leave it at your desk - the first time, you'd felt bad and tried to return it, but you quickly caught on to his tactics. Nat would bring up game nights and movie nights, begging you to come, even if it was just you both.

But most of all, Bucky. Every day, you'd wake up to a text from him, wishing you a wonderful morning and spewing some inspirational affirmations for the start of the day. He'd bring you coffee, made just how you like it, as soon as he was back from his morning run. He'd spent a while perfecting the drink - making sure it was exactly to your standard. He'd walk you to your apartment for your biweekly 2pm therapy sessions (that he'd set you up with after he had realised how much difficulty you were having sleeping), and then off to lunch at some random hole-in-the-wall spot that he knew you would love. He'd call you as you got home, making sure you got home safe, and then a goodnight text to fall asleep to.

To others, his persistent need to be around you would be stifling. But after 4 years of having your needs be put lower than the damn cockroaches in the walls, it was nice to feel wanted.

You set your life up - personal bank accounts, new social media - anything to separate that part of your life from your new one. You got a new phone (courtesy of Tony, who insisted on buying you the latest iPhone, no matter how hard you tried to convince him that he didn't need to do that because 'where on earth would you find the money to pay him back?' He scoffed at that, "I'm a billionaire hun, I think I can afford to buy my secretary a new phone). You went to get your haircut, the shorter length was something you knew Nathan would have hated.

You'd walked into the compound the day after you got it cut, worried that no one would like it as much as you did.

As soon as you made it to the kitchen, you heard a loud wolf whistle. Nat was sitting on the sofa with Sam, and they both cheered loudly as you posed for them.

Bucky's jaw dropped as he walked into the kitchen. You were still showing off for Nat and Sam - you hadn't seen him walk in.

He walked over, reaching behind you to get a pod for the coffee machine, leaning down to whisper in your ear, "Looking good, Doll." His hot breath against your neck sent shivers down your spine.

You smiled up at him, before grabbing an apple and heading back toward your desk. You glanced back at Bucky and your eyes drifted downwards to a very large and very prominent issue. You stifled a giggle before getting back to work.

You'd continued to tease Bucky for a while, inconspicuous brushes and a few comments here and there. Enough to make him flustered, but not enough to make him suspicious.

He continued being the perfect gentleman. Helping you when you needed him to, being there when no one else was.

You started your normal journey back home, getting out of the compound was sometimes a tedious affair because of the thousands of security gates between the compound and the outermost gate. Given that this is where the Avengers live and train, it's justified. Still tedious though.

It was a quarter mile from the compound to the bus stop that took you home - you didn't like driving, especially in the frost and the dark. You put your headphones in, picking back up on the podcast you started this morning. It was an interesting one - some new True Crime podcast that your best friend had recommended to you.

The hair on the back of your neck stood up as you walked through a dark and lonely street. You gripped your bag tighter around you and sped up. There was someone following you.

You glanced behind you, your eyes catching sight of brown hair and a blue t-shirt. It had Palm Springs emblazoned on it. Funny. You'd bought Nathan a similar t-shirt a few years ago.

You fished your phone out of your pocket, quickly dialing the one person you felt safest with.

"Doll?" Bucky picked after the first ring.

"Bucky, cred că cineva mă urmărește." You said, your voice loud enough that the other person could hear you were on the phone.

"Tell me where you are, Doll, I'll come and get you." You could hear Bucky pulling on a jacket and grabbing his keys.

"Umm, cred că sunt aproape de Joey's."

"The pizza place?"

"Da, îl văd de unde sunt." The footsteps behind you seem to be getting louder, but you forced yourself to remain calm, "Am să te aștept acolo. Vă rog să veniți repede."

You ducked into the pizza place, walking straight up to the counter. By now, you were sure of who it was - but Nathan didn't follow you into the pizza place. Maybe you were just overreacting. Joey's was mostly empty, with a few teenagers here and there - probably camping out after some house party that got shut down.

"Same as always, kiddo?" Joey asked, and you nodded with a slight grin. You and Bucky came to Joey's Pizza Place a lot - Bucky used to say that it felt like home. You were inclined to agree.

"No metal man with you today?" Joey enjoyed teasing Bucky. His dad, also named Joey, had fought alongside Bucky in the war. Joey had grown up on stories of the greatness of the Howling Commandoes and it had been one of his greatest pleasures to serve him pizza every time they came.

"He's coming - got caught up in traffic."

"Busy men, huh?" You giggled at that.

The door opened again. You turned around to find yourself face-to-face with someone you hoped you'd never see again. Nathan's sister.

"Thought I'd find you here, bitch."

June stalked over to you, her face filled with rage. She had been good friends with you before Nathan and your relationship started going wrong, but when you had confided your pains with her, she'd turned her back on you. Blood is thicker than water. She'd called you names before - filling your comments with every vile comment she could think of, texting and emailing you death threats, anything to remind you of just how broken and damaged you were.

Before you knew what was happening, her hand collided with your cheek. The whole place burst into action.

Joey jumped around the side of the counter as June hurled insults at your face.

You tried to push her away as she swung at you again, but her hand hit your shoulder.

Joey pushed you behind him, as one of the kitchen hands stepped out to pull June back.

A teenager was on the phone with the police.

You tried to cover your ears as the noise built in your head.

The door swung open, letting in a draft.

Boots on the linoleum floor. Familiar boots.

Sirens.

"We were in the neighbourhood, Sergeant." Something about a noise complaint.

A hand pulling you into a firm chest. Tears streaming down your face. Your favourite voice whispering sweet nothings, stroking your hair, begging you to calm down.

"You're doing so good for me, Doll, just keep breathing." Bucky's pulse was steady under your hand. Slowly, your breathing evened out and you lifted your head to meet Bucky's eyes. He kept his arms wrapped tightly around you to stop you from collapsing.

You stayed in Bucky's embrace while the police wrapped up - June was being taken to the local PD for the altercation and also driving under the influence. Bucky told you that Nathan had also been arrested for violating the restraining order. Your heart sunk.

"I'll never escape him, will I?" You whispered to Bucky, as you sat down in your favourite booth to eat.

"You can, and you will," Bucky reassured you, squeezing your hand in his.

You ate your pizza in relative silence after that - most of the shop had cleared out with the police. Joey gave you your pizza for free, along with a tight hug on the side. He told you that you'd always be safe in here, "although metal man seems to have that covered." Bucky glared at the nickname, making you both laugh.

You walked hand-in-hand to Bucky's motorbike - his fingers ghosted over the bruise on your cheekbone from the slap as he fastened your helmet on your head.

"It's nothing, Buck. I've had worse." Bucky gave you a pointed look, "Too soon?"

He threw his leg over the bike and you settled behind him, resting your cheek on his spine. "Forever is too soon for my liking."

You smiled at that and nuzzled further into his back.

"Where to madam?" He said, putting on an exaggerated British accent. You leaned up to whisper in his ear.

"Take me home, Buck."

[thegirlwhorideslikeasamurai]

Viktor: "The time to seduce me with beautiful women and katsudon is over. You can fight with your own charm now." Yuuri (suddenly all possessive): "Don't take your eyes off me!" Viktor (utterly clueless): He's so different today. I wonder what has flipped his switch.

Recently, I've found myself coming back to this scene over and over as I was reconsidering the link between the progress of Viktuuri and Yuuri's understanding of Eros. For years, I was convinced that Yuuri had grasped the concept of Eros in episode 6, but (and this is probably controversial) I no longer believe that is true.

So, what happens in episode 6?

While the events during the weeks between the press conference and the Cup of China are open to speculation, the subtext of episode 6 us some cues as to where Yuuri and Viktor currently are in their relationship (the hugging, the cuddling, you know).

In this sense, the short dialogue before Yuuri's short programme, tells us that:

So far, Yuuri hasn't seduced Viktor as himself.

Viktor thinks Yuuri is ready to do exactly that.

They are dating (note the lover's bind aka the lacing of the fingers, which is an expression of romantic intimacy in Japan)

Yuuri's reaction is untypically fierce and possessive.

Viktor has not the slightest clue what triggered Yuuri's response. When put into the context of the whole story, this gives us another hint that Yuuri possibly can't have seduced Viktor prior to the competition. If he had (be it on or off-ice), Viktor would no longer react surprised. (You can actually see the difference in episode 8).

However, Yuuri and Viktor are in entirely different headspaces, which becomes obvious if we think back to the events in the mixed zone. Viktor feels that it's time to gently nudge Yuuri towards a more intimate stage of their relationship. However, Yuuri is upset because just learned that everyone wants Viktor to give up on him and return to competition. He is convinced that Viktor's fans will deem him a poor replacement for Viktor if Viktor keeps coaching him. He thinks that he would disappoint his own fans if the returns to where he was before Viktor. The only option left is pressing ahead on the path he's already on and thus works himself up into wanting to be hated as the man who took Viktor Nikiforov from the world.

With that mindset, Yuuri steps onto the ice.

Viktor's confused reaction when Yuuri storms off shows us something else: He doesn't have the slightest clue that Yuuri is upset because of things that happened right before the short programme. The subtext of the scene implies that he interprets Yuuri's reaction as a sign that Yuuri is indeed ready to seduce him. The lip-licking and all the sensuality Yuuri pours into his immaculate performance must seem from his perspective as if Yuuri truly wants him. He's not entirely wrong about that, but he isn't entirely right either.

Yuuri's eros is dominant and possessive. Several months have passed since the first time he skated Eros to seduce Viktor, but their relationship and Yuuri's understanding of Viktor has deepened since. His eros has evolved into a violent force of nature. His skating no longer is about "seducing" Viktor to stay his coach, he's showing the world (and Viktor) that Viktor is his and his alone and that he is all that Viktor wants ("I'm the only one who can satisfy Viktor. I'm the only one who understands Viktor's love"). And he goes out puling all the stops. And at the next competition, he's going to double down on that. Sounds kinky? It absolutely is.

Ever wonder why Viktor is so flustered right after Yuuri's skate? That's why. This precious boy felt seduced through-and-through by Yuuri's performance.

Viktor: "Yuuri, did it feel that great?" Yuuri: "I was hoping everyone else felt great watching me." Viktor (basically talking about himself): "Of course, they felt great watching a performance like that."

Remember that I said that Viktor has a totally different grasp of the situation than Yuuri because he doesn't know what Yuuri is going through? Viktor projects his own state of arousal from watching Yuuri on Yuuri. But Yuuri is not a second Chris and his response reinforces the implications made above based his inner monologue before and during his performance: He wanted to give "the audience" a good time aka making Viktor feel seduced and convincing the skating world that he is worthy to skate in Viktor's stead.

Learning that "everyone" (and most of all Viktor) had a "good time", is an important step for Yuuri in mastering his short programme:

In episode 6, Yuuri truly understands the power he has over Viktor and what he can do to Viktor with his skating alone.

So far, Yuuri has had a hard time grasping eros, using all kinds of workarounds (food, women etc.). He has refined this understanding as his relationship with Viktor deepened, he has learned to express himself in a sensual manner, but it doesn't come naturally to him. In episode 6, he finally understands that he has the power to turn Viktor on and what exactly he must do to achieve that. He's still using workarounds and these are 100% Yuuri, and because of that, they are successful. Even if he never understands eros beyond the abstract theory, he now has acquired the set of tools to hone is performance and to seduce Viktor if he sets his mind on it. (Yes, this anxious katsudon fatale has some massive kinks and they work for him and Viktor, and I will die on that hill.)

But what about the banquet?

Drunken horniness due to dancing physically with his celebrity crush. Friction is a thing. And let's be honest: otherwise, the whole "grasping eros" story arc would make no sense. Either you have an innate sense of that concept or you don't, and memory gaps can't explain that away.

(No, I'm still on a break from posting meta, but I've been agonising over this for quite a while and had to get it out of my system because I'm currently fixing some stuff related to this in my novelisation.)

If you like my meta, please check out my works on AO3 (link in bio).

Last but not least many thanks to cecebeanie for a discussion that set this thought process in motion 💜💙

[ask-a-vetblr]

Hi I’m starting a book set in Australia (I’m an Aussie!) and it’s about Rabies getting loose in Australia but going to be like a sci/fi and horror novel. I thought I’d ask actual vets if you knew what could happen if rabies got loose in Australia?

gettingvetted here.

Our founder and native Aussie, drferox, is on hiatus, so I will give this a go.

Unfortunately for your book, rabies is one of the easiest diseases to control and eradicate, especially on a small scale and especially if you know the animal of origin. Vaccinations literally have to be upwards of 95% effective (at least in the US) in order to become licensed for use, and the immunity derived from rabies vaccines is long lasting at 1-3 years at minimum; it probably lasts longer but official studies to license vaccines for that long have not been done due to expense. Likewise, the vaccines are usually inexpensive compared to other vaccines like Lyme, as you can vaccinate a cat or dog for 3 years for roughly $25 per vaccine. You typically have plenty of time (weeks to months) after a possible exposure to determine if the biting animal is rabid, and even if you never find that out, rabies vaccination will prevent rabies in an exposed individual as long as they themselves are not showing symptoms (aka, there's a handful of known rabies positive animals in the country and you/your dog just got bitten by a kangaroo? get vaccinated, you're going to be fine even if they can't find the kangaroo again). The symptoms are pretty obvious and pretty classic, making the animal easily identifiable even among its peers, and once the stage of being symptomatic has arrived and thus transmission is possible, the animal will die in a handful of days, thus self-limiting the spread. The only "treatment" is humane euthanasia and as wildlife are the usual reservoir of the virus, there isn't much of an uproar when a select few are euthanized for testing or prevention each year. An interesting factoid is that while the US still has rabies, we *only* have wildlife strains present (not canine rabies). So even if a dog gets rabies from another dog, they will still have acquired skunk, bat, or raccoon strains of rabies. This is due to years of regulating that cats, dogs, and ferrets (domesticated carnivores) be vaccinated for rabies and euthanized for biting if unvaccinated until the canine strain was eradicated. Canine rabies is still an issue in countries with lots of feral dogs.

As a vet in the US, it is a MAJOR headache to ship animals from rabies-endemic areas to non-rabies-endemic areas. Even Hawaii is extremely difficult to pull off. Not only do they have to be vaccinated early (usually within 6 months of travel), they also often have to have rabies titers performed within the same time frame or sometimes even closer to the travel date. An extended quarantine period (I seem to recall that it is 6 months in some cases?) is also required prior to entry for countries such as Australia so that even if the rabies vaccination and titers were incorrect or forged and the animal has rabies, they would still show symptoms prior to entry into the country. Also, while unrelated to rabies, Australia requires veterinarians (not animal owners) to personally administer very specific parasite prevention to animals at very specific intervals to prevent certain parasites from entering the country too, so the amount of prep work required for export itself is often long enough such that if the animal had rabies, you would find out before they left the country. The regulations also differ depending on country of origin - countries with less control over their rabies status are either banned from importing animals or face even stricter import regulations. If any of these steps are performed incorrectly or without pristine official evidence of doing so, the animal gets right back on the plane and goes back to its country of origin, or is held in official government quarantine at customs. So it would be quite difficult to get a rabid animal into the country. Humans are a different story of course, so that may be the best way to bring rabies into Australia in your story. However, humans getting rabies is extremely rare, and considering the excellent healthcare in AUS, a human would probably seek care and be diagnosed before they could become insane enough to start biting wildlife (again, the only real scenario I could think of that could feasibly bring rabies to AUS, because if a rabies positive human bit another human or even a dog, you simply vaccinate that human or dog for rabies and they will be fine).

So, let's assume that you got rabies into the country and a handful of wild animals of various species are exposed. We'll even assume that it was a dog that somehow brought it in despite all the red tape designed to make it impossible, and that dog is ownerless or escaped so there is nobody to tell officials what type or how many animals it bit before it died of its symptoms. It would probably take a significant amount of time for anyone to figure out what was going on. Vets who are educated in countries that have endemic rabies are taught that any animal with any neurologic symptoms should be treated as if they have rabies unless they recover. I.e., if a neurologic animal dies without a definitive diagnosis of some other neurologic disease (such as EPM, distemper, etc) and especially if that animal is unvaccinated for rabies, you MUST assume they had rabies and send them for postmortem testing so that any human or animal who was exposed to the potentially rabid animal can be vaccinated if necessary. However, vets who are educated in non-endemic countries are of course aware of the disease, but probably wouldn't have it on their radar for a neurologic animal. It would probably take a few wildlife or pet animal cases being sent for necropsy and testing after sudden neurologic death before rabies was diagnosed, which probably wouldn't happen until a few months to a year after the first case arrived in the country, at the earliest. Then a few things would happen.

First, the owners of the pet animals and the organizations dealing with wildlife would be extensively interviewed to determine location and possibly the species of animal that bit the now-dead-and-necropsied rabid animal. These areas would be surveyed extensively and unfortunately a lot of local wildlife mammals would probably be preventively eradicated especially if positive cases were found in a given species. Import/export of ANY animals from the country would be immediately halted and mandatory vaccination of all owned animals in the country would likely be established and enforced. Travel of humans likely wouldn't be stopped, but rabies vaccination would be added to the list of recommended vaccines for travel to AUS, similar to malaria vaccines in endemic countries. Again, the excellent and affordable healthcare system of AUS (at least compared to the US) would probably lead many or most Australians to be vaccinated for rabies prophylactially, which can cost thousands of dollars in the US and is usually not covered by health insurance. There would probably be a huge push for vaccination of wildlife with rabies vaccines dropped from aircraft, which could be done both within the area that suspected exposed or definitively positive animals have been found, as well as a radius around those areas as prevention. Vets would be mandated to report any neurologic or behaviorally abnormal animal even if rabies wasn't the suspected cause, and unfortunately would likely be forced to euthanize many animals that were not rabid. There is a chance that with these measures, rabies could be eradicated, but it wouldn't be certain, probably ever. Longer term, surveillance measures would be taken (and I don't mean surveillance like the FBI, I mean epidemiologic surveillance such as monitoring cases that pop up and physically checking on and sampling the typical populations of wildlife that carry the disease). Regardless, it would be extremely difficult to cause any kind of fatal epidemic using a standard rabies virus. Ounce of prevention/pound of cure and all that, but Australia currently chooses a pound of prevention.

Definitely an interesting concept for a book, but I would go with a carnivore parvovirus or canine distemper virus that mutates quickly enough that it can't be vaccinated for, and is transmissible from animals to humans. Parvovirus, specifically, is extremely hardy in the environment and is far more contagious than rabies. Without effective vaccines, I'm betting that either distemper or parvo would cause more death than the plague, especially among pediatrics. I'm not familiar with hendravirus given that we don't have it in the US, but to my knowledge that is also a horrific and contagious disease that is already present in AUS.

Hope this helps!

[callsign-dexter]

Custody Court

Request: I would like one of Mini TK with the title of custody court, where TK and Carlos, sue the mother of (Y/N) for the damages and mistreatment she has done to her little girl, but not before she goes to prison for the damages to the minor, I need justice for the little girl. 

Pairings: TK Strand x Daughter!Reader, Carlos Reyes x Daughter!Reader, TK Strand x Carlos Reyes

Warnings: angst, fluff, cursing, very inaccurate court talk

Mini TK

Masterlist

2 years is how long you have been living with your father, TK Strand, and his boyfriend, Carlos Reyes aka your second father, and you were thriving. You loved every second of it. You were only 5 when you showed up at your father's workplace with your mother who had talked with your grandpa alone and then just left. You were confused and heartbroken but then you met your fathers, grandfather, and Your 126 family and you forgot all about your mother. 

Your mother had signed away her rights when she gave you up and TK took those rights after he signed the papers and turned them into the court. You would think that would be the last time you saw her but boy were you wrong. She started to frequently show up everywhere especially when she knew you would be at that place and she showed up at your school on numerous occasions, both fathers were contacted and Carlos even escorted her off the property several times.

In those 2 years you had opened up and became a new girl. You made jokes and laughed and loved to play games and sports. Your fathers never pushed you into something you didn't like. If it was a sport and you said that you didn't like it and weren't having fun then you would be instantly pulled from the team and wouldn't be forced to do it again. If there was a certain food you didn't like you would express that to them and they wouldn't feed you it anymore. They found out you were allergic to shellfish, cinnamon, coconut, kiwi, peas and spinach. Your mother didn't know any of these and fed you these things and you would have an allergic reaction and she would do nothing; she would just leave. You time you had almost died because you had stopped breathing twice and laid there and it took someone else to call 911 to actually get you the medical attention you needed and even after that she didn't give a shit. This happened on her watch 4 different times. 

Having been living with TK and Carlos you had met TK's father aka your grandfather, Owen Strand, and you loved but not the food he made and that's how you found out you were allergic to a lot of things. You had also met Carlos’ mother and father aka your soon to be but is already your grandmother and grandfather, Andrea Reyes and Gabriel Reyes, you loved them both too. They were happy to have a granddaughter to spoil. Carlos and Gabriel both worked for the police and have seen every record of yours, mostly hospital records and 911 calls along with her records. These would come in handy later on during this week. 

—--

The Reyes-Strand household were sleeping peacefully when their alarm started to go off at 6:30 AM. Carlos was quick to wake up and turn it off so it didn’t wake you up and so that you could sleep in, in the process TK was being woken up. “Hmmm time already?” He asked and Carlos smiled and kissed his boyfriend.

“It is for me but you can sleep in a little bit longer.” He said smiling and that made TK smile. TK’s shift started at 10 AM and he would be gone for 24 hrs and would be getting home at 10 AM the following day. 

“Mmmm that’s right. I still want to get Y/N/N up.” He said and Carlos smiled.

“Ok, Baby.” Carlos said and kissed him and so they both were up. Carlos got in the shower while TK went and started into the kitchen but first, he checked on you. He walked to your room and opened the door to find you sound asleep snuggled under your blankets holding your little stuffed wolf that Carlos had won for you. You had always been one for warmth, you also tended to wear hoodies outside when it could be blazing hot but that is just how you were. He smiled and walked on into the kitchen to start to get breakfast and your lunch packed. Carlos was in the shower getting ready and when he was done, he walked out in his clothes and into the kitchen where TK was handing him a cup of coffee and then a plate of food. It was now 7:30 AM and it was time for you to get up. TK headed to your room and walked in. 

“Good morning, Princess.” TK said softly in a soothing tone but it was enough to stir you he smiled. “It's time to get up. It is your last day of school.” He said, chuckling and smiling as he went over to your bed and got down his knees and rubbed your back, you groaned.

“No. Stay home.” You said turning away from him and he chuckled.

“No, it is time to get up.” He said and stroked your hair and you sighed but opened your eyes. “There are those pretty eyes I love so much.” He said and you rubbed them and then he was standing up and moving around but you stayed. He picked out your clothes with your approval and then he was getting you up and ushering you to the bathroom to have you brush your teeth. When you were done in there he was already in your bedroom when you came in. You got dressed and he and you talked about anything and everything. Once you were dressed you both were heading in the kitchen where Carlos was plating your plate and getting you a drink. 

“Good morning, Cariño.” Carlos said smiling.

“Good morning, Papa.” You said walking over and hugging him. 

“She didn’t want to get up.” TK said and Carlos chuckled.

“Reminds me of someone else.” He said meaning TK.

“I am not like that.” TK defended 

“Yes, you are, Daddy.” You said smiling.

“You turned me kid against me.” TK said faking hurt and that made you chuckle along with Carlos while TK smiled at hearing you laugh.

“Our kid and yes you are hard to get up.” Carlos said

“You’re one to talk.” TK playfully smirked, you just sat back and watched them playfully argue. Every now and then you would chime in while you ate. TK had started to fool around with your hair as you and Carlos had breakfast and he had put your hair up into a French braid. He had learned to do hair when you were young and he was proud to say that he was a master of it and so was Carlos, he had practiced and learned too. Soon you were finished eating and hugging TK “Have a good day at school. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” He said and you smiled and you nodded.

“Love you too, Daddy.” You said and he kissed your head. Carlos was holding your bag and lunch bag waiting and watching the interaction being exchanged. TK was soon saying bye to his boyfriend and kissing him and the two of you were off. They took turns waking you up and taking you to school. Carlos helped you into the car and made sure you were buckled in before he was pulling out of the driveway.

“Are you ready for today?” He asked and you shrugged.

“I guess so.” You said and he smiled. He knew that you didn’t like being away from him and your father for too long.

“Everything is going to be great.” He said and you smiled and then he turned on the radio and began to sing which made you smile and joined in with him. You both sang and laughed until he was dropping you off at school with a kiss to the temple and a hug and watched you walk into the school with your teacher and then he was off to work.

—---

TK had just arrived at work and walked into the station and was greeted by his father, Owen. “How is my beautiful granddaughter?” He asked and TK rolled his eyes.

“Hello to you too, Dad. Carlos and I are perfect. She’s doing good. Didn’t want to get up this morning.” He told his dad and Owen chuckled.

“Just like her daddy.” Owen said, teasing his son.

“Funny that is what Carlos said.” TK said and Owen chuckled. Soon everyone started to come in and their shift began. Not many calls came in but every now and then they would be called and off they went to save the person. 

They had just gotten back from a call and everyone was talking and laughing. They were talking about the recent call and putting their gear away and TK was restocking the ambulance when someone walked into the firehouse. TK was in the ambulance so he couldn’t see them but he could hear what was going on. “Can I help you?” Judd asked the man.

“Where can I find TK Strand?” The man asked.

“I’ll get him.” Judd said “Hey TK! Someone is here to see you!” Judd said and TK came out of the ambulance about the time Owen showed up as well. Everyone was looking in curiosity. 

“I’m TK. What can I do for you?” He asked, the man pulled out a manila envelope and handed it to him.

“You’ve been served.” He said and then he was turning and leaving about the time Carlos walked in and passed him giving him a confused look. TK and everyone were speechless, he couldn’t stop staring at the package. 

“What’s wrong?” Carlos asked 

“I’ve been served.” TK said 

“For what?” Owen asked

“I have no clue.” He replied and started to open the envelope and pulled out the contents. He started to read through it. “Fiona is trying to fight for custody of Y/N.” He said and his heart plummeted.

“Didn’t she sign over her rights as her mother?” Tommy asked and TK nodded.

“She did but now she’s trying to fight for it back.” TK said

“No, absolutely not. She is not going to get custody back.” Carlos said 

“Is she legally allowed to do this?” Judd asked 

“Technically a parent who has given up their rights to a child cannot regain custody or visitation. But she can petition the court to regain custody and/or visitation rights.” Marjon said, looking at her phone and then looking up. 

“Fiona gave up her rights that should be the end of it. Why in the world would she want it back?” Nancy asked and TK shrugged as Carlos took papers and started to read through it.

“She must be high or drinking again. We have a pretty strong case against her.” Owen said and Judd nodded.

“He’s right. I can get police records of everything and emergency records. It also helps that I adopted her last month as well.” Carlos said 

“We’ll figure this out. We’re not losing our Mini TK.” Mateo said and TK nodded. He just didn’t know what to say. He felt like he could throw up at the possibility that he could lose his daughter, you. He couldn’t lose you. He, Carlos, and everyone else loved you so much. He was going to fight for you.

“He's right. We'll figure it out. Right now, let's get lunch.” Carlos said looking at his boyfriend who was clearly upset. TK nodded and let himself be led away to the kitchen and when they got food Owen, Carlos, and TK went up to Owen's office. 

“I just don't understand.” TK said, looking over the paperwork. “What if I lose her? What if I lose our daughter?” He asked looking up at Carlos.

“That's not going to happen. We both have a steady job and a steady income. Y/N has flourished since being with you. Yes, we work long shifts but we have set hours and we have people at our beck and call when we need her to be watched. We're not losing her.” He said 

“What if she brings up my past and comas?” He asked and Owen answered.

“She has a past too. She has a record. Fiona can't use that against you.” Owen said and TK nodded. 

“How do you know she has a record?” Carlos asked suspiciously and Owen shook his head.

“That's not the important thing right now.” Owen said and that made TK smile and chuckle. It grew silent but it was a comfortable silence. They ate while in the comforting presence of each other. 

“I can't believe Fiona is trying to get her back. She didn't even care about her. We still have that note that she wrote to you about her.” TK said and Carlos nodded.

“We use that against her. We get the medical and police records. We also need to hire an attorney.” Carlos said 

“I have a friend that is an attorney and a really good one. He would help out in a second.” Owen said 

“Is he close?” TK asked and Owen nodded

“Very. I'll give him a call-” He started to say as soon as the bells went off “when we come back.” He said and Carlos and TK nodded as they stood up. They exchanged ‘be careful's and they were off.

—---

It was the end of the day for you and you had just walked outside of the school building to see Carlos’ Camero and you smiled and made your way over to him. He got out when he saw you coming his way. “Hi, Papa.” You greeted him excitedly.

“Hi, Cariño. Did you have a good day?” He asked, hugging you as you nodded.

“Uh huh!” You said and went on explaining your day to him and he smiled seeing the excitement in your eyes. It made everything disappear and the bad news that he and TK had gotten not matter for a few minutes. He let you go on and on about your day and he would answer when needed. Soon he was pulling up to the house and parking and then getting you out of the car. He grabbed your stuff as he watched you scamper off to the front door and wait for him and that made him smile. He shut the door and locked it and then walked up to the front door unlocked it as you grabbed the handle and pushed it open and ran into the house. 

“Easy!” He yelled out when you sped into the house and all he got in response was a giggle and that made him smile. You had disappeared while he was in the kitchen going through your bag and grabbing your lunch box and opening it, disposing of the trash and the half-eaten contents. His mind went to the news that he and TK had gotten. He was so caught up in his mind that when you presented Lou in front of his face he jumped and almost let out a n inhuman shriek. “Y/N Y/M/N Strand! You scared the shi- crap out of me!” He yelled with a hand over his heart.

“Ohhhh you almost said a bad word.” You teased smirking and he rolled his eyes.

“Why do you have Lou?” He asked, eyeing the alligator lizard suspiciously.

“I told you I was going to get him out and play with him. You said ok.” You said and then he realized that he did in fact say it was ok while he was caught up in thinking about the previous events.

“That’s right.” He said and you looked at him.

“Papa… are you ok? Do you want to hold Lou to make you feel better?” You asked, thrusting the lizard into this face and visibly flinching.

“I’m ok Cariño. You can keep Lou.” He said and was glad when you pulled him away from his face.

“Ok.” You said and skipped off and he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Carlos was glad and relaxed when you had put Lou away and then the rest of the night was all about you and him. You both played games and he helped you with your homework. Supper was made and eaten and a few movies were watched after a bath and getting ready for bed. You had fallen asleep snuggled into his side and he carried you to bed. As he was slipping out of your room his phone rang, he looked at the name and saw it was TK and he answered it.

“Hello?” Carlos asked

“Hey, Baby. Dad called his friend and we are all set to go.” TK said as Carlos arrived at the kitchen.

“That’s great! When does he want to meet us?” He asked

“Tomorrow after you drop Y/N/N off at school.” TK said and Carlos nodded.

“That sounds great. She’s not going to be taken away from us.” Carlos said and he could hear TK smile.

“How is she?” TK asked

“She’s great. I just put her to bed not too long ago.” He said

“Damn I missed her. We just got back from a call.” TK said, sounding sad.

“It’s ok. You can talk to her in the morning.” He said 

“That sounds great.” TK said

“She played with Lou when we got home. Scared the shit out of me.” He said and TK laughed “Hey it's not funny!” He defended but smiled.

“Yes, it is! There is nothing to be scared about.” TK chuckled, “Besides the flesh eating when it’s hungry.” He said knowing it would rile up his boyfriend.

“Not funny.” Carlos said and then the bell went off.

“Duty calls. Love you.” TK said

“Love you too. Be careful.” Carlos said

“Always.” TK replied and then they were both hanging the phone up. 

Carlos smiled and finished up what he needed to do downstairs and watched a little more TV and then he was heading off to bed after making sure you were still good and sound asleep. He got himself ready and got into bed and fell asleep. His night was filled with questions and waking up multiple times and he was having nightmares and that led to him checking in on you making sure you were still there. At one point after 4 AM he woke from a cold sweat and he had to get up and check on you and then he was heading to the living room and watched some TV he and TK texted for a few and then he was dozing off on the couch. It wasn’t even 3 hours later when he was jerking awake to his phone alarm going off. He was quick to turn it off and stand up and stretch. He started a pot of coffee then he was heading to your room to start getting you ready.  “Mi Cariño it is time to get up.” He said walking into your room and kneeling down beside your bed.

“Papa?” You asked and he smiled as you opened your eyes and looked at him sleepily.

“Yes, Cariño?” He asked

“Daddy?” You asked

“He’s at work. Do you want to see if I can call him while you get ready for school?” He asked and you nodded your head and he smiled and nodded. “Ok. Go brush your teeth and get changed. I'll be down in the kitchen.” He said and again you nodded

“Ok, Papa.” You said and he got up as you climbed out of bed to do as you were told. Carlos went down into the kitchen and started breakfast as he pulled out his phone and dialed his boyfriend and the father of his daughter, he answered almost immediately.

“Hey, Baby.” TK answered 

“Hey! Someone wants to say hi.” He said and just then you came into the kitchen and he put the phone on speaker.

“Daddy?” You asked 

“Hi, Princess.” TK said as Carlos handed you the phone and he continued making breakfast. “Were you good for Papa last night and this morning?” He asked

“Yes, Daddy! We played with Lou!” You said excitedly.

“Correction, she played with Lou while I stayed my distance.” Carlos butted in as he made your lunch for the day. TK chuckled. You definitely got your braveness and love for unique animals from him. 

“You love Lou don’t you?” TK asked and you nodded enthusiastically.

“I do! He’s just the best!” You said and Carlos cringed. 

“Are you going to have a good day at school today?” He asked

“You know it, Daddy! I miss you.” You said with a frown and that made Carlos smile sadly.

“I miss you too but I’ll see you after school today.” He said and your face lit up.

“Really?” You asked 

“Really.” He said and you shrieked just then the bells went off. “Hey, listen I have to go but you be good for Papa and have a good day at school and remember I love you.” He said and you nodded.

“I love you too!” You said and then handed the phone to Carlos.

“Be safe. I love you. I’ll see you later.” Carlos said 

“I love you too, Baby.” He said and then the phone was being hung up. During the whole conversation you were eating and so was he.  

After breakfast Carlos got your backpack together, he had you get your homework done after supper. He and you headed to the car and he headed to your school which wasn’t that far away and he was thankful for that. When he arrived, he gave you a kiss and a hug “Be good and don’t get in trouble. I love you.” He said and you nodded.

“You got it, Papa! Love you too!” You said and then you were ushered off into the school by a teacher. Now it was time for him to meet TK at the lawyer’s office but first he was picking up coffee for the both of them.

—---

Carlos parked beside TK’s Jeep and got out when he got out. They hugged and kissed each other and TK was handed his coffee. “You, ok?” Carlos asked and TK shrugged.

“It’s all just hitting me and I don’t like any of it.” He said and Carlos nodded.

“I get it. I do. Let’s go in and see what can be done.” Carlos said and TK nodded and so they walked into the building and the receptionist was quick to guide them into a very nice-looking office and degrees were displayed everywhere. 

“Mr. Terious, Mr. Reyes and Mr. Strand are here.” The receptionist said a man in his 50s looked up and smiled and stood up. He had short dark hair, blue eyes, slight stubble, and he was at least 6’0” tall.

“Thank you, Christina.” He said and she smiled and walked out of the room closing the door.

“I’m Corey Terious but you can just call me Corey.” Corey said and smiled.

“I’m Carlos, TK’s boyfriend, the other father of Y/N.” Carlos said and shook his hand.

“I’m TK, the father.” TK said and shook his hand.

“Your father has told me a lot about you both. Please sit.” Corey said “Carlos you said that you were the other father.” He said and Carlos nodded.

“Yes, I adopted her last month.” He said and Corey nodded.

“That will help majorly. I’ve done my research and it looks like Fiona Hart gave up parental rights to Y/N when she dropped her off at the station. Is that correct?” He asked and TK nodded.

“Yes, we have a copy and the courts have a copy.” He said and Corey nodded. 

“Both of you have good steady jobs and paychecks coming in regularly that also helps. TK I also see that you have a past but you’ve been cleared of everything.” He said looking through the notes and TK nodded.

“That’s right.” TK said as Carlos’ hand went to hold his.

“Will it help if I could get medical records and police records of Fiona?” Carlos asked and Corey looked up at him.

“It would but I don’t want you to risk your job.” He said and Carlos shook his head.

“I wouldn’t be. I want to help out with this as much as possible.” He said and Corey nodded.

“Very well. Is there anything you can tell me about the day Y/N was dropped off to you, TK?” He said looking over to him. TK nodded.

“She was covered in bruises and she smelled of drugs. Judd Ryder had her while I and dad talked to Fiona. We also have pictures of the bruising.” He said and Corey nodded.

“Would Judd be ok with going on the stand?” He asked and TK nodded.

“Yes, he loves that little girl as much as we do. He also noticed that when something loud sounded, she flinched away.” TK nodded and Corey nodded as he wrote down what he just learned. The meeting went on for another hour and more coffee was consumed and then they were standing up.

“It looks like we have a strong case. I’ll keep in touch. Carlos when you get those records please send them over right away.” Corey said and Carlos nodded.

“Absolutely.” Carlos said and Corey smiled and walked around the desk and shook their hand and they started to walk towards the door.

“Is there any possible way we could sue her and send her to prison for what she has done?” TK asked and Corey paused and thought for a moment.

“I’ll look into it.” He said and TK smiled and nodded.

“Thank you so much.” He said and Carlos nodded and then they said their goodbyes and they were on their way.

“See you later Mr. Reyes and Mr. Strand.” Christina said and they smiled.

“Please call us Carlos and TK.” Carlos said and she smiled.

“Very well.” She said and they were headed out of the building. They walked to their cars.

“We got this.” Carlos said, pulling his boyfriend in for a hug.

“I know but it’s still fucking scary.” TK said and Carlos nodded.

“I know it is and you owe a dollar to the swear jar.” Carlos said smirking at the last part and TK rolled his eyes.

“She’s not even around.” He said smiling.

“I know I was just messing with you.” Carlos said and they kissed each other and then they got in their cars and headed home.

—---

They both arrived home and parked their cars in the driveway and they headed inside. TK went to take a shower and change and then he was joining Carlos on the couch. Neither of them said anything as they held each other and watched whatever show they had saved. Lunch was ordered in and they had it on the couch as they just enjoyed being in the embrace of each other. When it came time to pick you up, they were both headed to TK’s Jeep and they were off. Very small talk was made and music filled the car. They were quick to get to your school and they were getting out and greeting your smiling happy face as you ran to them “Papa! Daddy!” You shouted and they smiled.

“Hey Princess!” TK said and bent down as you ran into his arms.

“Hi, Cariño!” Carlos said and hugged you as TK stood up. 

“I missed you.” TK said 

“I missed you too, Daddy.” You said and they smiled, they loaded you up into the car and they were headed home. The care ride was much more enjoyable and you were now nonstop talking and giggling and they gave input when it was needed. They arrived home and everyone was getting out. Once you were out you skipped up to the front door and waited and when they got there and opened the door you were rushing in dropping everything and you disappeared upstairs. TK grabbed your bag and lunch box and brought it to the table. Carlos took your lunch box and started what he did yesterday while TK went through your backpack. Tomorrow was Saturday which meant that everyone could sleep in and both men had the day off. 

“Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!” You yelled out coming into the kitchen.

“Yes, Princess?” He asked 

“Lou got out.” You said and Carlos froze.

“Y/N, what did you just say?” He asked

“Lou got out.” You said looking at him.

“Uh um ok. Nobody panic. We got this under control.” Carlos said, clearly panicking.

“Babe, it is ok.” TK

“Yea, Papa. It’s ok.” You said 

“I’m going to go and get supper while you find Lou.” Carlos said and was out of there quickly. You and TK looked at each other and shrugged and off the two you went to find Lou. 

2 hours later Carlos was coming back home even though you and TK had found Lou only 6 minutes after he left, turns out he was under the lamp in your room. Carlos walked in to you and TK on the couch cuddled up together. “Hey guys.” He said suspiciously the both of you turned around.

“Hi!” You both said.

“Did you find Lou?” He asked and you and TK looked at each other. “Did you?” He asked again and no answer “Alright. We are moving.” He said as he set the food down and the two of you burst out laughing.

“Babe, we found him 6 minutes after you left.” TK said laughing as the two of you walked over to the table.

“Oh, thank goodness. I love this house.” He said and you and TK laughed as he helped set the dinner table. 

Supper was eaten and then cleaned up. The three of you cuddled up on the couch and a movie was put on about 40 minutes into the movie and you were out like light snuggled between your two fathers and they smiled and let you sleep. The movie ended and TK was carrying you up the stairs and into the room he kissed your forehead and was out the door while turning the light off, Carlos was right behind him doing the same thing and then they were headed to bed.

It was a very uneventful night and everyone stayed asleep. Carlos and TK were woken up by TK’s phone ringing and he was quick to answer it. 

“Hello?” TK asked 

“TK it’s Corey. I’m sorry for waking you up so early but I wanted to let you know everything looks good and is ready to go. Thank Carlos for getting me those records. We have a date set for Monday morning.” Corey said

“That’s great, thank you so much. We’ll see you on Monday.” TK said

“Very good. I’ll let you both enjoy your day with your little girl.” He said then he was saying bye and hanging up.

“You little shit. You were getting records, weren’t you?” TK asked his boyfriend.

“Guilty.” He said and smiled and so did TK.

“I love you.” TK said

“I love you too.” Carlos said and kissed him “So?” He asked

“Oh yea. That was Corey and he said everything looked good and we have a date set for Monday.”TK said

“Woah, that is fast.” Carlos said and TK nodded

“I agree but it's great.” TK said and it was Carlos’ turn to nod. 

“What time is it?” Carlos asked

“11 AM.” TK said about that time you came running into their room and jumping in the middle.

“Papa! Daddy!” You yelled out and they smiled at you and they grabbed you and snuggled you. You guys stayed there for a few minutes. “I’m hungry.” You said plainly and they laughed.

“Alright, Princess. Let’s go.” He said as they both got up and headed into the kitchen. TK texted his father and let him know what was going on and then he was texting Judd too. Judd came back and let him know he would be happy to do anything for you.

The rest of the weekend was spent with each other being in each other’s presence.

—---

Monday rolled around and it was decided to have you go to school and be picked up by one of your aunts while your fathers were at custody court. TK and Carlos dropped you off at school in the Jeep and then they were heading to the court house. They were both so nervous but knew they had this in the bag. TK parked and they headed in and went through security with ease. When they got to the floor, they saw Corey and all of the 126, you had become part of their family and they weren’t going to let you go that easily. “Good morning, both of you. This is just a hearing. We’ll have to wait for a set date.” He said and they both nodded.

“We understand.” TK said and Corey nodded.

“Very well. Let’s go in.” He said and then they went in along with the others. Everyone was nervous but they knew they had won the case. TK and Fiona spotted each other and she smirked and she walked over to him smiling.

“Hello TK.” She said smiling and TK smiled back because he knew if he was mean or said anything downgrading her the court would be over and the battle would be lost.

“Hey, Fiona.” He said and Carlos was there the whole time.

“You must be Carlos. It’s nice to meet you.” She said and he nodded.

“Nice to meet you too.” Even though he knew it was a lie and everyone did too. 

“How’s Y/N?” She asked

“She’s great.” TK said 

“Does she ask about me?” She asked

“No.” Carlos said he and TK just wanted this conversation to end. The judge walked in and she went back over to her table and they sighed in relief.

“All rise the Honorable Judge Hayes is presiding.” The judge walked in and then sat down and everyone sat. The hearing began, evidence was presented and questions were asked. The hearing was long and drawn out by the time they were done it was late and everyone was tired. Fiona played the ‘oh poor pitiful me’ card but nobody bought it. When they met with Corey, he had really good things to say and then they were able to go home. When they got out of the building it was almost dark and they knew you would be home and probably asleep. 

Carlos opted to drive home and TK didn’t even protest the drive was driven in silence, events still playing through their heads. Carlos pulled into the driveway and sat there for a few minutes and looked at each other. “We got this. She’s not going anywhere.” Carlos said and TK nodded.

“I believe you. I just can’t deal with losing her.” He said and Carlos shook his head.

“We’re not. We’re the best option for her and her mother is not.” Carlos said putting a hand on his boyfriend’s cheek and TK leaned into it. “Hey, I love you.” He added.

“I love you too.” TK said and kissed his boyfriend and then they were heading inside and were greeted with a TV on low volume. Luisa turned and smiled at her brother and hopefully future brother-in-law.

“Hey. How did it go?” She asked getting up to go and greet them.

“I think we have a very strong case against her. She’s not getting her back.” Carlos said and TK nodded. 

“Did she behave for you?” TK asked and Luisa smiled and nodded.

“She’s a wonderful kid. Very polite.” She said and that made TK and Carlos smile.

“That is because TK is her father.” Carlos said and TK blushed and looked down. 

“We did her homework and then had supper. We played some games and watched TV. We also played with Lou, she loves that thing and I have to agree it is cute.” She said and Carlos’ mouth dropped.

“Seriously not you too.” He said and TK smiled.

“He’s great.” TK defended and Luisa smiled and nodded. 

“Well, it is time for me to leave. If you need me to watch her again while you guys are away to court let me know. Love you both.” She said and hugged them and they hugged back. She grabbed her stuff and she was leaving. Once she was gone, they looked at each other.

“Go check in on her and I’ll start fixing food to eat and then we are going to relax.” Carlos said and TK nodded. He had been quiet and keeping to himself throughout this process and Carlos understood, so if that meant that he had to be the strong one right now and take charge then so be it. Carlos watched his boyfriend walk away to your room.

TK arrived at your room and quietly opened it and saw you sound asleep. Your stuffed wolf had fallen and he smiled and walked further into your room and picked it and placed it into your arms. You snuggled it and fell further into sleep. He knelt down and kissed your forehead. “I love you.” He said and stroked your hair and you snuggled into his touch and he smiled and then got up and walked out cracking the door and back to his boyfriend who was holding a plate for him. 

“She, ok?” He asked and TK nodded.

“Sound to sleep snuggling the wolf you got her.” He said and that made Carlos smile.

“Good now lets eat and go back to bed.” Carlos said and TK nodded and they did just that. After they were done Carlos went and checked in on you and then they were heading to bed. 

 —---

4 weeks later and they were being called back into the courtroom. This was the final. Of course, they had been in out for small matters but this was the big and final. Corey briefed them and then the judge was coming in and being introduced. Fiona was prohibited from getting in contact with TK and Carlos and they were happy to follow that rule. The judge wanted you to be there but not in the courtroom for the time being. Court started and everyone was ready for a battle. Both lawyers presented their cases and evidence. “Your honor, the best interest for the child would be to go with the mother.” Josh Walters, Fiona’s lawyer, said.

“What evidence do you have for this?” Judge Hayes asked and Josh brought out the evidence and took it to Judge Hayes.

“As you can see the father has been arrested and has used drugs.” Josh said 

“Objection.” Corey said 

“Proceed.” Judge Hayes said and Corey brought over his paperwork.

“My client has had a steady job for years. That was in the past. As you can see Fiona has been in and out of jail since she has moved here and before she has moved here. She gave up rights as soon as she arrived in Texas. She has also been using drugs ever since. She does not have a steady paying job. I would also like to bring up the fact that Y/N has been in and out of the hospital while she was in Fiona’s care and she had stopped breathing three times.” Corey said

“Objection!” Josh said 

“Overruled!” Judge Hayes said and slammed his gavel down. “Continue.” He said to Corey.

“I would like to call the stand Firefighter Judd Ryder. He was there and was in possession of Y/N Strand while my client and the defendant were talking.” Corey said and Judge Hayes nodded and Judd was walked to the stand and sworn in. “Mr. Ryder, you had Y/N while everything was being discussed, correct?” Corey asked

“That is correct.” He said

“Can you tell what state Y/N was in while you were caring for her for the time being?” Corey asked

“She was scared to death but didn’t show it. She smelled of drugs and part of shirt fell away from her shoulder and there was a bruise which we have pictures of and you should too.” Judd said and Corey nodded and handed over the pictures. “When asked who did it to her, she said and I quote “Mommy and her boyfriends. She would have guys over all the time and they leave in the morning. The house always smelt funny. Mommy and the men always hit me when I asked something or spoke. They tried to touch me but I ran away and hid.”” He added. “While I was showing her around a loud noise happened and she flinched away.” He finished. 

“Thank you, Mr. Ryder. As you can see the best option for Y/N would be staying with her father.” Corey said. Tommy Vega was called to the stand and sworn in. “Mrs. Vega, how would you describe TK Strand and Carlos Reyes as fathers?” Corey asked.

“They are great fathers. Anything that Y/N needs or wants they are tending to her right away. They would do nothing to put her in harm's way. TK is always smiling when he talks to her and about her. Same goes for Carlos.” She said and Corey nodded and she was dismissed. The letter that Fiona had given TK was presented and so were the papers for rights being signed over. Recess was called and everyone broke away and some out of the courtroom. “We have strong evidence. We got this.” Corey said to them and they both nodded. They were being called back quickly and that was not normal.

“Has the jury reached a verdict?” Judge Hayes asked and one stood up.

“We the jury think it is in the best interest for Y/N to stay with her father.” They said and everyone sighed in relief. Judge Hayes nodded.

“Y/N will be staying with her father. It is also decided that Fiona Hart will be sentenced to life in prison for possession of drugs, dealing drugs, child endangerment, and child abuse. The father, TK Strand and Carlos Reyes will be suing Fiona Hart for $6,000 a restraining order is also being set. Court is adjourned.” Judge Hayes said and slammed his gavel down and everyone sighed in relief. They did it and they won. You were brought in and you ran to your fathers and they held you. They watched as Fiona was taken away in shackles. She tried to call out but she was forbidden to speak to you. The 126 gathered around smiling. 

“Thank you, Judd.” TK smiled and he smiled.

“Anything for you, Carlos, and Mini TK. She’s not going anywhere anytime soon. She is family for life.” He said everyone agreed. 

They did it. They had won. They’re family was staying together. Nobody was taking you away from them anytime soon. Fiona was gone out of your lives…. for now.

Tag list:

@els-marvelvsp

@kmc1989

@atarmychick007

@nyx2021

@grandstrangerphantom

@angenu01-blog

@talesofreading

@mel-vaz

[ofmdrecaps]

9/10-17/2024 Daily OFMD Recap Pt 3

TLDR; David Fane; Lindsey Cantrell; Nat Torres; Damien Gerard; Dominic Burgess; Fan Events: OFMD Rewind; S2 Trailer (Because the Night, Belongs to lovers); Trends; Fan Spotlight: Relax I'm From The Future; OFMD Colouring Pages/Paper Pete; Love Notes;

Part 1 / Part 2

== David Fane ==

David is teaching at ICAN International! Check them out on their website!

"ICAN’s focus is to help create opportunities in work force development, build infrastructure and establish placement goals by amplifying training with extensive ongoing master classes, by bridging connections beyond Hawaii." More videos on the Repo

Source: David Fane's Instagram Stories

== Lindsey Cantrell ==

Our beloved set designer, Lindsey Cantrell has so much going on too right now! Did you know she's going to be at Comic Con LA! Our friend petrichor (aka gheyandwoke on twitter) is spreading the word about the OFMD Panel happening Oct 6, 1 PM PST featuring none other then Linds Cantrell!

Source: GheyandWork on Twitter Oh and in case you are a fan of Only Murders In The Building, it just won an Emmy for Outstanding Music Composition For A Series! This was another great show she worked on and if you'd like to check out some BTS/other things she shared for it, feel free to visit here!

Source: Lindsey Cantrell's Instagram

== Nat Torres ==

One of our fabulous writers, Nat Torres making a quick appearance.

Source: Nat Torres Instagram Stories

== Damien Gerard ==

Damien, our dear Father Teach has some WONDERFUL NEWS. Five Years Clear of Cancer! Congrats sir!

Source: Damien's Twitter

In other news, he's on Dragon Age: Vows of Vengeance Episode 1! Listen in if you're interested!

Source: Damien's twitter

== Dominic Burgess ==

Dominic, (aka Jeffrey Fettering) keeping up with the current events!

Source: Dominic Burgess Twitter

== Fan Events ==

OFMD Rewind Eps 5-8 with @adoptourcrew and @astroglideofficial is happening tomorrow, 09/19/24! Did you miss out on the fun on twitter on the 12th, or just don't have access to twitter? No problem! You can see the whole thread here on the repo.

"Join us and @astroglideofficial for our rewatch of Episodes 1-4 of S1 of #OurFlagMeansDeath! We’ll see you on Twitter at 2:30PM PDT to talk it through…as a crew 🏴‍☠️ #LubeAsACrew#OFMDRewind#ofmd"

Source: AdoptOurCrew's Instagram

== S2 Trailer Anniversary ==

Adopt Our Crew lead the charge with the S2 Trailer "Because The Night Belongs To Lovers" S2 Trailer, anniversary on Sept 14th! They asked some fun questions to boost engagement! Feel free to reach out to them to answer any of the questions! Don't know which trailer we're talking about? Check it out below!

Source: Adopt Our Crew Twitter

Source: Adopt Our Crew Twitter

== Trends ==

Oh and great job everyone, looks like some great trends on twitter from the 14th!!

Source: Politest Menace's Twitter

Source: AOC's Twitter

== Fan Spotlight ==

= Relax I'm From The Future! =

So this is VERY late because of my delays but I was given permission by the fabulous @citrussyndicate and all folks involved to share this phenomenal Relax I'm From The Future Cosplay w/Rhys! Thank you so much for allowing me to share this, it's so cool!

Source: @ CitrusSyndicate's Twitter

== OFMD Colouring Pages / Paper Pete! ==

Our fantastic friend @patchworkpiratebear is back with more colouring pages, and something new and exciting-- Paper Pete! These were all done as part of the @ofmdaction event, and they are awesome!

Source: Patchwork Piratebear's Twitter

== Love Notes ==

Hey there lovelies. Gosh, I can't believe it's been a week. I have to give it up to the ofmd fan crew cause they do week long reports and oh my god is it exhausting. I tip my hat to you lovely folks for all the work you did for so long with weeklong updates. Tonight, I wish I had more in me so I could properly express myself. I am so very grateful for all of you wonderful crewmates who have been patient, and kind and supportive over the past week to me. It's been a lot, and I try to keep people up to date, but I also try not to go too crazy cause it's a lots of heavy stuff going on (not just with me, with everyone on a personal level, with the world, etc), so whether you left passing hugs, or a kind word, I just want you to know you are so very incredibly appreciated and it means so much to me. So please accept so many hugs coming your way from me, and some ghostly forehead kisses.

Sometimes life hits us with some of the absolute craziest shit, and you know what helps get us through it? Each other. A hug, or a kind word makes a world of difference. Someone checking on you, or reminding you to drink water, it can honestly save someone's life/sanity and it kept me going this week. So please know that you make such an amazing difference, in my life and so many others. <3

But also, please remember. if you need support too, reach out, I know sometimes it's hard to ask for help, but we're here for you <3. We only have this one life, and there's no use going through it alone. Love you so much crew, thank you again for being such a wonderful group of kind hearted, compassionate folks. I am so honored to know so many of you <3.

Source: The Latest Kate's Tumblr

Source: BloomWithChristie Instagram

[sailorstarr-chan4]

Sugar and Spice - an InuKag coffee shop AU

What's this? An InuKag oneshot that is NOT porn? It's been ages! This fic has been 4+ years in the making (aka, collecting dust until I finally finished it today), and now, at last, I'm sharing it. In honor of 6 years since I shared the coffee shop AU headcanon list, here at last is my first "true" coffee shop AU for this fandom.

This is also officially my 100th Inuyasha ficlet that goes into my oneshot collections! I hope y'all enjoy some silly fluff! ❤

Posted under my "Tied Together" collection: ff.net & AO3

Words: 2,662

Setting: coffee shop AU

Rated: K+

DISCLAIMER: Yes, I've worked in food service and customer service and am fully aware that all I wrote below is bullshit. Fiction is fiction lol ^^"

~*~*~*~

“Sugar and spice and everything nice. That’s what little girls are made of.” 

That stupid nursery rhyme, thought Kagome furiously as she jabbed at the coffee machine, was the biggest load of bull! 

At the moment, this “little girl” was made of molten lava, bubbling under the surface of the falsely tranquil mountain of her Customer Service Persona, and any second now, she was going to blow her top. 

All because of him! 

The Asshole, with short silver hair, golden eyes, perpetual frown, and absurdly adorable dog ears, came into Kagome’s workplace every Friday morning. For the past four months. And not a single occasion had passed where he remotely acted like a decent person! 

He seemed to use Coffee for the Soul (the cafe where Kagome normally adored working) as an outlet for all his personal problems. Yeah, one of those customers. 

Kagome actually considered herself somewhat an expert of dealing with those sorts; she had an uncanny talent of letting their snippiness and rude manners roll off her back like water on a duck, and smiling so sweetly and behaving with such politeness that eventually even the angriest customer either slipped away shamefaced or let their anger temporarily melt away. 

But not with him. She had no patience with The Asshole. It was simply impossible! 

Still, Kagome had a rep at Coffee for the Soul for being “the sweet barista,” so every Friday was a test of her fortitude. At first, she took it head-on, with all the enthusiasm of any wide-eyed bushy-tailed newcomer, despite already being employed there for two years. 

But then, he had snatched the cup from the counter, glared at her, and spat out, “You smell funny.” And promptly left the premises! 

Fuming, Kagome had spent the rest of her shift off-kilter, with sharp movements and incoherent mutterings under her breath, causing her coworkers’ heads to turn in surprise. From then on, Fridays became a tense battlefield of wits: the Asshole Customer vs the Slowly-Losing-Her-Cool Barista. 

“Kagome, I can take over, if you want–” her coworker and friend Sango tried offering once, but Kagome refused point blank. 

“This. Is. War!” she had snarled, pushing the buttons and slamming down utensils with such ferocity that no one dared tried to argue. 

So, every week Kagome and The Asshole had their “face-off,” with tension one could cut with a knife until he left the premises. The only blessing of that infamous customer’s regularity was that his order was forever the same: black coffee, with a shot of espresso. 

After a month of his weekly visits, it was suggested that maybe, perhaps, the baristas could already prepare his drink ahead of time. Best case scenario, he leaves Coffee for the Soul all the earlier (and lessen the damaged mood of a certain stubborn employee). Worst case scenario, he changes his order and they cut their losses. 

Kagome shot down the suggestion with a righteous fury. 

“He can wait for his stupid order just like everyone else!” she hissed at Sango. “And he can go through my suggestions and sales-pitches, too!” 

(Sango chose not to say that Kagome normally avoided the sales pitch with other customers, preferring to take the “personable” approach that generally opened them up to trying new things without her input. It was a brilliant, psychological tactic that worked most of the time, so she really did not, in fact, have to do the Sales Pitch Spiel with The Asshole.) 

And thus, Fridays always ended up the same way: 

The Asshole enters the cafe. 

Kagome greets him with a beaming smile that fools absolutely no one. 

The Asshole begins to tell his usual order.

Kagome cuts him off with a long, cheerful spiel on all the various types of drinks, additives, and specials. 

The Asshole scowls. Mutters something along the lines of “you talk too much.” 

Kagome beams with the radiance of a thousand suns. 

The Asshole mutters, “Just black coffee, with a shot of espresso.” 

Kagome: “Would you also like that with a shot of caramel, vanilla, hazelnut, nutella, chocolate, mint, or strawberry?” 

The Asshole: “Plain. Nothing else.” 

Kagome, her smile almost unnaturally wide: “Very good, sir. And would you like whipped cream, soy or whole milk?” 

The Asshole, growling slightly: “No. Just black. And espresso. Like I said a million times already.” 

Kagome, positively overflowing with the Joy of Providing Good Customer Service: “Excellent choice, sir.” Gives the same exact total amount that The Asshole pays every week. Meticulously counts back his change, all the while smiling uncannily. 

The Asshole pockets his change. Sits down. Glares at Kagome’s back (according to witnesses) as she cheerfully, painstakingly, slowly prepares his coffee before personally coming around the bar and placing it on his table with a chirpy, “Here’s one black coffee, with espresso, and no additional flavors, cream, or any interesting whatsoever! Enjoy your drink, sir!” 

The Asshole furrows his brow, downs his coffee in one gulp while glaring into Kagome’s equally fiery eyes behind her fake smile, tosses the cup, and stomps outside without a word of gratitude, the door bell jingling in his wake. 

This exchange became famous. There were variations, of course, oftentimes on The Asshole’s end, where he’d cut Kagome off faster than usual and bark at her to “stop stalling and give me my fucking coffee already.” At which point, a venomously smiling Kagome would politely tell the customer that rude language was not appropriate at this establishment and if he did not comply, she would suggest he find business elsewhere. 

(He never did. Kagome seethed about it constantly.) 

At first, Kagome’s coworkers were scared she would get a “talk” from her higher-ups, but to everyone’s astonishment, no reprimand or discipline was issued. The supposed reason? “As inappropriate as we would generally find that behavior, the customer has never filed a complaint and continues to give us business. So, we’ll let it slide this time, but expect exemplary service with the rest of our patrons.” 

(That was the spoken reason, but Sango, Miroku, and Shippo, all eyeing their normally bubbly and genuine coworker turn into a terrifying fake, condescending queen when face-to-face with the source of her wrath, suspected that the managers found it, well, entertaining.) 

Miroku was the first one to make that observation after two months of “the war.” He noted that even the other customers were positively gleeful, watching Kagome and The Asshole rather like watching boxers in a ring. Newcomers would be quickly and quietly filled in on the scoop and they’d find themselves invested in the tense face-off as well. 

“I would not be surprised if our bosses have a betting ring going around or something,” Miroku confided in Sango and Shippo while Kagome was on break. 

“That’s so unprofessional!” Sango gasped. 

“Can you imagine how bored you’d have to be with your life,” Shippo piped up thoughtfully, “to be that invested in the love lives of total strangers? Talk about pathetic.” 

(Sango and Miroku were not fooled. Shippo eagerly watched “the show” every week just like everyone else.) 

Because regardless of the rage behind Kagome’s eyes, despite the rants and ravings she subjected her coworkers to about how abominable The Asshole was, there was no denying how she was obviously, hopelessly attracted to him. 

No one told Kagome this, of course. No one dared incur her wrath any further than necessary. But her cheeks always reddened when the telltale bell rang at 9 am and he entered the cafe. She always smirked when making his drink, and always watched him leave afterwards. 

The love-hate-tension between Barista and Customer was the greatest source of entertainment anyone could ask for. 

Until one day, when a change of the routine nearly threw everything into unmitigated chaos. 

The Asshole came inside, looking uncharacteristically nervous and twitchy. Kagome primed herself for another battle, barely registering the way his usual scowl was missing and in its place was a rather pleading, puppy-eyed look. 

“One black coffee and one pumpkin spice latte, please,” he said in one go before Kagome opened her mouth. 

The morning buzz around them fell deafeningly silent. Sango froze in place of handing a customer their drink, Miroku’s hand nearly burned on the oven, and Shippo all but literally choked on his drink of water. Every single person, customer and barista, were staring at the nameless customer and a rigid Kagome. 

Kagome opened her mouth a few times like a dying fish, shook herself, and croaked out, “Repeat that one more time, please?” There was no sign of her over-the-top Customer Service persona. 

“One black coffee and one pumpkin spice latte, please and thank you,” The Asshole repeated, blushing furiously, but his tone was sincere. 

Kagome blinked. There was a ringing in her ears. He never said “please” or “thank you.” And he certainly never ordered a second drink, let alone pumpkin spice! 

Come to think of it, he was also dressed nicely. Instead of his usual red leather jacket and dirty jeans, he cleaned up rather well, with a button-up shirt and slacks, and dress shoes. Dress shoes?! Kagome’s head swam. Was he on a date? Oh gods, he was definitely on a date! 

The silence in the cafe renewed its buzz, but this time with an uptick in excitement. Everyone was wondering the same as her, gossiping delightedly over who his date was going to be, and how their beloved barista was going to “take the heartbreak.” 

Well, they had no reason to fret or fuss. Because Kagome had nothing whatsoever to care about! The Asshole may be a thorn in her side, but plenty of women had bad taste and went for those types. So what if he had a date? So what if he cleaned up way too nicely and looked devastatingly handsome, but also adorable in how nervous and shy he clearly was? So what?! 

“Your, uh, your usual is different today, hehe,” Kagome awkwardly laughed, hating herself for losing the battle. “You on a — a date or something? Haha, just kidding, I—” 

“Yeah, um,” the Asshole ran his hand through his hair, grinning bashfully, “I’m hoping she’ll…. like the gesture.” 

And then, the volcano finally erupted. 

Without a shred of fake niceness in her voice, Kagome coldly gave the total amount to her regular customer and all but threw the change into his hand without counting. She stomped over to the latte machine and started to prepping the order, her vision going red. 

Who was she?! Who was the one who took her asshole away?! 

Wait…. What? 

“Kagome…” a concerned voice broke into her reverie. “Your hand’s shaking.” 

Sango gently but firmly removed the partially-made drink from Kagome and quietly suggested that she sit in the back to “take a moment.” 

Angry tears pricking her eyes, Kagome furiously splashed cold water on her face from the sanctity of the bathroom, before gazing at her reflection. What was the deal? Why did this bother her so much? She hated The Asshole! She dubbed him “The Asshole” for good reason! He insulted her! He was always such a jerk! 

But then again, how much of that was just a bad first impression?, whispered a treacherous voice in her mind. Has he ever actually been a jerk since that first day? 

And loath she was to admit it, Kagome could not think of a singular incident. Grumpy, to be sure, blunt and ungracious, certainly, but not really an outward “asshole.” If anything, her petty behavior over the past few months outweighed his terrible first impression. 

Shame washed over Kagome. Shame, jealousy, and sadness. Such a waste…. All this time, she could have employed her actual customer service skills and had gotten to know him. Instead, she lost her chance and now he was chatting away with some pretty young thing and would probably never order his usual black coffee with espresso ever again— 

“Hey, Kagome?” Sango’s tentative voice called out, knocking on the door. “You mind coming out?” 

“Just a second,” Kagome called out, rubbing her face clean. She stepped out into the kitchen, and was promptly seized by a pair of hands. 

Before she could ask what was needed, Sango had already untied Kagome’s apron. “Sango, wha–?” 

“No time! Here, take my hairbrush and tease your hair a bit — oh never mind, I’ll do it!” 

“Sango! Pft!” Kagome blew her hair out of her face, fumbling as Sango frantically worked around her. “What are you—ouch! That’s my hair tie! What’s going—” 

“It’s a shame you’re not wearing something cuter, but it can’t be helped. After all, if he was won over by that gross cold attitude you’ve been dishing out, I’m pretty sure he’d want you even in a potato sack…” 

“Who would want me? Sango, what are you talking about?!” 

Sango paused in her hairbrushing, and stared, stunned, at the bewildered Kagome. “You really don’t know? Oh, this is even better—!” 

“Better? Know what???” 

“Just head out and see!” 

“See? What are you—- ah!” 

And with that, Kagome was tossed unceremoniously from the back, and out onto the “floor,” or customer area of the cafe. Spluttering, she flipped her hair out of her face and looked around. The Asshole was standing nervously at his usual table, clutching his two drinks. Upon noticing her arrival, he walked over, looking for all the world like a lovestruck schoolboy about to ask out his crush. 

Kagome blinked, realizing he was not looking over her shoulder, but rather squarely at her, into her eyes. Heat rose on her face. “Wh-what…. Do you have something to say?” Or are you just going to be rude again and break my heart? The voice said, unbidden, in her mind. 

The Asshole reached out and offered one of his drinks. It was a pumpkin spice latte. 

“Let’s start over. My name is Inuyasha, I’ve liked you for months, and thought we’d have a chat over some coffee.” His face was burning red, and his ears lowered low on his head, but his eyes remained resolutely fixed on hers. 

Sharp inhales scattered around them. The entire cafe seemed to have collectively held their breath. 

Kagome stared blankly. Then blinked. “Come again?” 

Inuyasha took a shaky breath and began: “My name is Inuyasha—” 

“No, no, I heard you. I just…. I don’t believe it.” 

“Why doncha sit down and then maybe you'll listen to me instead of just assuming?” 

There it was. That was her beloved Asshole. Suddenly, Kagome grinned happily and took the proffered drink. 

“A pleasure to meet you, Inuyasha. My name is Kagome, and, um,” she blushed so hard she was fairly certain steam was coming off the top of her head, “I’ve… liked you for months, too.” 

“I FUCKING KNEW IT! Cough up, Shippo! You owe me $20!” 

Inuyasha and Kagome both jumped a foot in the air and spun around. Half of the cafe was applauding, the other half harassing each other for exchanges of —- 

“You placed bets on us?!” Kagome lamented to an excitable Sango who was counting her winnings to Miroku, while Shippo sulked. 

“Well, I thought it was awful at first,” Sango said nonchalantly, “but I confess, I couldn’t resist after today!” 

Kagome turned and looked Inuyasha in the eye. They both started laughing and sat down, trying to ignore the chaos around them. 

“Oh by the way,” Kagome said, taking a sip of her latte, “how did you know to order pumpkin spice?” 

“I can smell it on you. The day we met, you….. smelled so much like pumpkin and vanilla, it was overwhelming. I, er, thought you smelled rather nice.” 

“That’s not remotely what that sounded like,” Kagome said, raising an eyebrow. 

Inuyasha grinned, looking slightly abashed. “I have a bad habit of putting my foot in my mouth. And I can be awfully stubborn. Betcha you know what that’s like.” 

Kagome’s face burned even hotter and she sipped her drink. “Well, girls are made of sugar and spice, you know,” she said cheekily. 

[dustydaddyyy]

no strings attached | joel miller x fem!reader

pairing: joel miller x fem! reader

summary: you can't deny there's always been something between you and joel miller. The question is, is either of you going to do something about it?

warnings: swearing, unspecified age gap (reader is her late 20s and joel is canon age) canon-typical descriptions of violence, some good old fashioned pining, fluff, mentions of grief/death, implications of sex/smut, no actual smut, joel is disgustingly gentlemanly, no use of y/n

a/n:…………I know this isn't the next chapter of flashpoint guys, I know. But this has been in my drafts forever and I had some inspiration to finish off the final part. and now here it is, so please enjoy!! don't forget to let me know what you thought through reblog/likes/comments/asks, I love to hear all of your thoughts aka pls interact with my work or my motivation to write shrivels and dies inside

You had never been a fan of cold, which was funny, considering it was cold in Jackson almost all year round. Even the summers were mild, but you still found yourself aching for them every time the winter came around, nights getting longer and the days getting shorter. 

You're standing on the main square in Jackson, hands clasped around a steaming mug of something as you look up at the building in front of you, but more specifically, the men standing on the makeshift scaffolding, working on the building. In your other hand you're gripping a large thermos, almost too large for your single grip, but you manage to keep it between your fingers.

They'd been working on the outer façade of the building for the past two weeks, after part of it had collapsed after a particularly rough storm.

There's a presence to your left as your eyes sweep over the scaffolding, and you turn your head to look at Maria as she lets loose a sharp whistle.

"Come have some coffee," she shouts at those working, and you chuckle slightly to yourself as they start to come down.

"Like dogs," you say jokingly, taking a sip of your mug, "Man, I need to learn how to whistle like that,"

"Don't say that to their face," Maria warns you jokingly, "There's much too much ego to go around in that group to take that with any kind of grace,"

You let out another chuckle, shaking your head with a laugh as you look away from her and towards the people walking in your direction. It was a relatively small group, maybe 5 or 6 men, and as they approach, you recognize Eugene's smile.

"Finally came out of your cave, eh?" he asks jokingly, and you narrow your eyes at him as you lift the coffee thermos.

"I'm happy to take this home with me," you inform him, and he laughs, before he extends an arm and pulls you sideways against him, almost spilling your drink.

You'd been in Jackson for 3 years now, having arrived at their large wooden gates early one morning in nothing but a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, severely hypothermic, dehydrated and covered in injuries. You'd been barely conscious, almost collapsing onto the snow but managing long enough to explain your situation to the guard on patrol, who had been Eugene. You'd come from California, more specifically Santa Barbara, where the Rattlers, a group of militaristic slavers, had pillaged your settlement. You'd barely escaped with your life, and it had been a damn near miracle that you'd managed the two-week trek on foot with nothing but a handgun and a limited supply of bullets. Your only advantage had been that you'd had to walk across large parts of Nevada, the state in which you'd grown up and spent the first 9 years of your life before the world went to shit.

Hence the disdain for cold weather.   

"She's cute when she gets all frowny, isn't she?" Eugene jokes again, and you roll your eyes, albeit jokingly.

"Let's see how cute I am when I shove my boot up your ass," you half-threaten, and Eugene lets out a booming laugh as the rest of the men arrive where you'd been standing, and he looks down at you. 

"Cute and violent. . . " he muses, before turning to the group with a raised eyebrow, "Any takers?"

"I'm not cattle," you say with a scoff, shrugging him off of you with a sideways shove, before straightening out, "Now you better drink this coffee before I spit in it, Eugene,"

"I hear ya," he says with a chuckle, taking the thermos from you as you move your gaze towards the group of men talking.

You know most of them pretty well, and you watch as they huddle, taking cups from Maria. Only the two at the back are standing a little away from the group, talking to each other animatedly under their breath.

The Miller brothers had been an interesting addition to Jackson.

Tommy had been here when you'd gotten there, but only a few months himself, and it had been nice to talk to someone who hadn't been living in the settlement for years, already. You'd been fast friends, Tommy's open personality and kind heart matching with your own personality well. You'd watched him fall in love with Maria, even been the one standing by his side as a witness when they'd gotten married. Tommy was easy; and open book, you could almost always tell what was going in his head.

Joel, however. . . Joel had been an entirely different story. You'd only been in Jackson 2 years when he'd first arrived. It had been strange, watching as Tommy had reconnected, albeit not smoothly, with someone he'd only ever told you about. You'd heard stories of Joel, though not many, and so when he came to Jackson, you found yourself slightly disappointed by him. He'd been the most regular man you'd ever laid eyes on, not some superhuman killing machine, and together with Ellie, they'd felt like two feral cats waiting to be rehomed.

Then they'd gone again, only coming back a few weeks later, and you'd known something wasn't right. Ellie had been muted, almost a ghost of the person she'd been when she'd first arrived, and Joel had been. . . you hadn't quite managed to put your finger on it at first, but after a few weeks observing him, some things had started to make sense. He'd had a wound, on his left side, which had been stitched horribly and gotten infected, and hadn't been healing right. You'd never been much of a healer, but when you'd first arrived in Jackson the sick bay is where you'd originally been assigned, to work under one of the few doctors in Jackson, and so you'd been in charge of dressing the wound and making sure it healed, despite Joel's vociferous protests.

You hadn't taken it personally, ignoring his cold exterior and treating him the same way you had everyone else, until finally, he began to accept your help, and your tentative friendship. Still, you hadn't managed to put your finger on what had happened to Joel and Ellie, and every time you talked to him, it felt as though he was holding back, keeping something from you, from everyone.

It wasn't until you'd brought a pair of Joel's pants, which you'd found stuffed into a bag under his bed, to the laundry, and you'd cleaned the spatters of blood running up the side of Joel's pant leg that you'd figured it out. Well, about half of it, anyway.

You'd been discreet, washing the blood off the clothes quietly and without attracting attention, before bringing them with you one day when you had to change his dressing, and dumping them out in front of him.

"Explain," you'd said, your voice calm and your gaze open, raising an eyebrow.

He'd been angry with you at first, eyes widening in shock at the idea that you'd been snooping around in his house, but you had paid him no heed and sat patiently in the chair until his anger subsided and he was ready to talk. 

You hadn't judged him as he'd spoken, and when Joel had told you everything, all the way from Ellie's immunity down to what had gone down in Salt Lake City, you'd sat in silence for a second, processing, before you'd nodded and moved onto treating his wound.

You hadn't talked about it past that, but Joel's attitude towards you had changed that day; he'd been expecting you to yell and scream at him, to be horrified at what he'd done and the fact that he'd probably doomed all of humanity to hell in one split-second decision, but you hadn't.

"I understand," you'd told him, as you cleaned his wound, "We all do horrible things in the name of love,"

In that moment, in the face of his horrible confession, you were calm, collected and accepting, and it was the first time Joel had felt comfortable around someone in Jackson that hadn't been Ellie or Tommy.

What Joel doesn't know, is that the minute you came home, you had hurled the contents of your stomach into your sink.

You didn't know what you'd been expecting, but it hadn't been that.

Maybe it had been a combination of the cold-blooded violence you knew he'd committed, and the idea of a cure so close within the world's grasp, but it had been such a deeply visceral reaction you were shocked you had managed to keep your face so impassive for the time it took for you to finish treating him.

Then again, you did understand. Joel Miller was not the only one who had committed atrocities for the people he loved; god knows your own hands were far from clean in that regard.

"Hey. . . you still with us?" comes a voice through your thoughts, and you shake yourself out of your mind, eyes moving up to look straight into Joel's.

It had been almost a year since his first admission, and since then, despite your initial reaction, you had found yourself getting closer to Joel. You didn't talk about it, and nothing had ever happened between the two of you, but it didn't take a genius to know something was there. Not acting on it had been a conscious choice from your side, and Joel had just never initiated anything either, which you supposed was in character for him.

"Yeah," you say, blinking a few times as you clear your throat and give him a weak smile, "Just zoned out a little,"

"You look tired," he offers, his eyebrows knitting into a slight frown, "You sleeping okay?"

"Gee, thanks," you let out in a scoff, and he gives you a look as you cover your exhaustion with a chuckle, "I'm sleeping fine, but it's good to know I apparently don't look that way,"

Joel lets out a breath through his nose at your tone, rolling his eyes slightly at your joke. "You ain't funny," 

The truth? Joel was right, you hadn't been sleeping.

You'd always suffered from night terrors as a child, sometimes waking up in all hours of the night screaming and crying and inconsolable for long period of time until your parents would wake you up and snap you out of it. You'd grown out of them, though, or so you thought.

They'd started up again a few months ago, ranging anywhere from waking up in the middle of the night in your bed with tears running down your face, to bouts of stomach-churning sleep paralysis that would leave you so shaken you wouldn't be able to sleep for the rest of the night. 

"Miller!" comes Eugene's voice from your left, "You want some coffee, or do you get your kicks out of chatting up younger women?"

"He's doing it a right sight better than you ever did," you fire back, almost immediately, "So you really shouldn't be saying shit,"

The men around Eugene burst into raucous laughter, and you watch as the corners of Joel's mouth turn up into the hint of a smile as his gaze moves down to his feet for a second, before he clears his throat and looks back up at you.

"Nice," he comments, and you give him a smirk, raising a confident eyebrow and bowing your head.

"Why thank you," you say jokingly, your chest blooming with the compliment, and he shakes his head slightly with a chuckle, before stepping away from you for a second to get some coffee. You watch him go, eyes following him as he pours himself a mug, eyes running over the expanse of his large hands–

You hadn't even noticed Maria coming to stand next to you until she'd cleared her throat, forcing you to look away from Joel hastily and to her. She's giving you a look, raising a single eyebrow as her eyes move between you and him.

"Not a word," you tell her, and purses her lips with a smile, shaking her head.

"Wasn't going to say anything," she muses, and you roll your eyes, before taking a deep breath.

"I think I'm gonna go,"

"Already?" comes Tommy's voice as he steps towards the both of you with a steaming cup in his hand, "You just got here,"

"I did what I came to do," you tell him, before raising a brow, "I ain't got all day,"

Maria's nose crinkles. "Ain't?" she repeats, before raising her eyebrows at you, "Some of that Texan charm rubbing off on you, kiddo?"

"I resent that nickname," you inform her, actively avoiding answering her question, your underlying tone humorous, "As if we aren't only a decade apart,"

"Hmm," Maria hums sarcastically into her cup, "That's a generous definition of decade,"

"You not sleeping well, kiddo? You look tired," Tommy asks, brow creased in concern as he looks at you, and you let out a groan, hands coming up slightly in exasperation.

"Jesus Christ," you mutter, just as Joel steps back towards your group, his ears picking up the tail end of your sentence, "What is it with you Millers? You really tell it like it is, don't you?"

"You look radiant," Maria supplies, and you give her a false, sweet smile.

"Oh, thank you," you half-mutter, before shaking your head with a smile, "But I'm wrecked. . . I worked the double shift for Seth last night and again tomorrow night, so I need to just take a day and sleep,"

"That's fair enough," Tommy says with a grimace, before he gives your shoulder a pet, "Sweet dreams,"

"Thanks," you breathe through a laugh, before you look at Joel with a small smile, "I'll see you later,"

He gives you one of those rare smiles of his own, and it makes his features only more handsome, "See you later,"

Your gaze tears away from him to nod at Maria, who gives you a strangely knowing smile which you ignore, turning on your heel and trudging back through the snow.

Joel had never meant to be standing on your doorstep later that day. Yet, here he was, fingers twitching nervously at his side as he knocks on your door.

He's not even sure you're awake, but it's evening now, the sun slowly disappearing behind the horizon and darkening the sky, so he guesses you might be. He's holding a plastic bag of groceries; it's nothing much, just some fruit and vegetables and some sausages he'd managed to trade for yesterday because Ellie loved them so much. But Ellie hadn't been in when Joel had got home that afternoon, leaving a note that she was spending the evening with a friend, but would be home for the night. He'd sat in his living room for a few hours, reading and trying to occupy himself, before deciding he didn't want to eat alone, and packing a few things from the fridge into a bag.

And now, here he was.

At your door.  

After almost an entire minute of silence, Joel thinks to himself that you're probably still passed out somewhere, and just as he's about to turn and leave, the door flies inward.

The first thing Joel notices is your eyes. They're wet, as if you'd been crying, but somehow still filled with a groggy sleep at the same time. Your chest is moving quickly as your eyes focus on him standing on your doorstep, and some of the concern in your features melts.

"Joel," you let out his name, and your voice small, and tired, before you clear your throat, "Hi,"

"Are you okay?" he asks almost immediately, frowning slightly at your appearance, and he sounds alarmed, "What's wrong?"

"I'm fine," she reassures him, shaking your head slightly, "I was just having a nightmare. . . I'm kind of glad your loud ass knocking woke me,"

You say that last part with a weak chuckle, voice lightening slightly as you try for a smile, "What can I do for you?"

Shit, Joel thinks to himself, and he finds himself rooted to the spot.

"I uh–" he clears his throat, "Ellie isn't in tonight, and, well. . . no one's seen you all day, so I assumed you didn't have any dinner plans,"

"You're not wrong. . . if I have my way it's going to be some stale crackers and cheese," you comment with a grimace. 

"Not very nutritious," Joel hums, and you chuckle, nodding, "I'm no chef but I can definitely do better than crackers and cheese," 

Another beat of silence passes, before your eyes go slightly wide and you open the door further. "Sorry, sorry. . . forgot this was the part where I invite you in, I'm still half-asleep. . . come on in, please,"

Joel doesn't need to be asked twice, following you through over threshold of your front door as you disappear down the hall and into the kitchen, back of your hand coming up to wipe your eyes.

Joel isn't often in your house; it isn't entirely your own, and he'd heard from Tommy when he'd first gotten here that houses in Jackson were often shared to maximize space. He'd met your housemate, Bonnie, only a handful of times, including most of that handful when he'd fixed the wobbly bannister of your staircase a few months ago.

The house looks different since the last time he's been, and he can't help but notice new paintings hanging on your wall. They're strange, a haphazard mix of colored strokes with no particular pattern or purpose, but they're nice nevertheless. 

"Where'd you get those?"

"You want the honest answer?" you ask, as you step out of the kitchen and watch him looking, and Joel frowns jokingly as he looks at you, waiting for you to go on, "Bonnie and I got high last month and painted them,"

Joel's eyebrows fly up his forehead. "You what?"

Your smile becomes bashful as you purse your lips, Joel's inquisitive look making you squirm slightly.

"Yeah. . . " you say, clearing your throat with another bashful smile, before you try to shrug it off, "Eugene has–. . . anyways, it doesn't matter,"

You disappear back into the kitchen, and Joel looks back at the paintings, considering the new bit of context you'd supplied him with.

"You want a drink?" you half-holler, and you hear Joel's footsteps enter the kitchen as you reach into one of the cabinets, "I have tea or. . . gin, honestly. I know you're more of a whiskey man, but Bonnie makes it in the basement, and it isn't even half-bad,"

"You make gin in your basement?" Joel asks, and again you hear the same surprise in his voice as earlier, "Do you also run an undercover gambling ring, or. . . ?"

"Oh yeah," you respond, playing along as you step onto your tip toes reach into the back of the cupboard for two clean glasses, "We also occasionally organize cock fights, they're a big hit," 

Joel chuckles, setting the groceries down on your kitchen table, before he notices you struggling.

"Jesus Bonnie," you mutter to yourself, "Why do you always have to put the glasses in the back?"

"Here," Joel says, and he doesn't even think as he steps towards you, arm extending over yours to reach the glasses you're aiming for, the front of his chest brushing up against your shoulder as he grabs them, "I got it,"

The sound of his gravelly voice so close in your ear, and the feeling of his breath on the nape of your neck, makes you fight an urge to shiver, deciding instead to take a deep breath as you swivel around, facing him just as his arm comes down, two glasses clamped between his fingers.

"Thanks," you say with a soft smile as you look up at him, and Joel nods, eyes looking down and resting on yours for a second. You're standing almost face to face, the front of his flannel ghosting your own shirt. Then, he clears his throat, stepping backwards and away from you.

"I'll try some of that gin," he tells you, and your smile widens knowingly.

"I promise you won't go blind," you tell him with a laugh, and then you're on the move around your kitchen again, reaching into a cabinet and pulling out what looks like an old milk bottle filled with clear liquid, "Bonnie's good at it, believe it or not,"

"How do you even start brewing gin?" Joel asks as he sets the glasses down, and you chuckle slightly.

"We went on patrol once, in Grand Teton?" you explain, "She'd been making vodka by then already, but she saw a juniper bush and almost shit herself with excitement. . . it took us an hour to strip the damn thing clean of berries,"

"She a big drinker?" he asks as you unstopper the bottle, before pouring some of the stuff into both glasses, and you shake your head.

"Not more than me," you tell him, "But it keeps her busy, gives her something to do that isn't just patrol, y'know?"

Joel nods silently, before you hold the glass out to him. He takes it from you, ignoring his fingers brushing over yours and the way it makes his heart skip in his chest. You're not done with your drink, reaching into the fridge to grab another bottle, which looks like juice. It's a rich, dark pink color, and the little sticker on the side has a hastily scribbled 'Cherry' in your cursive handwriting.  

"Takes the edge off," you say with a sigh as you watch him read the label, and Joel nods, before he takes a sip of his gin.

It's quite pleasant, much smoother than the bootleg Whiskey he used to drink in the QZ, but as it travels down his gullet, it brings with it a burn Joel knows is going to make him regret drinking it, later.

"You weren't wrong," he notes, clearing his throat after having swallowed it down, "That's actually quite pleasant,"

"Right?" you ask, before you take a sip of your own drink. A sip is generous, and before Joel knows it, you've downed the entirety of your glass, frowning for a second as the liquid burns down your throat.

You can tell he wants to open his mouth and say something, but you're grateful he doesn't, instead putting his glass down with a breath and grabbing the bag of groceries.

"Sit," he instructs you, motioning towards the chair at the dining table that's in the middle of the kitchen, and you don't protest, only moving to pour yourself another drink.

It's silent for a moment as he unpacks the vegetables, but after a second, Joel speaks up as he runs the carrots under the tap.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Joel asks, "That the reason you haven't been sleeping? Nightmares?" 

Your response isn't immediate, and it's only when Joel looks back at you and sees your expression that he realizes this may be a sensitive topic. You give an uneasy smile, before shaking your head.

"Yeah," you manage to bring out, pursing your lips, "They're nothing too serious, I just wake up and then I can't sleep anymore, don't know why," 

You do know why. You know that sometimes the dreams are so intense, so scary, that you don't dare close your eyes again, at least not by yourself. Sometimes, you'd go downstairs, and crawl into bed with Bonnie. She'd been there, once, waking you from the middle of a dream while you'd been screaming the house down, and she'd not hesitated in taking you downstairs with her to sleep in her bed after you'd confessed to being scared out of your wits of being left alone.

Joel hums, nodding as he turns back towards what he'd been cooking, and you can't tell whether or not he's bought your lie.

"Ellie not home tonight then?" you ask after a second, and Joel nods, clearing his throat as chops some vegetables on one of your two cutting boards.

"She'll be home later," he informs you, "But she's out now, yeah,"

You give an agreeing hum, and for a second there's another silence that weighs heavy in the room.

"Joel," you let out, your voice a half groan, and he hums in question, peering over his shoulder, "The silence is killing me,"

Joel can't help the chuckle that escapes his lips as he goes back to dinner, shaking his head with a joking air. "Forgot you couldn't handle that,"

"I really can't," you agree, taking another sip, and Joel chuckles again. You watch the expanse of his shoulders and his back under the denim shirt as they move with his laughter, finding your fingers itching to just reach out and run your hand over the smooth lines of his muscles.

"You're in the wrong company for that then, darlin',"

The nickname jars you out of your thoughts, but it does absolutely nothing to quell the desire that had reared its head in your chest just seconds ago.

"I digress," you declare, trying to distract yourself from staring at him too much, "You're a good conversationalist when you want to be, Miller,"

"I'm so flattered you think so," Joel retorts sarcastically, and you smile into your drink, letting out something that sounds halfway between a giggle and a chuckle.

The sound bounces off the walls of the kitchen, and it makes Joel smile, aware that he's turned away from you and you can't see his reaction to your laugh.

"How was your day?" you ask after a second, your voice exaggerated.

"It was good," Joel says simply, aware that it's making you want to tear your hair out, "Fixin' the barn,"

"That was six words, Joel," you say, voice jokingly incredulous, "This is seriously like pulling teeth,"

Joel chuckles again, shrugging his shoulder, before he turns to look at you, grabbing his glass as he leans against the counter.

"Sounds like you got a decent challenge ahead of you then," he tells you, raising a teasing eyebrow as he takes a sip of his gin, corner of his mouth pulled into what can best be described as a troublemaker smile.

You love this side of Joel. Underneath all the rugged, surly exterior, he has something else to him; a witty remark, a teasing smile, a flirty comment. . .he has more depth to him than you'd ever expected at first glance, and something that spells trouble, something that drives you absolutely crazy.

"Never one to shirk from an honest challenge," you say, raising your own eyebrows, before you clear your throat.

Another silence fills the room as you look at each other, waiting for the other to say something.

"Okay," you say in a breath, rolling your eyes, "I guess it's up to me. . .but you actually have to answer some of my questions, okay? You can't just give me a wall of silence," you tell Joel, and he raises a joking eyebrow.

"Wall of silence?" he asks, and you give him a look.

"You know exactly what I mean," you tell him, pressing your lips together in thought, before you give a victorious expression, ". . . in fact, every time you pass on a question you have to drink," Joel chuckles, shaking his head as he crosses his arms over his chest, still leaning against the counter.  "I can do that," "Okay. . .what is-. . .," you trail off as your eyes sweep across the kitchen as you think of what to ask Joel, "-your favorite color?' "My favorite color?" Joel repeats, and he gives you a mocking impressed face, "Those keen conversational skills really helping you along aren't they?' "Joel," you warningly, and he sighs, arms uncrossing. "It's green," he tells you, "My favorite color is green. . .what's your favorite color?" "I'm asking the questions!" you say with a small laugh, and Joel gives you a furrowed brow, corners of his mouth pulling into a smile. "Come on, you really think I'm going to let you interrogate me without at least getting to return the favor?" he asks you, eyes boring into yours You press your lips together as you let out a joking scoff through your nose. "Fine, you can ask me questions, too–"

"And If I have to drink when I pass–" he muses, to which you roll your eyes again.

"–so will I," you assure him, before grimacing, "Though with my tolerance, I might not make it to dinner,"

Joel snorts, eyebrows raising slightly in agreement as he turns back to the counter. "You didn't answer my question,"

"My favorite color is yellow," you inform him, and you watch as the back of his head nods.

"That makes sense," you hear him say, as your fingers tap nervously on the table, thinking of what to ask.

"Dream job?" you ask, before adding, "And you can't say contractor,"

Joel is silent for a second. "Farmer,"

You don't say anything, despite your eyebrows raising in surprise, and Joel peers over his shoulder when you stay quiet.

"Favorite season?" he asks, and you smile, giving him a pained look.

"Summer," you say in a groan, and he laughs, shaking his head as he continues chopping, "Which sucks because Jackson mostly has winter,"

"The summers here can be nice," Joel notes, and you let out a breath.

"Sure," you agree, "They can be nice. . . nothing compared to the ones we used to get in Nevada, though,"

"I bet," he notes, and you let out another wistful breath.

"Do you need help?" you ask him, and he shakes his head.

"Think I can manage some dinner,"

"But it'll be faster if I help," you protest, "Come on, I can chop some vegetables, or something,"

"Alright," Joel eventually agrees, and you get to your feet, making your way over to stand next to him, before holding out your hand.

"Put me in chef," you tell him half seriously, but the corners of your mouth are pulled up into that smile.

You're standing close to him, but not so close that you're crowding him. Your smell nevertheless tickles Joel's nostrils in a pleasant way.

Joel's own mouth twitches in mild amusement as he hands you the knife, handle down, and slides the cutting board over. "You chop these, then. . . I'll get started on the onions,"

"Good thing, too," you say with a nod, before getting to work as Joel moves away from you, "Onions make me cry like a baby. . . cutting board is in the third drawer under the stove,"

Joel chuckles as he rummages around for another cutting board and a knife, grabbing an onion from the bag.

"Okay," you hum, nothing but the sound of chopping filling the kitchen, "Any hobbies?"

"I thought you were helping," Joel comments pointedly, and you snort.

"You're not getting away from me that easy," you tell him, "I can help and interrogate, at the same time,"

"That so?" Joel hums as he chops the onions, eyes moving to you for a second and meeting your gaze.

"Yes," you tell him, nodding as a mischievous smile overtakes our features, "I'm a very good multitasker. . . now. . . hobbies,"

Almost the entire bottle and an entire dinner later, you and Joel are sitting on opposite sides of the dinner table, dirty dishes forgotten in the sink. You'd just stood up to reach into the cupboard for another bottle of something to replace the almost empty one on the table, reaching up into the cupboard. The shirt you're wearing rides up as you do, and Joel finds his eyes drawn to the exposed skin of your waist.

"I got one," you declare as you pause from reaching in the cupboard "Any tattoos?"

Joel actually laughs, head tilting back for a minute before he returns with his eyebrows raised but his smile intact. "An old man like me?"

"I'm sure you were young once," you counter with a laugh, and he shakes his head with another chuckle.

"Very funny," he tells you as you pull a bottle of wine from the cupboard, "Where'd that come from?"

"Emergencies," you tell him with a cheeky smile, before pursing your lips, "Or nice dinners,"

"I'm going to take that as a compliment," Joel tells you, before downing the sip of gin that was still in his glass, and you hum as you come to sit back down.

"It was," you tell him, and when Joel looks at you, you give him an expectant look, "You never answered my question,"

"I have one," Joel says with a sigh, "But I got it when I was drunk, with Tommy. . . it's a stupid one,"

You let out a laugh as you open the bottle of wine. "No way! Where is it?"

"That's two questions," Joel reminds you, and you snort sarcastically, raising a single eyebrow.

"Didn't know we were actually keeping count, Miller," you retort, and Joel just smiles as he shakes his head, before he clears his throat as he sits up a little straighter.

"It's on my thigh," he tells you eventually, and a grin spreads over your face as you shake your head, before pouring him some wine.

"Classic," you say in a laugh, "I bet it was popular,"

"It was," Joel says in a humorous tone, nodding as he watches you pour yourself a drink, "What about you?"

Your eyes look up at him as your put the bottle down, tongue kissing your teeth.

"I do," you say, deliberately not elaborating, and Joel's eyebrows raise a little.

"I shared, darlin', now it's your turn," he tells you, and you laugh a little, teeth chewing into your lip as you look away, maybe a little bashfully.

When you look back at him, you speak. "I have four,"

Joel's eyes go a little wide as he looks at you in surprise. "Four? How come I haven't noticed four tattoos?"

"It's not that many," you defend, before shrugging nonchalantly, "Besides, they're not in places I usually show a lot of people,"

"Like exclusive access?" Joel jokes, and you give a full laugh, head tipping back slightly as your shoulders shake.

"Exactly like exclusive access," you return in between laughs, and for a second, it's just the two of you, sitting in your kitchen, laughing.

It feels almost normal, like you're just two adults, having dinner; no Jackson, no cordyceps, no apocalypse.

You take another sip of wine, eye calculating as you think about your next question.

"Do you believe in love at first sight?" you ask him finally, putting down your glass.  

Joel thinks about this one, leaning back in his chair, legs parting slightly in such a way that makes you fight the desire in your belly, pressing your legs together slightly as your heartbeat skips slightly. You fight an urge to blush at your own thoughts, chastising yourself for sitting here drooling over a man that's nearly twice your age.

"Yes," he says eventually, nodding, and your mouth parts slightly in disbelief, mouth curling into a teasing smile.

"You believe in love at first sight? You? Ice King Joel Miller believes in love at first sight?"

"Ice king?" Joel asks, raising an eyebrow, "You're giving me a bad rap, darlin',"

"You did that all by yourself," you note, half under your breath, taking a sip of your drink, and he frowns slightly.

"What do you mean?" he asks you, his interest peaked, and something bashful crosses your face.

"Nothing," you say in a nonchalant voice as you pour yourself more wine, the bottle already emptying way faster than you intended it to, and Joel raises an eyebrow as he sits back in his chair again. It's taking a lot of willpower for you not to stare at the way his legs spread or his arms cross, making the biceps under his t-shirt bulge.  

"I'm going to try that again," he tells you, and his voice is almost chastising as his eyes pierce yours, "And this time you aren't going to lie to me,"

"Or what?" you ask him, shaking your head with a small smirk, drinking again. You don't know why you challenge him, but you feel some enjoyment at the way Joel's eyebrows fly up his forehead in surprise and he kisses his teeth in mild annoyance as you let out a sarcastic chuckle into your glass, "You going to put me over your knee, grandpa?"

"Who says I won't?" Joel retorts swiftly, and he raises a single eyebrow as his eyes bore into yours.

It makes your heart skip, and something about his level, raspy tone sets something alight in your lower belly, which you try desperately to ignore. Joel enjoys the way your eyes flash with surprise and something he thinks he recognizes as lust, but it's gone so fast he can't say it with any certainty.

You're silent as you press your lips together, before you eventually let out a breath. "It's nothing major. . . just a bit of a reputation you have going,"

"As what?" Joel asks, frown deepening, but eyes still alight with curiosity as he scrutinizes your face.

"Emotionally unavailable, I guess?" you supply, and you try your hardest to keep your tone as neutral as possible, despite the knots of unease in your stomach.

Saying it about Joel was one thing; saying it to Joel? Awkward as fuck.    

Joel seems to think about that, staying silent as you fight an urge to wring your hands.

"Listen, it's nothing too bad," you tell him, giving him a tense smile, "I mean, it could be worse. . ."

"Worse?" Joel asks you, almost jokingly, and you grimace.

"Eugene's blacklisted for being selfish," you offer, "That's pretty bad,"

"Blacklisted?" Joel lets out in a splutter, putting down his glass with a thunk, "By who?"

You shrug. "Women talk, Joel. . . this is a small community, word gets around,"

Joel seems to consider this, before he reaches over the table and grabs the bottle from where it had been standing in front you.

"And," he says, pouring himself another glass, "Is he?"

"Is who?" you ask, frowning quizzically, and Joel looks up at you as he takes a sip front the glass.

"Eugene," he tells you patiently, eyes curious, "He really selfish?"

"How am I supposed to know that?" you ask him, before you narrow your eyes at him, "You asking me if I've slept with Eugene, Joel?"

Joel stays still for a second, shrugging. "Just wonderin' whether you have any proof to back up these claims,"

"I have plenty of proof," you retort, giving him a look, "He went on a few dates with Jeannie last year and she told me he barely even touched her when they–"

You stop yourself, clamping your mouth shut and pressing your lips together, before you shake your head. "We're getting off topic,"

"Off topic?" Joel asks humorously, "I'd say we just got on topic,"

"I'm not talking any more about this," you tell him, but the corners of your mouth pulling up into a smile betray you.  

"You can't just bring it up and leave me guessing," Joel replies, and you let out a frustrated breath, "Now I sort of want to know how selfish Eugene is,"

"Didn't have you pegged for a gossip, Miller," you tell him, raising your eyebrows, and he shrugs.  

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me, darlin',"

"Hence the game we were playing,"

"Mmh," Joel hums non-commitally, "Still waiting on that answer,"  

"Listen, all I know is that when Bonnie slept with him a few months ago, he didn't reciprocate much. . . apparently it lasted all of 5 minutes and not one was spent on her,"

Joel grimaces, nodding in agreement. "That sounds pretty bad,"

"I told you," you say victoriously, and he chuckles lightly, shaking his head.

"You sound entirely too pleased about it," he comments, and you snort.

"I'm not surprised, is what I am," you inform him, taking a sip of your wine, "Eugene is. . . well, Eugene,"

"You seem pretty close," Joel notes, and you don't know if you hear something else in his voice other than curiosity. You raise a single eyebrow.

"You asking something?" you ask him. 

"I'm not asking nothin'," Joel denies, putting his hands up, and you shake your head, corners of your mouth twitching into a smile. Then, you let out a small breath.

"When I first got to Jackson, Eugene's the one that let me in. . . I was a mess. . . hypothermic, covered in blood, barely alive, and for all he knew I could've been part of some elaborate raiding scheme, or infected. He had every reason not to let me in, but he did. . . he's the reason I'm alive," you explain to Joel, before clearing your throat, "Maria was furious with him, which I guess I understand. . . she has her own people to protect. . . but he never let up. He didn't even know me, and he stood up for me when they were still considering throwing me back out,"

"I didn't know that," Joel comments, and you let out a small chuckle.

"You know the old bank building?" you ask, and he nods.

"Maria said it worked as a jail but they'd never used it,"

"Oh, they used it alright," you say with a curt smile, "They hadn't learned to train those nifty dogs yet when I got to Jackson, and I was covered in so many cuts and scrapes they couldn't figure out whether or not I'd been bitten. . . didn't matter what I said. I was in there for two whole weeks while they waited it out, and Eugene came to see me every single day. . . Tommy, too, but it took him a few days before he started showing up. . . he'd only been there a few months himself, and I guess he wasn't keen to step on anybody's toes, which I understood,"

"Jesus," Joel mutters, and you can see the flash of unease in his eyes at the thought of you locked up in one of the makeshift cells of the bank, "Not the warmest welcome,"

"I can't blame them," you remark, raising your shoulders in a half-shrug, "It's a miracle this place has survived as long as it has. . . I would also have been apprehensive,"

"But, to answer your earlier question–" you say, clearing your throat as you sit up straight.

Because we both know what you were really asking.

"–Eugene tried to kiss on me once, and I laughed at him, so safe to say we are friends," 

Joel makes another grimace, trying to hide the pleased expression on his face as best he can, but you can still see it in his eyes. "Nothing like laughter to crush a man's ego,"

"Some egos need crushing," you tell him with a single raised eyebrow, before taking a sip of your drink.

"That's true enough," he agrees, before a silence falls over the two of you. After a second, you let out a breath, looking at the pile of dishes in your sink.

"I better do those before Bonnie comes home," you tell him, getting to your feet, "She has a thing about dishes in the sink,"

Joel gives a rare, knowing smile. "I'll help ya out,"

"Thanks," you say with a small smile as you reach the sink, turning the tap on as Joel comes to stand next to you, "Grab that towel? You're on drying duty,"

"Yes, ma'am," he jokes, grabbing one of the towels hanging off the handle of the cabinet.

"Ok, your turn to ask questions, now," you inform him as you start cleaning off some of the plates, "I'm out of ideas,"

"Alright," he says with a nod, before pausing to think, "You never told me what your tattoos were,"

"Now what did we say about exclusive access?" you retort, turning your head to raise a playful eyebrow at him, and he turns to look at you, corners of his mouth twitching slightly. You're practically standing shoulder to shoulder like this, his arm and leg brushing against yours from time to time, sending shockwaves up your spine.

"You tellin' me I gotta find a way to figure it out for myself?" he asks you, and his tone is lower than it was before as he looks at you, his eyes dancing with humor in the light of the kitchen as you give an innocent shrug, sucking some air between your teeth in a teasing sound, lips pulled into an almost-smile.

"Can't just go around telling everyone, now can I? Kinda defeats the whole 'exclusive' point," you muse, and he lets out something that sounds like a chuckle as he raises his eyebrows, nodding slightly as his tongue runs alongside the inside of his cheek.

Joel is so close to you now, you can smell the gin and wine on his breath. He doesn't say anything, he doesn't have to, his gaze saying enough for the both of you as it briefly moves from your eyes to the other features on your face, lingering on your lips a second longer. You feel something which you think are his fingertips, ghost the side of your hand, which is resting on the edge of the sink, and you swallow as you look up at him.

"What?" you ask him, quietly, raising an eyebrow, and he shrugs slightly. 

"I didn't say anything,"

"You're looking at me," you say pointedly, and Joel's mouth curls into a gentle, but teasing smile.

"Is it illegal to look at a beautiful woman?"

You swallow, hard, your chest thumping underneath your shirt.

"Are you calling me beautiful?" you ask him, and to your surprise, he nods.

"Yes," he says simply, confidently, his breath fanning over your lips, "Is that a problem?"

You're silent for a second, eyes looking into his as he watches your reaction. "No,"

The smile on Joel's mouth widens slightly as he leans closer to you, lips getting closer to your.

"Good," he whispers, before he moves to kiss you.

Except he doesn't.

Joel doesn't kiss you because at the last minute, heart beating furiously against your ribcage, you turn your head slightly to the side. His lips barely brush over the corner of your mouth before Joel freezes, which makes you cringe.

Stupid.

Joel pulls away from you slightly to look at you, and despite the amount of drinks you've had, your heart is beating a million miles per hour as you and Joel stare at each other, embarrassment dawning in his eyes as he pulls away from you more, closing his mouth and swallowing.

It's at that exact moment that you hear the front door swing open.

"Hello? You home, hot-stuff?"

Your eyes widen slightly as Bonnie's voice travels through the house, her nickname for you making your cheeks burn. Joel fully steps away from you now, putting quite a bit of distance between the two of you as he steps away from the sink and the counter, putting the towel down on the counter.

"Joel–" you start as you move away from the counter, but Bonnie's voice interrupts whatever you were going to say.

"I was working in the fucking school all day, and then we had movie night," she continues as her voice gets closer and you try and catch Joel's eye, but he isn't looking at you, "I know everyone loves the kid, but I swear little Johnny Raster is such a little cun– Oh, hello,"

Bonnie is a tall and broad-shouldered woman, and even though she looks relatively imposing to those who don't know her, she happens to be one of the friendliest people in Jackson. That's not to say she takes shit; quite the opposite, really, she has an even lower tolerance for it than you do, and you wouldn't recommend pissing her off.  She's standing in the doorway, dark hair pulled into a ponytail behind her head, green eyes observing the scene carefully. "Didn't know we were expecting company,"

"I was just on my way out, actually," Joel says, clearing his throat as he gives a slight, curt smile, "Ellie will have gotten home by now,"

"Yeah, I thought I saw the light at your place," Bonnie tells him, and Joel nods, still not looking your way.

"Right, that's my cue, then," he says, clearing his throat again, demeanour beyond awkward, before he looks up at you very briefly, "Thanks for the drinks. . . good night,"

"Good night, Joel," you say, your voice soft, and you try to disguise the undertone of pity.

You want to explain yourself desperately, but something about the look on Joel's face makes you think that wouldn't go down very well right now, anyway.

He grunts out a 'Bye' to Bonnie as he practically flees out of the kitchen, his footsteps echoing down the hall before you hear the distinct noise of the front door opening and closing.

"What's with him?" Bonnie asks, one eyebrow creasing down quizzically crunching her face as steps into the kitchen, "He seems even surlier than usual," 

"Don't know," you say airily, and she directs her scrutinous gaze at you as she picks up the bottle of wine, sniffing it.

"That's a pile of bullshit," she tells you disbelievingly, "What happened?"

You're silent for a minute, before letting out a sigh. "He tried to kiss me,"

"And you didn't want him to. . .?" Bonnie suggests, her tone confused as her sentence hangs in the air, before she frowns slightly, "He's hot,"

"I sort of dodged him," you tell her, grimacing.

"Ouch," Bonnie groans out, sucking some air between her teeth, "Well, that explains it,"

"Yeah," you agree, chewing on your lip, "It was really stupid,"

"I mean you're allowed to say no," Bonnie reassures you, "But did you want to say no?"

"I don't know," you tell her honestly, chewing on your lip as your stomach swirls with conflicting feelings, and she hums.

"Well, you better figure it out fast, hot-stuff," she tells you, putting the glasses in the sink, "Because if we can't call Joel when the banister in the hall acts up again, I'm going to need to learn to be a contractor real quick,"

You don't see Joel at all the next day; not in the town, not at the small market in the square you know he usually goes to on Saturday mornings. You think you spot him working on the scaffolding with the same group as yesterday, but you don't go and investigate, partly out of your own embarrassment, and partly out of respect for the fact that he's probably avoiding you for a reason.

Instead you spend the day cleaning the house, and helping Bonnie with her projects, and before you know it the sky is darkening again and you're on your way to the Tipsy Bison for your shift. You don't mind bartending, and there was no doubt you were a right sight better at it then you were at healing.

The bar is relatively empty when you arrive at 6pm, and doesn't start to fill up until around half past seven, when people typically finish up dinner and the patrons start trickling in. To make matters even more crowded, it's Saturday, and given the Tipsy Bison is the only bar in Jackson, Saturdays are usually the busiest nights of the week. Not that you weren't used to it; when you'd started a year and a half ago, Seth, who ran the place, hadn't hesitated to put you on Saturdays almost immediately, because, to quote "Who doesn't like to be served beer by a pretty girl on their night off?"

The people didn't really bother you, and to be honest, you'd gotten used to it pretty quickly, becoming a near expert in warding off any unwanted attention in a graceful way.

"Can I get a whiskey?" comes a familiar voice from behind the bar just as you're filling up a beer, and you look to meet Tommy's kind eyes, your face breaking into a smile.

"Whiskey?" you ask, frowning jokingly as you set the beer down for another patron, "That isn't your usual order,"

Tommy's eyes flash with something that looks like unease, and it takes a second for your eyes to move from Tommy over the bar, eventually falling on the one person you know likes himself a whiskey. Joel is sitting at one of the tables with the rest of the guys, observing your interaction, but when your eyes move towards him, he pretends to busy himself talking to Eugene. Your stomach sinks.

"Ah," you let out, your tone awkward as you look back at Tommy, your smile having dropped from genuine to half-disappointed as your eyes flash with something akin to sadness, "That's because it's not for you,"  

Tommy clears his throat. "Look, I told him to just–"

You raise your hand to interrupt him, giving him a small smile as you shake your head. "It's okay, Tommy. . . you don't have to explain anything to me,"

"Right," he says, clearing his throat with an awkward smile as you pour the drink.

"Can I get you anything?" you ask him pointedly, and he nods, swallowing.

"Just a beer for me, thanks,"

It takes a second for you to make the drinks, and you strike up a conversation with him as you do. "You guys finished fixing the building yet?"

"Almost," Tommy says with a nod, "Though we missed your usual coffee delivery today,"

"Sorry," you grimace slightly, eyes flicking over to Joel for a second before they fall back on Tommy, "I, uh–. . . didn't want to make anybody uncomfortable, y'know?"

You're almost positive Tommy knows what went down between you and Joel last night; either his brother told him, or he guessed it when Joel sent him over here to order him a drink, but you can see it in the way his expression morphs into one of awkward understanding.

"Well, I can't speak for everyone, but you could never make me uncomfortable, kiddo," Tommy informs you, and the smile you give him is genuine.

"I appreciate that," you tell him, laughing slightly as you put down the two drinks, "here you are,"

Tommy nods as he picks up the drinks, before he seems to hesitate.

"For what it's worth, I told him he should talk to you about it, at least,"

"Well, you can lead a horse to water. . . " you say with a tight-lipped smile, and Tommy nods with a snort.

"Too fucking right you are," he notes, which makes you chuckle.

"Have a nice night, Tommy,"

"You too, kiddo. . . anybody gives you trouble we'll be right over there,"

"Thanks," you say with a small chuckle.

The rest of the evening goes by relatively smoothly, save for a few over-zealous customers near the end of your shift that you manage to handle, but not before you notice from the corner of your eye how Joel straightens in his seat, eyes boring into the side of your face as he gages the situation.

You weren't surprised; ever since that incident with Sean Mixon a few months back, when you'd first started doing closing shifts on busy nights, Joel had stayed close by. It hadn't been anything too serious, but you'd ended up on Joel and Ellie's porch after closing time on the verge of tears to ask if he'd had any antiseptic for a grizzly looking cut on your arm. You'd gotten it after Sean had flown into a drunken rage and hurled a glass at your head when you'd asked him to leave, and one of the ricocheting shards had caught your skin. It hadn't necessarily been the worst of cuts, but you'd been pretty shaken up nevertheless, and given Bonnie had been away on a night patrol at the time, you'd ended up sleeping on their couch. 

After that, Joel had been there every time you worked a closing shift, come rain or shine, always staying all the way until the end. Even though he'd generally leave along with the last customer, you could always see Joel's living room light on and the curtains open as you walked home, sat in a chair reading or playing guitar but always keeping an eye on your porch as you got home.

This evening was no different, and it felt admittedly comforting to know Joel wasn't so angry with you he wasn't here as usual.

You'd spent the last 10 minutes doing most of your cleanup so you could corner Joel on your way out. You'd had pretty much the entire night to think and watch him, which had culminated into you talking yourself into what would probably be a relatively awkward confrontation about what had happened yesterday.

You wait and watch as Joel leaves, not looking in your direction, before you grab your coat off the chair and flick the light off, hurrying out of the door after him.

"Joel!" you call, watching as he stops in his tracks and turns back towards you, "Wait a second,"

You turn back to the door, locking it hastily, almost afraid he'll have taken off by the time you turn back, but he hasn't. He's standing still, half-facing you, hands stuffed into his jean pockets and shoulder hunched against the cold as you give him an awkward smile, jogging to catch up with him.

"Look, about earlier. . . " you start as you level with him, and Joel has to admit to himself he's surprised by the fact you get right to it. He had at least been expecting an attempt at some uneasy small talk.

"It's okay," Joel assures you quickly, hands still in his pockets, "I promise I can handle getting rejected. . . I was just a little caught off guard, yesterday, I thought–. . . well, it doesn't matter,"

"It's not that I'm not interested," you offer, almost timidly, and Joel feels a jolt in his chest at your words, despite himself, eyes moving from the ground to meet yours, "I just–. . . I want us to be on the same page,"

Joel raises his eyebrows slightly, his look urging you to continue.

You wring your hands slightly, letting out a breath that curls into the cold night air as your turns and start walking home, Joel falling into step with you. "Look, I'm not really a dater. . .um–. . . I lost someone I loved a few years ago and it was the most pain I think I've ever felt in my life,"

Joel is silent as you walk, hands in his pockets as he listens to you speak, patient, open.

He can see the grief in your eyes, but also a peace, one he'd longed to find for so many years and had only partially regained when he'd met Ellie. Sarah was a part of him he would always miss; the pain had only gotten less frequent, but it was never gone entirely, lingering within him like a smouldering flame.

"I'm just not eager to feel that again," you explain, giving him a watery smile, "So I just don't really get, er, involved. . . with, people. . . that's why I kind of dodged you, yesterday,"

Joel watches as your brow frowns slightly as you seem to cringe at your own words, taking another nervous breath as your fingers hang by your side, tapping your leg uneasily.

"At all?" Joel asks after a second, and your eyes shoot up from where they'd been on your feet to meet his.

His gaze is earnest, and you can tell he's genuinely curious, too. There's something else there, too, which you can't identify but gives you the nagging feeling you might've read Joel Miller wrong, after all.

"I mean, not at all," you bring out, frowning slightly as the corner of your mouth pull up into a slight smile, "I might be emotionally unavailable, but I'm not a nun,"

Joel lets out a small laugh, steps slowing as they come to a stop, and you look at him with a smile, stopping to face him. It's not very close to him, but Joel's steps carry him a little closer to you, closing the gap further until you're standing face to face. 

"Good to know you're still open to enjoying the finer things in life," he jokes, and now it's your turn to laugh, shaking your head as Joel watches the smile on your features.

"Yes, I am," you say with a remaining chuckle, clearing your throat slightly as you look up at him.

"So–" he speaks after a second, swallowing as his eyes draw you in, voice slightly deeper than it had been a second ago, "If I were to kiss you, say, right now–"

His gaze moves for a split second from your eyes down to your lips, "You wouldn't object?"

"Joel. . ." you say his name in half-warning, but you can already feel the pads of his finger ghosting the fabric of your coat, and you swallow, "We can't get involved. . . this can't become a mess,"

Joel hums slightly, and you feel his hand move, pressing his palm over the curve of your waist as his eyes look for yours, "Heard you the first time, darlin'. . . I can be casual. . . that's what you're saying, ain't it?"

You look up at him, into his eyes, and Joel can tell you're fighting with yourself.

You are. Parts of you are protesting that this is a slippery slope, that this is dangerous, and then the other parts of you are drawn to him; his presence, his smell, his eyes. . .god, those eyes. He has an almost irresistible look in his eyes, coupled with the beginnings of that troublemaker smile he has that's oh so rare – but oh so attractive.

It's like a moth to a flame, and when you feel Joel's hand move under the hem of your coat, thumb pressing a gentle circle on your lower waist over the fabric of your t-shirt, you can barely stop yourself from throwing yourself at him right then and there. You draw in a sharp breath, and feel the corners of your mouth pull up into a coquettish smile as you give in to him.

"Well then," you say, and your voice is almost a whisper, your breath fanning Joel's lips, "You going to kiss me then, Miller? Or are you going to wait around for the grass to grow?"

He chuckles, and it's low in his chest as you feel his hand flatten against your waist, pulling you flush against him so your lips are mere inches from his, looking down at you through half-lidded eyes. "You got a smart mouth on you, you know that?"

"Trust me, it's good for other things, too," you suggest, your voice half teasing, and Joel chuckles again, his nose bumping up against yours as his eyes dive deep into yours, rich and intoxicating and darkening slightly at your words.

"Well, in that case. . . "

Joel doesn't finish he sentence before he leans in, pressing his lips firmly to yours.

It's everything you imagined kissing Joel would be like, and as your lips move, reciprocating, you feel his other hand come up, fingers ghosting the side of your neck before you feel the pads of his fingers on your jaw line. When you press further against him, his hand moves to cup your cheek, fingertips grazing the hair at the base of your skull, under your ear, pulling you closer to him as you melt against his chest.

Finally, after a second, you pull away from each other to catch your breath, but as you do, you trap Joel's bottom lip between your teeth gently, tugging on it slightly as you pull away from him. You feel his hands tighten around your waist, and it makes the corners of your mouth twitch upwards in a smirk as you open your eyes to look back him. He's looking down at you, pupils blown wide and a half-conflicted look in his eyes.

"What?" you ask him, voice almost a whisper, and he shrugs.

"I'm trying to decide if it's too crass to ask to take you home tonight," Joel says, almost carefully, and your smile grows slightly as you chuckle, before you lean in and kiss him again.

This one is longer, more inviting, and your hand moves Joel's from your waist down to the curve of your ass. Joel lets something akin to a groan against your mouth as his fingers dig into your ass, and you pull away from him with another teasing smile.

"I'd be a little disappointed if you didn't take me home, Miller," you muse, and now Joel's mouth curls into a genuine smile as you feel his hand take yours.

"What are we still standing around talking for, then, darlin'? Let's go home,"   

[fragmentofmemories]

Unnamed Touhou Fanwork Old Dream Glissando Update 3/Summary

(AKA Mentally preparing myself for the upcoming work ahead, also my longest update yet~)

Previous update

(March 2024. A snippet of Reimu, Marisa and Satsuki's designs for ODG)

Lots of good things in general here! Actually lots of things, period.

First of all: The title is up now!

I did lie about the "unnamed" a bit, considering I had Old Dream Glissando for a while (lol). I had other ones before, but I feel this one's both the shortest and the most meaningful for the plot...

...So, what is Old Dream Glissando about?

In summary, Old Dream Glissando is an action/adventure web manga series based on the Touhou Project franchise.

Set between TH5 and 6, it tells the story of main characters Reimu and Marisa, as they investigate the cause behind the recent drop in youkai sightings.

Their first clue: a human girl with the ability to heal through her erhu...

What to expect from ODG?

A bigger focus on the PC-98 era, which includes characters, abilities, locations and so on from TH1 to 5. Genre-wise, expect plenty of action too.

Windows Era characters most likely won't make an appearance, unless there is a logical or "lore-friendly" explanation to their earlier appearance.

Talking about lore: The story leans more toward PC-98 canon. That is to say, in ODG, most of what's said in PC-98 takes precedence over what's said in Windows.

However, this does not mean it will completely disregard everything the Windows era established.

My goal is not 100% accuracy — Rin Satsuki and all — but to nevertheless respect the later lore as much as the PC-98 era allows it. Marisa still knows who Rinnosuke is because she's known him since childhood, as one example...

Where will it be available?

On Tumblr and Pixiv alike! I talked a little about the posting process in the previous update, so to make it short:

I will first post the sketch versions of various pages as I work on the current chapter. This has various purposes: First, to gauge interest. Two, to tease what's about to happen next. And Three, for potential feedback as not everything is set in stone yet.

After completing the chapter, each page will be posted on bulks of 20, as that is the limit one can post at a time on this site.

All of this will be done not here, but rather in a blog dedicated to ODG! Said blog is still on the works, as I'm making sure non-Tumblr users get easy access to it. However, I will link to it as soon as it's ready.

On Pixiv, only the full version will be posted there. Although, there it will be all in one, single post given the larger amount of images one can upload at once (up to 200).

Lastly, for the Update part of this post: Chapter 1's storyboard is done!

And with it comes a slightly more bittersweet part: It's 72 pages long, which is even higher than the standard 50-60 pages most first chapters have.

Am I discouraged by this? Nah, not really! It's why I mentioned the posting process: So as to avoid leaving this project in the dark for too long.

Later chapters won't be as long either — limiting myself to up to 30 pages for those.

And so, I come in knowing I will spend the remainder of this year working on this chapter — posting updates while I also iron out the rest of the story.

I'm not setting myself any unrealistic deadlines (like of course I'm not doing this in a week lol), and I'm very aware this is a long term project. So the way I see it: Old Dream Glissando is a project I'll be chipping away day by day until it's finished.

Current thoughts on this project:

I'm having plenty of fun with it! Being a webcomic, it's pushing me into learning many new things, as well as exercising what I already know as an artist.

Likewise, limiting myself to Pre-Windows era Touhou means I get to play around with PC-98's quirks (No spellcards, Reimu can't fly and is more airheaded, etc...). As such, I made sure to add plenty of details about said era — some more obscure than others.

Once more updates begin rolling in, I hope people have fun finding said details, as I had fun writing them into the story...

Tl;Dr:

I'm making a Touhou manga set between PC-98 and Windows; It's a long-term project; It will be posted chapter-by-chapter on Tumblr (in its own blog) and Pixiv; Chapter 1's storyboard (script & panelling) is done; It's too long though, so I'll be posting WIP pages as I work the rest of the year on it.

Next update probably won't happen in a while, so see you next time!

[tigertofu]

ok i've been chipping away at this Thing for a long time and i think it's finally ready to be vomitted out into the internet. without further ado, here is my

Stupid-Long List of Trevor Headcanons

divided into chronological sections !

((the NSFW shit is hiding at the bottom))

CW's for: mentions of drugs/alcohol, addiction, cannibalism, violence, gross sex stuff. typical Trevor things

and heres a gif of him cuz ig thats the tumblr thing to do idk i never made one of these lists b4 :x

the past

• he's a scorpio and the reason he has a scorpion tat on his hand is bc he's like. very mildly into horoscopes. he was born some time in november

• he doesn't have a middle name cuz his mom didn't give enough of a shit to give him one

• despite playing hockey and golf as a kid, he was never really that into the sports themselves. he only did hockey because he saw it as a way to beat up other children and not get reprimanded for it, and he did both in the hopes of being good enough at something to earn his mother's praise for once (it did not work :()

• hates his dad bc of how he treated his mom and is glad he abandoned him at that shopping mall when he was a kid

• he (w/ Brad's help) would play "pranks" on (aka BULLY) poor Lester during the north yankton days. some fav pastimes included (but were not limited to): pantsing him, hiding his walking cane, and replacing his asthma medication with laughing gas

• was highkey jealous of how easy Michael could get girls during the north yankton days. when he actually was able to convince a girl to come back home with him, he would make sure to be loud as hell about it so that Mike would know he wasn't the only one getting chicks

• all of his hand tats and a lot of his other tats were done in prison, even tho he was only in for like 6 months

• prison was a mixed bag for him. on one hand, anal. on the other, having to restrain himself from arguments and physical altercations so he could get out early on good behavior

• went thru a breakdancing phase in the 90's (i THINK this one might be canon. idk. could've sworn i've heard him try to tell Lamar this in an attempt to impress him. pls feel free to prove me wrong or right)

• one of the scars on his eyebrows is actually the result of getting a fresh eyebrow piercing ripped tf out during a barfight in the 00's. prob for the best that it was cuz we all know that shit wouldve ended up getting infected and rejecting out of his face anyways

• he moved to Sandy Shores not just because it's nice and isolated, but because it was the place most opposite of north yankton he could think of. never any snow. he absolutely fucking hates cold weather and snow because it reminds him of a certain bank heist that happened in '04

• between Ron, Chef, and Wade, Chef was the first one he met after moving to Sandy Shores. they used to cook meth together in a trailer out in the desert (another one that i THINK is canon but im not sure idk. it all blurs together, idk whats canon and whats not anymore, my brain is too rotted from spinning Trevor around in it like the world's most dried out little shriveled husk of a rotisserie chicken for the past three years, the fog is coming, yk how it is)

• he acquired Liquor Ace the same way he "acquired" the Vanilla Unicorn. the previous owner just mysteriously disappeared one day. nobody in Sandy Shores cared tho once word got around that the new owner was gonna start cooking crystal in the upstairs and selling it

• yk how in the game he said that his heart momentarily stopped once cuz he put an axe thru a power cable? he did that cuz the power had gone out in the middle of him watching an Impotent Rage episode he hadn't seen yet. for some reason (was prob very high and very angry) he thought that he could bring the power back by hitting the sparking wire with an axe. it didnt work. he smelled like overcooked bacon for a week afterwards. he enjoyed that part tho

the present

• he makes Ron cut his hair with a pair of rusty kitchen scissors when he needs a trim. he used to go to the nice barber lady in Sandy Shores but got banned after loudly moaning about how good her nails felt on his scalp once

• once smoked an entire cigarette in one long inhale. Wade witnessed this and found it extremely impressive

• he'll eat pretty much anything but he especially likes foods with strong flavors. salty, sour, super sweet, spicy, etc cuz his taste buds are SHOT from the years of smoking/drug abuse. he abuses condiments, especially hot sauce

• thinks that any restaurant that doesn't have a drive-thru is a "fancy" restaurant

• LOVES candy cuz the meth has given him a major sweet tooth, but prefers anything with chocolate over fruity/gummy candies

• has a weird fascination with eating raw meat.....of any kind. except for sushi. he thinks sushi is "fancy prissy city people food"

• also has a weird fascination with making stews/soups similar to the eyelid one that he tries to feed Michael in that one cutscene. it's the only type of food he knows how to cook. may be a comfort thing for him because microwaving a bowl of canned soup was the most effort his mother ever put into making a meal for him when he was a kid. and she did it like, twice, maybe. he for sure remembers both times very clearly tho and considers them to be some of his fondest memories

• will go for days without eating anything solid before finally sitting down and consuming enough food to feed a family of 5. sometimes he just like. forgets that eating is necessary for survival

• can open beer bottles with his teeth. between that and the meth habit, its an absolute miracle he still has all his teeth

• go-to pizza order is a large meat lover's. he tries to make vaguely sexual passes about "loving large meat" at the poor pizza delivery guys every time he orders delivery. does not tip, but will say shit like "hey, if you come inside i've got a little tip for ya" while the delivery guy quickly vacates the premises

• honestly? i think there is a good 50/50 chance on whether or not he is ACTUALLY a cannibal. maybe he posters as one cuz he likes the reactions it incites, maybe he genuinely enjoys the psychosexual intimacy of consuming the flesh of another human being........ who knows !! not knowing is half the fun :)

• ok ok hear me out u know that stupid tiktok sound that was going around a couple years ago that goes "hi my name is carmen winstead -- HAAAAAHHHGGCHH" ??? look it up if u don't cuz that's what his snoring sounds like. the fucking "HAAAAAHHHGGCHH"

• once he's asleep he is out like a fucking light. guy could sleep thru nuclear war

• is not opposed to drinking hand sanitizer when out of other sources of alcohol. it tastes just like the shitty moonshine Ron makes in his backyard anyways and gets him even drunker so why not !

• hates horror films bc they make him angry. at least, any of the ones where somebody survives at the end. thinks the murderers in them are stupid. starts yelling shit at the TV like "HE'S GETTING AWAY YOU STUPID FUCK,, WHAT ARE YOU DOING !!!!"

• believes baby pink and orange are "his colors"

• will sit on his sofa or bed and try to shoot any cockroaches scurrying around his place with a pistol for funsies when bored sometimes

• enjoys playing darts at the Yellow Jack with anyone who'll play him but absolutely fucking sucks at it cuz of his shaky hands. accidentally threw a dart into another bar patron's head once. will rage and insist his opponent cheated when he loses. will then get physical if anyone tries to tell him its impossible to cheat at darts. is much less of a sore loser when playing with Mike, Frank, or Lamar tho he will still grumble about losing for up to hours on end afterwards

• is an illegal immigrant bc he never became a US citizen. does not own an actual ID, but has several fakes lying around, all with fake birth dates and fake names that are wildly varying levels of believable

• will absolutely flip his fucking lid if Wade comes around him while wearing Juggalo face paint

• speaking of Wade. yk how he has a shitty tattoo of his own name on his arm? (at least i think he does. i tried looking to see if he does and i couldnt tell so now im unsure if thats just yet another detail that my brain completely made up or smth that i actually saw). ANYWAYS, Trevor gave it to him (stick n poke. it was a longggg process but Wade didnt mind too much cuz he was high at the time and consented to it beforehands anyways) when Trevor first "took him in" cuz he kept forgetting his name and got tired of referring to him as "Hey, you" (which Wade did not respond to most of the time anyways)

• is an ugly crier. like, a butt-ugly crier. snot, drooling, wailing, red face, the whole nine yards and he is loud as hell about it too

• loves back rubs cuz ofc he does he's an old man. often makes Ron or Wade give him massages

• his boomer-ass super-zoomed-in LifeInvader profile pic was taken by Ron. it took them a dozen tries before they got it

nsfw

• he sucks at eating out.........kinda? but what he lacks in precision and consistency he makes up for with sheer (sloppy. slobbery) passion. and endurance. can stay down there (and will, if you let him) for hours

• is not much better at blowing. "accidentally" uses too much teeth every time

• ~4 inches. MAYBE 4.5. good girth tho. not cut

• has a thing for chubby/thicc ppl

• is a biter and won't ask before biting so uhh watch out ! part of the reason for the above is bc there's more to bite

• loooooves loves loves to suck on things. fingers, necks, tits, dicks, anything. also looooooves having it reciprocated. particularly likes shoving his fingers in your mouth

• loves to involve mouths as much as possible. spitting/being spat on, the aforementioned biting as well as being bitten, eating food off of your body or having food eaten off of him, the type of makeout sessions that involve shoving each other's tongues down each other's throats.. anything that involves mouths and/or the motions of eating drives him fucking wild

• will beg you even when not explicitly told to when he's not feeling dominant. will beg and beg and beg and beg and it's hot but can also quickly become incredibly annoying

• but he LOVES to be annoying on purpose too. via the begging, or by teasing/edging, mocking, etc. loves to get a rise out of you and loves the attention (even if negative.. ESPECIALLY if negative) it gets him

• occasionally cries after sex. will expect you to hold him while he does. will start to angry cry and say you don't actually love him if you refuse

• now ik this one is nothing groundbreaking and seems to already be the general consensus amongst the Trevor enjoyers but im gonna say it anyways. he def has a thing for public/semi-public sex. be careful about sitting next to him while in any public space. he WILL try to touch on you and it WILL be in a way that makes it obvious to everyone in the immediate vicinity what's going on. does he do it on purpose as an exhibition thing? maybe...... does he genuinely think he's being slick about it? also maybe. if ur with him, expect to be banned from multiple establishments

• lowkey has a breeding kink in the sense that he loves to finish inside (not just bc it feels nice but also bc of the intimacy of it) and thinks that pregnant women are hot as hell

• is most likely infertile due to the years of meth use tho

• loves to both overstimulate and be overstimulated. just bc you've both climaxed doesnt mean he wont keep going for god-knows-how-long

..................andd that's all she (i) wrote. ty for reading !! i've got more shit to say about Trevor cuz ofc i do but this is already like 2k words so if u wanna hear my headcanons on anything specific at all,, pls do throw it in my ask box ! <33

[be-my-ally]

Crash Landing

(aka Big Bunny 4)

Wheeew, only 6 months later than I intended! it's 4am and somehow, despite spending forever on this, I fear the grammar may be janky - so apologies for that. This follows directly from The Lisa-Marie, and the masterlist for the series is linked here!

This is the last of the planned ‘main’ chapters, but there are some time jumps in this and the last chapter, so if anyone has any requests for any bunny/elvis one shots pop them into my inbox and I’ll see what I can do. I have a few little plans to fill out some of the gaps, but no promises on when they might appear. 

warnings: 18+, some mild sexism, p in v, oral (v receiving), afab!reader, skiing, allusions to poor health, Elvis is swearing like… a lot in this chapter. Make of that what you will. References to drug use. THIS ENDS IN JULY 1977 - AUGUST IS IMPLIED. wc: 14k I don’t know what to say - there was meant to be a brief skiing interlude and then all of a sudden I’m 10k in and they’re still in Colorado. 

Early 1977  

Linda is gone for good, finally some of the guys would say, and you couldn’t totally say that you disagreed. It had been stressful - the ups and downs of their relationship, being caught in the crossfires. You had enough experience to know it wasn’t really specific to her but nonetheless it had still been somewhat difficult to witness. It had been hard to face her on the jet, knowing what Elvis was saying behind her back; how adamant he was for them to be over. On the way between stops in the October tour he’d sat on the couch on the plane, glistening with the sweat from the show and still dressed in his white jumpsuit with red flames jumping up his chest, he’d tugged you over, uncaring of the others in the room. Telling you that you were the only girl he could trust to have his back, that he didn’t even know why he kept her around. He didn’t seem to remember, and you didn’t care to remind him that he’d told you the same thing back in June too. Every time she’d suddenly reappear - his desperation to be looked after superseding any desire he may have had to say goodbye to her. Why you couldn’t be enough for him you didn’t know. 

Then, almost immediately after Linda’s gone - and, admittedly, briefly before she was too - you’re meeting this new girl, Ginger, albeit rarely. Elvis for some reason putting her on the Jetstar with her family more than with him. In some ways it helps - the fact that she’s not there all the time, in others it makes you feel awful — his rush fiancee and her family seemingly not even willing or wanting to travel with him. It’s mostly a slow season over the winter though and for some reason Georgia is getting more hours than you and so, you’re forced to say goodbye to your examination of the inner workings of his private life until after the New Year break. It ends up being early February before you get a call to come in for one of his vacation whims.  

It feels like it’s been an age since you last saw Elvis even though it had barely been a six weeks, and you felt guilty that it had felt so nice to relax a little. It was hard when you spoke to your friends, and all their careers or mothering sounded so stressful all the time, they were all jealous of your ‘easy’ job, the extra benefits sounding all too impressive.  Where else would you get a new wardrobe paid for? A shiny new car sat outside for you, or an apartment rented? But it was hard to explain without giving away too much, how it was impossible for you to ever really turn off; how you thought about him all the time, worried about him all the time, even when you were at home.  

He hadn’t been difficult to manage the last couple of months of the year, at least, not as bad as the middle and start of the year, but his moods had turned almost overwhelmingly blue, and it had been tricky to level your tone and actions to appropriately comfort him. You’d started feeling on edge every flight, worried and insecure. So, the break had been nice. It had given you a chance to re-evaluate, take a breather and consider what was best for you to do.  

Elvis himself called to wish you a Merry Christmas, he’d been sweet and kind and promised you a gift even as he made small talk that you knew he disliked, even if he was good at it in that southern way, and it had made you hate him just a little. Your chest aching with the feel that he was treating you like a total stranger. It hadn’t improved when you’d returned to your Memphis apartment from your parent’s house and discovered a card had been delivered in your absence. “Season's Greetings, Elvis and the Colonel and Friends.” You’d allowed yourself the briefest of cries staring at yourself in the mirror while the blotchiness crawled up your neck. You were still an ugly crier despite your best efforts. It’s the final straw, you thought to yourself as you stared at your wild eyes and messy hair where you’d tugged your hands through it. You’ll see it through the summer. Then you’re done. That’ll be just enough time to work out what to do next - maybe you’d go back to school. You dried your eyes, patting yourself on the cheeks. That’s it. Decision made. You refused to give it any more thought. Especially, about why you didn’t just quit immediately if you were planning on it later anyway, not willing to admit to yourself you wanted to give him another chance more than anything else. It was just altogether too much, being the girl on the side of the girl on the side, having to balance being his friend, employee and lover. But you’d had your moment, and you were using your trusty technique of just not. thinking. about. it. anymore.  

You were nervous as you tied your little necktie and pulled at your hem from where you were sure your dress had shrunk over the past month, preparing to greet the men loading onto the plane. It was informal, as it normally was, and you looked back somewhat fondly to your days on Big Bunny, where everything was written and handbooked out with the proper procedure for every situation. Now it was just up to you to decide what to do for every eventuality. In this situation you made the brave decision to hide. So, you tuck yourself away in the galley on the other side of the little half wall, waiting until enough of them have boarded that you’ll be forced to peek out and say hello. There were more people loading on than during the last tour, and despite the extra numbers you knew you were handling this mostly alone - Georgia had been unable to come in under such short notice; something about a grandmother. So not only were your nerves shot worrying about when you should tell Elvis you were quitting and how it felt like you were harbouring some awful secret, you were also having to steel yourself to be overworked and run down by the time you were able to get off the plane. When you peek out around the partition you get the first glance of him and you’re a little embarrassed at how you can feel a flush start to rise just from that look.  

He looks not dissimilar to how he did that first day on Big Bunny - open collared shirt and jogging jacket on - this time a navy blue with a baby blue stripe down the shoulder and arm. He looks good - like you could just burrow into him, and you’re relieved that the sudden demand for your appearance isn’t for something panic-inducing from the way he’s smiling and chatting - laughing with Charlie and Joe. You’d been a little concerned that the rapidity of the request was hiding a more sinister origin after a similar call had preceded a rush to the hospital last summer. But he was looking good, really good actually. Somehow his face had lost some of its puffiness it’d been holding onto and he was a far better colour than you’d gotten used to - perhaps a high from the success of his New Year’s concert as he’d been pleased with the reaction and reviews or maybe even just high off the excitement of his, apparently, serious relationship with Ginger. Although, evidently not altogether that serious since she wasn’t joining them; you’d already decided you’d keep your thoughts about that to yourself. You shyly watch him from across the plane where he’s already sat himself down, comfortable in his own space and leaning against the back - his legs spread wide, retelling some story you’ve already heard once before. You take a deep breath before heading around the little partition, fully intending on acting as if you had an important job to do by the door. You managed to keep the ruse up long enough to shut the door and let Ron know you were all set to go, long enough to hand out drinks and cigars and let them all settle in,  but you couldn’t pass directly by him again without him noticing you, and his arm shoots out, grabbing your wrist as you go to walk past. You barely have a chance to notice his hold on you before he’s pulling you in, forcing you to bend over in order to accept a kiss on the cheek in greeting. You can’t explain why you’re so nervous, but you find your tummy flipping at the close proximity to him. With anxiety or excitement, you can’t quite tell. In some ways it’s slightly more forward than you’d expected from him for having not seen him in a month, but perhaps you had just gotten used to him ignoring you in the months prior.  

“Good evening, Elvis.” It’s a fine line between polite and aloof, and you can already tell you’ll be reliving this interaction all night. His eyes are bright with amusement at your formality when he gazes back at you, his thumb still gently stroking over your wrist.   

“Well, it is now.” He grins as you visibly cringe at his cheesiness, “Good evening to you too, honey.” He looks you over as he lets go of your hand, allowing you to stand back up, and eyeing your hemline, “‘re you ready for the cold?”  

“Hopefully it’s not gonna be too cold on the plane,” You stumble over your words in nerves, “but I can always turn the heat up a little - “Elvis shakes his head, 

“Nah, I’ll keep you toasty, hon, snug as a, as a bug.” You struggle to regain your composure as your mind flickers with images of just how he could be keeping you warm.  

“Hmm, I suppose you’ll have to since someone makes me wear this. But I’m pretty well covered anyway.” You grin in response to his smirk when you gesture down at your stockinged legs.  

“Well, that’s real good doll,” He runs a hand through his thick hair, letting a hint of the grey around his temples show as he pushes it back, and you find yourself missing the steadying warmth of his grip, “but you know - we’re stopping in Vail.”  

You pause, unsure how to put it politely, “Mmhmm, that’s what Elwood tells me.” He frowns, leaning back and settling even further into the seat, arm spreading across the back rest and he shifts so his thighs are encasing you.  

“Alright then miss know-it-all, tell me what I was gonna say next.” He stares at you, and it makes your insides twist even as you can feel heat pooling in your stomach.  

“Uhhh,” You struggle, to try and think of what to say that will maintain the teasing playful tone, feeling like you’ve been called on daydreaming in the middle of class with everyone’s eyes on you and simultaneously totally distracted by the feel of his legs against yours. He smirks as you flounder, “Well, perhaps, that you uh,”  

“You can say you don’t know.” He sing-songs it, “Silly little girl like you can’t know everything, huh?” He raises an eyebrow, and you can feel the frustration rise at his teasing,  

“No. I suppose not.” He smiles crookedly, pleased he gets to tell you the next part, even as he explains it like you’re a little slow.  

“I was goin’ to say that I hope you’ve got a coat somewhere…” He pauses for dramatic effect, “since you’re comin’ with us.” Your brain goes blank.  

“Me?”  

“Why not?” He straightens a leg, it, perhaps inadvertently, knocks against yours and you immediately feel your gaze pulled to it, the heat of his thigh against your knee making your head go fuzzy. “Been a while since we’ve been off this plane together.” He’s looking at you hopefully, eyes wide behind his shades and you can feel your insides fizzing with excitement - even as you feel the need to protest,  

“Oh well that’s very kind but -”  

“C’mooon, honey - it’ll be fun! Hot cocoa, and, and skis, and playin’ in the snow.” His leg moves again, the soft cotton blend of his jogging suit catching on your nylons, “Dashin’ through the snow…” Your mouth opens, about to make a Paul Anka joke but one look at his encouraging smile puts you off,  

“Oh, well, like I said, that’s very kind - but I don’t, I don’t have any clothes or coats or boots or -” He cuts you off with a tut, rolling his eyes and shaking his head like you were being particularly stupid.  

“I was only kidding before.” He sounds a little petulant at the suggestion, “You don’t needta worry ‘bout that - we’ll get you sorted out.” He nods, as if you’d already given him your agreement.  

“That’s very generous Elvis, but I don’t know how to ski.”  

“Don’t worry I’ll teach ya!” He seems overwhelmingly confident considering you and he both know he doesn’t know how to ski, “You can just be - hey!” He sits himself back upright in his excitement, knocking against you enough that you shift on your feet, “You can just be my little snow bunny, can’t ya?” He laughs as he says it, and his laughter is infectious - you find yourself giggling along with him,  

“I suppose that would be fitting.” 

“ ‘Sides what else were you gonna do while we were out?”  

“Well…what I normally do - fly home or stay in whatever hotel I’ve had booked for me.” He looks curious for a second, “Sometimes I visit people if we’re close to someone I know.”  

“Do I book ‘em?”  

“Uh. Well. I think maybe your daddy does? Or, whoever’s organising everyone on your behalf yeah, sure.”  

“Oh…” He looks contemplative, before with a frown, “Are they nice?”  

“They’re fine El - it’s normally the same place the band is.” It’s sometimes a shithole but you’re not about to tell Elvis that.  

“Would you - why… did you not wanna come with me?” He half-whispers it and your brain stutters to a halt,  

“What? That’s not, that wasn’t ever an option Elvis.”  

“Well. It is today. Come with us.” He holds out a hand, serious for the first time in the conversation and with his eyes looking at you like that even if you’d wanted to refuse you couldn’t. You nod in agreement, acquiescing to his demand. 

 “C’mere then.” He tugs you down against him and you wriggle into place on his lap, the fabric of his trousers catching on your nylons as you settle against his sturdy thighs. He rubs gently at your calf, his thumb and forefinger encircling your ankle and you feel yourself relax out of your self-consciousness to enjoy the closeness.  

You laugh at a terrible joke at Joe’s expense and Elvis’ legs shake underneath you as you collapse against him in a fit of giggles. Your giggles taper off as you feel him twitch against your thigh. You school your face but can’t stop yourself turning to look at him in surprise, and more than a little excitement. His expression is unchanged, and you wiggle almost imperceptibly, come out, come out and play. It twitches again, and Elvis shifts as if in discomfort, you glance around but no one else seems to be paying you any attention - already distracted by something or someone else so you feel comfortable you’re not about to get caught as you try to wriggle your hand down to him. He immediately clamps an arm around your waist, holding you tight in place - your arm caught between you both. He looks down at you amused and you bite your lip - a pretty pitiful attempt at seduction,  

“Shh.”  

You indicate to the bedroom, more than a little disappointed when he shakes his head. “Later baby.”  

He keeps you trapped on his lap, making it impossible for you to go and do anything, making the boys make their own drinks even when they try and ask you. Even when you try to whisper that you need to get up, he holds you there, gently soothing you back into compliance with a press of his lips, a whispered promise, a stroke of his fingers.  

“Elvis I really hafta get up - we’ll be comin’ down soon and I’ve gotta make sure - “ 

“It’ll be fine baby, don’t worry ‘bout it.”  

“Well, we can’t just sit here forever - at the very least I’ll have to go and open the doors.”  

“Shit baby, Ron or Jim or God, I’m sure even fucking Elwood can manage that. No offense doll but I think they might even be more qualified at it than you. Besides I ain’t payin you to open doors.”  

You push off his chest, turning to face him and interjecting before he can even continue that thought,  

“You sure as hell aren’t paying me to keep you ‘company’ either.” He rolls his eyes,  

“We’ve been through this, I don’t give a fuck about the plane or anything else. Your job is to care for me.” His eyes burn behind his shades, and the intensity of his frown takes you a little by surprise. You stroke the wrinkle on his brow,  

“‘m sorry but look - I have a couple of things I have to do and anyway you’re gonna have to put a seatbelt on in a second, because it’ll get bumpy - and if you hit your head, I’m not being responsible for it.” You wag one of the heavy gold seatbelts at him and he sighs,  

“Well, fine, but you’re mine soon as we land. No excuses then.” His hand strokes your thigh, and your tummy flips,  

“No excuses. I’ll be yours as long as you want me.” There’s a hum, and you both suddenly realise Larry has come a lot closer than before, “Your hostess I mean.”  

——————————— 

Ron patted your arm as you disembarked with the others. “Remember we’ll be there soon too,” He looks at you, “We’re staying at Betty’s aunt’s place, but I’m sure we’ll be invited round.” You nod, reading between the lines and you smile, 

“I’ll bear that in mind.” 

“You do that. Have fun.” He winks, disappearing back into the cockpit and you take a breath before rejoining the group dispersing into a collection of cars.  

“What’s she doin’?” The whisper travels as you climb into the car, Larry and Joe start to reply but Elvis jumps in before either could get their words out too.  

“Goddamnit,” He kicks the seat in front although it certainly wasn’t Joe who had piped up, “She’s coming too - so shut yer fuckin’ mouth before I shut it for you.”  He shouts out the open door and slamming it shut. He slides across the bench seat to be pressed close against you, his hand curling over your thigh.  

You smile shyly, pleased when Shirley turns around to smile at you, you weren’t her biggest fan - she’d never been overly friendly, but at least she was now acknowledging you.  

A whirlwind shopping excursion ensued while Elvis sent the other car to scout out where he wanted to stay. You were a little taken aback, but not altogether surprised, that he’d demanded the trip on such a whim that he hadn’t even secured proper accommodation, but he did a fairly good job of explaining himself while you were being sent back and forth from different stores for the appropriate clothing.  

“The thing is …” You kind of zone out while he talks, the story leading from one to another, before returning to the actual point he was trying to get to, but you appreciate the rumble of his voice and the gossipy tone that makes you feel a part of his exclusive little group. You manage to capture the gist though; that he was pretty sure they could stay at the same lodge as last time, because it was a friends but he hadn’t actually asked - since the decision to go away hadn’t been made until yesterday, and that he couldn’t see any reason why not - but if they had problem with it there was surely other, bigger better lodges to stay that would be overjoyed to host him.  

You were tired by the time he decreed that you finally had a suitable wardrobe and he looked over the collection of bags with satisfaction, although - despite the three other coats he bought you, he still felt the need to lament that it was a; 

“Damn near trav’sty,  none of these backwater stores have white fur. Can’t be a proper little snow bunny,” He sighs, “Joe - make sure we order her one for next time.”  

Your chest glows at the nonchalant way he says it - like he just expects you to be there again. Like it’s no big deal. The other car returns with good news, and they all filter up to the same lodge as the year before. 

“I reckon Ron and Bob’ll regret being such fucking, well, they’ll regret it anyhow now - once they see this and know they could’ve been here too.” You don’t know what to say, so you stick with saying nothing and Elvis tuts and shakes his head, shifting to stare out of the window, although he doesn’t pull his hand away from where you’re making little circles on his palm.  

It’s dark and late outside, and yet Elvis demands everyone get suited up to go and play in the snow, and everyone is in high enough spirits not to protest. You’ve not yet had a lesson though, and as you pull on your brand-new ski suit you playfully refuse to even entertain the prospect of heading anywhere on actual skis - Elvis doesn’t seem to be disappointed, grinning at you under his mask and gesturing for you to clamber onto the back of his snowmobile.  

Despite his promises on the plane, things never did, that first night, progress past heavy petting in the bedroom - but it was something just to have his thick weight next to you in the bed, laughing and joking as he pressed kisses down your face and throat. His little huffs of laughter as you returned the favour tickling his chest made you feel the same pleasurable contentment as if he’d decided to fuck you for hours.  

It was rare, recently, for him to be in such high spirits and still lucid - and you couldn’t help but wonder whether Dr Nick had managed to work out the exact right combination of drugs to keep him perfectly stable, or if he was contributing more placebos. Either way, you weren’t privy to their intimate conversations, nor allowed to witness his daily dosing. The most you saw was the little pills he put into his palm, twice as many as he tipped into yours, before bed and in the morning alongside the occasional couple that he nonchalantly explained them away simply as “Jus’ a little painkiller.” Shrugging his shoulders.  But either he was being a lot sneakier - and you weren’t sure you should be viewing that as a good thing - or he was finally listening to concern and easing himself off a little.  

It felt like it had in those first few weeks after you’d met him - carefree and fun. And somehow you felt yourself relaxing from the tense feeling you’d had since the start of last year. The worries falling off of your shoulders. You spent the first two days joined at the hip - not even really partaking in the snow sports on offer; snuggling up on the snowmobile and then taking yourselves off to curl up in the lodge instead.  

The third day, or really night - since as always with Elvis you soon found your days and nights flipped around - he was ecstatic about the fresh, perfect snow and clear weather and you’d all been sent out to play.  

It felt like a long night by the time Elvis was happy to let everyone return to the house. He hadn’t even joined you on the slopes properly, instead choosing to order everyone about from the comfort of his snowmobile.   

“C’mon fellas - get into a line! Go on! I’ll chase ya!”  

“For god’s sake Billy, move it along! You nearly made me take your whole damn leg off!” A pause, before raucous laughter ensued, “Again!”  

Still, you hadn’t minded this turn of events since it meant you hadn’t had to try and remember your rushed and hurried lesson on the nursery slopes that afternoon. Instead, you’d given it one go accompanied by his shouts of laughter at your falling,  

“How’d a dancer get to be so goddamn clumsy?”  

“I wasn’t a dancer!” You’d protested from your position flat on your back in the snow.  

“You danced real pretty for me though doll.” You rolled your eyes, scrambling back to your feet, trying not to pout as you brushed yourself off, he shook his head laughing once more before shouting back at you.  

“Aw now darlin’, that ain’t a pretty sight. C’mon, better hop onto the back of here, it’ll be a bit safer for you.” He’d said it through giggles, and you felt the determination to get down by yourself rise up again,  

“That won’t be necessary!” You attempted to take off again, and just as you were attempting to straighten your skis, about 12 feet from where you had last fallen, you were on your side again in the snow. Elvis didn’t give you a choice this time, angrily killing the engine completely and storming over as best he could through the thick snow, yanking you up by your arm and dusting you off himself.  

“‘S not the time to be stubborn, C’mon now.” You can’t see his facial expression, obscured by his layers and the dark but you can hear that his annoyed words would be accompanied by tightly knitted eyebrows and a frown. 

“I can do it.” You angrily pulled your arm out of his grasp, the momentum immediately making you start to lose your balance again, and Elvis catches you before you could fall for a third time. 

“For heaven’s sake,” You can practically hear his eyes roll, accompanied by a sigh as he tries to change tact, “I’m sure you can, but it’s dark, and you’ve already tripped twice.” You frown, and he placates, a soothing hand rubbing down your arm, “I just, I just worry about you baby, c’mon, let me look after you - you’re liable to break - no no no, don’t look at me like that,” His hand comes up to cup your face, “I just care about you s’all, don’t want you to get hurt.” He says it so honestly and affectionately that you find yourself nodding in agreement, and truthfully, despite your obstinance, you couldn’t have agreed more - you probably would break a leg if he’d let you go on. He grins at you, “There we are, you know it makes sense, don’t you - there’s my good little bunny. C’mon then, hop to it,” He pats your ass encouragingly, although the padding makes the action redundant, and you slowly make your way over to the snowmobile. 

You climbed onto the back slightly awkwardly, almost reluctant to be too close in front of all the guys, despite your cuddling the days before - they’d always been a little more distracted by their own activities to spend much time assessing yours. But Elvis yanked your arm around at the first possible chance, patting your hand where it lay against his padded stomach and tugging you to press yourself against him. You were getting a little bored, and nervous, of all the commotion so you found yourself totally content to curl against his body for warmth and tuck your chin into his shoulder. Despite your brand-new base layers, and soft down ski suit, there had still been enough of a chill in the night air, and from laying in the cold snow, that you were eager to be as close as possible. Elvis’ figure was more padded than you were used to feeling him, his coat also puffy and filled with down. You took immense pleasure in squeezing him tightly enough that you felt the padding compress, eager hands trying to find his body underneath. You found yourself considering, as one hand came to play with the little hairs escaping his mask and goggles at the base of his neck, that it was a damn shame you were both so covered up, since you couldn’t smell him. If you’d been less love-drunk on him you’d have been amazed at yourself; at thinking it was a damn shame, you were unable to smell an undoubtedly sweaty man.  

You have no idea how long you spent on the back of the snowmobile, hands roving all over him; only that you quickly lost all sense of self-consciousness and instead felt a rising feeling of possession. A dangerous feeling if ever there was one, but enough that you felt your manicured hands staking their claim, rubbing over his arms and back. Elvis seemed to be enjoying it, shifting to be closer to you whenever you moved away, and patting at your arm.  

When he finally, at speeds far too reckless for the early morning night sky, drove you back to the lodge he barely said a word to the rest of the group grabbing your hand and pulling you straight to the master bedroom. It was exciting and, whilst you were almost reluctant to get your hopes up too high, your thighs had been clenching of their own accord for the past hour and you could feel the dampness of your underwear against your warm delicate skin - it was impossible not to; you’d been on edge for hours.  

He’s sweaty from his layers, his red face revealed when he pulls his ski mask and goggles off, there’s a hint of stubble coming through and his face looks alive, cheeks plump with his grin. You were happy to be back in the comfort of the wood-panelled bedroom, although its cozy feel belied the chill that seemed to remain in the air of the wintry cabin. Elvis doesn’t say anything as he concentrates on taking off layer after layer until he’s mostly down to his bare, pinkened skin. You smile when it’s revealed he hadn’t backed down from his childlike refusal to wear proper base layers, silk shirt coming into view but at least you can tell from the sweat patches and his damp skin that he’d certainly been warm enough. You feel like you’re melting from the inside out from the sheer fondness overtaking you until he tugs it over his head, an unusual lack of care shown to it.  You meet his eyes in pleased surprise, and you’re further taken aback at how he manages to make his eyes twinkle so much, playfully glittering in the low light of the room. You can see his smirk growing as your eyes travel down his bare chest, an involuntary noise spilling out of your mouth. It’s been so long since you had the chance to stare at him like this. Elvis gestures at you, disrupting your intense focus, and you suddenly realise you’ve been standing still staring at him for almost too long, so you rapidly start to unboot yourself. You don’t get any further than kicking your shoes off before Elvis is suddenly in front of you. He brushes your hands off of yourself, fingering at your zipper himself. He twirls it between his fingers, ever so gently with one hand - the other coming to distract you from the anticipation by cupping your face, drawing you around to look into your eyes.  

Elvis’ hair has always been long enough for you to run your fingers through, but it seems to have grown almost thicker, and you inch even closer to stroke his cheeks, pushing back his hair - frizzy from its woollen containment. Despite Larry’s accompaniment on the trip when you brush back the hair at his temples you can see the same hint of grey starting to show through as before, and you can’t resist stroking the strands there.   

He smiles at you, pulling you into him to kiss you, making you breathless. As soon as you were distracted, he was unzipping the jacket of your snowsuit, shoving it off your shoulders and down to your waist. It falls to your feet by itself and you immediately pull off your under layers. It simultaneously feels frenzied but also slower than before; like both of you couldn’t wait even though you knew you had the chance to take your time. You lean back so he can tug your undershirt over your head, barely breaking contact with his lips. He pulls back, grinning, after fiddling with your bra clasp, the straps falling from your shoulders. Soon you’re practically nude, your naked chest pressed against his.  

He feels solid against you; it’s been a long time since you both had the opportunity to take your time like this, and his body feels slightly different than before. He still had that uniquely Elvis feel but he was sturdier, and though you doubted it could possibly be true, it felt as if his soft carpet of chest and stomach hair had grown larger, trailing down into the swell of his stomach like a tantalising arrow. He’s surer of himself than he was the last time you found yourself naked with him, reminding you of how he was back on Big Bunny, his broad yet slender hands firmly spanning your sides. You couldn’t help but wonder if you were finding him so attractive because it had been a while, or if it really was just that he always looks good. Any thought was swept from your mind though when he recaptures your mouth, his lips soft and firm against yours, and his tongue insistently presses past yours in a way that could only be described as eager.  

The movement of your chests against each other is enough for you to gasp against him - desperately moving to be closer, trying to practically become one with him. You can feel him smile at your desperate noises, before he moves a little. One of his hands slide down to rest at your waist, the other encircling your wrist. He holds it at your side, your other arm is trapped between you, and you whine at him between gasping breaths that it’s not fair, “C’mon El, that’s unfair, let me touch you,” He grins against your cheek, his spare hand moving to palm up at you.  

Elvis presses a kiss against the side of your mouth, and as you start to voice your protests at his movement he mutters, “I just need - let me light the fire, hon.” against your skin, the vibration of his voice causing you to shiver. He pulls away with a final tug to your bottom lip, and you find yourself pouting at the loss of his heat. You fold your arms across your chest, a little self-conscious now he’s moved away and besides it was slightly chilly, but you couldn’t bear to let him leave you - besides weren’t you about to warm each other up? Although, maybe you were more ready than he was; as he was soft still, and the thought of him tending to the fire - the domesticity of the combination made your stomach clench perhaps more than if he’d been hard and ready to go. But still, you were reluctant to allow him to move away.  

“I’m sure I’m hot enough,” He shakes his head, kissing your hand as he lets go of you entirely, “Honestly - we-we’ll be under the covers in a moment anyway, and I’m, I’m already burning babe.” But he’s already wandered over to the fireplace; thankfully it had been left pretty well set-up, and all that really has to be done is the physical lighting of the kindling already in place and you console yourself with the knowledge that it should only take a few seconds.   

“Not gonna let my bitty baby bunny get cold, hims gotta take care of herses.” He mutters seemingly mostly to himself although he was more than loud enough for you to hear. It does the job he intended it to, and you can feel yourself start to melt in response. He glances back at you as he crouches by the fireplace.  

“Hadta do this in the army baby,” You start to laugh at his tangent, “Yeah I did!” He ardently refutes your chuckle, “- with none of these fancy tools,” He’s holding up a box of firelighters, “No siree, just two sticks and a rock and I could light anything up.” You giggle, finding the situation all the more amusing when you notice he seems to be struggling to light it now. He keeps trying with the book of matches from the side, but for some reason they just won’t seem to take and he huffs, swearing, standing himself back up from his kneeling position to storm over to his jacket, fumbling in his pocket for one of his lighters. Your jaw drops as you watch him reach inside the fire to hold one of the crumbling firelighters in his hand, and he lights it to the accompaniments of your shrieks and admonishments;  

“Elvis! Oh god put that down! You’ll set your - oh lord, you’ll set your chest on fire doing that!” He turns to grin at you, before swearing as the fire licks his fingers, throwing the flaming chunk into the fire, and finally - finally watching as the kindling starts to flicker.  

“Told you, honey, no problem at all.” He shrugs his shoulders, but your heart rate hasn’t yet levelled back out and you can’t help but continue to scold him.  

“Jesus, what would I have told everyone! I swear -” He stands up, away from the fire now crackling to life, holding his hands out placatingly,  

“No, no, no,” He grins, “No sweat, baby, I knew what I was doin’.” He’s got that boyish glint in his eyes, happy as only a man who has achieved a stupidly primal action like lighting a fire or setting off a firework can be, and when you continue to scold him he suddenly rushes at you, knocking you off your feet and sending you tumbling together onto the bed. His broad arms come around you, holding you like a movie starlet swooning in his arms.  

“Shhhh…. honey, bunny, I knew what I was doin’ ok? You see, I was just foolin’ around, pretendin’ I couldn’t light it - you know, just messin’ with you a little, just - just for fun.” You snort in disbelief, although you’re quickly distracted as he kisses the crook of your neck, following an invisible line down to your shoulder and back up to your neck, one of his hands coming to hold the back of your neck while the other traces circle on your stomach. You gasp, and you can feel his grin against you.  

“El—vis, oh - god, you can, let me get these off - please,” and you wriggle out of your panties, shoving them to your knees and kicking them off, when you manage to flick them off of your ankle  your legs return to the bed, slightly more parted than before, desperately inviting Elvis to do more.  

“You believe me don’t you honey?” His fingertips dance over you,  

“Wha-” He repeats the question, 

“You believe me, right, bunny? Y’know I could’ve lit it in seconds?”  his fingers trace below your belly button.  

“Uh, yeah, yeah, of course - who needs firelighters! Not Elvis!” He grins at you, and the sight of it makes you tease further, “Boy, you could, you could,” You giggle breathlessly, “You could make it a part of your show, you know - what can’t Elvis set on fire?!” You do a jazz hands gesture for emphasis. Elvis throws his head back in laughter, his head hitting the pillows and you wriggle in pleased amusement next to him for a moment before he sits back up,  

“Oh ho - you take that back, little girl,” His fingers prod into you, tickling your sides and you scrunch up as you giggle more,  

“I take it - oh! I take it back! You did, you did an excellent job.” He nods in self-satisfaction,  

“Now,” his hands soothe the pinkened skin from where he’d jabbed into you, “Let me make you feel good, baby.” Elvis leans up and over you, cupping your face to pull you into another, deep, kiss while his hand finally travels down past your navel, brushing over your inner thighs. Your hips jerk up, as if offering yourself up to him. You can feel his arousal growing against your thigh, twitching like the little bunny nose he claimed you had. 

“Lord, bunny, you’re so soft, can barely feel ya, s’like silk down here I swear to god.” Your eyes slip closed, your back arching at the feel of his soft pads sliding through the silky wetness of your folds, and your legs opening a little wider of their own accord in invitation, begging him to go lower or higher or something. When all of a sudden you feel a chill at the loss of his presence as he moves away. Your eyes flutter back open to see him, bare ass on show, bent over and poking at the fire - adding an additional log that immediately crackles and spits, onto the top.  

“El-Elvis.” The situation catches you by surprise; to be abandoned in favour of fiddling with a fire could be seen as a little offensive in some ways, but it tickles you and the giggles overcome you before you can ask what exactly he was playing at.  

“Ah, sorry honey, I didn’t mean to leave you hanging’ there but it was in danger of goin’ out.” He runs his hand through his hair as he stands back up, his hands falling to just below his hips for a second while he surveys the fire - making doubly sure he’d gotten it set up.  He stretches, and you admire the muscles in his back as they move with his arms for a moment. He turns and stalks back over to the bed - immediately jumping beside you, bouncing you up before he gathers you back into his arms. His hand reaching across you to cling you to him, arm over your waist, finger barely brushing a nipple.  

“You should worry about me going out at this rate -” He laughs at you, rubbing his thick fingers down your sides.  

“Ohh-ho, but baby, bunny, I thought you were burnin’ for me? “He does his famous lip movement, somewhat self-deprecatingly, “just a...” He moves his hips next to you, “burnin’ love. Uh-huh? Bunny love?” You bite your lip at him - it was funny, but more than anything you can feel the arousal growing again in the pit of your stomach. He smiles at you, not expecting a response before he shakes his head, leaning over to press a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth before flopping back to stretch out on his back. You roll with him, lazily kissing his chest. It’s the most relaxed you’ve felt with him in months, maybe even in the past year.  

He slides his hand back down, one of his long, thicker but still fundamentally slender, fingers preceding the others. You’re more than ready for him, and while your hips move in response to him pressing it past your entrance it’s not enough for the desire burning inside you.  

“’S no good - can I - are you, are you ready for me?” He looks at you a little surprised,  

“Yeah, sure, just - how d’you want the pillows.” He makes as if to get up and move himself off of his back, but you stop him with a hand to his chest. Your fingertips tweak his nipple, just the tiniest bit and you take pleasure in his open-mouthed reaction; perhaps a little surprised at your initiative and he looks wide-eyed when you tell him,  

“Well, maybe I could…uhh..y’know,” You gesture vaguely towards his cock, he blinks at you, “Climb on?” His mouth stays open for a moment before he seems to remember himself, remember that such an offer shouldn’t seem a surprise to him. If you had the brain power to think you would consider it a little sad; the confidence he’d had on Big Bunny in comparison to now. He shakes his head, even as he settles back against the headboard, seeming to recollect himself, smirking.  

“Sure thing, honey, I just thought women didn’t like doin’ any of the work.” You roll your eyes, not bothering to mention that this wasn’t even the first time you’d ridden him, but still, you swing your leg over him and with a helping hand from him to position himself you settle down, your thighs straining over the breadth of his lap. You immediately regret your decision to face him when you realise it means he’s watching your face almost too closely, and you say a silent prayer of thanks that you had had enough experience with him that you weren’t overly intimidated.  He holds himself steady, letting you sink yourself down onto the sturdy length of him. His own face screws up, falling back onto the pillow behind him at the feel of the warmth of your wet heat pressing down onto him. You struggle for balance for a second, before your hands find their way onto his shoulders for a moment while you adjust to him. It’s been a while, a fact Elvis points out as he gasps at you that,  

“Oh - lord, Jesus, honey, you been waitin’ for me? Ain’t - God, takin’ me so goddamn perfectly; feels just right for little Elvie, such a good little bunny, all for me.” Your hands scramble down his chest to his, admittedly thicker and softer middle, to push back and hold yourself up.  

“Elvis - you feel, oh, I, I’ve missed this,” You shudder around him,  

“Can tell,” He huffs as you start to lift up on your knees, “Can tell you’ve been so good for me, huh baby,” He grips your hipbones, “just a itty bitty baby bun bein’ good for me, holdin’ on jus for me.” You moan at the feel of the different angle he hits inside of you from this position, and as you find your momentum rising up and rocking yourself back down you feel your confidence growing.  

“Oh, uh-huuh, good girl, oh lord that’s sexy…” You moan in response as you lean backwards a little, encouraging him to come up to play with your breasts. It amuses you how he still tweaks and pulls like a teen in the back of his daddy’s car, yet somehow, he manages to get the pressure just right, grinning at you knowingly as he licks his fingertips before bringing them back to your nipples twisting them just enough that the combination sends a rush of wetness. It’s a distraction for a second, but mere moments later and your thighs are screaming at you. Unlike on Big Bunny though this time you’re determined to see it through, and you blink through half-closed eyes at him, his own sweaty face staring back at you, mouth-open. Your hands paw at his chest, struggling to find something to grip to get the leverage you need, fingertips scratching at his chest hair, and Elvis eventually puts his hands back to your waist, his own hips moving to help you bounce on him.  

You can no longer bring yourself to care about how you look - entirely lost in the sensations - groaning a little in annoyance as your hair falls over your face and into your eyes. You struggle to try and brush it away while still keeping your balance and momentum but quickly you feel Elvis’ hands move from your waist, one large sweaty paw coming up to push your hair off your face, his thumb stroking down your cheek after it’s tucked back. You let him slip it past your mouth as you rock onto him, moaning against his soft skin. His mouth stays open watching you with heated eyes,   

“C’mon now, mama, finish the job.” You nod rapidly, his thumb tumbling out of your mouth, and he trails the spit-soaked digit down to rub along your thigh, letting his hips jerk into you, rolling with the movement. His hand sinks down, and your hands come to his shoulders as he starts to roll his thumb against your clit, his hand resting on the joint of your thigh and his other coming to back down to clutch at your hipbone. You’re almost there when you feel his hand suddenly pause as his hips thrust up more aggressively than before - more like how he used to perform and you’re about to shriek in protest, tell him off for stopping you right at the precipice, until you see his face screwed up, perfect lips open.  

“Oh - Oh, fuck, fu-fu-uck.” He stutters the word, relief palpable, as if releasing after an immeasurable time. His hand moves back to play with you, his thumb moving rapidly, rubbing exactly over the right spot and it’s almost too much, the overstimulation making you lose your words as he slips and slides it back and forth. You’re begging him for something, although you’re not sure what and he praises you as you grind against him.  

“That’s it, that’s it,” Elvis is breathless still as he encourages you, “C’mon bunny, you can give it to me baby, c’mon baby, c’mon.” He’s growling in your ear and you fall forward, his softening cock rubbing wetly against your folds as you land against his chest. His voice is enough to tip you over the edge, and you find yourself rutting against him, gasping into his collarbone before going stiff, stomach muscles and thighs convulsing as you twitchingly hurtle through an orgasm.  “Shit.” He swipes his thumb over you again and you flinch away, but he pulls it away himself, shushing you before he pats his other hand onto your back and you jolt at what amounted to a an unintentionally heavy thump, his thumb stroking and soothing you back to quiet. His lips press against your shoulder blade, I love you it feels like he whispers against your skin, and you shout it back to him in your mind.  

The next day you think to get ahead of Elvis, sending him to go and play with the guys while you rush back into the house, claiming a headache and a desire for an early night. You’ve lit the fire by the time he gets in and while you’d debated waiting for him naked and ready, you’d grown too self-conscious in his absence, so you were tucked under the covers; supposedly reading his book he’d left on the nightstand although you’d done more listening out for their return than actual reading.  

You can hear him shouting to the boys on his way through, no regard for the idea that you might be asleep. He comes bounding through the door, coming to an abrupt halt at the sight of you. The door falling closed behind him with a clunk.  

“You waitin’ up for me, bunny?” You swallow, trying your best at seduction, shoving the covers off to unveil your lingerie clad body,  

“Uh-huh,” You nod, “Waiting and waiting just for you.” He grins, unzipping his jacket and starting to stalk towards you. The fire crackles and he pauses, his head turning to look at it.  

“Oh. You lit it without me?” Your mind runs in circles as you try to work out his tone,  

“Um, yeah - it was cold, so…” He frowns, looking back at you, huffing as he shoves off his jacket entirely, you come to the realisation that he’s actually a little annoyed, “I, I, just thought it would save you a job - you know, it would all be done, and you could just…” You gesture down yourself. He doesn’t respond, finishing stripping himself off and collecting up his pyjamas to take them into the bathroom with him. 

“Elvis? You’re not, don’t be mad at me - I really was just trying to be helpful.” He shakes his head,  

“I’m not mad, baby.” Elvis disappears into the bathroom leaving you to squirm on the bed, your tummy in knots. You’ve put his book back on his nightstand and have tucked yourself back under the sheets, feeling too exposed to stay as you were, by the time he comes back out clearly ready for bed himself. He throws back the sheets, climbing in,  

“I-I like doin’ it honey, honest -” He opens up his arms for you to curl into, “I know the place has proper heat and all, but it just feels more, uh, atmospheric, doesn’t it?”  

“I know El, that’s, that’s why I lit it?” He hums against the top of your head,  

“I know sweetheart, uh, thank you, but I like taking care of you.” You nod in understanding, trying not to be too disappointed that your attempt at doing something nice seemed to have derailed your night. “So, what did you think?” He nods towards his book, 

“Oh, I- I barely got a chapter in, I didn’t wanna lose your place,” You settle against his chest, 

“Oh no, honey, I’ve - I’ve read it over and over, not got a place to lose - you go right ahead.” You mumble a thank you, but make no attempt to move, “Or I could read it to you?” His hand strokes your back, and you nod your head against his chest,  

“That would be nice - yes, thank you.”  

“Did you like it?”  

“Mmhmm…. what, what do you like about it?” He never picks the book back up and you happily drift off to the sounds of his deep voice rumbling on about his spiritual conclusions from the text.  

——————————— 

The next morning you find yourself waking up much earlier than everyone else, and you end up unable to fall back to sleep. You eye the bottle of pills on Elvis’ nightstand, but you would be too nervous to take something without waking him up and he looks so peaceful, gently snuffling beside you. Instead, you end up pottering about in the kitchen, making yourself a drink and curling up onto the couch in the living room with his book. An hour or so later Billy stumbles across you on his own hunt for a cup of coffee, and it’s almost awkwardly silent for a second as he stares at you from across the room. You’re just about to ask if there was something he wanted you to do when he breaks the silence first,  

“You know…he’s really going for Ginger.” He looks you up and down, “But, you could - well, what I mean to say is that the boys like you.” You’re taken aback, unsure what he even means by that, and you stumble over your response,  

“Oh, I don’t - I don’t wanna step on anyone’s toes or anything, you know I’m just - I’ve never been skiing so Elvis asked and -” He cuts you off mid-sentence,  

“Look I’m not saying you’ve gotta go around acting like you’re off the streets, but just you know. If you wanted,” He gestures in the general direction of the hallway and Elvis’ bedroom. “I’m sure… well I know I wouldn’t protest.” You swallow hard as you try to consider the correct response.  

“That’s very kind of you to say. I appreciate it.” You’re a little nervous this is a test and while part of you wants to bombard him with questions about what the issue is with Ginger - and does he really think you have a chance with Elvis? Like his girlfriend? You’re not sure how much will get back to Elvis and you’d rather be painted as cold than desperately vying for Ginger’s spot.  Part of you cringes at the implication that all the guys were out discussing his relationships; that they all thought they knew best, on the other hand the little you’d seen of Ginger did little to change your perception from the same as theirs. She seemed nice enough, but Elvis certainly seemed a lot more hot and heavy than her. Even if there hadn’t been a lot of hot and heavy lately - except, apparently with you.  

Later, when everyone but Elvis was up and despite everyone else’s protestations (and Billy’s attempts) you stayed firm in your resolve not to let them light the fire in even the main room. If Elvis wanted to do it and liked doing it, you were going to be damn sure it was there for him to do. It was storming quite heavily outside, and while you waited for Elvis to wake up, you’d all decided it was best to hang around inside.  

You settled down on the floor by the coffee table to set up some cards, pretending to be nonchalant about where you’d placed yourself even as you hoped your position would put you exactly by his legs, and the perfect distance for optimum warmth from the, soon to be lit, fire. Elvis chooses that moment to walk in from the bedroom, in yet another strange silk shirt and tracksuit combination.  

“Hi doll,” He bends over to press a kiss the top of your head, and you lean up into it. He rubs his hands together in an exaggerated motion as if for warmth when he stands back up.  

 “Shit. It’s fucking freezing in here.” He looks around, “Why’d no-one light the fire?” They all turn to glare at you, and you start to explain, stumbling over your words.  

“Yesterday! Yesterday - you, you were offended, when I - I just thought you’d enjoy it!” You protest, and Elvis stares at you, eyes narrowing as if you were the white witch putting the cabin into permanent winter. 

“Offended! Lord, the whole goddamn world will be fuckin’ offended when I can’t sing for shit b’cause I’ve caught pneu-neu-monia and my throat’s scratched to all hell!”  

“Oh, I didn’t - I mean, the main heat is on - I didn’t think…” He ignores you to plop himself down opposite to where you were sitting, miles away from where you’d been planning and anticipating for him to sit. Elvis angrily gestures towards the fire and both Ed and Dick rush towards it, making sure it was lit quickly. You can feel the other girls look at you sympathetically, even as you desperately try to avoid everyone else’s eye, annoyed and upset at being publicly scolded. It’s bad enough for Elvis to be pissed off with you in public, you didn’t need their pity too. It felt like you were being judged for not knowing how to deal with him like this, you can feel some of them - Joe and Shirley for sure - rolling their eyes at you, but you didn’t know better; every time he’d been annoyed in the past you could escape with the excuse of needing to get something from the galley or you were alone in the bedroom together - and you could use other methods to soothe him. But to be in this situation in public was completely unchartered territory, and though you knew everyone there had to be aware of your relationship and situation, it still made you uncomfortable to be having an argument out in the open. At the first opportunity you have you excuse yourself, claiming another headache and shaking your head at Dr Nick’s offers of painkillers you head off to the bedroom. 

Elvis comes barging in an hour or so later, and you flinch at the bang of the door against the wall, already bracing yourself to be accused of sulking or some other continuation of the argument but you remain where you lay in bed, on your side facing away from the doorway and try to concentrate on the words on the page of his book again. He sighs, and just as loudly as he’d opened it he slams the door closed. He makes his way over to you, sitting on the other side of the bed and looking over at you.  

“My little bunny isn’t mad at me is she?” His tone is almost contrite, and you immediately roll yourself over to look at him. He’s got a boyish look on his face and you can feel yourself starting to melt, but you’re not entirely ready to forgive him yet.  

“I’m not mad at you Elvis.” He frowns, titling his head like a confused golden retriever. He lets his head flop into his shoulder as he peers at you.  

“Come on baby, you know I didn’t mean it.” You hum back at him, trying hard not to be swayed by his expressive blue eyes. He clambers up onto the bed, to cuddle into the side of you, running a finger down your arm, “Oh you can’t be mad at me, bunny can’t be mad at him - not when he yuvs her so so much,” He curls his arm around you to tug you closer to him, and you struggle not to smile as he continues baby-talking you, “not his bitty bunny,” He presses a kiss into your arm, shifting himself to place several leading up the back of your neck, and then leaning over to press them against your shoulder, he murmurs against your skin, “she wouldn’t ever be mad at him, his bitty, baby, bunny who he yuvs…” Your heart clenches. You know he’s manipulating you, and you’re still embarrassed, but he sounds so sincere. Even if he’s only saying it so he doesn’t have to outright apologise Elvis suggesting he loves you in any way is enough to make you forgive him.  

“I’m not mad at you, I promise.” You roll around to look at him, staring into his eyes, “I swear Elvis - I’m not. I’m sorry for trying to control the situation.”  

“Nah, nah you were just, you were just tryin’ to take care of me - I see that, let me, let me make it up to you baby,” His fingers glide over your stomach and sides, toying with the waistband of the corduroy trousers you were wearing. He looks deep into your eyes, searching for something, and he smiles a moment later, “C’mon bunny, lemme make you feel good. Let hims make it up to hers.” His fingers wriggle under the waistband while the other pops the buttons and you lift your hips to allow him to take them off.   

He presses his lips to yours, ever so briefly, and you try to chase him even as he pulls away, his palm holding you down while he moves his mouth down your neck. He sucks a bruise onto your collarbone, and you shift in his grip, rubbing your thighs together as he laps at the little maroon mark. He sits up, settling himself between your legs but keeps his hand on your stomach, its wide span pinning you against the bed. No rings this time to dig into your skin, just the intimate feel of his fingers flexing against your abdomen. He brings his other to pat your legs apart. You flop onto your back, unable to stay in a crunch staring at him, the look on his face as he stares at your pussy too much to take.  

You’ve been tense waiting for him, and though you feel yourself automatically relax into his thick hands you still worry momentarily that it’s going to be hard to get you to finish. You don’t want to disappoint him, and you open your mouth to tell him as much when his rough tongue laps at your soft folds, twirling around your clit. His tongue has lost none of its finesse, and he has no difficulty, with the help of two of his fingers to bring you to the brink within a few minutes.  He laps against you, sideburns tickling your inner thighs, for what feels like forever and you’re struggling to keep your legs open and not wrap your thighs around his head, contenting yourself with tangling your fingers into his hair, holding him into place with the little strength you could muster. He’s not quiet when he does this - Elvis never is, uttering his own pleased little hums that seem to harmonise with your own, much louder moans and curses, the vibrations rebounding around your core. It’s not long before he sits up, mouth glistening - clearly ever so pleased with himself while you pant away the white spots behind your eyes.  

“There’s a good girl now.” He pats at you, “C’mon back out now - ‘s no good sulking in here.” And though you never were sulking you find yourself tiredly nodding at his instruction, more than willing to do whatever he asks of you, boneless and biddable.  

——————————— 

It’s strange when you get back home - It felt like you’d been away for months, wrapped up in your little Elvis vacation bubble, and yet it had scarcely been two weeks. It’s absurd that it’s such a struggle to adjust again. You’d let yourself get so close during the trip that it was painful to have to force yourself to watch and listen as he calls Ginger before you take off on the way home, or to be totally ignored as they all clamber out of the plane when you hit the ground in Tennessee. The trouble with Elvis, you thought to yourself as you finally sunk back into your own bed, was that he was everything. More than everything - everything revolved around him, like planets orbiting the sun and it felt near impossible to escape his gravitational pull. You knew your mother would say, “Baby, finish on a high; keep the memories.”  The issue with that is that now you’ve had a little you want more. There’s no way in hell you can quit now. Not before you’ve had just a little taste more, just one more fumble, one more heated look from him, one more whispered I love you into your neck. But you have no idea if the desire is reciprocal; it’s hard not to read too much into it when your presence is conspicuously absent in March. You didn’t even know they were going to Hawaii, or that they had gone until Georgia told you about it while mentioning their rushed return home. Did he think you’d have a problem flying him and Ginger somewhere? Or did he think you wouldn’t be able to be discrete; a laughable idea since you’d been proving yourself in that department for the past three years. Elvis doesn’t mention it to you, so you keep quiet too, and almost immediately after regular service seems to resume.  

You weren’t pleased for long, when it became clear that while he hadn’t looked much worse for wear after the apparent ordeal in Hawaii, and his voice sounded as good as before - none of this was to last. The monotony of the road, the easy habits of most of a decade immediately flooding back to him.  

Despite having spent as much, if not more, time with him than a girlfriend would have done in the past three or four years, the long days and nights spent together you can feel him drifting. You had been there when other girls were there, there when they weren’t - watched over him awake and asleep. But you weren’t. You weren’t his girl, you were, at your core, essentially an addition to his jet. An amenity. So, when you get the call that a couple of tour dates were cancelled and that your services weren’t needed, before an almost immediate redaction and urgent request for your services, to get him ostensibly home, and in reality, quickly to the comfort of a hospital. You were at once concerned - you weren’t allowed to be worried, that was for family and friends - for Ginger and Vernon to pace back and forth in a waiting room. Your job was to remain calm. Professional and calm, even if you knew that had he been more conscious he’d have demanded your presence. He’d said as much after Linda had left - that you were his first choice. Maybe not just an amenity after all. That you would have been the one with his head in your lap, dabbing at his forehead - rather than Ginger’s hesitant pats to his arm. But it’s not you, and you have to simply take a deep breath, hoping that you’d at least get an update. 

There were, by May, so many signs that things are going wrong, even to your untrained eye. Maybe because you saw him less and less, the flights short between tour stops, the requests to see you at the hotels suddenly lacking, that it doesn’t feel like a gradual change in the way the men describe it to be. The paranoia, the fear, and the sheer absurdity of his behaviour all seem to hit you all the more because you were able to directly compare to when he was doing alright, to how, mere weeks ago, you’d been having a grand time in Vail together.  

The guns. The guns had become a symbol of his sheer level of turbulence. He’d threatened you before, at a time where it had seemed so out of the blue it was laughable - now, if he’d done the same thing you’d be more worried - he wasn’t as careful as he had always been. You weren’t a pilot, you didn’t have the same responsibilities, but even so the guns at Binghampton had almost cost you your job and would have certainly cost you your reputation had it all gone south. Had Elvis not somehow, despite his state, been able to effectively charm the officer in charge into forgetting his apparent oversight; although how, considering the guns had tumbled out right in front of them, was anyone’s guess. The ramifications were awful though, you and Ron and Elwood stressed about the ‘cargo’ on the plane, while Elvis shouted to anyone who would listen that he could do what he goddamn liked, waving his narcotics badge at anyone who tried to tactfully protest. You hated it.   

It’s a long flight, at the end of a long week. It’s been trying for all involved, although Elvis has spent a lot of the time that you’ve seen him in a half-asleep state, desperately trying to recover from the strains and stresses of the brutal tour schedule he’s been put on again. You’ve corralled him into the bedroom on the Lisa-Marie, it’s a six-hour flight - not nearly long enough for him to recuperate properly, but enough that you actually have a fighting chance for once. He’d been playful and handsy the day before, the way he was sometimes - likely having taken one too many uppers, but you could tell from the lines and bags under his make-up that, though it’s been ages - to try and tease or play with him now would be borderline cruel. Instead, you focus on making him comfortable, tucking him up with you under the soft covers of the large bed, petting him exactly as he likes it. He’s just starting to calm himself down and you continue to murmur to the top of his head when he suddenly starts talking,  

“I don’t, don’t wanna marry-marry her.” His speech is slurring, and you can’t be sure if it’s from sleep, or the effects of the palmful of pills he’d taken an hour ago, or some combination of it all. Oh, so maybe that’s why he’s gone off the rails?  

“You don’t, - you don’t have to El- if you don’t want to,” You murmur back to him, acknowledging internally that he must be both absolutely exhausted and feeling miserable if his immediate response wasn’t to tell you to mind your own goddamn business.  

“I’ve gotta take care of it - get the boys to take care of it…. Daddy'll do it for me. He should.” He nods to himself, but his eyes stay closed.  

“Elvis, sweetheart,” You whisper to him, “you can’t make your daddy do that for you, you’ve… gotta do it yourself.” You pat his back, and he burrows his head further into your lap, your fingers finding their way into his scalp, curling around and into the hairs at the nape of his neck as you gently stroke his head and back. “She’s, she’s a reasonable girl - I’m sure she’ll understand-”  

“That’s…” There’s a long enough pause as his breathing evens out that you’re fairly sure he’s asleep, but then he mumbles back, “’S not her ‘m worried about…’s her, her folks.”  

You try desperately to reassure him, muttering about how no-one could judge him for making a sensible decision, and better to cool it off now than later, but it’s too late, and the only response you get back is the sound of him snuffling in his sleep, his eyelids and forehead relaxing as he curls his legs into you, snuggling against your warm heat, tucked against the thick gold comforter.  

You try to relax yourself, but your mind is whirring at a thousand thoughts a minute; all too many of which were imagining poor Vernon being gifted with the unfortunate task of breaking up with his son’s girlfriend.  

You feel sorry for him, you never believe when the husbands of your friends make jokes about how they’ve been ‘trapped’ - it’s a man’s world, and it seems absurd to suggest that someone’s womanly wiles were solely the root of their relationship crisis and yet, his description of his relationship is starting to sound less like young fun and more like a calculated entrapment. For perhaps not the first time in his life. You sigh again, and jump when Elvis pats your arm,  

“Shhh, s’ok, s’ok baby, I got you,” He’s fast asleep, eyes twitching being their lids — but still, his hands swipe over your side as he clumsily pats at you, shushing you while he does. The notion makes your eyes fill with tears, how could he still be so utterly sweet and dependent? 

The next morning he made no reference to the night before, or his whispered confession and you dressed and continued on as normal. Your mind though kept floating back to the words Billy had said to you back in early February. Should you attempt to make a move? Or at least, make sure Elvis knew you were totally available? Before you have the chance to act on any of these impulses though there’s a rumour spreading across the group - that Elvis wasn’t coping, that he needed a break, that the tour was going to have to be cancelled. You’d pushed it out of your head, hopeful he’d just need a decent rest that would be enough to rejuvenate him to get through the tour. But tragically, the rumour had turned out to be true and you’d delivered him home to Memphis amidst cancelled shows and runs to the hospital. He’d looked terrible when you’d left him, looking back at you at the top of the plane steps. You want to turn up, check he’s ok, check that he’s sure about Ginger, that if he’s not going to end things then that she knows how to take care of him. That she’s doing the best she can.  

It had been radio silence since that last flight and perhaps you should be assuming that no news is good news, but you find yourself thinking about him most days. Worrying and waiting. You wonder if he would let you in if you went to Graceland to see him, or if that was altogether too presumptuous, hell you’d heard all about how he hated girls that were too forward. But he loved to be taken care of - you supposed it all came down to control, and though you were desperate that he be well looked after, and you wished you could supervise that yourself, you were otherwise happy to let him take the lead – it was just altogether too scary to do anything else.  

——————————— 

Finally, in the middle of the third week of July you get a call reminding you of the upcoming tour, and then, almost immediately after you agree, an unusual call from Elvis himself. The phone ringing insistently less than 5 minutes after you’d agreed to the tour details.  

“How’re you doing baby?” He’s talking in that slow drawl he does when he’s sleepy, worn out from the day - from rehearsals maybe, or just life in general. “My bitty baby doin’ ok, huh?” 

“I’m just fine,” You’re impossibly hungry for details, but reluctant to sound too eager, 

“My yittle bun-bun lookin’ after herself?” You’d basically already told him this, but the wording makes you blush, and you don’t mind repeating yourself for him, “Of course. I’m ‘cited to see you.”  

“That’s good, well, that’s reeeall good honey, because, uh, you see,” His voice takes on the explanatory tone he so enjoys, both didactic and gossiping, “I don’t know if you’ve heard… or I suppose you wouldn’t have yet, but uh, Ginger’s not, she’s not coming on this tour with me, we’re, uh, we’re well…” He trails off, and there’s little breathy noises down the phone to you, which lets you picture the way he would have just taken off his glasses, rubbing his fingers along the bridge of his nose.  

“Oh,” What else is there to say? ‘Oh Elvis, I’m glad you’ve ditched your fiancee?’ Hardly.  

“She was just, just a lil too young, jus’ a baby, not, she just - it wouldn’t be right to make her settle down with me right now. Not, not when I don’t know if she really…well you know.” You don’t know what to say, and Elvis waits only for a brief second before filling the silence himself,  

“The thing is - I wasn’t sure, I don’t know if you’d heard, I’ve uh, I’ve been, well, I’ve been real sick to tell you the truth. Weren’t sure I were gonna make it out to this tour and we thought for sure we were gonna have to cancel but well, here we are.”  

“You’re not… you’re feeling better?”  

“Yes ma’am.” At least that sounds confident, “Got myself a new doctor, and ‘m, uh, on some new, uh, treatments and uh stuff.” He pauses, “Playin’ a lot of racquetball.”   He sounds slightly sheepish, and while you’re endlessly curious you don’t press the point.  

“Were you just ringing to confirm I’d be around?”  

“Well, here’s the thing, the thing is, honey, the thing is - I know you’ve already had a call, but you see, I was sorta hoping maybe you’d be happy to cancel them plans?”  

“Oh. You don’t want me on the plane?” There’s a moment of silence before he swears to himself, muttering down the phone that he’d learn to have some balls one of these days.  

“No, No, you misunnerstand - I want you on the plane, and off the plane - I just want you to come with me.”  

“Oh.”  

“If you can’t, well, I understand.” He sounds resigned, and your heart breaks a little, “But, I want company baby, and I want yours.” You twist the phone cord around your fingers, breathless in your excited agreement, 

“I want yours too! I’ve been - Billy said, well I’ve been hopin’ for months El, I miss you so much when we’re at home, and oh, I’d love to.” Somehow you can hear him shaking his head through the phone,  

“That meddlin’ shit.” You giggle back at him, and he laughs in response before he keeps talking, “So - pack your bags, honey, and I’ll send a car to get you at the usual time?”  

“So, am I - like working?” He huffs at you, 

“No - no, not workin’ for me no more - just being there for me. Want you to be my girl baby - be good just for me - not chasing down the other guys to make ‘em drinks.” You shake your head, brain skipping over the important part of the statement to the last part for a moment.  

“I don’t believe I’ve ever ‘chased’ the other guys,” He huffs down the phone,  

“Well lemme tell you they’ve been chasin’ you, wolves chasin’ their lil bunny,”  

“Hmm, there’s only one wolf I want to eat me though Elvis.”  

“S’that right?” 

“That’s right.”  

“Well then, I’ll have it all ready for you, s’probably easier, y’know this late notice and all,” You read between the lines that Ginger’s still at Graceland, “that I’ll uh, you’ll be waitin’ for me on the Lisa-Marie?” You cringe, but he does sound more like himself than he has in weeks, and hopefully - unlike with Linda and Ginger he’ll keep to his promise and actually get rid of her before you get on board.  

“Mmhmm, that should be fine.” You hear him move away from the phone for a second, talking to someone else for a moment,  

“Right, honey, I’ve - I’ve, I’m bein’ told I’ve gotta go now - got a meeting in a minute, but don’t be afraid to call - anytime, you’re to be put straight through to me, y’hear?”  

“Yep, Elvis, I hear,”  

“Alright then, I’ll see you in a couple of weeks, then - you take care of yourself baby,”  

“You too El,” You’re about to say something stupid, like I love you, but with one last,  

“Ok - buh-bye.” The line’s gone dead.  

——————————— 

TAGLIST:

i’m just gonna tag anyone that’s specifically msged me about it and/or anyone who commented/reblogged the last three chapters -

@lookingforrainbows @ooihcnoiwlerh @ellie-24, @whositmcwhatsit, @thatbanditqueen, @vintageshanny, @doll-elvis @18lkpeters @prompted-wordsmith @richardslady121 @meetmeatyourworst @marriedtopresley @steph-speaks @a-literal-no-name @elvisabutler @precious-little-scoundrel @eliseinmemphis @iloveelvis @literally-just-elvis-fics @livelaughlove-talia @angelborn1 @amydarcimarie @peskybedtime @shakerattlescroll @i-r-i-n-a-a @saintomie @literally-just-elvis-fics

[inkbyajm]

of kindling sparks

masterlist: part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

tropes: fluff, slow-burn

warnings: 11 year age-gap (reader is 23, joel is 34)

word count: ~6000

author’s note: so this chapter as well as the next one basically serve as one long exposition before the main story (aka the prequel). i realise this is lengthy as hell but i needed to flesh out the relationship between joel and the reader for the upcoming chapters to hurt, you know?

(p.s. there's mention of joel carrying the reader. i know some people might be put off by this, but joel is quite buff. i mean the man works in construction, i promise he can handle carrying an adult for less than a minute)

————-　❈　————-

The air was getting chillier, the change of seasons not going unnoticed. (Y/N)'s focus was razor-sharp as she drove through the streets of Austin, making sure to take in the ever-changing leaves on the trees she passed by. As an exchange student, it wasn't cheap to be renting a car, and the money her parents were generously providing her could only last for so long. She desperately needed another source of income. Her prayers were answered the week prior when she stumbled upon an advertisement near the exit to her university. It was for a babysitting job with a decent pay and convenient working hours. She wrote an email to the address written on the poster:

Dear Mr. Miller, Is the babysitting job still available? I'm a student currently on an exchange program at the University of Texas. And while I haven't had prior experience in babysitting, I used to be an assistant teacher in a kindergarten. I'm very good with children and at keeping them alive (this is a joke, but I am pretty responsible, my mother can attest to this). If there is any need for it, I can also cook and clean up after each visit. Thank you for your consideration and I hope to hear from you soon!

Sincerely, (Y/N) (L/N)

To which, much to her surprise, she received an answer shortly after:

Dear Ms. (L/N), Yes, the babysitting job is still available. It's for my 12-year-old daughter Sarah. And while I appreciate all that you have to offer, there's nothing much to do but keep her alive, so your skill would be useful here. You can come by our house on 1411 Sullivan DR any day of the week after 5pm, we'll go over the details then. If you're still interested, you'll be able to start right away. See you soon!

Best regards, Joel Miller

After half-an-hour of driving, the house finally came into view. Just as she parked the car in the vacant driveway, and before she went to meet some stranger she hoped wouldn't turn out to be a creep, the girl gathered her wits and courage with a clasp of her hands, a deep breath, and a firm nod as if to say 'There's no going back now, and if I die, it is what it is'.

Her three knocks on the door were followed by a long pause which made her believe she had arrived either at the wrong time or the wrong house. But as she was about to turn around and flee in embarrassment, out came a middle-aged man with disheveled hair.

"Hello. Is this the Miller's house?"

"Yes, hi! I am so sorry I kept you waiting. (Y/N), right?" he said, wiping his hands on a rag.

"That's me."

"Great. I'd shake your hand, but mine are a bit dirty. Please, come in." he stepped out of the way to let her walk further into his home.

It was decently spacious and cozy, which temporarily put her at ease. They walked through the living room into the dimly lit kitchen. It smelled of spices and garlic.

He gestured around, "Welcome to our humble abode. Pardon the mess, I didn't exactly have time to tidy up," While it wasn't exactly messy, they could benefit from an extra set of hands. "You said you weren't from around here?"

"No, I'm quite a long way from home," (Y/N) said, taking a seat at the dining table. "I wanted to see other places, gain a bit of independence. Austin was one of the first to accept me, and since it seemed like a fine city to live in, I packed up my things and arrived at the beginning of summer."

"I'm Texas born and raised myself. Wouldn't dream of living anywhere else. How old are you exactly?"

"Twenty-three, sir."

He proceeded to rummage through the fridge that was almost full. "Alright. Would you like a beer, then? And please, call me Joel. You're making me feel old."

"Right, Joel. And sure, I'll have one if you do."

Joel handed her a cold bottle as he sat down across from her. She was familiar with the brand, they served it at the bar she worked at part-time on weekends. For the next hour-and-a-half, the two discussed (Y/N)'s life, her studies, Joel's job as a contractor, and Sarah. At some point, the attacks on 9/11 came up, unpacking the nation-wide terror they had brought. She recalled the panicked calls she received from her parents, begging her to come home. She had to explain that she was alright, that there was nothing to do about it now, and that she couldn't leave the city when she had already formed ties and taken on responsibilities.

Just as Joel was getting into another anecdote from Sarah's childhood, they heard keys jangling in the front door as it opened and shut.

"Speak of the devil. Done playing already?"

A soft voice rang through the house, "Yeah, I'm really tired." Then a pigtailed girl stopped abruptly at the entrance to the kitchen. She was wearing a soccer kit, carrying both a purple backpack as well as a blue duffel bag.

"Sarah, this is (Y/N). She's gonna be your nanny from now on."

The little girl hesitated at first, then gently approached the table and extended her small hand for her to shake. "Nice to meet you." she said with as much courage as she could muster, earning a smile in return.

Getting up from his seat, Joel kissed his daughter's head and told her food was ready, which prompted the child to run upstairs to her room. Feeling like it was her cue to leave, (Y/N) followed suit and slung her bag on her shoulder.

"Would you like to stay for dinner? I'm not much of a chef, but I have to admit I make a mean chili." said the man, pointing at the steaming pot on the stovetop.

The smell of a homemade meal was making her mouth water, but she hadn't known them for long enough to get comfortable. "Thank you for your hospitality, but I should really get going. I have some reading to finish before morning."

The two made their way back to the front door. "Alright, then. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon, yeah?"

"See you tomorrow, Mr. Miller- Joel, sorry." she corrected herself, waving him goodbye as she swiftly got into her car and began the drive back to her apartment. She hadn't even begun the job, yet (Y/N) couldn't help but feel giddy about her small success.

————-　❈　————-

A couple of months had passed and (Y/N) was really enjoying her new gig. Sarah turned out to be the sweetest girl the young woman had ever had the pleasure of knowing. She wasn't fussy or troublesome, was very well-mannered, oh-so-friendly and kind, and a fan of using sarcasm here and there, which seemed to be something she picked up from her father. Joel, too, was accommodating to the new addition of their little family. (Y/N) could sense, however, that he was somewhat more reserved - closed, even. It was harder to get to know her employer, but she didn't mind, these things took time.

Leaning against her car, the young woman read her copy of 'Pride and Prejudice' for the 4th or 5th time. Something about it brought her great comfort, especially during the colder months. The festive season was quickly approaching and she wasn't sure if gifts would be appropriate so early-on in her employment. She had zoned out for so long, she didn't have time to register her name being called nor a pair of arms swiftly wrapping around her waist.

"Hey, kiddo." she laughed, hugging the curly-haired girl back.

She let go and stared up at her babysitter with her big round eyes. "Did daddy send you to pick me up?"

"No, I just finished classes and thought I'd swing by."

"What are you reading?"

(Y/N) turned the book to show the cover, "Pride and Prejudice. It's an old book."

"What's it about?"

"Uh- well, it's about a lot of things, but mainly it's the story of Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy who have to overcome their differences to end up together. Hence the title."

"That sounds kind of interesting."

"Yeah, but it takes a lot of hatred and pettiness to get there."

The little girl shook her head in disapproval, "Adults. Why do they have to complicate things?"

"Alright, wise one. Get in before you get cold."

The car ride gave them more time to bond. They sang to Sarah's favourite songs and talked about whatever was on the little genius's mind. It was a unique experience for both of them, two feminine energies collided, something each of them longed for dearly.

At home, (Y/N) spent a significant amount of time helping Sarah with her homework: a bunch of English grammar exercises, essay writing, as well as some algebra. Following their arduous work, the girls decided they deserved some fun and made creamy pasta (one of Sarah's favourites) for dinner. Whilst waiting for the patriarch to come home, they got comfortable on the couch to watch 'Mrs. Doubtfire'.

Unsure if she should speak during the movie, Sarah poked her babysitter's arm. "Do you have siblings?"

"I don't, no. Why do you ask?"

"I don't have any either. Do you ever get lonely?"

(Y/N) wasn't sure where these questions were coming from, but she decided to entertain them anyway. "I used to, growing up. Though my parents did a very good job at making sure I felt loved at home. I miss them a lot, but I'm happy here too."

There was a long pause as Sarah was visibly deep in her thoughts. "I never knew my mom," It shouldn't have shocked the young woman, she assumed Joel and his wife had separated after noting the absence of a maternal presence in their home, but it still came as a surprise. "Daddy said she had her own reasons and that they both agreed for me to live with him."

"Adults always have their own reasons for things, even if it may seem dumb. I'm sure it was a very difficult decision to make for her and that she loves you very much."

"I don't think about her often anymore. My dad can be busy, but he does a good job. He comes to every game, takes me to fairs and carnivals, helps me with school projects. He's also extra cool on vacation."

Something about her remark pulled at (Y/N)'s heart. "I see. He seems like a really great dad." The girls went right back to watching Robin Williams dance around while doing chores, as if they hadn't just touched on a thought-provoking subject.

It was almost 11pm and Joel was nowhere to be seen. Instead of letting the girl pass out on the couch, (Y/N) let her hold onto her back as she carried the sleepy child all the way to her room. Making sure all was right, she put her to bed, closed the window, turned on the night-light, then made her way towards the door.

"You're really cool," Sarah said sleepily with her eyes closed. "I hope you stay for a long time."

No compliment in the world could compare to a kid's heartfelt approval. "I hope so too, sweetie. Good night and good dreams."

Walking back downstairs, the young woman took one look around the house and decided she could pass the time cleaning up here and there. She started by tidying up the living room: folding the throws, fluffing up the pillows, putting the board games back on the bookshelf. Then she moved onto the kitchen where she took the trash out, scrubbed the surfaces clean as silently as she could, put the leftover pasta away, and washed the dishes. Satisfied with her work, she went back up to Sarah's room to leave a glass of water by her bed in case she got thirsty in the middle of the night.

In a house that was dead silent, she heard heavy footsteps. In a short panic, she grabbed a pair of scissors that were lying on the desk and crept up closer to the door. The steps were agonisingly slow and calculated. The woman felt like she was in a slasher movie. Babysitters always die first. The only indication she had of the intruder's whereabouts was from the shadow that was created by the light from the kitchen. This is what you get for not turning on every single light in a house where you're all by yourself. One of the most important rules in horror movies, she thought. The shadow approached closer and closer to the door, and just when she hoped the distance was close enough, she leapt out of the room and went straight for the stranger. Unfortunately, her blow was blocked and her body pushed up against the wall. In a blink, she realised what had happened.

"What the hell, Joel?" she whisper-shouted.

"(Y/N)? What are you still doing here?"

"Doing my job. Couldn't let Sarah stay all by herself with no indication of when you'd be back. That would be irresponsible of me."

He let go of her arms, lazily rubbing his face. "You're right, I'm sorry. I got held up and my cellphone died. I'm so exhausted, I completely forgot you were here."

"It's all good, I didn't hear you arrive either," she paused, noticing the blood running down his left hand. "Oh my God, Joel, you're bleeding!"

He looked at the wound like he hadn't even felt it until then, "Oh, this is nothin'. I had worse accidents at work."

"Still, it could get infected. Please, take a seat in the kitchen, I'll be right back."

She went straight to the bathroom to fetch the first-aid kit. It was essential to know where it was, what it had and how to use everything as someone who had to watch a small human being. She went back downstairs to start working on Joel's injury.

"I'm so sorry. I was so caught up in my own mind, I thought you were an intruder, and it was the only weapon at hand-"

"Please don't apologise. It was my bad, really. I should have announced myself," he spoke as he watched her gently clean the cut with a saline cleansing wipe. "Can't blame you for doing your best to defend yourself. Takes courage."

(Y/N) realised that upon closer inspection, her employer was quite handsome. Dark messy hair, a somewhat upkept beard, broad build, crow's feet that indicated how often he smiled, as well as nose wrinkles that indicated how often he frowned. She carefully applied medical tape to close-off the wound and went to put the kit back where it belonged. On her way down, she noticed him looking around in slight confusion.

"Did you…clean the house?"

"Oh, you know, just lightly tidied up. I'm not a fan of leaving the places I stay at messy. Kind of a habit," she noted the silence and her hands instantly became cold. "God, I'm sorry. Again. I- I didn't even ask if you were okay with me touching your belongings, I got-"

"No, you're good. You're good. Don't sweat it. It's just that," Joel chuckled at her need to be so polite after months of working together. "You didn't have to do this. I can't ask you do to things that aren't part of your job description."

"I know. And I don't mind. Really. It's not like I'm playing Cinderella day and night," she said as they shared a laugh. "My job is to take care of a kid and the environment plays a big role."

(Y/N) picked up her bag, ready to leave for the night, "See you on Monday, Joel."

He reached out to touch her shoulder, then just as quickly removed his hand as if she had burned him. "Uh- do you- are you- um," She looked at him with furrowed brows, it's almost as if he was…flustered? "What are your plans for Christmas? Or, you know, holiday season? If you celebrate anything at all-"

"I won't be able to fly out to see my family this year, so I haven't made any other plans yet. Why do you ask?"

The man scratched his neck sheepishly, only then realising how long he had kept her standing on his porch when it wasn't exactly warm outside. "Would you like to celebrate with us? Sarah would be ecstatic to have you."

Warmth blossomed in her chest at the sudden invitation. So gifts are appropriate. Noted.

"I would love to celebrate the holidays with you guys. But only if you don't mind."

"I don't mind."

"Excellent, then I'll be here."

"Great."

"Good."

They stared at each other for way too long, the nanny realised, bearing the slightest of smiles. "Well, then. Good night, Mr. Miller."

He shook his head at her teasing tactic, "Drive safe, Ms. (L/N)."

There she was again, driving back to her apartment, giggling to herself like a maniac and for what? They invited her to celebrate a holiday. People did that all the time. Office workers, family members, casual friends, new and old lovers, it was truly nothing exceptional. But to her it felt different and she couldn't tell if it was because Sarah liked her enough to want her there or if it was because it came from him. Christmas was three weeks away. Three. Weeks. Away. Gifts. She needed gifts. What would she give them? What did they like? It came to her that she didn't know them that well, which meant she had some investigating to do in the little time she had left for shopping.

————-　❈　————-

When Christmas finally came, (Y/N) simply could not contain her excitement. She thought long and hard about the presents she would give the Millers, and while they may have appeared simple, she hoped that they would be appreciated. She personally wrapped them up in brown paper and decorated them with stamps, ribbons, and tags, firmly believing in the art of gift-wrapping. Austin had yet to see snow, she didn't think it would ever happen, yet the city was nevertheless bursting with festive spirit. Various lights decorated the trees and bushes in public parks. People hosted diverse markets in the streets where they sold artisanal goods and delicious foods. (Y/N) had gone ice-skating with the Millers a couple of weeks prior. Joel was as bad as she thought he would be; Sarah, however, was a natural. They enjoyed a lively Christmas parade that same day.

After parking in front of the house that was very tastefully decorated with her help, the young woman made her way towards the door, her homemade chocolate tarte in hand, and knocked, taking a second to register a male voice she did not recognise. The door swung open to reveal a man not much older than her, wearing a plaid shirt and dark blue jeans.

Looking her up and down, the stranger gave her a smirk, "And who might you be?"

"Hands off the babysitter, Tommy!" she heard Joel yell from deep inside the house.

"Ah, the famous babysitter!" he exclaimed, opening the door further. "Please, make yourself comfortable."

It smelled of oven-roasted turkey, of cigarette smoke, and of pine from the christmas tree. She found all of them moving about the kitchen: cutting vegetables, setting the table, washing the dishes. She felt like she'd arrived a tad too late.

"Can I help with anything?" she said, awkwardly standing in the middle of the room.

"Nah, everything's good to go," Joel replied as he scrubbed the remaining pots, "(Y/N), this is Tommy, my brother."

Said brother took her hand and placed a tender kiss on the back of it, "Very nice to meet you." Sarah couldn't hide her look of disgust if she tried.

"I didn't know Joel had a brother."

"You didn't tell her about me?" Tommy asked in exaggerated disbelief.

"Was I supposed to? Didn't know I was running a datin' agency."

"Thought that was part of the deal when we agreed to be each other's wingmen."

"Mm, don't recall us ever doing that."

"Well, we did. Spiritually. When we went to Buddy's Place? It was just around the time when Cat-" Tommy's monologue cut short with one sharp glare from Joel. (Y/N) could practically taste the tension emanating from him. Not a big fan of reminiscing the past, she noted.

"You know what, it's no problem. It's the perfect occasion to get to know each other, eh?" the younger brother flashed her a smile. They sure had impressive genes in this family.

Once the eldest Miller was done cleaning, all three adults cracked open a few cold ones to start off the evening. Tommy had the brilliant idea to teach Sarah a few card tricks, peaking their guest's interest.

"What are you teaching a 12-year-old cards for?" (Y/N) amusedly asked. Sarah seemed excited, she was one of those kids who loved to learn, it didn't matter what it was.

"First of all, every member of the Miller family knows how to play cards, we start young. And second, if not me, then who?" He made a good point. Tommy was, after all, the fun brother. "Wanna join in? I'm told I'm a great teacher."

She caught onto the subtle flirt and found herself wanting to return the energy. He was tall, he was dark, he was handsome. He smelled of cigarettes and beer with a hint of citrus notes. Not bad with kids but he wouldn't want any of his own anytime soon; very friendly, which for him also meant outgoing, ballsy, and prone to getting into trouble; charming to the point that he might seduce a few dozen women in one night; funny enough to make people like and maybe even trust him. She didn't mind flirting, but that was the extent of her intentions, and something told her Tommy Miller felt the same way.

They spent some time watching as Tommy performed the most outrageous tricks seen to man, to which his sole excuse was "I'm a bit rusty". He also tried to teach Sarah the art of cheating which, much to his disappointment and sorrow, his niece refused to take part in for moral reasons. (Y/N) noted the elder Miller's absence and excused herself from the oh-so-riveting demonstration of a disappearing card to go look for him. After searching the kitchen, his bedroom, as well as the garage, she stepped outside with a throw blanket and found him sitting on one of the patio chairs.

"What are you doing here? You'll get cold." he said, glancing at her from the side.

"I'm tougher than I look," she answered, nevermind the blanket tightly wrapped around her frame. "Came to keep you company."

"Who said I need any?" She sensed a hint of a playful tone.

"I don't know, you look awfully lonely sitting next to that empty chair." This earned her a light chuckle as she sat down. He didn't look very warm with one hand in his jacket pocket and his collar lifted up to his chin. She proceeded to awkwardly move her chair closer to his and slowly, as if dealing with a wild animal, reached out to wrap the throw around both of them, thankful that it was big enough for the job.

Sensing how still and tense he was, (Y/N) felt the need to talk to lighten the mood, "So, do you always sit outside all by yourself? In the dark? And in complete silence? Brooding-"

"I get the picture, and no," he took a sip from his bottle. "Sometimes I like to sit in my car."

He was capable of humour, which was a refreshing discovery after countless weeks of being formal. She understood wanting to define clear boundaries between employer and employee, but when she was essentially tasked to bond with his child and regularly invited to family activities, the lines naturally blurred, and her curiosity intensified.

"Who's Cat?"

Joel was silent for a second, then let out a reluctant sigh, "Cat was…a girl I knew way back when I was young."

"You're talking like you're in your 50s."

"I'm 34 to be precise, but fine, back when I was younger," he said grumpily. "We dated for a bit, then we didn't. That's how it went with most women I met."

"Oh, is this a Casanova situation?"

"No, more of a 'not ready to commit to a kid' situation," The silence that followed was loud, (Y/N) didn't want to make a sound, afraid he'd realise what he was doing and shut himself off. "I was 21 when Sarah was born. She's the joy of my life, I don't know what I'd do or where I'd be without her, truly. But...it was hard back then for a single dad with a newborn. Never went to college, had to take on side jobs to sustain both of us. My love life wasn't exactly a priority, and when the opportunity presented itself, they fled as soon as they heard the mention of a child."

The next question was risky, but she couldn't think of anything else, "So you haven't dated since your younger days? Not even the hot single moms in your area?"

This made Joel laugh heartily, a sound she loved to listen to, something she wanted to hear more often. "Not really. I mean I've flirted here and there, but Sarah and I are good the way we are now. She's my priority, and I want to make sure my partner's good to my kid too, you know?"

"If you don't mind my asking, what happened to Sarah's mom?" (Y/N) probed further, "Sarah told me-"

"Nothing happened. She left and that was that." The wall was back up. You pushed your luck.

Luckily for them, Sarah called for everyone to play cards. Which was then followed by board games. What they discovered that evening is that (Y/N) was either incredibly skilled at them or simply unbelievably lucky. She and Tommy got on well, making innocent physical contact here and there, high-fiving each other, sharing a lot of laughter, too much laughter for the man that sat across from them. Joel wasn't jealous, he was never jealous, but the sight didn't make him feel happy either.

After a while, the oven beeped, indicating that the turkey was ready. The four of them prepared the table with bowls of salads, bread slices, side-dishes, making space in the centre for the bird accompanied by roasted vegetables. (Y/N) joined in their prayer before they dug into their food. They shared all sorts of life stories: Tommy's time in the army, the most frustrating clients Joel had ever had, more embarrassing anecdotes from Sarah's childhood, funny and dramatic events that occurred while (Y/N) was on vacation. The young woman then brought out the tarte she'd made for the occasion, much to everyone's delight. It was as silky as she hoped it would be, tasting notes of coffee in her chocolate dessert covered in walnut crumbs. The ambience was relaxing, they sat under the dim light of the scented candles dispersed throughout the kitchen, bathing in the sounds of laughter and utensils scraping against the food on their plates.

When all was devoured, they moved the party back to the living room and Tommy decided it was time for presents. Sarah received hers first, which turned out to be a collection of CDs of her favourite musicians from Tommy and a skateboard she'd wanted for a long time from her dad. She hugged each of them very tightly, already excited to put both of her new belongings to use. Then it was Joel's turn to unwrap a brand new wallet gifted by his brother (apparently, he had complained about his old one he owned for more than a decade) and a second-hand guitar from Sarah that she acquired from a friend's cousin then paid for a cleaning by a professional with her own pocket-money (with a little help from uncle Tommy). Tommy received a steel lighter from Joel, who claimed the custom engraving – a hand-drawn cowboy hat on the front and T. Miller on the bottom – was Sarah’s touch. Just when everyone thought they were done, (Y/N) cleared her throat, calling for their attention, whilst dragging her bag closer to where she sat on the floor.

“I brought gifts of my own.” She declared and pulled out a box and gave it to Tommy, whom she'd met only hours ago. “I’m sorry, I took this just in case someone else would be here, but I wish I had gotten to know you sooner to customise the present to your taste- “

“Oh my sweet God,” he muttered, staring at the large crystal bottle of whiskey. “This is one of the fanciest kind around, it ain’t fuckin’ cheap either!”

“You’re lucky Tommy here is a whiskey connoisseur.” Joel said from his laid-back position on the couch.

The younger brother engulfed her in a warm hug soon after, “You got my taste just right, sweetheart, thank you.”

The room was silent as she extended a purple envelope to Sarah, who sat across from her. It didn’t seem all too exciting. The kid in question opened the envelope, eyeing her babysitter, who herself seemed a bit nervous. The silence in the room was suddenly broken as the 12-year-old squealed her hardest squeal, forcing both Millers to cover their ears.

“It’s two VIP tickets to the Halican Drops concert in Houston next year!” she exclaimed, launching herself at the now grinning woman. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“How’d you get those? I thought they were sold out.” her father asked, clearly having gone through the struggle of standing in long queues to make his daughter happy.

It was difficult to breathe with a prepubescent child sitting in your lap as she held you in a death-grip. “I have an old friend who happens to work at the venue.” she replied, accepting the kiss on the cheek from Sarah who sat back on the ground, practically buzzing as she stared at the pieces of paper in her hands.

Lastly, (Y/N) got up to stand in front of Joel as he looked up at the object she extended in complete surprise.

“You really didn’t have to- “

“Just open it.”

So he did. What he found inside was a Prussian blue knit scarf.

“I noticed you never wear one, and it’s pretty chilly out, so I figured I’d knit you one myself. Finished it just in time a couple of days ago. The color looks flattering on you.” she explained, blushing deeper and deeper with every word. She failed to notice that he, too, was heating up.

“Well, I’ll be damned. This woman can bake, she can knit, she’s smart, and she plays cards like a pro. I mean what can’t you do?” And while she knew Tommy was teasing, she couldn’t help but redden even more.

“I’m pretty proud of my mixing skills,” she added, making him pause with a face that read ‘no way’. “I’m a bartender on the weekends.”

She had barely finished her sentence when she yelped as Tommy scooped her up and over his shoulder. “That’s it! I’m taking this one with me. It was nice to see ya, big brother!”

(Y/N) squealed and wiggled around as much as she could to try to get him to let her down whilst Sarah did her best to save her friend by clinging to one of her uncle’s legs in protest. It was one chaotic scene unfolding in front of Joel, who had not moved from his seat, still staring at the scarf in his hands as he ran his thumb over the soft wool.

After all that excitement, the household members spent a few more hours watching ‘Home Alone 2’ and ‘Jingle All the Way’, DVDs Joel had bought earlier that week. During the viewing, he caught himself glancing at the woman curled up against the arm rest less than a few feet away from him. She remained completely oblivious, amused by the tomfoolery happening on-screen. He left the room for a moment to dispose of his empty bottle in the kitchen. On the short way there, he realised he was slightly tipsy. While he was rummaging through the drawers, he heard someone come up behind him.

“Looking for this?” he turned around to see (Y/N) holding up the bottle-opener. She walked up to the counter and opened the bottle in his hand, brushing her cold fingers against his warm ones in the process.

“You’re cold.” he commented bluntly.

“Yeah, my extremities get cold easily. That’s why I walk around in gloves and thick socks as soon as the temperature starts dropping.”

She threw away her own empty bottle and swiftly turned around to walk back into the living room, when she felt his hand wrap around her wrist ever so gently.

“I didn’t get to thank you back there. You know, for the present?” he spoke softly, giving her a rare smile. “It was real nice of you.”

She noticed the way his pupils were slightly wider than usual and his stance that seemed to swing back-and-forth ever so subtly. “Joel, are you…are you drunk?”

“It takes a lot more than a few bottles of IPA to get me there. I’m just fine.” he whispered, for what reason she wasn’t sure, then unexpectedly walked up the stairs to his bedroom. He didn’t leave her to contemplate her next actions for too long because he emerged not even a minute later, holding his right hand behind his back.

They found themselves standing closer than they should have, but neither of them seemed to care as Joel revealed the mystery object.

“Merry Christmas, (Y/N).”

It was the most beautiful edition of ‘Jane Eyre’ she had ever laid her eyes on. Red leather hardback with golden accents all over it, including the fore-edges, it looked like something out of a royal library.

“How did you know?” her question was vague, but she knew he knew what she meant.

“Sarah told me about the books that you like, said you haven’t read this one in a long time.”

Her warm embrace came to him as a surprise, but in the state of mind he was in, not only did he accept it, but it felt good, it felt right to hug her back.

“It happens to be one of my favourites, so thank you. Really. For all of the things you’ve done for me so far.”

The two held onto each other for longer than needed until Tommy’s call brought them back to reality. The other Miller eyed the returning pair suspiciously as they took their respective places on the couch and went back to watching the movie in comfortable silence. Only he noticed the red book in her possession and fought hard to stop himself from smiling.

Later that night, after all the dishes had been washed, the leftovers put away, and the only child put to bed, Tommy reluctantly sat in the back of the cab Joel had called for him. I am not fetching my brother from a jail cell on Christmas Day, he'd told him. When he walked back into his home, he saw a sleeping figure on the couch, covered by one of the throws.

He went into his bedroom and took no more than 10 minutes to replace all of his linen with fresh ones from the closet in the hallway. He wasn’t going to let his guest sleep on a couch, especially not under a row of windows or next to the entrance door. Carefully picking her up, and she was one deep sleeper, he made his way back to his bed to lay her down on the new sheets.

My extremities get cold easily.

He changed his usual blanket for a thicker one then grabbed a pillow and went to make his bed downstairs. He picked up the scarf lying on the coffee table once more and unfolded it entirely, only then noticing the tiny initials embroidered in grey into one of the ends – J.M. Upon an even closer inspection, he realised it smelled of vanilla and flowers.

————-　❈　————-

masterlist: part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6

tags: @elliaze @joeldjarin

[calkestisweek]

Hello! I'm @wrencatte (aka mikkal aka aracae on ao3). I am the creator and moderator (and graphics maker) for Cal Kestis Week!!!

Before I get into the wrap-up proper, I want to thank everyone for their support and participation!! Whether you created something or admired the creations, from the bottom of my heart, thank you, thank you, thank you. I never expected this amount of response and I'm actually a little emotional about it!

Navigation:

#ckw2024 - the general tag

The days: #ckw day 1 // #ckw day 2 // #ckw day 3 // #ckw day 4 #ckw day 5 // #ckw day 6 // #ckw day 7

The types: #fanfic // #photomode // #art // #edit // #gif

The Ao3 Collection. - As of Sunday, May 19th 2024 there are over 60 fics in the collection! Wow!!! - If you enjoyed the fics written, please be sure to give them kudos and words of encouragement to show your appreciation!

Everyone worked so hard and made beautiful, gorgeous pieces of art!! You all are amazing!

The Future:

I will continue to reblog things for ckw. Previously, I said it would only be for a week afterwards, but, let's be real, I'll probably be checking the tags for a long time just in case. The collection will remain open indefinitely.

In a week or so, there will be an interest check for few additional events that tentative interest has already been expressed for, but considering how late into the year it is already, multiple week-long events is a bit much. The interest checks will be for time frame and type (weekend or week) with a follow-up concerning prompts.

Special Thanks To: @noire610 for the dedicated ckw channel, @kaelinaloveslomaris for her support, @voidcat-senket for their advice, and @flammabel for the tactical icon photo.

Again, from the bottom of my heart: thank you, everyone. I hope you all had fun!! I definitely did!!

[alaskaartz]

FINALLY THIS IS DONE-

Ok so these are Ghost's friends- if you wanna more know then keep reading

OK- Ivy: She is 6 years old, just few months younger than Ghost, Ivy is the adopted daughter of Sheo and (Nail)Smith, Ghost and Ivy met at their first day of school and they've been friends ever since, Ivy is a very energetic child and VERY artistic, I suppose she takes after her dads in that way :) Ivy was taught Hallownest sign language, so once she learned that's the only way Ghost can communicate, she started translating what Ghost was saying for people, Ivy and her family are the only people allowed inside the palace without having to be escorted by guards. Rose: Rose is the daughter of Ze'mer. Rose is 5 years old. Ze'mer had Rose on her own and the royal family was her only support through it, Ze'mer loves rose more than anything and sometimes tells her about TC (aka traitor child) Rose is almost a mini copy of Ze'mer sometimes, Rose is quiet and clever but is always up for a round of tag or hide and go seek. Rose often comes to the palace on the weekends because Ze'mer works 7 days a week instead of 5 days a week. Lily: Lily is 4 years old and the daughter of Isma and Ogrim, Lily is very small so most of the time her clothes don't fit her right, she can be fierce like Isma and a sweetheart like Ogrim. Lily is also very energetic and can be seen often chasing Ghost around the palace when Isma and Ogrim take her to work with them.