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punkshort · 1 year ago

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i'll be home for christmas | part two

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Having just caught your fiancé cheating on you, you decide to come back home from the big city to Austin for the month of December to try to figure out your next step. You had no idea you would be getting more than you bargained for with the handsome single dad who built your parents' house.

Chapter Warnings: no outbreak, modern day but Joel is 40, language, fluff, very soft!joel, flirting, kissing, hallmark movie tropes up the wazoo, mentions of infidelity, mentions of divorce, reader's sister is pregnant, hurt/comfort, explicit smut (18+MDNI), (somewhat) unproteced piv sex, angst (but you know there will be a happy ending, this is Hallmark, after all)

WC: 12K

A/N: I am so overwhelmed at the response I received for part one. No contest, it's my most successful story to date, and I can't thank you all enough ❤️ I really hope you enjoy this part just as much. Please read the warnings, this has some (very sweet and soft) smut at the end, so if it isn't your thing, feel free to skip it.

Series Masterlist

Joel sat in his truck, the engine long cooled down by now, as he stared blankly at his garage door, waiting for the stupid grin to leave his face before he went inside to face his brother. But he had been sitting there for almost twenty minutes, and he was still smiling behind the back of his hand.

That date with you was perfect. Well, he could have done without getting knocked on his ass by some kid, but it worked out for him in the end, so he didn't mind.

Goddamn, did you make him feel good. There was no way he would be able to sleep that night, he was sure of it. Not after the way you looked at him, touched him, kissed him. A big part of him wondered for a long time if he would spend the rest of his life alone, believing that lightning doesn't strike twice, that he would never find anyone who would look at him and want him the way you did.

He ignored the nagging voice in the back of his head that reminded him you didn't live there, that you would be going back to New York in a couple short weeks. He couldn't let that bring him down just yet, that was a problem for another day. Right now, his only problem was resisting the urge to drive back to your house and scoop you up in his arms so he could make you feel as good as he felt.

It was close to midnight, so he caved and went inside, hoping his brother would be too groggy to interrogate him. When he walked in and saw Tommy and Sarah lounging on the couch, wide awake and watching some action flick, his face fell.

"Hey, it is way past your bedtime, the hell are you doin'?" Joel scolded, sliding off his boots.

"Dad, c'mon, it's the weekend," Sarah whined.

"Don't care, you know the rules," he told her, trying to sound firm, but he had such a soft spot for her that he never succeeded in sounding threatening.

"But it's a special occasion, I wanted to hear how your date went," she grinned, sitting up and wiggling her eyebrows. Joel's jaw dropped and shot a glare at his brother while stretching his arms out at his side in disbelief.

"Oh, come on, she practically dragged it outta me," Tommy smirked.

"Unbelievable," Joel muttered, collapsing on the end of the couch and rubbing his eyes.

"So?" Sarah pushed, tucking her legs underneath her excitedly.

"I ain't talkin' about this with you," he said, biting his cheek as he stared at the TV.

"Why not?" she pouted, but Joel just shook his head.

"Go brush your teeth," he said.

"Fine," she replied, rolling her eyes as she made her way to the stairs. "But I'll get it out of you one day."

She stomped upstairs and it wasn't until Joel heard the water running that he turned to his brother.

"What the hell, Tommy? You know I didn't want her knowin' about that," he said, exasperated.

"Oh, relax," Tommy said, stretching his arms above his head. "She's sixteen, Joel. She's smart. She figured it out herself, I just confirmed it after gettin' the third degree."

Joel sighed and tipped his head back onto the sofa, closing his eyes.

"Christ," he muttered.

"What's the big deal?"

Joel sat up and opened his eyes.

"Big deal is, she lives in New York. There's no future there, we were just hangin' out, and I don't need Sarah gettin' her hopes up," Joel explained, trying to downplay his feelings, but his chest squeezed at the thought of you leaving one day.

"Ever hear of long distance?" Tommy asked, raising an eyebrow.

"That never works," Joel replied, shaking his head.

"Well, maybe you should make it work," he said, sitting up and muting the TV. "You know, Sarah just wants you to be happy, Joel. We both do," Tommy said somberly. "Told me tonight she's worried about you bein' all alone when she goes off to college."

"I'll be alright," he said gruffly, although the same thought was plaguing his mind recently, as well.

Tommy stared at his brother a moment as Joel watched the TV, pretending to follow the story even though there was no audio. He decided to drop it for now and changed the subject.

"So, you gonna tell me how it went or what?"

Joel bit his lower lip, trying to keep himself from smiling, but he failed. Tommy noticed right away and grinned, leaning forward to tap his knee.

"I know that look," he said, still grinning.

"Yeah, alright," Joel finally said with a smile. "It was great. Really fuckin' great."

"Hell yeah!" Tommy yelled, and Joel immediately shushed him, pointing upstairs.

"She's funny and she's sweet, we had a real nice time," Joel said, his grin permanently etched on his face now.

"I figured it went well since you got home so late," Tommy replied with a wink.

"I ain't gonna sleep with her on the first date," he whispered, just in case Sarah was listening. He settled back into the couch as Tommy turned the TV volume back on, letting the movie play for a minute before adding, "She's a good kisser, though."

"Oh, I can't wait to meet this girl," Tommy chuckled with a shake of his head. "Haven't seen you smile this much in years."

"Yeah, well," Joel replied noncommittally, still smiling like an idiot and staring at the TV. He decided to stay downstairs that night, finishing the movie and then starting another one on the couch long after Tommy left, unable to quiet down his mind long enough to fall asleep until nearly three in the morning.

You woke up the next day, stretching your arms above your head with a big yawn, not ready to get out of bed yet but the voices downstairs told you it must have been late. With a groan, you reached over and snatched your phone off the charger. When you saw you had a text waiting for you, your heart skipped a beat until you read Sydney's name and not Joel's. Your eyes flicked to the top of the screen, noting it was close to ten in the morning, before sliding open the text.

Sydney: sorry forgot to reply yesterday. I saw will at black & blue, he was hammered and falling all over the place

You scowled, not interested in whatever your ex was up to, so you replied with just the thumbs up emoji and set your phone back down.

Staring at the ceiling, you dreamily thought about your date with Joel. God, he really took you by surprise. You were proud of yourself for taking that first big step forward and putting yourself out there again, but you had no idea it would feel like this. You weren't even sure you ever felt like this with Will. Even when things were good, Will never treated you the way Joel did last night. He was so earnest and respectful, opening doors for you and actually listening to you talk about work. And he didn't even try to feel you up, either, although you probably wouldn't have minded. Maybe it was those Southern manners you were missing this whole time.

With a groan, you dropped your phone back on the nightstand and swung your legs over the edge of your bed, wrapping yourself in your robe, still not expecting it to be so cold in Texas. Even though it was December, it was unusual.

You made your way into the kitchen and made a beeline for the coffee, tossing a wave in the direction of your parents sitting with your sister and brother in law in the living room.

"She lives!" Cassie exclaimed with a smug look on her face. You held your mug up to your lips and blew on the liquid, frowning when the whole family was looking at you with matching, goofy smirks.

"Why are you all looking at me like that?"

"Like what?" your mom asked innocently. You squinted at her as you sat down, not buying it.

"How was your date?" your sister asked. You took a sip of coffee before replying.

"Good," you said simply, nodding your head. Your mom and dad exchanged a look and you frowned again, getting annoyed.

"What?" you asked loudly.

"Nothing!" your dad said, looking back down at his newspaper. Who even still gets the newspaper delivered anymore, anyway?

"Josh, what's going on?" you asked your sister's husband, knowing he was the weakest link. He glanced nervously between you and Cassie.

"They saw you and Joel on the Ring camera," he blurted out, and your family all groaned in unison. Your face flushed beet red, gawking at them all in disbelief.

"Are you kidding me?" you screeched.

"We didn't mean to, Bucky. Dad was reviewing the footage because he couldn't find the newspaper this morning and, well..." your mom trailed off, trying to hide her smile.

"Oh my god," you whined, tucking your legs to your chest and hiding your face.

"Looked like the date was a little more than good," Cassie teased, and you smacked her on the leg.

"I can't believe this," you mumbled to yourself, hiding your face behind your coffee mug and praying someone would change the subject. "How much did you see?"

"Just from when he pulled in the driveway til when you went inside," your mom said with a shrug.

"That's, like, everything, Mom! Oh my god!" Your face was hot with embarrassment now.

"He looks like a good kisser, is he a good kisser?" Cassie asked.

"Shut up!" you whined, covering your face with your free hand.

"There's nothin' to be embarrassed about, he was a gentleman. Held the door open for you and everythin'," your dad murmured, and you groaned.

"Can we talk about literally anything else, please?" you begged.

"Of course!" your mom said, her eyes flicking around the room, waiting for someone to say something, but nobody spoke.

"I'm sorry, Buck, but you gotta see the the smile on his face after you went inside, it was so cute," Cassie said, pulling out her phone.

"I'm going upstairs!" you announced, jumping up from the couch.

"Wait! Are you still coming by later to help paint the nursery?"

"I don't know, are there any cameras there?" you shouted over your shoulder as your climbed the stairs with your coffee to hide in the sanctity of the guest bedroom.

"Well, no. Only because I haven't set the baby monitor up yet," Cassie called back and giggled when she heard you slam your door.

Grumbling to yourself, you flopped back into bed and picked up your phone, looking for a distraction from your embarrassment. You quickly found one when you saw you had a missed text from Joel.

Joel Miller: Question for you - when is the earliest you should text someone without looking too pathetic after you've had the best date of your life?

You grinned as you typed out a response.

You: answer - whatever time you sent this text :)

Joel Miller: Oh, good. Thought I scared you off, sent that about ten minutes ago.

You: sorry, I was downstairs talking to my family, forgot to bring my phone. And I don't think you could ever scare me off

You almost told him about the doorbell camera fiasco, but decided against it. Picking up your mug, you tried not to stare too hard at your phone as you waited for a reply.

Joel Miller: What are you doing later?

Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of seeing him again so soon, then quickly stopped yourself, remembering your promise to your sister.

You: I told my sister I would help paint the nursery...

Joel Miller: That's a shame. I was hoping you could teach me something again.

You: oh? lol

Joel Miller: I just realized how that sounded - I meant wrapping Christmas presents for Sarah. I'm awful at it and I have another hunch gift wrapping is a secret talent of yours.

You giggled and rolled over in bed, your embarrassment long forgotten now.

You: you might be right... how about tomorrow?

Joel took the porch steps two at a time, eager to see you again and it hadn't even been a full two days. His finger barely pressed the doorbell when he heard your voice call out I got it! and the door swung open. You smiled up at him, your eyes lighting up before dropping your gaze to his mouth.

"Hi," you said breathlessly.

"Hey," he replied, swallowing roughly.

"Have a nice time, Bucky!" your mom's voice rang out somewhere behind you as you shut the door quickly. Joel grinned, his gaze drifting from your eyes to your mouth before leaning in. You put your hand on his chest and tilted your head back before grabbing his hand and leading him to his truck. Confused, he followed behind and tried not to stare too long at the way your jeans perfectly hugged your ass.

You led him to the passenger side of the truck, but when he reached out to open the door, you snaked your hand up to wrap around the back of his neck, pulling his face down for a searing kiss only when you were sure you were hidden from view.

"Would I sound crazy if I said I missed you?" you whispered.

"No," Joel replied, shaking his head and trying to calm his pounding heart. "Couldn't stop thinkin' 'bout you."

"Me, too," you admitted softly, gazing up at him with your beautiful eyes all wide and burning with desire.

He cradled your face in his calloused hand, the other flattened firmly against the truck door behind you as he stared into your eyes, fighting the urge to pick you up and wrap your legs around his waist so he could pin you against his truck and let you feel just how badly he missed you.

Then, you heard your dad's SUV unlock and your eyes widened in panic.

"Shit," you muttered. "We should go. I think they're heading out."

"Alright, maybe I should say 'hi' real quick," he said, pushing himself off the truck and letting his hand drop from your face.

"No! That's okay, we'll be stuck here forever if you do," you said hurriedly. He gave you a curious smile but agreed before opening the door for you and hopping into the driver's seat.

He waited until he backed out of the driveway and was heading down your street before shooting you a sideways glance.

"Everythin' okay?"

You sighed and rubbed your palms over your face before clearing your throat.

"So, remember the other night on the porch, after you dropped me off?"

He smirked and nodded.

"Yeah, I think I remember," he teased.

"Well," you began. "My family saw us on the doorbell camera the next morning," you cringed.

He laughed, throwing his head back just a bit so he could still keep an eye on the road, and shook his head.

"Oh, I hate those fuckin' things," he said, but he was still laughing.

You grinned, your nerves and unease dissipating quickly.

"You're not embarrassed?"

"Nah," he said with a shrug, then turned his head briefly to look at you. "I'm sure we put on a good show."

You giggled, your cheeks tinting pink, and turned your head to look out the window.

"Alright," he said after a minute. "I've waited long enough and I gotta ask."

You swiveled back towards him, waiting for him to continue.

"What's the story with the nickname?"

You groaned and squeezed your eyes shut.

"It's so unbelievably stupid," you said, but he shook his head.

"Well, now you gotta tell me."

"Fine," you said, rolling your eyes, but your playful smile gave you away.

"It's Buck, or Bucky. Short for Bucket," you began.

"Bucket?" he repeated, bewildered.

"I warned you it was stupid!" you protested, and he chuckled. "Anyway, when I was little, my sister and her friends had a sleepover one time, and I overheard them swearing."

"Okay," Joel said slowly, nodding along while he kept his eyes pinned to the road.

"I always looked up to my sister, I was like her shadow when I was younger. So, when I heard them swearing, I wanted to be like them, too, you know?"

"Yeah, I follow," he replied, still not sure how the story related to your nickname.

"Well, thing is, I misheard them. They were saying 'fuck it', but I heard 'bucket'," you explained. "So I went to school and, thinking I sounded cool, I would say 'bucket' to all my friends. We were little, they had no idea what I was talking about, so I explained to them it's a swear word. Before I knew it, I had the whole class saying 'bucket' any time someone dropped something, or got a bad grade on a test, or whatever."

Joel howled with laughter, gripping the steering wheel for dear life as he tried to make it safely into his driveway.

"The principal called my parents and told them what was happening," you continued, joining in and giggling. "They got me home, and-" you doubled over, clutching your stomach as Joel put the truck in park and slumped over the steering wheel, his body shaking as he laughed.

"And I had to tell them the whole story, about why I kept saying it and-" you wiped the tears from your eyes as you took a deep breath. "And - oh my god - my sister got grounded for two weeks-" Another fit of laughter washed over Joel, tears streaming down his face.

"Wait, wait," he gasped, unbuckling his seatbelt so he could turn to face you. "You got in trouble in school, and your sister ended up gettin' punished?"

"Yes!" you squeaked, still giggling.

"Oh, shit," he breathed, panting as he leaned the back of his head against the seat rest. "Can't believe you thought that was stupid. That's gotta be the funniest thing I heard in a long while."

"Well, I'm glad I could brighten your day," you said, still grinning.

He rolled his head back towards you, his soft gaze drifting up and down your frame quickly before stopping on your eyes.

"You really do, y'know," he said quietly, and you furrowed your brow, tilting your head in confusion.

"Brighten my day," he clarified.

You bit your lower lip and smiled, looking away as the flush began to return to your cheeks.

"Come on, charmer. Why don't we go teach you how to wrap presents?"

You never really gave much thought as to what Joel's house would look like, but once you saw it, it immediately felt like him. It was a smaller, two bedroom house. When you first walked in, you entered a living room with a leather couch and an oversized recliner. A big screen TV was front and center across from the couch, with a few framed pictures of Joel and Sarah mounted on the wall next to it.

"You want somethin' to drink?" Joel asked, making sure to slide the coat from your shoulders before shrugging off his own.

"Maybe just water," you said, following him into the kitchen. You gasped when you saw his cupboards and immediately rushed over to them while he pulled two bottles of water from the stainless steel fridge.

"Oh my god, Joel," you whispered, running your fingers gently over the designs. Each one looked different but somehow they all were cohesive. Some had small flowers or butterflies carved into the corners, while others had simple, yet intricate designs grooved into the wood.

"Had to practice somehow," he said, feeling his cheeks flush as he walked over to hand you your water.

"God, it's so beautiful," you said breathlessly, unable to look away from the dark, stained wood. Your fingers danced over some stars etched into one of doors, your eyes wide with awe, but he was focused entirely on you. He couldn't get enough of watching the delicate features on your face light up whenever you found something new that pleased you.

"How long does this take for you to do?" you asked, finally dragging your eyes away to look up at him. Your throat tightened when you noticed the heat behind his stare, your pulse fluttering in your neck.

"Depends," he murmured. "Some are faster than others, but I prefer to go slow and take my time. Anythin' worthwhile takes time. Gotta show it respect, gotta care for it."

His low and sultry tone made your face flush, forgetting for a moment you were talking about woodworking.

"Y-yeah," you stammered, clearing your throat. Suddenly, you were feeling short of breath. "That makes sense."

He gazed down at you for another moment, his eyes slowly raking over your face as if committing it to memory before speaking again. Your entire body felt hot, and you cursed yourself for wearing such a thick sweater.

"Ready to go upstairs?" he murmured, still staring at you in a way that made your spine tingle.

"Huh?" you whispered, completely entranced by his deep, brown eyes.

"The presents?" he reminded you with a small smirk.

"Oh, right," you said, finally blinking and looking away. You shakily opened your water bottle after he turned around to lead you to the stairs, your mouth suddenly extremely dry.

As you walked up the steps, you tried to get a look at the pictures that lined the wall, but it was difficult to do without tripping. You thought you had finally gotten your head on straight after that moment in the kitchen, but when you realized he was leading you to his bedroom, you felt the tremble return to your hands.

"Sorry, had to hide everythin' in my closet, she's too nosy," he said over his shoulder.

"No problem," you squeaked, trying not to stare at his neatly made bed. Your eyes briefly drifted over the end tables filled with personal effects. You thought you saw a chapstick, a cord for a phone charger, and a worn paperback book, but you didn't want him to catch you, so you looked away quickly.

He opened his closet and you were surprised to find his clothes packed away so neatly. For a bachelor, he kept a really clean house. He pulled out the bags of gifts from the shelf above his clothes, then the wrapping paper, which was leaning against the corner.

"D'you think we got enough room?" he asked, glancing around at the floor.

"Yeah, of course," you said, sitting down crossed legged on the carpet. You reached out for the wrapping paper and rolled it out in front of you as he sat down at your side, taking out her gifts one by one. You felt yourself involuntarily clench as you watched his large hands deftly lay out each item on the floor, his muscles twitching slightly under the tanned skin of his exposed forearms.

"I know what you're thinkin'," he said, and your eyes widened in surprise. "I spoil her, I know, but she's such a good kid, I can't help myself."

That was definitely not what you were thinking, but you chose to keep that to yourself.

"I think it's sweet," you told him. "You seem like a really good dad."

Now it was his turn to blush. He tried to turn his head away so you wouldn't see, murmuring his thanks as you each picked an item to start. After a quick tutorial, which included way too much tape and ripped paper, Joel finally seemed to get the technique down. It only took until about halfway through the pile for you to muster up the courage to bring up a topic you couldn't help but be curious about.

"So," you began, hoping you came off nonchalant. "Is Sarah with her mom this Christmas, or..."

Joel's fingers fumbled for a moment with the wrapping paper, but he quickly recovered.

"Uh, no," he replied, keeping his eyes cast down on the shoe box in front of him. "She's not in Sarah's life anymore."

"Oh," you said, unable to keep the surprise from your voice, but you didn't push him any further. Your mind was scrambling, trying to think of something else to talk about, when he sighed and leaned back, abandoning the gift.

"I'm sorry, this is all so new to me, I probably should've told you about her sooner," he said, feeling guilty, but you quickly shook your head.

"No, you don't have to-"

"I want to," he said, cutting you off. You clamped your mouth shut and turned your body so you could give him your full attention, leaving the hair dryer you were wrapping on the floor next to you.

He drew a shaky breath in and looked up at the ceiling before speaking.

"There's not much to say, really. I'm still not always sure what happened," he began. You nodded, staying quiet and letting him take his time. "We were together since high school, ended up stayin' together after graduation. Sarah was a surprise, we were both still so young but we made it work. It was hard, but once me and Tommy got the business goin', it made things a bit easier."

Your fingers tangled together in your lap as you listened, refusing to say anything until he was done. His gaze drifted towards a fixed point on the wall as he continued.

"From what I gathered, she felt like havin' Sarah so young robbed her from doin' certain things in life," he said heavily. "Said she couldn't do it anymore. Didn't want her life to pass her by and be full of regret."

You bit your lip. The pain was clear as day on his face and it was making your chest ache.

"Well, anyway. I thought maybe she would go off for a couple months, do whatever it was she thought she was missin' out on. Parties, college... other men," he added the last part quietly, and you dropped your gaze to the floor. "Get it out of her system, y'know? But she just... never came back. Eventually, the calls came less and less, and I put two and two together. Didn't even get a courtesy call before I got served with the papers."

He rubbed his eyes, trying so hard not to look like a blubbering idiot in front of you. You reached your hand out and placed it gently on his knee, giving him a reassuring squeeze. He dropped his hand from his face to cover yours, staring at your coupled hands for a moment.

"Joel-"

"It was just so fuckin' hard on Sarah, y'know?" he said, his voice cracking. "I had no idea what to tell her. She cried almost every night, askin' me why her mom didn't love her anymore."

"Oh, Joel," you whispered, unable to hold back any longer. You closed the small gap between you, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him into your chest, your fingers gently raking through his hair. "I'm so sorry," you told him, burying your nose in the hair on top of his head, breathing in the citrus scent from his shampoo.

He didn't say a word. He just tugged you closer and closed his eyes, leaning into your comforting touch with a deep sigh.

"I'm sorry," he finally managed to croak out. "I'm throwin' way too much at you, I know you didn't sign up for this."

"Shh," you whispered into his hair, then tilted his face up to look at you, his dark brown eyes glassy with unshed tears. "It's okay," you murmured, pressing a soft kiss against his lips. A solitary tear slipped down his cheek when he pulled back to look deep into your eyes.

"It's okay," you repeated, wiping away the tear with the pad of your thumb before placing another gentle kiss against his lips.

He hummed contently against your mouth, sliding his hand up to the back of your neck and pressing his lips more firmly against your own, scared to let you go because if he did, he was sure he would fall apart.

Your grip on his hair tightened as he leaned forward, one strong arm wrapped around your midsection and the other pressed against your back. You mumbled something against his mouth when he tried to lay you down and knocked over a small pile of DVDs.

"Fuck," he whispered and, oh god, the way he said it made your legs turn to jelly and your cheeks flare with heat.

Frustrated, he tightened his grip around you and lifted you up, refusing to break the kiss. A tiny, high pitched squeak slipped past your lips as you wrapped your legs around his hips, letting him carry you to his bed.

He laid you down carefully on top of his plush, navy striped comforter. You sighed into his mouth, your legs loosening around his waist and falling open while you dragged your hands out of his hair and down to his shoulders, wrapping your fingers around his biceps to keep him close. He hovered above you, balancing all his weight on his elbows while his fingers played with the ends of your impossibly soft hair.

He slipped his tongue easily past your lips with a low groan, the noise going straight to your core, making the ache between your legs almost painful while your tongue danced with his, the two already so familiar with each other.

You tipped your head back with a gasp, desperate for air, but he kept going, unable to stop himself. His lips brushed against your jaw before his teeth and prickly beard scraped against the sensitive skin behind your earlobe. You let out a needy whimper and arched your back at the sensation, pushing your breasts into his broad chest as goosebumps spread over your whole body.

"Oh god, Joel," you whined softly, squeezing your eyes shut.

"Yeah, baby?" he replied, his voice thick and muffled against your neck. Baby. Jesus, this man was unraveling you so fast, it was making your head spin.

"I-I know we said this was casual, but-" the words got trapped in your throat as you cut yourself off, unable to finish your thought.

"I know," he said, his voice strained. "Fuck, I know."

He lifted his head away from your neck as he stared down at you, patting your hair back and away from your face as he panted slightly for breath.

You looked up at him, eyes watering as you tried not to think about your time coming to an end in a couple short weeks. You could tell he was thinking the same but didn't want to say it, the pain behind his eyes was obvious.

He blinked a couple times, the clouds clearing as he forced himself to focus on the present. He had you here in his arms, in his bed, underneath him right now. And he was going to be damned if he didn't soak up every single second.

He leaned back down and locked his lips on yours again, this time moving slower, more gentle and tender. He wanted to treat you right. You deserved it, and he wasn't going to give you anything less than what you deserved while he still had you.

You loosened your grip on his arms and allowed your hands to drift to the buttons of his flannel, slowly and shakily undoing them. His heart began to slam against his chest when he realized what you were doing, his mind going fuzzy with desire.

He pulled his head back when you were about halfway down his shirt, looking down hazily at your fingers working open the buttons as he desperately tried to think straight.

"Dad?" Sarah called from downstairs, the front door slamming shut. "Are you here?"

"Shit," Joel mumbled, scrambling off of you as he clumsily tried to redo his buttons. You jumped off the bed, leaning over so you could see into the mirror above his dresser, raking your hands through your tangled hair and quickly fixing your sweater.

"Yeah!" Joel shouted back, glancing over at you to make sure you were decent. "Sorry," he whispered, but you just grinned. Then his eyes fell to the half wrapped presents on the floor.

"Wait! Don't come up-" he called out as he heard her skipping up the steps. Joel grabbed your arm and pulled you out of the room, closing the door behind you both just in time.

"What? Why?" Sarah asked, then froze when she saw you. She looked up at Joel, then back to you, and a slow smile spread across her face.

"Ohhh..." she said with her hands on her hips. "Now I see."

"N-no, it's not what it looks like, she was just helpin' me wrap some gifts," Joel stammered, jutting his thumb over his shoulder. You shifted your weight nervously as you looked back and forth between them.

"Then why are you missing a button on your shirt?"

You both glanced down at his flannel, and she was right. He missed fixing a button in all the chaos. Your face flushed beet red as you stared at the ground while Joel hurriedly fixed the button, cursing under his breath. When you dared to look back up at his daughter, she was smirking playfully at you. Joel cleared his throat.

"Sarah, this is-"

"Yeah, I know, I remember from the party. The pretty dress, right?" she asked, and you nodded.

"Yeah, that's right. Nice to see you again," you said awkwardly.

She nodded, still smirking and looking at you and Joel. You could tell she loved catching her dad in this uncomfortable situation.

"Oh, crap. I forgot. Uncle Tommy is waiting for you in the driveway, said he needed your help unloading some work stuff out from the back of his truck," Sarah said.

"Ah, dammit, alright. You okay for a couple minutes?" he asked you, eyebrows raised.

"Of course," you said. He nodded, walking down the hall past Sarah, muttering "be good" to her as he walked by.

You listened as Joel made his way down the stairs and out the front door, leaving you and Sarah in silence, still staring at one another.

"I'm sorry, we really were wrapping gifts," you assured her.

"It's okay," she said with a shrug. "Last year he used duct tape on my presents, I know he needs the help."

You giggled, causing her to laugh, as well.

"Do you play an instrument?" you asked, just noticing the case on the floor next to her feet.

"Yeah, violin. I had practice after school today," she said, picking it up.

"Oh, cool. I played piano growing up, but I was never any good," you said, sliding your hands in the back pockets of your jeans.

"I have my school's Christmas recital on Friday," she said. "My first solo."

"Oh my god!" you said, clapping your hands together, genuinely impressed. "That's incredible! You must be so excited!"

"Yeah, at first, but now I'm getting nervous," she said, glancing down at the case in her hand. "You wanna hear me play?"

"Duh. Absolutely," you said with a grin. Her eyes lit up and a huge smile spread across her face again.

"O-okay. This is my room right here," she said, turning to her right and opening the door. "Sorry it's messy, my dad's gonna kill me."

"It's totally fine," you said, walking in and sitting down at the edge of her bed. You glanced around the room as she set up her music stand. On the pink walls, she had posters up of her favorite bands with a calendar and string lights draped across the room.

"I really like your room," you said, squinting to look at the stickers and drawings she had on her headboard.

"Thanks," she said sheepishly. "My dad let me do whatever I wanted."

You were about to comment on the various trophies she had on her windowsill when Sarah spoke again.

"Just so you know, I don't mind that you're seeing my dad."

Your eyes shot up to hers in surprise, not sure what to say. You hadn't really had a chance to talk to Joel about your relationship and how that would affect his daughter.

"He's been in such a good mood this past week, and he won't tell me but I know it's because of you," she said, pinning you with a familiar brown gaze.

"Oh, that's so sweet, Sarah," you said, finally finding your voice. "Thank you. That means a lot."

"You're welcome," she said. "I just want him to be happy again."

You dropped your gaze to your lap, your chest tightening at the thought of Joel being so lonely all these years.

"Me, too," you whispered, still looking down. Sarah regarded you for a minute before slapping her palms against the tops of her thighs and leaned down to pick up her violin.

"You ready?" she asked. You looked up and nodded, giving her an encouraging smile and sat back to listen as she began playing a hauntingly beautiful version of 'Silent Night'.

Sarah got about halfway through the song when she hit the wrong note and abruptly stopped, dropping her chin to her chest in frustration.

"Hey, it's okay," Joel heard you say softly as he walked back up the stairs. He paused at the top, right outside Sarah's room to listen.

"It's okay to make mistakes. Just go slower, take your time. Anything worthwhile takes time," you told her, and he smiled when he heard his earlier words to you repeated back to his daughter. He took a step forward to lean against the doorframe and watch the two of you, your back to him as you sat on her bed.

"Okay," Sarah said, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes before lifting the violin to her chin and starting over.

Joel listened to Sarah play the same song he's heard a million times already in just the past month alone, but kept his eyes trained on you. The way you gave her your full, undivided attention and encouraged her with a smile or a thumbs up when she would glance over at you shyly made his chest ache.

When Sarah successfully finished the song with no mistakes, you jumped up from the bed, clapping and cheering for her, making Sarah giggle and hide behind her hands.

Fuck, this was going to be so hard.

"Dad?" Sarah asked the next morning over her bowl of cereal.

"Yeah, baby girl?" he replied, frowning as he pulled his bread from the toaster. He sucked his fingertips into his mouth, trying to bring some relief to the quickly reddening skin.

"Can your friend come to my recital tomorrow?"

Joel froze, his fingers still pressed against his tongue as he slowly turned around to look at her. He dropped his hand and took a deep breath.

"I don't know if that's such a good idea," he replied.

"You don't think she would wanna go?" Sarah asked, her eyebrows pinched together.

"No, it's not that, I'm sure she would," he said, trying to find the right words.

"Then what's the problem?"

Joel sighed and picked his mug up from the counter, then walked over to join her at the table.

"She doesn't live here, baby. She's goin' back to New York in another week or so, I don't want you gettin' too attached," he finally admitted, watching Sarah closely as she considered his words.

"Well, you guys like each other, right?" she asked, and Joel smirked.

"Yeah, but it ain't that simple."

"Yes, it is, Dad," she said, rolling her eyes and dipping her spoon back into her bowl. "My friend Katy was dating this guy last year and he switched schools over the summer. They're still together, it doesn't matter," Sarah said with a shrug, taking a bite of cereal.

If the topic didn't fill Joel with a sense of dread, he would have chuckled at the comparison, but instead he just sat there quietly, watching his daughter as she finished her cereal and scrolled on her phone.

Sarah pulled on her backpack and was sliding on her sneakers to catch the bus when she called back to Joel over her shoulder.

"Just ask her, okay? Please, Dad?"

Joel sighed, hanging his head between his shoulders and paused his hands over the dishes in the sink.

"Alright," he relented, and he heard Sarah clap her hands behind him before slamming the front door shut.

You: good morning :)

Joel Miller: Good Morning, sweetheart. I didn't think you would be up this early.

You: couldn't fall back asleep. What are you doing

Joel Miller: Just getting to work. Why couldn't you fall back asleep?

You thought about it for a minute from under the pile of blankets on your bed, rolling to your side before answering.

You: I was thinking about you...

Joel Miller: Good thoughts, I hope?

You: VERY ;)

His throat went dry when he opened the text. He glanced around outside his car window, making sure he was still the only one on the job site before replying.

Joel Miller: What are you trying to tell me, baby?

You smirked and bit down on your lip.

You: I was wishing you were in bed with me right now

"Shit," he muttered to himself, glancing around once again before adjusting his pants.

Joel Miller: Me too, what are you wearing?

The answer came back almost immediately.

You: nothing

He groaned and rubbed his palms roughly over his face.

Joel Miller: You're killing me, baby. I have to get working in a minute.

You: i'm sorry ;)

You: I promised my parents I would go to dinner with them tonight, but are you free tomorrow?

Joel took a deep breath, trying to clear the onslaught of inappropriate thoughts from his head when he remembered his promise to Sarah.

Joel Miller: It's Sarah's recital tomorrow night. She asked me to invite you this morning, did you want to go?

He nervously chewed his cheek for a moment before sending another text.

Joel Miller: No pressure, I can tell her you're busy.

He sent his second text right as your reply came through.

You: I would love to!

He grinned and raked his fingers through his hair. Tommy's knuckles tapped on the outside of Joel's window, making him jump. He held up a finger before sending you a quick answer.

Joel Miller: Sounds great. I'll pick you up. Try to go back to sleep. Dream of me.

Joel opened the door and slid his phone in his back pocket, a stupid grin etched across his face as he joined his brother in the half-built storefront they were working on.

"Oh man, you got it bad," Tommy said with a chuckle when he saw the look on Joel's face.

"Alright, what do you think of this one?" you asked Cassie as you stepped out of the bathroom modeling the sixth dress of the day.

"I liked the red one better," she said, glancing up from her phone.

"Are you sure? This one is a little more chic," you said, twisting around to look at your backside in the mirror.

"It's a high school recital, Buck. I don't think anyone is expecting 'chic'," she teased, and you rolled your eyes.

"Well, I just want to look nice, is all," you said, sitting next to her on your bed in a huff. You tapped your phone screen, frowning when all you had was another text from Sydney and nothing from Joel. You opened it up anyway, curiosity getting the best of you.

Sydney: OMG!!!!!!

You sent back three question marks and locked your phone with a sigh.

"You still wanna get together next week so we can look at apartments online for you?" she asked.

"Yeah," you said sadly, looking out the window.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," you told her. "Just not ready to go back yet."

"Could that be because of a certain sexy contractor?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

"Shut up," you smirked, tossing a pillow at her lightly.

"Ooo you like him! Lookit how red you're getting!"

"I'm gonna kill you when that baby's out, you know that, right?" you giggled.

"Yeah, yeah, sure," Cassie said, looking back down at her phone as the smile slowly faded from her face. "You know you don't have to go back, right?"

"What do you mean? My job is there, my life is there... everything is there," you replied. "Of course I have to go back."

"What life, though?" she asked, and you frowned at her. "Seriously, Buck. Aside from your job, which you hate, what's left?"

"Well, my friends are there. And I don't hate my job that much. I mean, everyone hates their job a little bit," you said with a shrug.

"Is this what you expected to do when you were in college? Is this what you wanted?" Cassie pressed, sitting up on the bed. "Are you even happy?"

You paused, letting her words roll around in your head for a moment.

"Well, I mean..." you trailed off, not sure how to answer her question.

"If you have to think about it this long, I think you know the answer," your sister said quietly. You groaned and rolled off the bed.

"I'm going back. I have to. I can't just give up because some guy broke my heart," you said, turning around so she could unzip the back of your dress.

"I'm just saying, think about it," Cassie replied. "I wouldn't hate it if my child's aunt was in their life more than twice a year!" she called after you as you shut the door to the bathroom.

Joel eagerly jogged up the porch steps and rang the doorbell, very aware of the camera this time while he fiddled with the cuffs on his dark red button down shirt. He heard high heels clicking on the other side of the door and the corners of his mouth turned up into a smile, which quickly vanished when you opened the door and he saw the dress you were wearing.

"Hi," you said with a shy smile, pulling a soft looking white cardigan on over your shoulders.

He thought he had greeted you. He could have sworn he said something, anything, that didn't make him look like a complete idiot, but apparently nothing came out because you scrunched your eyebrows together when you saw his face.

"Are you okay?" you asked, pulling the door shut behind you.

"Yeah, it's just - Jesus, you look so good," he managed to finally say, tilting his head back to stare up at the roof of the porch for a moment, taking a deep breath.

"Thank you," you said with a giggle. "You don't look half bad, yourself."

He rubbed his forehead, exasperated and flustered before pulling you quickly into his arms and latching his mouth onto yours with a groan.

"Joel," you pulled back breathlessly with a small smile and leaned your head to the side, trying to silently remind him of the doorbell. His eyes raked over you hungrily before shaking his head and pulling you back into a deep kiss.

Fuck the camera, let them see.

You giggled against his mouth, causing him to smile and break the kiss.

"Come on, I wanna get good seats," you said, rubbing your thumb over his lower lip to wipe off your lipstick that transferred. It caused his stomach to clench. That sweet, little intimate gesture made him ache for more so badly that he could hardly breathe.

He walked you around the front of his truck, opening the door and giving you a hand so you could hop onto the seat, the gorgeous red dress you were wearing hugging your curves just right and distracting him to no end.

On the walk around to the driver's side, he mentally scolded himself, reminding himself over and over that tonight was a big deal for his little girl and he needed to stay focused.

As he drove down the street, he realized that his hand instinctively found yours across the seat, his body craving the warmth and softness of your own. How on earth was he going to go back to the life he had before, now that he knows what it's like to bask in the heat of your touch?

Once he got to the school, he found a parking spot and jumped out of the truck. You had figured out by now that he preferred you to wait so he could open the car door for you, so you did. Swinging your legs over the side of the seat, you slid down into his waiting arms, your hands gently coming to rest on the tops of his shoulders. He gazed down at you with his arms loosely hanging around your waist. You saw his adam's apple bob in his throat while he let himself get lost in your warm, beautiful eyes. You lifted a finger from his shoulder, tracing an invisible line down the side of his cheek as you stared up at him with your plush lips parted so invitingly that it made his knees weak.

"Joel! Hey!" Tommy's voice called out from behind, snapping you both out of the moment. Joel sighed and untangled himself from you, taking your hand and leading you forward so he could shut the door before turning around to find his brother.

You could see the family resemblance immediately as Tommy approached you with a wide grin. His hair was a bit darker and a lot longer, and his beard was less full than Joel's, but he had the same soft, brown eyes that you had grown to know and love.

Love? Oh, no.

"Hey, Tommy," Joel said as he got closer, his hand pressed firmly on the small of your back. "This is-"

"Oh, I know who she is. How're you doin', darlin'?" Tommy asked, pulling you into a bear hug, taking you by surprise.

"I-I'm good," you squeaked shyly once he released you. "Nice to meet you."

"I've been dyin' to meet the little lady who's got my brother all wrapped up," he replied with a grin.

"Tommy!" Joel seethed warningly at your side, but you just giggled.

"I'm just messin' around. She knows that, right?" he said, shoving his hands in his coat pocket and rolling on the balls of his feet. "Supposed to snow next week, can you believe it?"

"Yeah, I heard we might get a couple feet," Joel said, steering you toward the doors to the auditorium. "Better get your shovel ready."

You settled in between the two brothers as you found a decent spot in the fourth row. Joel draped his arm around the back of your chair while he chatted with Tommy about work. You inadvertently leaned to the side and rested your shoulder against his chest as you glanced around the room, admiring the lit up garlands around the windows and Christmas trees on the stage with fake presents underneath.

When their conversation died down, Tommy pulled out his phone and began scrolling through social media, holding it low between his spread knees with his chin tucked into his chest.

Joel tilted his face forward to press his lips on the top of your head, breathing in a deep and contented breath. A small smile played across your lips as you turned your gaze up towards him, resting your cheek gently on his shoulder. He looked down at you with a smile and planted a chaste kiss on your forehead, and as each of you slid your eyes closed for a moment, Tommy angled his phone to snap a quick picture, smiling to himself and making a mental note to show his brother later.

The lights dimmed and you all straightened up in your seats. You listened to the music teacher make a small speech at the beginning and politely clapped afterwards. You saw Sarah twice throughout the concert as part of the orchestra, smiling at how focused and beautiful she looked in her white dress. As the concert wound down, Sarah finally came out on stage for her solo, and the three of you eagerly leaned forward. At the last minute, you remembered to pull out your phone and start a video, telling yourself you were doing it for Joel so that he could be in the moment, but you knew you would end up watching it by yourself when you went back to New York City.

The performance was flawless. When it was over, the three of you lept up from your seats, cheering, jumping and clapping, making her wave and blush as she exited the stage. You sat down, giggling, as the people surrounding you gave you all polite smiles and chuckles, then quieted down for the finale.

When the lights came back up, everyone stood from their seats, murmuring and laughing while waiting for their kids to come out from backstage and take pictures. You saw a flash of white out of the corner of your eye and moved out of the way just in time for Sarah to run and jump up into Joel's arms, burying her face in his neck. He squeezed his eyes shut, his arms wrapped around her tightly, murmuring praise in her ear. You felt warmth spread across your chest as you watched them have their moment, the corners of your mouth turned up into a smile with your hands clasped together against your chest.

He let her down gently and she turned to give Tommy a quick hug. He spun her around, making her giggle and fidget with her dress before she turned to you.

"You came!" she exclaimed, wrapping her arms loosely around your waist. Your eyes widened in surprise, not expecting such affection from her, but you quickly returned the hug.

"Of course I came! Thank you for inviting me," you said, pulling back with a grin. "You were absolutely perfect, I took a video, I'll send it to your dad so he can show you later."

"I did exactly what you told me, I slowed down and took my time," she beamed, and it gave you a new feeling deep in your chest that you never felt before.

"That's great, Sarah," you replied, your throat tight with emotion. Tommy dropped his gaze from you and ticked his jaw to the side, finally understanding why Joel was hesitant to let Sarah know about the two of you.

"Dad?" Sarah asked, turning away from you. "Can I sleep over at Katy's? She's having a bunch of girls over and her mom said it was okay."

"Uh, sure, baby girl. Don't you need clothes and stuff?"

"I have stuff I keep here in my locker for gym," she said.

"Well, alright, lemme talk to her mom first," he replied, glancing around the room.

"Thank you! She's right over here," she said, grabbing his hand. "Thanks for coming!" she called back last minute over her shoulder to you and Tommy, and you both smiled and waved as she dragged her father across the room.

"She's so talented," you said, turning to Tommy. He looked down at you and gave you a weak smile.

"Yeah, she's somethin' else," he said with a nod. "Hey, listen. I'm havin' a get together next week at my house. Little Christmas party, I guess. I invited a guy I met at your parents' house - Josh? He's comin' with his wife, Joel and Sarah'll be there, I'd love for you to come by if you can."

"Josh is my brother in law," you clarified for him. "That sounds great, I'll be there, thank you."

"You're welcome," Tommy said, then his brows pinched together as he opened his mouth again to speak. "Joel might kill me for sayin' this, but you gotta know how happy you've -"

"Ready to go?" Joel asked, sneaking up beside you. Tommy cleared his throat and gave his brother an innocent smile.

"Yep," you replied, dropping your hand to find his at your side, lacing your fingers together and giving him a gentle squeeze.

After saying goodbye to Tommy, Joel slowly led you through the parking lot to his truck, desperately trying to think of something else you could do, not ready to drop you off yet. He knew the time you had together was coming to an end, and he wanted to soak up every precious second. Especially after the way he saw you with Sarah: so warm and sweet and patient. He couldn't remember the last time he saw his daughter's eyes light up that way.

He prided himself on being a good father since his wife left. Always making sure to put Sarah first, that she got everything she could ever want or need. Especially his love. When his ex abandoned them, he made sure Sarah got every ounce of love he had, hoping it would help make up for the loss. But as hard as he tried, he could never fully fill both roles. There were just some things that a mother provided for her daughter that Joel couldn't give.

He didn't realize it until he saw you with Sarah earlier that night, and then it felt like everything shifted into focus for the first time in his life.

He held out his hand to help you get back into his truck, making sure your legs were safely tucked in before he gently shut the door.

Sitting in the driver's seat gripping the steering wheel, he stared straight ahead for a moment in complete silence, the keys still in his coat pocket while his mind reeled.

"Is everything okay?" you asked timidly. He blinked and turned to you.

"Yeah," he said hoarsely. He swallowed and looked at his watch.

"You wanna get coffee or somethin'? I know it's gettin' late but I'm sure some place's open," he said, deep in thought as he considered the cafés nearby.

"Don't you have coffee at your house?" you asked shyly. His eyes snapped up to yours and he saw the flush creeping up your neck and the rapid rise and fall of your chest.

Oh.

"Yeah, yes," he croaked, nervously clearing his throat. "Let's do that. I have- yeah, good idea," he stammered, fumbling with the keys in his pocket.

You smirked as you watched his shaky hand turn the key in the ignition. He twisted around to back out of the parking spot, and this time you gave into temptation, unbuckling your seatbelt so you could slide over and tuck yourself under his arm. He immediately pulled you closer, not even caring that you weren't wearing your seatbelt. He would make sure to drive safe. Nothing could possibly ruin that night. He wouldn't let it.

At stop lights, you would run your hand up his chest and plant small kisses against the corner of his mouth, filling him with a radiating bliss he never felt before.

Once you got back to his house, you shrugged off your sweater and trailed behind him as he made his way into the kitchen. You leaned against the wall and watched as he opened one of the cupboards - the one with the small birds carved into the bottom - and pulled down a can of coffee.

"I don't think I have any decaf," he said turning to look at you.

"I don't want coffee, Joel," you said lowly. He swallowed roughly and put the can on the counter.

"What d'you want, then?"

You pushed yourself off the wall and slowly walked towards him, his eyes skating up and down your body as you approached. Wrapping your arms around his waist, you tilted your face up to gaze at him, your mouth hovering over his own.

"I want you."

His eyes fluttered closed as your lips slotted against his, his rough hands immediately coming up to cup your smooth face, holding you firmly against his mouth. Christ, he would never get tired of kissing you. If he could do it every single day for the rest of his life, he would. He knew it seemed crazy. He knew you just met, but he couldn't help the way you made him feel.

"Let's go upstairs," you whispered, nipping at his lower lip.

He couldn't speak. He just nodded in a daze and let you lead him coyly up the steps, then turned around to walk backwards down the hall towards his bedroom so you could pull him tightly against your body. His big hands gripped your waist while his tongue slipped past your lips, searching for its mate.

You reached behind you blindly, your hand fighting with the doorknob as his big frame caged you in against the wood, his masculine scent invading your senses and making it difficult to think. Finally, the door swung open and you both stumbled in, a giggle erupting from your throat as your fingers got to work undoing the buttons on his dress shirt.

You hurriedly tugged his button down off, leaving it in a heap on the floor as you slid your palms underneath the white t-shirt he had on, feeling the warm skin of his stomach and chest for the first time.

"Off," you whispered, your heart getting stuck in your throat when he yanked the shirt over his head, leaving his upper body completely bare to you. Your mouth went dry as you drank him in, then lunged forward, your lips brushing up his sternum until you reached his collarbone. You sucked on a bit of tanned skin there with a moan, then slipped your tongue out to press wetly against the red mark you left, feeling drunk off the taste of his sweat.

He gently pushed you backwards so he could ease you down onto his bed, his breath growing erratic and desperate with each little bite you left on his chest. God, has anyone ever desired him this much before? Has he really been missing out on this his entire life?

"Baby, we're gonna have to stop soon if you don't want this to go any further," he murmured. He found himself in the familiar position of hovering above you while his hand slid down your leg and toyed with the hem of your dress.

"I don't think I can take much more, tell me to stop," he whispered when you didn't answer, running the tip of his nose softly against your cheek.

"I don't want you to stop," you gasped as his fingers slipped underneath your dress. You tilted your head back and moaned when you felt his fingertips brush against the damp fabric of your panties.

His mouth hungrily devoured the exposed cleavage of your breasts, growing frustrated with the fabric of your dress keeping him from seeing all of you.

"Sit up," he demanded, leaning back and pulling his hand from between your legs. You obeyed, and he made short work of your zipper, pulling it all the way down so you could shimmy out, leaving you in just your underwear.

"Oh, fuck," he whispered when he realized you weren't wearing a bra. You let yourself fall back gently on the bed, spreading your arms out above your head so he could see every inch of you in the moonlight.

He couldn't believe this was actually happening. He kept waiting for his alarm to go off and reality to slap him across the face, but it never came. His heart was pounding so fast, he was sure you could hear it as he leaned back down and nibbled at your exposed jaw while his calloused hand cupped your soft breast, his thumb flicking over your hardening nipple.

You scraped your nails over his shoulders and down his chest as you arched your back, pressing into his hand, needing to feel the heat of his skin against your own. Your stomach flipped as you made your way down to his belt, and with shaky fingers, pulled hastily at the leather.

Yanking the belt through the loops with one swift motion, you flung it across the room, making him chuckle against your skin. When you started to work on popping open the button on his dress pants, a devastating thought suddenly occurred to him.

"Shit, wait," he said, putting his hand on top of yours. You frowned up at him, your chest heaving, as you gave him a confused look.

"I don't have any protection," he said through gritted teeth. He hung his head and squeezed his eyes shut angrily. "I-I haven't been with anyone since my ex, and I never thought... fuck," he said, clenching his jaw.

You weighed your options for about half a second before tugging his chin up, forcing him to look at you.

"I'm still on birth control," you told him, searching his eyes. "I mean, only if you're comfortable with it, we don't have to," you said, but in your head you were chanting please, please, please.

"Are you sure?" he asked, panting for air. "I don't wanna make you feel like -"

"Yes," you said, cutting him off by grabbing his face. "Yes. I'm sure, Joel. Please," you whimpered, pulling him back down to you, his mouth crashing down on yours again.

"Please," you whispered again, tipping your head back as his lips left a trail of soft kisses down your throat. "Please, Joel, I need you."

His mouth stuttered against your neck. Hearing you beg and say you needed him when he never thought he would ever be needed like this in his whole life made his mind go blank.

"Okay," he rasped. "Okay, baby."

He tugged at the zipper on his black pants and pulled them off as quickly as he could without leaving you. You reached down to help him, hooking your fingers over the band of his boxers and shoving them down. He kicked them off before yanking down your panties, dropping them on the floor next to his clothes.

You eagerly spread your legs so he could settle his hips between them. You glanced down with a small gasp when you saw the size of him and you felt your cheeks flare. Jesus Christ.

He didn't seem to notice your reaction when he was too wrapped up in staring at the wet heat between your legs, pulsing and waiting, just for him. He slid a finger gently between your folds, making you moan and your back arch. Fuck, he loved how responsive you were to his touch.

He readjusted so he was kneeling between your legs. His palms slid up your calves, past your knees and to your inner thighs, pressing them down into the mattress so you were spread wide.

He lined himself up at your center, glancing up at you quickly to make sure you were ready. You swallowed and nodded, your eyes filled with desire, desire for him, something he still couldn't fathom but decided not to question. He pressed forward gently, notching himself against you before falling forward on his elbows.

He kissed the tip of your nose as he eased himself inside you, pausing when he heard you gasp and felt you tense under him.

"More," you finally croaked, your nails coming up to rake against his scalp. He let out the breath he was holding and pushed in further, his eyes fluttering shut and his mouth falling open as he felt you slowly stretch around him so perfectly, like you were made just for him.

"Oh, god," he sighed, dropping his face to the crook of your neck after he fully sheathed himself inside you. He dragged his mouth across your chest, leaving a wet trail from his tongue and red marks from his scratchy beard in his wake. He waited until he felt your muscles relax under him before he slowly rolled his hips, dragging himself in and out as his teeth scraped over your tightening nipples. You moaned his name softly, the sound permanently etched in his brain, a sound he will refuse to forget for the rest of his life.

He began to roll his hips faster at your encouragement, becoming obsessed with the way you felt and the sounds you made, and it was all for him. He spent so much of his life giving to everyone around him, he never truly felt like anyone was able or willing to give him what he needed in return until now. The recognition was depressing and freeing at the same time. Now that he finally had what he always wanted, what he always needed, he was going to lose you and there was nothing he could do about it.

Each moan from your throat and each kiss from your lips dragged him down deeper and deeper until he collided head first with the stunning, yet so painfully obvious, realization that he was deliriously in love with you. It was insane, he knew that. But it didn't make it any less true.

"Joel," you gasped, pulling him out of his trance and back to the present.

"Yeah, baby? I'm here. I'm right here," he whispered, planting soft kisses all over your face.

You bit down on your lower lip and squeezed your eyes shut. The sheer intensity behind his gaze coupled with the agony of only getting to experience this for one more short week made tears burn in the backs of your eyes.

You felt your orgasm begin to swell deep in your belly while your breath became more ragged and your vision went spotty. It shouldn't feel this good. This was cruel, to be able to experience something like this just to have it brutally ripped away from you. It wasn't fair, yet you never wanted it to stop.

He could feel it. It's been years, and it was never, ever like this, but he still knew. The way you whimpered and clawed at his back while your walls squeezed him so tightly, he thought he might pass out.

"Open your eyes," he panted. "I wanna look at you."

You forced your eyes open, now unable to hold back the tears that pooled there as two drops trickled down the side of your face, getting lost in your hair.

"It's okay, I got you," he whispered lovingly, staring deep into your eyes, seeing everything you didn't dare say out loud.

"You can let go, baby," he told you, his hips snapping against you ruthlessly, desperate to come at the same time.

You felt the wave rip through you like fire, the power and emotion behind it unlike anything you ever felt before. More tears poured from your eyes as you cried out his name, your thighs squeezing his hips so tightly you weren't sure you would be able to stand after.

He followed seconds later with a deep groan, spilling himself deep inside you while murmuring praise and wiping away your tears with his thumb.

"Why're you cryin', did I hurt you?" he asked, his voice filled with so much concern that it broke your heart. You shook your head, wiping the tears away with the back of your hand, but fresh ones just took their place.

"C'mon, talk to me," he urged, leaning up a bit as he softened inside you.

"What are we gonna do, Joel?" you blubbered pathetically. He took a shaky breath in and tenderly tucked your hair behind your ear.

"I don't know, baby, but we'll figure somethin' out. We gotta," he said with a sigh.

"I can't lose you," you whispered, pressing your forehead against his and closing your eyes.

"You'll never lose me, I can promise you that," he replied, pressing a gentle kiss against your swollen lips.

He waited until your tears slowed down before sliding out of you with a hiss. Rolling off to your side, he wrapped his arms around your middle and pulled you close against his chest, and as you finally drifted off in his embrace, he thought about all of the options available before you, determined to find a solution.

Tag list: @lola8888673 @pedropascalsbbg @nandan11 @sushiumex @serenadingtigers @jjlevin @survivingandenduring @amyispxnk @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @merz-8 @wonyoungismind @fandomscollide @anoverwhelmingdin @cayleejx16 @msjjekyll @lizzie-cakes @hexedbywanda @harriedandharassed @joeldjarin - lmk if i missed anyone, if your name is crossed out it means it won't let me tag you

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goodlucktai · 3 months ago

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9, raph and leo?

dialogue prompts

9. “I know, I know it hurts.”

When Raph was eight years old, the twins decided they needed their own bedrooms and, like with all other things they had ever decided, they made it everyone else’s problem. As a united front, the two of them had the capacity to wear down a squad of Navy Seals in a manner of days, let alone one overtired single father.

The campaign for separate bedrooms turned out to be a long con. Donnie had been denied an evil science laboratory by Splinter multiple times, on the grounds of it being dangerous, and Donnie being seven, and evil being bad. But a room of his own could be whatever he wanted, and he wanted a lab.

It took most of a week for Splinter to discover that the twins were still doubled up in the room that was ostensibly Leo’s while Donnie’s was being used for nefarious purposes, but by then Donnie had installed an electronic lock on the door that he built out of components gutted from old kitchen appliances and was fully ready to die on that hill.

While Pops and Donnie were locked in a contest of wills that would ultimately go in Donnie’s favor (because Splinter’s achilles heel back then—and even now—was that he thought little turtles at their most sulky and unreasonable were just adorable) Raphie had looked at Leo with a confused frown on his face.

“How come you went along with it, Lee? You didn’t even get your own room.”

Leo shrugged, bright gold eyes shining with interest as he watched his twin and his father argue back and forth. He was following it carefully, probably ready to join in if it looked like Donnie was going to lose—more engaged than he ever was playing video games or flipping through comics.

At the time, all Leo said was, “Just wanted to see if I could.”

Raph thought it was because he was a troublemaker, and he maintained that idea up until Mikey—intuitive beyond his years, even as a sweet little six year old—said he figured it was just that Leo’s head went as crazy fast as Donnie’s did, only in ways that didn’t involve breaking and building things.

A full decade later, Raph knows Mikey was right on the money. Looking back, he sees a kid who was wickedly smart and terribly understimulated. Leo didn’t create trouble for the heck of it, he just liked having problems to solve. He wanted conversations and tricks and puzzles, he needed hoops to jump through like dolphins did on TV, or else he’d get cranky and sneaky.

Their world became a much simpler, more peaceful place once Leo got his first phone and discovered an online chess app with a leaderboard.

All this to say, Leo has had a mind for strategy since before he could talk in full sentences. He’s a natural-born leader, and after the failed Krang invasion, he really stepped up and took it seriously. Raph is so proud of him he doesn’t have words big enough to contain the size and shape of it all. It isn’t as hard as he had imagined it would be to let go of the reins and give Leo the room he needs to shine.

Some days are better than others. For the most part, Leo says jump and his brothers don’t even ask how high, they just shoot for the rafters. Their teamwork is cohesive, as solid as it was when they initially realized their ninpo, and Raph thinks he’d feel sorry for the Shredder if that guy showed his face in their town again.

But there are also days like today, when Leo says something that Raph’s big brother meter pings as Leo being silly, stirring shit up for lack of better thing to do, and he doesn’t linger on it past that initial knee-jerk impression.

They’re working with a group of mutants out of Hell’s Kitchen, mutants who are walking the line between vigilantism and outright crime. They’re rough around the edges, but good-natured for the most part. The turtles kept bumping into that other group as they crisscrossed around the city until finally their leader, Old Hob, said, “Why don’t we just get on the same program instead of stepping on each other’s heels?” and a tentative partnership was formed.

It’s been a week since then, and in that time Raph and his brothers have been firmly adopted by the grown-up mutants, who ask pointed questions about what time they went to bed the night before and whether or not they had a decent breakfast and how their online classes are going.

“This must be what having overbearing aunties is like,” Donnie said to April on the phone none-too-quietly, and Sally, feline mutant and aforementioned overbearing auntie, knocked her knuckles on his battleshell reprovingly. But that about summed it up.

There was one spanner in the works, and that was Liam.

——

“Anyone else getting bad vibes from that guy by the way?” Leo says one day.

There’s something performative about it, his usual pomp and charisma with a plastic edge. Mikey tilts his head like a service dog who just caught the scent of a potential medical emergency. Donnie looks up from his phone, eyes keen the way they only are when he and his twin are about to communicate with the telepathy they’ll deny they have.

But Raph is having a bad pain day, and his well of patience for shenanigans is much shallower than it normally is.

“Leon, don’t start,” he says, rubbing the slider’s head playfully to take any sting out of the dismissal. “If I have to put up with any middle child nonsense today I’m gonna scream.”

There’s a beat, his second-youngest brother visibly hesitating on a mental fork in the road. He’s gotten so good about being forthcoming but his first impulse is still to play along, deny, conceal-don’t-feel. He still has this idea in his head of what a good leader is supposed to be, and he’s still willing to whittle parts of himself away that don’t fit that mold.

To his credit, Leo tries again. “I don’t like him,” he says with less certainty.

“You don’t have to be best friends with the guy,” Raph replies. There’s enough warning in his tone that Leo knows to drop it. “Just get along until we go home.”

He works his shoulder, trying to do something about the solid ache it’s become, and Leo’s eyes drop to the mass of scarring there and then flit away. He starts to outline the route their patrol is going to take, reaching into his belt bag for the jar of Tiger Balm he’s taken to carrying with him and handing it over to Raph as he talks.

Raph smiles, the warmth in his chest ballooning up to swallow the impending impatience and annoyance brought out by pain. That warmth stays with him through their whole run, even as Donnie video-calls April and deadpans “POV you’re tailing some guy who didn’t get the memo that armed robbery is cringe as hell,” even as Mikey goes out of his way to jump and tumble off a fire escape in time to give Mondo a high-five as he skates by in the opposite direction, even as Leo progressively gets quieter the closer they get to their two AM check-in at the Mutanimals’ railyard base.

Looking back, Raph can count all the red flags he missed and hates himself a little more for each one. Leo sometimes causes problems for fun, and he likes to see what trouble he can get away with or get himself out of, and he is a downright menace to society when he’s bored—but he’s good. He’s sweet, and charming, and wants to help. He wouldn’t have raised an issue with the other group of mutants, potentially cutting ties with useful allies, unless he had a decent reason to.

And that reason, Raph discovers that night—after information has been exchanged and all that's left is to hang out at the base watching TV and playing table tennis until Splinter inevitably texts to remind his sons of their curfew—is Liam.

He doubles back into the meeting room where he left his phone and sees the goose mutant has put himself between Leo and the only exit, head lowered on a serpentine neck, beak open to show a flash of sharp teeth in a display that Raph’s animal hindbrain reads clearly as threat.

His grip on the doorframe causes it to crack.

“Leo,” he says in a voice he doesn’t recognize.

His little brother’s head jerks up, half-hopeful, half-disbelieving. Later, Raph will hate himself for putting even a sliver of doubt in Leo’s mind, for unknowingly invalidating his feelings. Leo should never be surprised that his big brother showed up for him. He should never have been left to fend for himself in a situation that made him uncomfortable, especially after he found the courage to be upfront about it.

“C’mere,” Raph says, lifting an arm—a little turtle’s cue to tuck themselves safely against Raph’s side.

Whatever his expression is doing, it’s caused dead silence to blanket the room like a foot of packed snow. Liam looks markedly unhappy to see Raphael standing there, but Leo runs to meet him.

A strategist, a faceman, a leader, and barely seventeen years old.

“We were just talking,” Liam says with a lightness that rings as false.

“Next time I find out you and my brother were just talking, I’ll wring your skinny neck,” Raph replies, matching his tone. Liam may be twice Raph’s age, but he’s half Raph’s size, and Raph has gone head-to-head with the Krang general and the Shredder and walked it off each time. Raph is fully prepared, in this moment, to murder this fucking goose.

Leo taps on Raph’s carapace, just as one of his violent inner voices is lifting its head in the back of his brain and considering making an appearance. On Leo’s end, a warning that someone else is coming from down the hall. On Raph’s end, a reminder that his first priority is the one he’s holding.

He turns, keeping Leo beside him, in time to see Hob appear around the corner. The cat mutant stops dead in his tracks, slitted eyes moving from Raph, down to Leo, to the doorway beside them, and back again.

“Problem?”

“We’re going home,” Raph says, a rumble in his voice he wouldn’t know how to temper even if he wanted to. “And we’re not coming back. Don’t call us unless someone’s dying or there’s another alien invasion.”

“Knock on wood,” Leo mumbles near-silently.

Old Hob doesn’t answer right away. It’s impossible to tell what the older mutant is thinking on a good day, outwardly recalcitrant and unfriendly, even though he has never snapped at Mikey’s cheerful rambling or Leo’s wheedling attempts to goad him into yet another chess match or even Donnie’s accidental ninpo-related shortage of every appliance in the Mutanimals’ kitchen. He and Sally and Ray and Herman all go out of their way to make their base comfortable and accessible to the turtles and Mondo and Pete, like it really matters to them that the younger mutants have a safe place tucked away that they can fall back on.

And Raph had appreciated that, up until now. Up until they proved it wasn’t safe, actually. Up until he’d seen a grown man leering meanly at his baby brother, just because he thought he could keep getting away with it.

When Hob does speak, all he says is, “Get home safe, boys.”

Raph shoulders around him, and collects Donnie and Mikey from the main room immediately. Mikey says, “Woah, are you guys okay?” and Donnie shoots a poisonous look behind them, like if he glares hard enough he can see back in time to what happened to put those expressions on Leo and Raph’s faces.

“We’re peachy, Miguelito,” Leo says, disquietingly convincing. “Just had a difference of opinion with our hosts is all.”

“Stay out of Hell’s Kitchen from now on until I say so,” Raph adds sternly.

Raph tells dad about Liam when they get home, because there is no universe where that doesn’t happen, and Leo immediately gets hauled into Splinter’s room for what sounds like a very serious conversation. Raph, Donnie and Mikey cluster shamelessly outside the door to eavesdrop, and some frightened thing in Raph’s heart lets out the breath it’s been holding when Leo says, “Nothing happened, papa, I promise. He was just weird.”

“Let him be weird to my Baby Blue one more time and I will show him exactly why your father was the undisputed Battle Nexus champion,” Splinter says. He cups Leo’s face and rubs his thumb over a striped cheek, as if he’d like to keep his son right there where no one had the capacity to hurt him. “Thank you for telling us. I’m so proud of you. I will actually kill him if he looks at you again.”

Leonardo smiles brightly, daddy’s boy of the family and glutton for attention that he is, those leftover dregs of anxiety in his eyes finally melting away.

“I think we should let dad kill him,” Donnie announces, eyes icy, tone flat.

“Nah,” Mikey says, disingenuously cheerful. “Next time we run into Liam I’m setting him the fuck on fire!”

“Language,” Raph scolds by rote, but his heart isn’t in it.

He can’t get that scene he walked in on back at the railyard out of his head. He can’t help thinking what if something worse had happened because I didn’t listen?

It feels like there’s a ghost in his chest, rattling his heart. He’s haunted by the what if.

——

After dinner, Leo looks at Raph meaningfully and points at the infirmary. Doctor Leo’s orders supersede all others, 100% of the time, so Raphael sighs and surrenders his controller to Mikey’s grabby hands without bothering to make the token argument. He keeps driving Princess Peach off the track anyway.

“Have you been stretching?” Leo says, feeling along Raph’s upper arm, where the muscles are visibly knotted. Even his careful touch hurts—that whole side of his body is tender with pain. Raph can’t help but flinch when his shoulder spasms and Leo hisses. “Shit, sorry, I know, I know it hurts. God, Raphie, you gotta say something before it gets this bad. I’m not afraid to bench you, big guy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Raph says, amused by his little brother’s no-nonsense tone, warmed by the care Leo always takes with his family when they’re sitting in his infirmary and putting their hurts in his hands.

There’s nothing performative about him here. It’s just Leo, stripped of every false layer.

“Let’s try to massage it out,” Leo says, all his attention bent to the task. “Then we’ll apply heat.”

Raph hums, watching him work. His arm radiates pain, and he has to grit his teeth as Leo goes to work on the knots and the ache flares close to unbearable and wanes to a dull throb and then flares again.

“Hey,” Raph says before he can overthink it any more. “What would you have done if I didn’t see you and Liam?”

Leo pauses, but only for a split-second. He’s as good as cornered here, because there’s no way he’ll leave Raph when he’s in pain, and there’s nowhere to hide. Thankfully for Raph’s sanity, he doesn’t try to pretend he doesn’t know what they’re talking about, even if he takes a long moment to finally answer.

“Would’ve made Angie make me a Portal Promise to never be alone with him,” Leo admits. Flushing slightly, he mumbles, “It’s, uh, a thing we do—we both make portals, you know, so—it just means we have to keep that promise no matter what happens or what rules we have to break, and we won’t get in trouble later as long as we’re honest.”

Raph’s heart hurts. His little brothers are so sweet, and people exist in the world who would hurt them, and he has no idea how to reconcile that. He hates that both things could be true at the same time.

“Tello doesn’t need to be encouraged to stay away from people, and I’m pretty sure he can read my mind? But I would’ve told him anyway,” Leo goes on. “I tell him everything. I’d try to word it so he didn’t get angry enough to do something drastic, like, cut the brake lines on Liam’s Toyota Corolla. And I’d have to make it sound like you and I were on the same page, otherwise he’d go to you about it, and you’d—uh, be annoyed that I didn’t drop it, I guess.”

Getting impaled by the Krang hurt less than this, Raph thinks. He feels sick.

“Leo—”

“I know,” Leo says quickly, a little too loud. “I know that I don’t always take stuff seriously. It’s not your fault for thinking—you know. You didn’t do anything wrong, Raphie. I just gotta grow up.”

This kid, who—like the rest of them—has already matured well past his age, well before he should have had to. Who’s terrified of letting his family down, who has so much he thinks he needs to live up to. Any perceived failure weighs on him like the death penalty, and Raph knows he had a hand in that.

He needs to listen. Even when he’s aching and short-tempered. Even when Leo is talking around something that scares him. Maybe especially then.

“Can we make a deal?” Raph says, reaching up to hold Leo’s hands still under one of his own. Leo is staring hard at Raph’s plastron and doesn’t seem willing to lift his eyes for love or money, but he jerks his head in a nod. “Next time I’m not hearing you, and it’s something serious like today was serious, tell me, and I’ll stop.”

Leo’s mouth twists a bit. If it were for anyone else’s sake, he’d get in Raph’s face and make himself heard no problemo, but it’s an entirely different story when it’s his own safety in question. That part of Leo that wants to always rely on his brothers is constantly at war with the part that believes he’s not supposed to need anyone’s help anymore.

It would be impossible for him to plant himself like a tree and refuse to be budged and demand Raph’s attention if he thought for one second that it would make Raph angry at him.

“What if we came up with a code word?” Raph offers, squeezing Leo’s hands. “If I’m being a stubborn punk, you can tell me the code word, and I’ll listen, and I won’t get mad. Even if it turns out to be a mistake or a misunderstanding. Okay?”

He finally gets a peek of gold as Leo dares to make eye contact. He looks embarrassed, like they’ve made a huge deal out of this for no good reason, and hiding inside his shell until everyone promises to pretend like nothing happened is looking more tempting by the second.

But he’s Leo, their fearless leader. He stared down that portal into the prison dimension without flinching. If he can do that, he can do anything.

“What word?” he finally says.

“You pick,” Raph tells him.

A smile creeps onto Leo’s face, picking its way carefully across shaky ground.

“‘Goose’,” he suggests.

"‘Goose’ it is," Raph replies firmly, committing it to memory.

He lifts his good arm and drags his little brother into a solid hug, ignoring the twinge in his back and side. Leonardo scrambles to return the embrace, shoving his face against Raph’s unscarred shoulder and clinging for all he’s worth. Which is a lot. He’s worth so much.

Later, when Raph’s got the electric heating pad on his arm and he and Leo are watching TikTok compilations to pass the time, Mikey comes through the infirmary door at top speed, waving his phone above his head like a maniac.

“Look what Mondo sent me!” he shouts at full volume. “I put it in the group chat!”

The video shared in the Mad Dogz chat shows Liam being kicked out of the railyard, his bags tossed into the road. Sally is going off at him at the top of her lungs, and Hob is standing by with his arms folded like he’s fully ready to let her maul the guy, and the rest of the grown-up mutants are making it pretty clear with their body language that the goose isn’t welcome anymore.

“Dunno what they saw on the security cam, but they effin’ hated it,” Mondo says in the recording, unbothered by the absolute chaos unfolding in front of him. “Good riddance, Liam sucks. Oh, Mikester, Hob wants to know if you guys’ll be back in the Kitchen for Herman’s D&D oneshot on Saturday so he knows how much food to order. He said you should bring your dad around this time—as if we need another boring old man in the group, ugh. Anyway, let me know and I’ll pass it along, dude!”

A weight Raph hadn’t even realized he was still carrying melts off his shoulders. Leo huffs under his breath, a disbelieving little laugh.

“Can we go, Raphie?” Mikey asks with wide eyes. “Don worked so hard on all our character sheets. He even 3D-printed custom figurines.”

“My bard is going to carry this team,” Donnie says loudly from the next room, because he’s never met a private conversation he wouldn’t shamelessly listen in on.

It’s so important to the Mutanimals that their young friends feel safe with them, and here’s proof of that in Mikey’s hands. Raph doesn’t fully understand why they care, but he’s grateful that they do. It didn’t hit him until now how much it hurt to have the railyard taken away—and how relieved he is that they can go back, after all.

He squeezes the arm he still has around Leo’s shoulders, prompting his brother to look up at him.

“What do you say, Fearless?” he says warmly. “Your call.”

Raph’s listening this time.

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #hamato raphael #hamato leonardo #a team #my writing #tmnt fic #prompt #magicalspacedragon #this kind of went all over the place but im super out of it tonight unforch :(

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omegalomania · 1 year ago

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so im sure everyones fully well aware of the magic 8 ball site fob is using to promote a contest to win some tickets to see them in nashville. the little 8ball widget theyve got in browser is also modeled on the physical 8ball that they had in the vip merch packages for tourdust's first leg, which is cool! but of particular note is the way that, to fill out the contest form, you have to pick your favorite fall out boy songs. and the sheer breadth of what is allowed is...interesting? it's not cohesive by any means, but it is really wild the selection of songs they have here because not all of them are fob songs. in fact, quite a few of them aren't.

i went directly to the source code and got a full list of all possible songs that you could input (which you can check for yourself by right-clicking and selecting "view source"). i'm going to list them here for archival purposes, with a few notes/explanations cause some of these are WILD.

there are 187 songs total listed.

bolded songs indicate songs that are demos or never received an official release

italicized songs are songs by other bands

underlined songs indicate songs that are covers

songs with an asterisk beside them (*) indicate they are from patrick's solo catalogue. two asterisks (**) are for pete's.

additional commentary by me will be [in brackets]

20 Dollar Nose Bleed 27 7 Minutes in Heaven (Atavan Halen) 7-9 Legendary A Little Less Sixteen Candles, a Little More "Touch Me" A Nice Myth [one of the earliest fall out boy demos, found on their first ep, and only the casette version at that] Allie* Alone Together Alpha Dog America's Suitehearts American Beauty/American Psycho (song) American Made Art of Keeping Up Disappearances As Long as I Know I'm Getting Paid* Austin, We Have a Problem Baby Annihilation Bad Side of 25* Bang the Doldrums Beat It Big Hype* Bishops Knife Trick Bob Dylan Bounce [this is a song that came out on then-Decaydance labelmates The Cab's debut record, Whisper War, which patrick produced. he has writing credit and also is credited with background vocals (and also shows up in the music video)] Caffeine Cold Calm Before the Storm Centuries Champagne for My Real Friends, Real Pain for My Sham Friends Champion Check Your Phone** Chicago is So Two Years Ago Church City in a Garden Coast (It's Gonna Get Better)* Coffee's for Closers Cryptozoology* Cute Girls* Cyanide** [this is a nothing,nowhere song that pete did some spoken word parts and backing vocals on] Dance Miserable* Dance, Dance Dead on Arrival Dear Future Self (Hands Up) Death Valley Deep Blue Love* [song patrick did for the indie short film "spell"] Demigods Disloyal Order of Water Buffaloes Don't You Know Who I Think I Am? Electric Touch [the (in?)famous taylor swift song patrick featured on] Eternal Summer Everybody Wants Somebody* Explode* Fake Out Fame Less than Infamy Favorite Record Fellowship of the Nerd [this is an alternate title for world's not waiting, as far as i can tell] Flu Game Flu Game [yes flu game is listed twice for some reason] Footprints in the Snow [demo from the Llamania ep] Fourth of July From Now on We Are Enemies G.I.N.A.S.F.S. Get Busy Living or Get Busy Dying (Do Your Part to Save the Scene and Stop Going to Shows) Ghostbusters (I'm Not Afraid) Golden Grand Theft Autumn/Where Is Your Boy Greed* Grenade Jumper Grow Up and Be Kids [this song is on The Cab's sophomore album Symphony Soldier, which release after they left decaydance. nonetheless, pete does have some writing credits on it. give it a listen and you'll hear for yourself in the first 10 seconds or so] Growing Up Hand Crushed by a Mallet [this is a remix of the 100gecs song of the same name; patrick did some vocals for it] Hand of God Have I Got a Gift for You* [song patrick did for the horror movie black friday] Headfirst Slide into Cooperstown on a Bad Bet Heartbreak Feels So Good Heaven's Gate Heaven, Iowa Hold Me Like a Grudge Hold Me Tight or Don't Homesick at Space Camp Honorable Mention Hot to the Touch, Cold on the Inside Hum Hallelujah I Am My Own Muse I Don't Care

I Got Nothing, But You Got Something [this is the one that really perplexes me. there's no evidence of this song actually existing, other than an unverified genius post and an article on a single fandom wiki. it is inexplicably listed here despite its very existence being questionable at best.]

I Slept with Someone in Fall Out Boy and All I Got Was This Stupid Song Written About Me I Wanna Dance with Somebody (Who Loves Me) I'm Like a Lawyer with the Way I'm Always Trying to Get You Off (Me & You) I've Been Waiting [this is technically a lil peep song with fall out boy as a feature] I've Got a Dark Alley and a Bad Idea That Says You Should Shut Your Mouth (Summer Song) I've Got All This Ringing in My Ears and None on My Fingers Immortals Irresistible It's Hard to Say 'I Do', When I Don't It's Not a Side Effect of the Cocaine, I Am Thinking It Must Be Love Jet Pack Blues Just One Yesterday Lake Effect Kid (song) Lake Shore Drive [this is a song patrick covered on the piano at wrigley, first night of tourdust] Love from the Other Side Love Will Tear Us Apart Love, Selfish Love* Love, Sex, Death Lullabye Mad at Nothing* Miss Missing You Moving Pictures My Heart Is the Worst Kind of Weapon My Songs Know What You Did in the Dark (Light Em Up) New Dreams [this is a bonus track on pax am days, a naked rayguns cover] Nobody Puts Baby in the Corner Novocaine Of All the Gin Joints in All the World One of Those Nights [another song from the cab's whisper war. this one has patrick doing vocals very prominently] Open Happiness [this was a huge collaborative piece done for a coca cola commercial. patrick was on it along with big names like cee lo green, janelle monae, and labelmates travie mccoy and brendon urie] Our Lawyer Made Us Change the Name of This Song So We Wouldn't Get Sued Parker Lewis Can't Lose (But I'm Gonna Give It My Best Shot) Past Life [llamania ep] Pavlove People Never Done a Good Thing* Porcelain* Pretty in Punk Rat a Tat Reinventing the Wheel to Run Myself Over Roxanne Run Dry (X Heart X Fingers)* San Diego [this is a blink-182 song that patrick did some writing for] Saturday Saturday Night Again* Save Rock and Roll (song) Sending Postcards from a Plane Crash (Wish You Were Here) She's My Winona Short, Fast, and Loud Snitches and Talkers Get Stitches and Walkers So Good Right Now So Much (For) Stardust (song) So Sick [this is a song patrick has exclusively covered live, so it's a fascinating inclusion] Sober [another blink-182 song patrick did some writing for] Sophomore Slump or Comeback of the Year Star 67 Stay Frosty Royal Milk Tea Sugar, We're Goin Down Summer Days (song) [this is a martin garrix song patrick lent some vocals to] Sunshine Riptide Super Fade Switchblades and Infidelity Tell That Mick He Just Made My List of Things to Do Today The "I" In Lie* The (After) Life of the Party The (Shipped) Gold Standard The Carpal Tunnel of Love The Kids Aren't Alright The Kintsugi Kid (Ten Years) The Last of the Real Ones The Mighty Fall The Music or the Misery The Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes The Phoenix The Pink Seashell The Pros and Cons of Breathing The Take Over, the Breaks Over The World's Not Waiting (For Five Tired Boys in a Broken Down Van) This Ain't a Scene, It's an Arms Race This City* Thnks fr th Mmrs (song) [for some reason the site specifies song here, despite that not being necessary. the only other times this distinction is relevant is when songs share a title with their albums, i.e. save rock and roll] Thriller Tiffany Blews Twin Skeleton's (Hotel in NYC) Uma Thurman Untitled 1 (Colorado Song) Untitled 2 (Jakus Song) [both of these are recently released tttyg era demos] W.A.M.S. We Didn't Start the Fire We Don’t Take Hits, We Write Them [this is a song that famously was only ever performed live. we don't have a studio recording or even a demo, as only live versions exist] We Were Doomed from the Start (The King is Dead) West Coast Smoker What a Catch, Donnie What a Time To Be Alive What's This? When I Made You Cry* Where Did the Party Go Wilson (Expensive Mistakes) Wrong Side of Paradise [llamania ep] XO You're Crashing, But You're No Wave Young and Menace Young Volcanoes Yule Shoot Your Eye Out

in conclusion i have no idea who compiled this list. it doesn't include every song patrick and pete have ever touched (notice the lack of gym class heroes, cobra starship, and hush sound discography) but it has a really weird selection of songs. i mean, blink songs patrick wrote on?? its bizarre.

anyway do you think if we mass request swing me by the rafters they'll have to do it

#fall out boy #tourdust #*making poasts #trying to format this conventionally BROKE THE POST so i did my best #i burned my grilt cheese typing all this up pls appreciate it #the weird break in the middle is cause otherwise it wouldnt post. mea culpa.

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phoebepheebsphibs · 9 months ago

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I mentioned in a reblog thing that I'd wanted to make a Rise comic series called "ROTTMNT: UNPAUSED" and I hinted to one of the finale episodes being called "Mikey's Birthday Bash"

Well I'm gonna infodump about that now...

So basically the episode started off with Mikey waking everyone up for a special breakfast to celebrate his bday, only to discover that not only did his brothers forget his bday, they all made plans of their own. To quickly make up for it, the guys take him into the Hidden City for a quick shopping spree before they all have to leave for their engagements. While Mikey is looking for something to buy, he overhears his brothers conversing about how in the next year, Raph won't be a TEENAGE mutant ninja turtle anymore (he is 17 currently). Donnie adds that he is already looking for colleges to join and hopes for an early admission. Leo also admits he has been planning for the future. Mikey realizes that his brothers are all planning to leave and grow up, which he is not ready for. He runs away crying, and meets a strange old hag who sells him a "special" birthday candle, which she promises will grant his biggest birthday wish.

Mikey finds his bros again and uses the candle on a meager cupcake they got for him. As soon as he blows the candle out, the four are transported into a version of the Battle Nexus, trapped there along with every other character from the show (and my comics) by the hag who sold Mikey the candle. She reveals that Mikey's wish was for "everyone to spend my birthday together", and the only way for them to escape is for the turtles to win the tournament! The bros are furious at Mikey for making the wish, and Mikey promises to get through the games as quickly as possible so they can get back to their plans and leave.

The hag states that the turtles will be pitted against their previous enemies, and with each round they win they'll will receive more allies. Anyone KO’d will be eliminated from the round and sent to watch in the audience, and upon the ending of the game all contestants will be returned to their last location. The enemies will get progressively more challenging until they defeat all of their opponents.

Round 1, April is with the guys, and they are up against Baxter Stockboy, Albearto, and the Purple Dragons.

Round 2, the Casey Joneses join the fight against the Foot Clan.

Round 3, Draxum, Splinter, Big Mama, and the two missing siblings hinted at by the writers join against the evil league of mutants and the Mud Dogs. April is KO’d after getting slammed into a wall and knocked unconscious by Heinous Green. Cass is KO’d by Hypno after he hypnotizes her to knock herself unconscious as well. Draxum is KO’d by Meat Sweats after he steals his power.

Round 4, Several characters (such as Agent Bishop and Mona Lisa) join to fight against the Triceratons (which were introduced in my series). During this round, everyone is K.O.'d except the turtles. However, Mikey sees that he didn’t finish the battles in time and his brothers have missed their appointments. He feels guilty, and his brothers are admittedly irritated.

Round 5, the final boss battle. They are pitted against the Shredder and the Kraang. Before the fight begins, Mikey has a blowout with his brothers and finally admits that he was angry they were gonna leave because he was scared of growing up, as he is not ready to be an adult yet and he doesn’t want to be alone. The Kraang interrupts stating “I can help you with that” and captures Mikey. However, the Turtles get one last team member… Karai. The Shredder -- having been defeated and Oroku Saki redeemed -- turns against the Kraang and sides with the Turtles and his daughter. The boys defeat the Kraang using the special formula from the movie, but not before the Shredder and Karai are K.O.'D by the Kraang. The Kraang are defeated with the last of the mixture, but to the boys' horror they see that Mikey was kraangified, and now have to fight against him as their last opponent. They try, but are unable to defeat him due to his increased strength AND his ninpo. Leo refuses to admit defeat, saying “Mikey never gave up on me… I can’t give up on him.” He tries one last attack, grappling with Mikey and holding him down...

I happened to make sketches of what came next...

The game finished, everyone is returned home. Mikey apologizes for everything, but Raph admits that he isn’t ready to grow up yet either, and he never wants to leave Mikey alone. He found out the hard way what that felt like, and the brothers agree to wait a little longer to grow up and enjoy being the teenage mutant ninja turtles while they can. Back at the lair, everyone bursts in to make sure Mikey is okay. They spend the rest of the day with him, enjoying his birthday...

So yeh that's that

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starlitiris · 2 months ago

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“Once Upon a Dream” ~ (Sebastian x Reader x Painter)

Summary: “Sebastian takes a break in Painter’s room. While the two are chatting, the topic of their favorite expendable comes up! One of them is optimistic, filled with wonder and excitement over this new friend they’ve made. The other resents you for making him favor you. Conversations about you aren’t always fun.

Warnings: None aside from the fact that this fic is sad </3 Reader is once again gender neutral

~ 💭 ~

“There’s just something about them, Sebastian.” Painter says, sounding as if he’s daydreaming. And maybe he is. If a sentient AI can daydream. “They’re just so… nice! And funny! And a little dumb, but in a charming way, you know? They always stop by to hang out with me when they end up here. It’s…” His robotic voice imitates a thoughtful sigh. “I really like them.”

Sebastian is lounging right outside Painter’s cell, upper arms crossed in front of him and a cigarette held in his third hand. He tsks. “Don’t get attached, Painter. You know why they’re down here.”

He’s been staring at a wall nearly the whole time he’s been in there, mind seemingly lost in his own little world, as Painter was lost in his.

“I know… maaan this SUUUCKS! I wish we could just… I don’t know, take them with us!”

“Yeah, not happening.” Sebastian takes a puff of his cigarette.

“Uh, I know that? You don’t need to be such a party pooper. An AI can dream, Sebastian!”

“Oh, well I’m sorry for taking a big ol’ crap on your ridiculous and totally unrealistic dream. There’s no point in wishing for things that aren’t even remotely possible. The expendable is our enemy. They need that stupid crystal, and we need to stall them for as long as possible. Why waste time on a stupid dream where everything is all sunshine and rainbows, and everybody gets along? It’s idiotic to even entertain the idea. The world doesn’t work like that. It never does.” Sebastian’s tone was harsh and unforgiving. He scoffed, flicked the ashes off the end of his cigarette, and resumed his staring contest with the boring, gray wall.

Painter’s feelings were a little hurt, he couldn’t lie. But he watched Sebastian. He watched the way his brows furrowed. The way his mouth twitched into an upset frown, something in between resembling sadness and anger. The way he fidgeted with the cigarette between his fingers. How his whole posture, leaning back against the wall, looked… well, grouchy. Grouchy was the perfect word Painter would use to describe this man. He knows his friend is hurting. The same way he was.

“I’m sorry.” Was all the computer could say.

Silence falls between the two. It lasts a few minutes before one of them breaks it.

“They were in my shop the other day.”

Painter’s pixel face raises a pixel eyebrow. “Aren’t they in your shop almost every day?”

“Yeah, would you- that’s not the point, let me finish.” Sebastian sighed and pinched where the bridge of his nose used to be. He continued. “They were alone again, so it was just us two.”

He took another puff. “They gave me that… big, stupid smile when they came through the vent. Like they always do. Things went the way they usually go. We greeted each other, they looked at my stock, bought a flashlight, a code breacher, and a couple batteries… but as they were putting their stuff in their belt and pockets, they said something.”

There was a pause.

“What did they say?” Painter asked, deciding Sebastian had been quiet for too long.

Sebastian let out a long, depressed sigh. A cloud of smoke left his maw. He thought for a moment.

“They said ‘I wish I could take you and Painter with me’.”

Another silence falls between them. But, unlike the last one, this one is filled with an air of understanding. Understanding, and a deep sadness to go with it.

“Said they’ve put a lot of thought into what we could do. Talked about how we could get a nice big house on the coast. Go on walks every day, and bring you with us so you could see the world again. Live hours away from the nearest city so we could be alone together, undisturbed. Just… away. Away from everything.” Sebastian goes quiet again. He doesn’t look angry anymore. He just looks… sad. Desolate.

“… Is this what love is, Sebastian?”

He glances over at his AI friend, pausing for a moment. Then he nods somberly.

Painter took his own moment to pause and think.

“Is love supposed to hurt this much?”

The mutant frowned deeply. Once again, he found himself staring at the wall. Bleak, dull, and void of any brightness or excitement. The wall reflects how he’s currently feeling, he concluded.

“I don’t know.” He puts his cigarette out on the floor, deciding he’s done with it. “That’s the thing about love. It’s great. It’s the best feeling in the world, until you can’t have it anymore. Then, it just… it hurts.”

He turns his head away from Painter, now staring at nothing in particular in the next room through the open door.

“And it never stops hurting.” He muttered, barely audible over the whirring sounds of the machinery surrounding the two.

“… Well…” Painter speaks up, sounding a little unsure of himself. “I’m at least happy to know I have loved.”

Sebastian slowly turns to look at the AI again, seeing the weary smile he had painted for himself. Sebastian finds himself smiling in return. It’s sad, tired, and barely there. But it’s there.

“… Yeah. Yeah, I guess that’s something.”

The two didn’t say much else beyond that point before Sebastian had to get back to work, scavenging and selling the goodies he finds. Now, he’s sitting idly in his shop. Just as Painter is, stuck in his room. They both sit, minds wandering off to the very person they’re eagerly awaiting to return to them. The very person that’s been taking up a little too much space in their minds lately.

You.

#sebastian solace x you #sebastian solace x reader #p.ai.nter x reader #p.ai.nter x you #Sebastian Solace x You x p.AI.nter #Sebastian Solace x Reader x p.AI.nter #pressure fanfic

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whereserpentswalk · 21 days ago

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There's a contest out there, a very expensive contest that could win you a lot of money. It's referred to as the bunker, and it's been the reward and ruin of so many people.

Somewhere out there (Not too far from a major city) is a bunker, a real one from the cold war, meant to keep a community alive after a nuclear war. And inside that they built just that. A fake post nuclear community, dozens of people living as if there is only death and devastation above them.

The contest is to live there. Anyone there is part of the contest. The rules are you are not able to tell anyone that the bunker isn't real, that the world above isn't a nuclear hellscape, that there are people out there, the fiction must be maintained by everyone. And that if you leave, without telling anyone, you will be given money, the longer you stay, the more money they will give you.

It seems easy at first. The bunker is rough, but you aren't alone. People really do live like they're surviving the apocalypse, everything is in complete order to be self sustained, the bunker is cramped and tight but livable, and the only recourses you have are the things in your bunker that would have been brought before the war. And it really feels like it, and that's were the problem sets in.

Now, there are two people in the bunker who aren't contestants but actors. They're also the only people you're allowed to break character with. Those two being the chaplain and the doctor. However, there is a catch with them, if you try to tell them that this world isn't real, that the nuclear war isn't something that actually happened, they will tell you you're delusional. The chaplain and the doctor will do everything to convince you that believing this is a set, is a common delusion for those in the bunkers, that your mind is making things up to ignore the reality of the situation. And they'll show you proof, good proof, that the bunker is real, and that you probably haven't even been to the outside world.

And with the chaplain and doctor. And with everyone around you playing into the fiction. It becomes hard to still believe that the outside world is real. Nobody else expresses any belief in it to you, all your conversations with your friends down here operate under the idea that the bunker is real. You really do live as if the bunker is real. Society functions as if the bunker is real. And the doctor and chaplain make sure there is an explanation for any memories that would prove it false.

And slowly, you'll start to doubt. You'll begin to entertain the possibility that the bunker is real, that you'll die if you leave. And first it will just be a thought, but then over time it'll become more and more of a likelihood in your mind. You'll question its reality less and less as that becomes less and less of a framework to interact with people through. Perhaps even the idea that this is part of a contest will seem more then silly to you.

And that's how they break you. See, to get the money you have to walk out without any sort of protective gear. Wear even a gas mask as you leave and they won't give it to you. And you have to walk out to the surface. And to get the really big sums of money you have to be down there for awhile. And it's so impossible, to put aside all that doubt. To walk into what you were told was nuclear wasteland unprotected, believing 100% that everyone around you was knowingly lying about it.

Nobody has really won. Some leave too soon to earn any real prize. Some stay forever. Some leave with doubt, wearing protective gear. But nobody has won the big money yet. But you won't get fooled, you can keep yourself sane, I'm sure you will...

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tmntxthings · 1 year ago

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一∑ Electric Shock・゜・。

request: He’s on a solo mission to track down a mutant that appeared on his radar. Tried to get his brothers to tag along but they were too busy with whatever stupid contest. So he goes out to apprehend the evil doer!! Only to appear upon the scene of a beautiful “villain” who keeps zapping all through the electronics at this big store…bonus points if the villain is as energetic as the electricity coursing through them as they zap giddily all around him and make this capture out to be a rather… difficult one? aka Donnie encounters an eccentric, too-much-to-handle cutie

author’s note: for my dearest @marwhoa >.< it’s not much so sorry but I couldn’t really think of a better ending <33 thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy

warnings: rlly short, unedited, fluff

—————————————————————————

When Donnie’s tech worked. It made him ridiculously happy. Something he worked on day and night, coming to life before his fingertips and functioning its intended purpose??? Absolute bliss! So when his radar picked up another mutant on the loose, he was all too happy bounding into the main section of the lair to show his brothers.

“Guys!! Look, my radar hit another mutant’s frequency!”

He wasn’t met with the same enthusiasm. In fact it seemed everyone was hollering and yelling over one another in a heated argument.

“No! Space Heroes is the best show ever—“

About their favorite show..?

“Guys??” Donnie called out, waving his radar in hand. He was quite blatantly ignored as Mikey started covering his ears and screaming in denial that ‘No Space Heroes is laaaame’

Donnie groaned to himself as he departed. He figured he could take this mission solo if no one was even going to pay attention to his presence. “Sometimes I wonder how we’re even ‘related’” Donnie mumbled as he made quick work of grabbing his bo staff and exited the lair out into the sewers.

He decided he would stay underground until he got close enough to the ping that the radar had detected. The occasional beep kept him company as he glanced down every now and again to see if he was getting any closer.

Donnie beamed with pride as the radar started to beep rapidly, indicating he was very close to the target. He turned off the radar, clipped it to the leather strap on his plastron and climbed out of the sewer through a manhole.

It was quiet.. too quiet as he peered around before completely exposing himself to the topside of New York. A couple of yards away sat the most beloved store in the entire city. It held some of the finest tech around and Donnie was beside him to have the chance to look around—

Ah, wait wait no. He was on a mission! Though… the radar had led him here. So maybe the mutant was into tech??? Trying to steal it?!? The thought had him moving towards the building, even if it was just an excuse to get a closer look.

It was way past everyone’s bed time, so the store was rightfully closed. The only light around was from a lone street light—

Scratch that, it just flickered and went off completely.

And that’s when he heard it. Delightful giggles rang out. A symphony of tinkling chimes was what he could compare the sound to. It had him freezing and listening closely.

He wasn’t alone.

Surely it had to be the mutant.

But instead of grabbing his bo, Donnie moved stealthily with the shadows, sticking close to the side of the electronics building. He didn’t know whether to check inside through the glass windows or try to get on the roof for a vantage point of the whole area. Whilst overthinking, the laughter once again had his entire thought process coming to a stop.

And it sounded like it was coming from above..!!!!

As Donnie looked up he literally felt his entire being go slack. His arms that had been pressed into the building’s side went straight down, as his mouth fell open.

A floating, glowing angel— person— no mutant! A beautiful flying, glowing mutant!! He watched as your hand extended out towards the street lamp, it suddenly flared to life, straining with how much light it was producing before the glass containing such velocity shattered.

You laughed once more, “That was nice but not enough, now youuuu~~” Your hand changes direction to the store full of gadgets and gizmos. “You will give me alllll the power I want!” Your body glowed brighter like it was reacting to your excitement. And even though Donnie was clueing in the fact that you were about to steal..energy..? Right yeah that must be it!

So that rounded your description to, beautiful glowing, floating, mutant villain. Bummer. But maybe he could convince you otherwise? It wasn’t exactly the smartest plan he ever came up with, but maybe he wanted to just try talking to you before swinging in with his stick. Yeah. He wanted to make a nice impression.

. . .

And we’re not gonna analyze too closely as to why. Because he surely wasn’t like insta-crushing on you or anything from first sight. Nope. Totallyyyyy not.

“Ahem!”

Donnie coughed and you whipped your head towards the noise, instantly aiming your hand at him. It shined brighter than the rest of your body. As if a ball of pure light was building up in your palm.

“Ah well, I was just wondering if maybe we could talk about not stealing all the energy out of my favorite store??” Donnie stumbled through some of that but mustered up enough will to speak! He felt greener than usual. Was he blushing?!

“Ohhhh,” your hand faltered, going a little dim. “Well, if this is your favorite store… I guess I could go to another!” You surmised cheerily.

Donatello started to smile at the kindness when he realized you were still going to steal. Even if it wasn’t from this store. “Wait wait! Why do you have to steal??”

“Because it’s fun!” That bright smile blinded him. Your statement making it sound as if that was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Well there’s definitely more fun things you could be doing..” Donnie tried to reason with you. Not really noting the fact that you were floating lower and closer to his position on the ground.

“Like what Mr…?”

“Oh! Donatello! Donnie I mean—“

“Nice to meetcha!” You bemused. “Now what exactly could be more fun that zapping all the power out of game stores and making me more powerful? Hmmmm?”

“Well!”

You waited with twinkling eyes.

“Uhhhh..”

Donnie swore he had an idea just a second before. But the longer your stared… and the closer you got.. the hotter he felt!! “You sure you can think of anything more fun than that?” You raised an eyebrow cheekily. Donnie swallowed.

“Y-you could hang out with me!”

Donnie closed his eyes promptly cringing at himself. That would probably only be fun for him. It seemed he was instantly hooked on your presence.

“Hmmm maybe so!”

His eyes opened quickly wide with shock. “Really??” It had meant to be just a thought but he spoke it aloud. You laughed for him then. He had made you laugh!!

“Really really,” You playfully winked. Finally stepping out of the sky and standing next to him. You were still glowing, but since you were closer now he saw that it wasn’t exactly on your person. Just surrounding you like a bubble. “Lead the way then Donnie-Bonnie! Where are we gonna go have some fun??”

Donnie absentmindedly wondered if dissuading a villain had ever gone so smoothly before…? He didn’t want to break whatever spell was happening in this moment so he nodded rapidly. Asking about your hobbies (other than stealing energy) and he found out that you quite enjoyed playing games and much as stealing power from them.

He could bring you down to the lair… they had a few arcade games there. But! He didn’t exactly want his brothers stealing all your attention or worse thinking you were an enemy. “I know just the place!” Donnie smiled and the two of you made your way to a late-night arcade. That was the start a very interesting night and an even more promising relationship!

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melanieph321 · 1 year ago

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Ruben Dias x Reader - City Girls Part 7/8

Yeah this is a mess I can't fix 😅. Had fun writing this chapter tho since it ft Kyle Walker whom I am very fond of 🤣

Reader plays for the Man City girls academy. She struggles a bit but gets Ruben to mentor her. The the two don't hit off despite having many things in common. It all gets worse when Reader eventually catches feelings for Ruben.

Enjoy!

Cityzens Day.

It was mainly for the club sponsors but alot of players brought along their families and friends as the day was filled with fun activities, football challanges and the ever so popular guided tour inside the Ethiad campus.

It was your first time attending, although it was mandatory for all City players. A little sad, that you weren't able to bring your family from Brazil. They would have loved it, especially the chance to play football at the Ethiad Stadium. Apparently that was the highlight of the event, a friendly game between players from all levels, men, women, girls and boys, and of course their families. The game would be broadcasted on the teams website and it usually brought alot of laughs to alot of people. You couldn't wait to play, but until then you wandered the campus alone, watching other players enjoying spending quality time with their families.

"Hey Y/N, come here!"

You were observing a very intense juggling contests between an academy player and someone's kid, when coach spotted you in the crowd, waving you over.

"Meet my family." He stood next to a beautiful red-haired woman and young boy with a toothy smile. "This is my wife Trish, my son Ethan and that over there..." He pointed towards the crowd, to the center of it, where the juggling contests was happening. "That is my daughter Lucy." He said.

"Wow, she's really good."

She was definitely bruising the ego of the young academy player. He would certainly up his juggling game after this.

"You know, she reminds me alot of you." Coach smiled. "I can't get her to stop juggling the ball either."

"Seems like her talent won't go to waste today, the price is a Playstation 6, no?"

You shared a laugh. Coach had a lovely family who had flown all the way from Australia to see him. Cityzens Day was really the best time for that.

A food truck pulled up to campus just in time for lunch. You bought a taco bowl so big that you had to share it with another player as she saw you struggling.

"So when are you coming to play with us again." She asked, you knew her as Alison Bennett.

"I dunno?" You sighed. "I don't think I fit into the kind of squad your coach wants."

"Are you joking?" Alison frowned. "But you played so well with us."

It was strange really, but since it happned more than once now, that you got excluded from playing with the first team, you simply assumed the worst. Even though Ruben told you not to worry about it, you couldn't help but to. Your development as a player was at stake. And the fact that Ruben's diet helped you put on a few pounds was not a constellation. Perhaps the coaches on the first team had noticed, that you were getting fat?

"Speaking of playing, are you on for the game this afternoon?" Alison asked.

"The game against cityzens?"

"Yeah?"

You smiled. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Great. I really hope you're on my team. I'm the captain. We're gonna need...."

Alison got tuned out as you sighted something in the distance, or better yet, someone. It was Ruben, walking side by side with a woman just as tall as him only thinner. She was wearing a Man City jersey, sporting the number three, Ruben's number three. He held a hand to her lower back, guiding her around, introducing her to his teammates.

"Speaking of players I would like on my team." Alison took notice of where all your attention had gone. "We could surley use a defender like Dias."

"Ruben?" You asked, your voice a bit strained.

She nodded "He's like the best defender City's got. We'll never concede goals with him on our team."

You turned back to look at Ruben and the woman he had brought. Could it be his girlfriend? In that case Ruben didn't have a type, because you looked nothing like her.

"He used to coach me, you know?" Alison leaned in and whispered.

"Who, Ruben?"

She bit her lip, nodding her head.

"B...but you're a forward?"

"So? Aren't you one too? Nevertheless, Ruben used to teach me how to improve my skills. You know, help me get past the...."

"Defenders." You said, finishing of her sentence.

"Yeah, exactly. He's a really good coach."

"I can imagine." You ignored the painful beating of your heart. "Tell me..." You asked. ".. did you used to go to his place to, you know,"hang out"?"

She snorted. "No, why would I do that?"

"Oh."

A slight relief.

Alison stood, having helped you finish your meal. Her smile was devious. "No, Ruben used to take me back to the infirmary. We used to"hang out" there."

Your heart sank.

It was the realization that perhaps you were one of many.

********************************************

The afternoon sun was setting over Manchester City, but Cityzens Day was far from over. The game of cityzens was still on the agenda.

You laced up your cleats and stepped onto the football pitch at the magnificent Ethiad Stadium. It was truly breath taking playing in front so many people. Although the game was for fun, you were determined to showcase your talent, and even more determined to win against Ruben and his team. That's right, he was the captain of a squad containing lots of good players from all divisions. Players that made your teammates look like freaking toddlers.

"Alright! Ladies, fellas, huddle up!" A man urged for all the players on your team to gather around him. He was big, but funny looking, with a voice that did not match his brutal appearance.

"I'm Kyle Walker, but you can call me your captain for this evening."

"Captain?" Alison frowned. You were lucky to have her om your team, however, she did not look happy to find the captains armband handed to someone else. "We never voted for you to be our captain." She protested.

"Well, you should have. I have the experience when it matters and feel confident that I can lead this team to victory." He said.

"How?" A young U21 player squealed. Like the rest of you he was glaring at Ruben and his team as they warmed up on the opposite side of the pitch. The majority of Ruben's squad were players from the men's first team, including their assistant coaches.

"They're gonna eat us alive." The boy said, to which everyone agreed.

"Well that's not the spirit. Come on guys, hands in." Kyle ordered for everyone to stretch out a hand towards the ring you formed. "Victory on three, alright. One...two...three...VICTORY!" Kyle shouted, whilst the rest of you mumbled the words. Nevertheless you personally were not intimidated. You had played against tough opponents before, and you knew that you had a team that could give it their all, because Manchester City was arguably the best football club in the world.

The whistle blew, and the game began.

The first half was a blur of sweat and noise, as the two teams battled it out on the field. You dribbled and ran, dodging and weaving around your opponents, but Ruben and his team were tough to beat. They were bigger and stronger, and they had a few tricks up their sleeves.

"Whatta fuck!"

You ate dirt as Ruben ordered his players to tag team you. You stood no chance as Ruben was well aware that you rather go on your own than pass the ball.

"I'm sorry Y/N."

Ester pulled you up from the ground, having helped her teammates knock you down. She was playing for Ruben but seemed genuinely sorry for how he was running his play.

"Just give me the ball." You scuffed, as coach blew the whistle, handing your team a freekick for the offense made against you.

Kyle took it and missed.

The game resumed.

"Come on team, it's not over yet!" Your "captain", encouraged. "Fight until the end!"

As the second half began, your team was down by three goals, the majority of players being tired, cold and dirty, ready to throw in the towel. But you refused to give up. You knew that you had to do something to turn the game around, and you were determined to be the one to make it happen.

The moment didn't reveal itself until injury time. During he last minute's of the game. Ruben misjudged a pass, and you saw your chance. Charging directly towards him you had no other intention than to dribble past him.

"Pass the ball!" Kyle shouted, pointing to Alison who stood open, ready to receive the assist.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, you had to do this, you had to try and get past him. However Ruben's braud frame made it nearly impossible for you to sight the goal behind him. He looked smug, aware that your chances of getting past him were slim to none. But you had prepared for this. Ruben had prepared you for this. As he lunged forwards, you did not hesitate to bring the fight to him. The two of you clashed together, with Ruben's strangeth throwing you off, however you had suprised him with an elbow to his lower ribs, the quick jab making him fold before your eyes. It was your chance to get past him. For that split second that you caught him lacking you managed to ship the ball in the air and leaped your body over Ruben's extended leg. It was the moment of the match, the crowd on their feet watching a 60kg girl go head to head with one of the world's greatest defenders, beating him to it, sending the ball into the back off the net.

The crowd erupted in cheers, and your team rushed onto the field, arms around each other's shoulders, grinning from ear to ear.

"That's what I'm talking about. That's how we play!" Kyle Walker was in the verge of tears. You may have lost the game, but you had proven that you were not to be underestimated. Not now, not ever. By anyone.

"Great game Y/N."

"Um, thanks."

Ester approached you as the pitch cleared of people, friends and family members heading their respective ways. Cityzens Day was officially over.

"I really mean it, you played amazing."

You were on the ground tying your cleats. Looking up at Ester you sighed. "What do you want?"

Her expression was hard to read, her eyes desperate to tell you somthing. "I..." She squealed.

You stood, hands on your hips. "Yes?"

She sighed. "I'm sorry it had to be this way...between us. You really deserve to play with the first team but so do I. I've fought all of my life for this position."

"And I haven't?" You gasped. "Ester if you've got somthing else to say to me I rather not hear it." You turned your back on her and walked away, however, she fought to catch up to you.

"Come on Y/N. At least now you get to be with your boyfriend. I mean it was his idea."

"Whatta hell are you talking about Ester. I don't have a boyfriend."

"Could have fooled me." She chuckled, to which you frowned. "Ruben practically begged me not to tell the club officials about you two. He told me that he would talk to the coaches on the first team, tell them how you were having problems settling into a new country, mental problems, that were effecting your performance."

"He did what?"

Suddenly you lost the sensation of your hands and feet.

Ester nodded. "It worked. The coaches on the first team didn't want to put pressure on you by calling you up to play for them and so they picked me instead. It's a win-win for both of us since you get to be with Ruben and I get to play."

You were lost for words, trying to make sense of her words that were like riddles to your ears. However one thing was clear, Ruben had betrayed you, and for what?

#fanfiction #football imagine #ruben dias #man city #manchester city #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias imagine #footballer imagine #footballer x reader #football angst #kyle walker

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callsign-mayhem · 2 years ago

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southern state of mind

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Reader Word count: 2.7k

You and Jake are best friends, bonded by your hometown and love for line dancing. You take Bradley and Natasha into the city to a country and western bar and teach them to dance, and hopefully to make your move.

Y/CS - your call sign

Use of Y/N but no description of reader

A/N: I wrote this with the bar scene from Footloose (2011) in mind. Listen to ‘Fake ID’ by Big & Rich and Gretchen Wilson when you read the final scene.

The music was turned up deafeningly loud and your foot was against the floor and, in your opinion, it was the best way to drive anywhere. Nothing said summer like speeding down the highway at sunset with the roof of the Jeep off and the wind in your hair, and it was even better with company. Taking the top off your car was a somewhat tedious job and you’d enlisted Bradley and Jake’s help earlier that afternoon especially for your little road trip into the city. It had been well worth it as the vibes, to put it simply, were immaculate.

Obviously Jake had called shotgun before you’d even left your apartment but you didn’t really mind; he was one of the very few people who was allowed to have the aux cord in your car. Music had been one of the first things you’d bonded over. That and the fact that you were both from Austin.

Natasha and Bradley were sitting in the back sipping gin and tonic from a can, quite happy watching the world pass them by while you and Jake belted the lyrics to a Jason Aldean song. It had taken a long time for you to get to this point with Jake and you knew most of the squad still weren’t completely sold on him, but you were hoping tonight might help change that. You wanted them to see the side of him he seemed to save especially for you, hence why you were heading into the city to a country and western bar you’d found online. It was one of the rare weekends you were all free and after a lot of convincing, Bradley and Natasha had agreed to go with you.

You locked eyes with Bradley in the rearview mirror. He had his aviators perched precariously on the edge of his nose and when you stuck your tongue out at him, he winked at you. It was damn lucky you didn’t crash the fucking car.

You glanced away in embarrassment and continued your duet with Jake, desperately hoping that he hadn’t noticed the blush dusting the apples of your cheeks. Originally it was just going to be you and Hangman - a friend date if you will - but then he’d had the brainwave of inviting Bradley as a way of finding out if he reciprocated the feelings you had for him. Telling Jake about your crush was probably the worst decision you’d ever had the misfortune of making because he’d been coming up with creative ways to try and get you together ever since. There’d been a few times where you’d almost considered outing yourself just so Jake couldn’t. You agreed to his plan this time, hoping it would be the last time you ever had to, but you insisted on inviting Natasha too. For one, she was more fun on a night out than both the guys put together, but also because you couldn’t imagine spending time with just Jake and Bradley alone. It would be one big dick-swinging contest.

The sun was low in the sky, glinting off all the skyscrapers that made up the gorgeous San Diego skyline. Jake reached into the glove compartment and pulled out your own pair of aviators and you took them gratefully, trying to put them on one-handed. Instead of watching you struggle he snatched them back off you and put them on you himself, poking the tip of your nose once he was done. If you’d chanced a look in the rearview mirror at that moment you would have seen Bradley watching this exchange, eyes hidden behind his glasses again. The only thing that gave his annoyance away was the stubborn set of his jaw, but that was Bradley Bradshaw all over. For the most part, he kept his feelings bottled up until he couldn’t anymore, and then he’d explode when he least expected it.

You didn’t know it, but Bradley had been spending a lot of nights laying awake wondering if he should tell you how much he liked you, weighing out the pros and cons in his cluttered mind. He was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a coward, and he wasn’t hiding it from you because he was scared of rejection. In fact, the only reason he kept stopping himself from grabbing you and kissing you senseless was because of Hangman. The two of you weren’t officially dating (as far as anyone knew) but the way you interacted was more than suspicious. Guys and girls could be friends, he wasn’t that naive, but the way Jake looked at you made him wonder if he wanted it to be more than that.

As for the way you looked at Jake, Bradley wouldn’t know much about that. He didn’t like watching you too closely when the two of you were together, just in case your smile or your eyes gave you away and confirmed his worst fear.

When you finally arrived at the bar you made sure to park as close to the entrance as possible in case your friends decided to get absolutely shit-faced. Agreeing to be the designated driver had seemed like a brilliant idea at the time - you’d be hangover free in the morning and able to enjoy your Sunday outdoors instead of in bed with a huge headache - but now, as Bradley slung his arm around your shoulder lazily and pulled you into his side, you were kind of wishing you’d let him drive. Ever the gentleman, he’d offered to bring the Bronco so you could have a drink, but since it was your idea and you were going to be subjecting him to country music and line dancing all night, it only seemed fair that he be able to have a few beers.

Now you somehow needed to get through tonight without any Dutch courage.

The bar was packed wall to wall with people in denim shorts, flannel shirts, cowboy boots and hats. Being from Texas yourself, you could tell who was just trying to fit the aesthetic and who actually dressed like that on the daily. Natasha and Bradley’s mouths were hanging open as they surveyed the scene in front of them. You’d given Nat one of your gambler hats to wear for the night and it suited her well, but you hadn’t been able to convince Bradley to wear one.

‘Bet you’re regretting turning down my offer now, huh Bradshaw,’ you poked him in the side and he flinched, laughing raucously, ‘Feeling like the odd one out?’

Jake moved the toothpick he was chewing from one side of his mouth to the other and adjusted his own hat, ‘He made the right call. There’s no way he’d be able to pull it off.’

Bradley swiped the hat from your head and put it on, adjusting it so it sat right on his head. Jake scoffed but he was smiling so you knew he wasn’t really trying to insult Bradley, but he flipped him the bird anyway. You stopped in your tracks to get a better look at him. He was wearing a blue flannel over a white tank, 501s and a pair of brown cowboy boots, and the hat was the icing on top of an incredibly delicious looking cake. The hat suited him better than it did you.

‘You’re such an asshole,’ you told him, nudging him in the ribs. He laughed again and shoved you playfully, ‘Can you stop fucking bullying me, Y/N. First you tell me I’m the odd one out, and now you’re calling me an asshole for trying to fit in.’ ‘You’re an asshole because that hat looks better on you than it does on me, and I’ve been wearing it since I was fifteen years old.’ Natasha and Jake shared a knowing look, ‘We’re gonna go get some drinks.’

One of your favourite Dustin Lynch songs was playing and to prevent things from getting awkward after what you’d just said (idiot, idiot, idiot) you took Bradley by the hand and led him out to the middle of the dancefloor. Perhaps ‘dancefloor’ wasn’t the right word since there were people dancing in every spare space in the bar. There wasn’t really anybody sitting at the hightop tables, they were just being used for bags, coats, and half empty glasses, and you were sure it was the same on the second floor. Although it didn’t feel like it, the place was huge and you were kicking yourself for not coming here sooner. Maybe it was a little cringe and slightly over the top (not every bar in Texas was like this) but it felt like you’d come home.

Bradley nearly tripped over your feet a couple times as you dragged him through the swarm of dancing people.

‘I can’t dance,’ he shouted. You spun around, still holding tightly onto his hand, ‘But you sing so well!’ ‘And?’ ‘Usually they go hand in hand.’ He cocked his head like you’d missed the point entirely, ‘You can dance?’ You flashed him your prettiest smile, ‘Obviously.’ ‘Then your logic is flawed,’ the corners of his mouth twitched as he repressed a smirk, ‘because you can’t sing for shit, darlin’.’ God, you wanted to kiss that look right off his face, ‘So you want me to teach you to dance, or what?’ ‘How do I know that what you got to teach is worth learning?’

Jake and Natasha appeared behind you with four bottles of beer. You accepted gratefully - because one wouldn’t hurt - and downed half of it in one long sip. Bradley didn’t take his eyes off you as you handed him your bottle and grabbed Jake’s hand.

‘I’ll show you.’

Bradley and Nat went and stood at one of the high tables, more than happy to watch you and Jake do your thing if it meant they got out of dancing for a little while longer. They were leaning casually, sipping their drinks with the air of two people that weren’t expecting much.

You leaned over and whispered to Jake: ‘Let’s show them how we do things back home.’

The song faded out, transitioning smoothly into another one. It was upbeat - perfect for line dancing - and you knew it well. Jake knew it too he was grinning from ear to ear as everyone moved into position, ready to dance.

It was now or never.

Admittedly, it had been a while since you’d danced like this and you were worried you’d be rusty, but when the song kicked in and you got going it was like you’d never taken a day off. There was something almost sacred about dancing in formation with this many people and the sound of hundreds of pairs of cowboy boots stomping against the floorboards sent shivers down your spine. You hooked your fingers through the loops of your Levi shorts as you dragged one foot across the floor and pulled forward, swaying your hips all the way around in time with the music. When the song reached its bridge, everyone broke off into pairs and you and Jake took the opportunity to really show Nat and Bradley what you could do. You could hear Phoenix cheering for the two of you as you scooted and rambled, completely enthralled in the music.

You spent your days flying fighter jets, but this was the most alive you’d felt in a long time. Your heart was racing against your chest and you could feel a stitch developing in your side, but you honestly couldn’t care less and if you went into cardiac arrest right now, you wouldn’t be mad about it.

When the song was over you headed back over to your friends who were clapping for you, stunned expressions on their faces. Bradley handed you your beer and after catching your breath for a beat or two, you took a sip, your eyes never once leaving his.

‘So, you want what I got to teach or not?’ He shook his head in awe, ‘You’re really somethin’, you know that?’ ‘Oh, I know.’

You headed back out there with Bradley on your arm and Jake and Natasha in tow. Luckily they were fast learners so it only took an hour to teach them the basics and get them dancing relatively confidently. You were taking mental pictures of Bradley dancing the two-step in that damned hat so you could remember them later. He’d told you he couldn’t dance but you were beginning to think he’d just never tried because the way he moved was so enchanting, you had to keep reminding yourself not to trip over your own feet.

‘Shall we put your new dancing feet to the test?’ you said to him.

When ‘Fake ID’ came on you and Jake forced Bradley and Nat out to the very middle of the floor. It was your turn to cheer for them as the song started to pick up and everyone fell into line, boosting their confidence just enough for them to get into it. It didn’t take much and before long, the four of you were in perfect rhythm as you side-stepped and clapped, turned and cross shuffled. You’d never seen Bradley smile like that before and you desperately wanted to take a photo, but you didn’t dare stop dancing.

Why couldn’t you do this every night?

In the middle of the song, everyone broke off into pairs again and somehow you ended up with Jake. This clearly wasn’t part of the master plan to get you together.

‘You need to go get your man, Y/CS. I ain’t going home until you do.’

As nervous as you were to make your move, you knew he wasn’t kidding. You tapped Nat’s shoulder and leaned in to tell her that Jake wanted to dance with her. She wasn’t an idiot, she knew what you were planning to do, and as she passed you mouthed ‘good luck.’

‘What’re you doing dancing with another woman when you’re wearing my hat,’ you teased, ‘That is so disrespectful.’ He raised a brow, ‘Well I wanted to be dancing with you, but you already chose Hangman as your partner,’ he challenged.

His tone was light but there was a question hidden somewhere in that statement; he wanted to know if you liked Jake.

‘I just didn’t know if you could keep up with me.’

In response to you challenging him, he started dancing again, reaching up to take off your hat and put it back where it belonged. You took his lead and started dancing in front of him and he reached out and put both hands on your hips as you swayed them, stepping forward until he was pressed right up against your back. You didn’t think you’d be able to carry on dancing if you got any closer, but then he did the unimaginable and looped his fingers through your belt loops and pulled you back so were flush against him. Black dots filled your vision when you felt his semi through his blue jeans and you couldn’t help but move a little more, shaking your hips and making him even harder.

He wasn’t expecting it, just like he wasn’t expecting you to spin around and wrap your arms around his neck. He was like a deer trapped in headlights as you pulled him down to your lips and finally kissed that shit-eating grin off his face, but when he eventually got over his initial shock, he kissed you back with such ferocity that you had to stop dancing. Nothing could have prepared you for the taste of Bradley Bradshaw, the scent of his aftershave mingling with sweat. If not for the room full of people you would have let him take you right there and then.

‘I think I’m gonna take you dancing more often, Rooster,’ you said against his lips, ‘you really know how to move.’ He kissed you again, dragging your bottom lip between his teeth and drawing a mewl from you. It was lucky nobody could hear the two of you over the music.

‘When we get back later, I’ll show you just how well I can move,’ he promised, ‘but I don’t think you’ll be able to dance for a while afterwards.’

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johnnystorms · 11 months ago

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avengers twilight!steve, on regrets, memories and tony stark. written post-avengers twilight #002. stevetony.

Steve has a lot of regrets. Tony—not the real one, the best friend he lost on the day he lost everything, but the one he keeps in his head, his mind’s best attempt at a ghost of the person he misses most—says that’s inevitable, living as long as Steve has.

C’mon, Cap, he says, smiling that way his Tony used to: eyes as bright as the future he was always talking about, everything in him shining. Or maybe that’s just how he looked to Steve, young enough back then to not yet have blinked the stars from his eyes. You live long enough, you run the risk of anything outweighing the good memories. His smile fades, not enough to disappear, but to become something smaller, quieter. Tinged with something requiring care. Do me a favour, handsome. Try not to let that happen to you.

Steve doesn’t like disappointing Tony Stark, not even the one dreamed up inside his head, but he thinks it might be too late on that front.

If someone asked for a list of regrets, he’d have to give that wry, hoarse laugh that makes him sound as old as he feels, and say, Nobody has time to listen to all that. If someone had asked Tony, he’d have a breathtakingly clever quip or an outpouring of guilt, depending on his mood, and who had asked. If it had been Steve, maybe both. Matt would have thought about it, long and hard, and disappeared to a confession booth. Peter – Jessica – Logan – Carol – all of them, he thinks, would have their own laundry list of hauntings, justified or otherwise.

That’s the name of the game, he thinks. You have to take the wins for what they are, but it doesn’t make the losses any lighter to bear. Steve’s posture isn’t what it used to be, even with the Defenders’ replicated super soldier serum in his veins, but his shoulders were shaking under the crushing weight of all his mistakes long before his age caught up to his body.

Janet isn’t here anymore to ask, but he doesn’t know what she’d say. It’s not that he thinks she has no regrets—even outside of the hero business, that’s a tall order for anyone—so much as that’s not how he remembers her. When he thinks of Janet van Dyne, he thinks of her deft fingers readjusting the lapel of the suit she designed and Tony cajoled him into; he thinks of her tinkling laugh almost being swallowed up by Thor’s booming one, the two of them bent double at the disgruntled expression Clint was shooting their way one golden night back when the world knew what heroes were meant to be; and he thinks of her clever, smiling mouth, and the way nobody could ever resist smiling right back. Steve had been no exception.

He misses it so fiercely it burns. Jan’s smile and Thor’s relentless steadiness and even Peter’s terrible jokes as he chased the Human Torch around the city. Carol’s quick fists and Jessica’s quick thinking and Natasha’s quick draw, and the time the three of them had a punch-up contest with the Thing that ended in an exasperated Tony footing the bill to the city and Johnny cackling as Sue dressed down Ben for his part in it. Luke’s laughter as he slung his arm over Danny’s shoulder and Jessica Jones taking photos of the two of them and Logan and Bobbi in the corner, trading tales of Hawkeye’s Greatest Hits: Indecent Exposure edition.

And Tony—always, always Tony. The press of him against Steve’s side, a reassuring line of heat, like, hey, you’re not alone anymore. You’re not cold anymore. You have a team. You have me. His tired eyes and easy smile and razor-sharp wit, even half-dead on his feet. The late nights where Steve coaxed him out of his lab with a hot drink and the promise of conversation, the early mornings where Steve would wear a worried frown and say, you should really sleep more, Tony, and Tony would grin at him and say, and give up these early mornings where you bring me coffee and those big blue eyes of yours? Never, and Steve would sigh, but there would be something fond tugging at the corner of his lips, and Tony would look all pleased with himself, animated in a way no caffeine fix could ever cause, and Steve would want—

Steve swallows.

You’re drifting, baby. It’s Jan’s voice, that classic combination of fond amusement and concern that Clint used to perk up at being addressed with and Tony used to call the van Dyne special, all those years ago. God, Steve misses them all. He aches with wanting. You’re drifting. Bring it back home, Steve. Start with the most important bit. Let’s take it from the top.

There isn’t a team to report to anymore. It is not a new fact, a new thought, but every time, it hits him like a concrete block to the ribs.

There isn’t a team to report to anymore, but Steve Rogers breathes in, and thinks about it anyway. Take it from the top. The most important things.

How the tables turn, Tony says. He’s the only one Steve keeps. All his other ghosts flit in and out of his head, coming and going like the tides, but Tony is the forever haunting. The only one his mind holds onto on a permanent basis. D’you remember, oh, all the way back near the start -- one time you asked me if it got exhausting, thinking so much.

Steve remembers. Steve has never forgotten anything Tony Stark gave him, be it physical or a vow or just the smallest memory that wasn’t intended as a secret but became one in Steve’s desperate hands. The world has taken so much from him, from all of them, ever since H-day. He can’t talk about Tony, because what if the world takes that from him too?

How the tables turn, Tony says again, soft in that way most people didn’t believe Tony Stark could be. Steve knew, though. Steve’s always known. You look exhausted, Steve. Don’t let it be so big. Just -- right now, right at this moment. What’s the call, Cap?

That was what Tony had said that day, Steve remembers. The world was on fire, and about to become a whole lot colder, and they didn’t know that, didn’t know anything about what was to come, just that this was it, this was the moment, this was the do or die, and Tony had stood at his shoulder, the armour a familiar comfort against Steve’s side, and asked, What’s the call, Cap?

An itemised list of all of Steve Rogers’ regrets would take too long, and a ranked list of all time would be impossible to decide upon when Steve has such a long memory and even longer history.

So, in its stead, Steve thinks, he’ll give Tony the right now.

STEVE ROGERS’ TOP THREE REGRETS RIGHT AT THIS VERY MOMENT, 0142HRS, DEC 31 20XX, COUNTING DOWN:

3. Rosa. He’d deserved the slap. He’d deserved a lot of things, really. He’d had good years with Rosa; years of her no-nonsense love, of her careful hands, of the way she looked at him in the quiet of the night with all the warmth their little home could hold, like she still saw something worth believing in him. Maybe she did. He thinks she probably did. His wife was a lot of things, most of them good, but above all else, she was never a liar.

He’s sorry he blew up her life. He’s sorrier about that than the fact he blew up their life together, but that’s always the way it goes with him, isn’t it? There’s nothing he’s felt he had to keep more than the shield. It’s not that they matter less to him—God help him, but it’s not about the love. There’s never been a lack of love—but to his bones, to his core, he’s always been the guy who wants to stand up and help. If the fight needs to be had, he’s going to stand there, fists up, no matter who he is, no matter how old he is. No matter how super he is.

He knew that about himself a long time ago. Maybe if he’d stopped pretending that had changed, Rosa wouldn’t be stuck here now.

2. It’s a little one, in the scheme of things, but it also feels more important than almost anything else at this moment. He wishes he’d touched Matt, that last time they saw each other. Gone are the days where Steve would clasp his friends by the hand, something lost to time and loneliness and gradually brittled bones, but he wishes desperately that he’d clasped his hand to Matt’s shoulder one last time. Just a moment. Just enough for some phantom warmth on his palms, a tangible ghost of Daredevil, not just something dreamed up by his mind in the moments when losing almost everyone he’s ever trusted is insurmountable.

1. He doesn’t know where to begin with this one. H-day. The way it went down. Peter bleeding out in front of him. James Stark growing up without his parents, the best of them both twisted into something Steve can’t look at directly without feeling hopeless, helpless. Clint’s arrow snapped in half, a crater where the Thing should be. His last sight of Reed Richards, stretching further than he’d ever seen before as he reached out desperately towards his wife. Tony’s voice in his ear: what’s the call, Cap?

And that’s what it comes down to, isn’t it? His biggest regret. This one, he suspects wouldn’t change even if it was an all-time list. Tony Stark, the vibrant, blaring truth of him. Something Steve misses so desperately that when the world forced him to live without him, he made up a version of him to keep in his head forever.

It’s more similar to #2 than he thought. He has so many regrets, and so many of them are about Tony Stark—about that day, about missing people, about loving people and losing them because of the fight, whether they were lost in the fight or he left them behind to join it—but more than anything, he thinks he misses the feeling of Tony’s hand in his, pulling him in close, arm going around Steve’s shoulder to draw him into a hug.

I’m not half as good at anything as I am when I’m doing it next to you, Tony says, years ago, so far away from this moment that it might as well have been another world, and Steve, old and jaded and lonely and tired and missing the person he loves best so fiercely it aches in his lungs, thinks, You and me both, Tony. You and me both.

You and me. You and me. You and me.

(When the dossier falls open in front of him, with a blueprint of a tank and photos of him��photos of Tony, and even Tony in pieces makes Steve ache with something he thought had long been buried—spill out, let’s get it from the world’s smartest man, Tony Stark echoing in his ears—

Steve, for a moment, wants to throw up.

Then his jaw sets.

All right, Tony, he thinks. He doesn’t know if he’s addressing the ghost in his head, or the one in the tank, or some nebulous third thing, a Hail Mary thrown to the universe, some last passage of faith he thought he’d forgotten. What’s the call? You and me. That’s the call. I’m getting you out of there.

I’m bringing you home.)

#stevetony #steve rogers #tony stark #avengers twilight #stony fic #read av twilight 2. talked to 616 s/t server abt it. wrote this on and off at work that day bc i keep thinking abt steve in it lol #can't wait for this to all be jossed in issue 3 LMAO #jane writes sometimes #you gave me a home #apparently this is 1.9k which is probably excessive for a tumblr ficlet but in my defence this was just meant to be the list

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inventors-fair · 2 years ago

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Alone In The Big City Commentary

Hello everyone, @loreholdlesbian here again. I’m back with the commentary for the last contest I ran, the monocolored Ravnican legends

Garulsz, Jaded Barkeep by @wolkemesser

Interesting. So you want creatures to be damaged in combat, but survive, which rewards big creatures. And then you have a nice way to make your creatures bigger that ties into the food ability. My worry is just how much this’ll discourage your opponents from attacking. It makes the math really complicated (since you can turn food into +1/+1 counters), and it’ll be frustrating to get it wrong. I think the food-making ability should only work on your turn.

Aurelia and Lavinia by @piccadilly-blue

This is an interesting prison card. I like that it encourages you to attack, so it’s less of a grindy game, though you really only need one or two hits to be a nuisance. I kinda wish it encouraged it more, not using counters. Something like “Whenever a creature you control deals combat damage to a player, until your next turn, creatures can’t attack you, planeswalkers you control, or battles you protect unless their controller pays 2/W for each of those creatures.

Zorym, Gateless Courier by @bergdg

Pretty generic, but cool. The mana is definitely a good gate for the consecrated sphinx effect, stops it from getting out of control. I like hexproof from multicolored too, it tells a surprising amount of story, especially combined with the name. It implies some kind of rebellion type thing going on, and I think that kind of flavor is a good addition for a pretty generic value piece like this.

Zomaj Hauc, the Firemind by @misterstingyjack

The spellslinger effect seems a bit disconnected from the threaten tribal, but i guess a lot of those kinds of cards are instants and sorceries so i can see what you’re going for. And i really like the pieces. As a wording thing though, this should be “When this ability resolves for the second time”; there’s weird targeting issues with this as written.

Tomik, Chairman of Balance by @railway-covidae

This is a good kind of land destruction. It takes enough work to drag the game into a stalemate as a 6 mana card that you probably aren’t doing that work unless you’re about to win. And it’s good at taking on ramp decks. I do worry that 6 mana is too much for a hate card to do its job well, but i also worry it gets a bit too armageddony much lower? Not sure.

The Forgotten God by @dimestoretajic

I know you made this as a reference to Priest of the Forgotten Gods and I think making a card for that is a cool place to take this contest. The name throws me off though. The priest refers to gods plural, but having a single god be “the forgotten god�� implies they’re the only one which is odd. Giving it the same immortality ability as Ilharg is a good flavorful tie. And onto the mechanics, I do quite like it, though it feels a *little* odd that it only triggers off a nontoken creature’s sacrifice but it cares about all sacrifice including tokens. It’s probbbbably fine though

Ranov, Undercity Scion by @snugz

“This ability triggers only once each turn doesn’t work with an ability like this that has it change zones; it can’t keep track of how many times it triggered before. (And technically it doesn’t trigger at all cause it’s a replacement effect.) More importantly though, I just don’t think this card is exciting. A toned down, safety-netted reference to what used to be a keyword just isn’t enticing in the way a legendary card should be.

Ilharg, the Scarring Flame by @halfsilveredmirror

This is a very mechanically different take on the character from the first iteration, but probably a more fitting one tbh. I really like the mini-decimate effect, this is cool. Pretty brutal though, especially with trample and haste; not hitting creatures is a good call (even if it was just for color pie reasons), it still gives them a chance.

Rev, Guide to the Guildless by @0woah

This fits the spirit of the contest (heh), but technically not the letter. This is a cool way to enable to enable gates matter stuff, though land tokens always have some issues- namely, they’re very easy to mix in with regular lands.

Thessgra, Azorius Legislator by @batatafilosofal

This seems neat. Clearly wants to be in a mill deck, so you want to make sure the payoff works well with that, and I’d say this does. It’s a very defensive card, which makes it easier for you to sit back and mill. I do think this wants a way to enable itself even if not very well.

Suniel, the Woodwise by @nine-effing-hells

Solid design here. Lots of populates are good, but this takes enough investment to do that that it’s not problematic. Is there a reason you chose to forgo reminder text? There’s more than enough room.

Rhakh, Raze-Board Dedicant by @curiooftheheart

“Enters the battlefield attacking” is a neat little flavorful addition to the trigger conditions. The intention clearly seems to be this dying during combat, which I quite like, but I wish the toughness was a little lower tbh. Like 5/3

Fblthp, Adored by @bread-into-toast

Very clearly a MOM or aftermath design, and I quite like it. I’m a little surprised we didn’t see any “Whenever this creature convokes” designs frankly. This card is really limited in its commander purposes by its color identity but not every card needs to be a great commander, and it’s a cool and fitting design all the same.

Storch, the Dead Drop by @spooky-bard

Art description: Deep in the Undercity, a skull and a bony arm are visible breaking the surface of a veritable mountain of rot to be harvested by the Golgari. Beams of light pour forth from its eye sockets, scanning and surveying the area. The glowing Dimir sigil branded onto the skeleton’s forehead makes its allegiance clear.

Surveil synergy plus reanimation is a fun combo of effects. This is minor, but I think this is a bit too color intensive for a ravnica set (and it feels more like a ravnica main set card than a supplemental set card) because it synergizes with a guild mechanic. You want to be able to throw this in with a bunch of surveil cards from the set and many of those are gonna be blue. Like I said though, minor point, and very cool card. The repeatable reanimation is likely a bit problematic though; that’s a pretty cheap reanimate as an activated ability all things considered, and it could get a bit repetitive.

Massacre Girl, Fugitive Headliner by @deg99

Neat design! This is just a solid, black-feeling beatstick. Annoying to block, annoying to kill. I just wish it did a little bit more massacring ya know? Killing generally one creature a turn at most just doesn’t feel like it lives up to the title.

Araithia “Rat” Shokta by @izzet-always-r-versus-u

Fun way to capture her “people don’t think about me deal”. Protection from everything, with a clear window for interacting. Mostly, this is just an invisible stalker that’s hard to suit up which is where Invisible stalker becomes most problematic, so it’s probably fine.

Bori Andon, Izzet Blastseeker by @i-am-the-one-who-wololoes

Art direction: Bori is on the left, with part of the back towards the camera, only the face is fully visible to the viewer. He stands a couple dozens meters away from the Harmony Basilica. Flying towards it (clearly launched by someone) there's a viashino; it's going to hit one of the glass windows. A lot of Ravnican are watching. Some Azorius and Boros members are running towards Bori to stop him.

Having a board wipe on board definitely shouldn’t be instantspeed with no mana needed to activate. That’s a good way to hold your opponents hostage. I also worry about this kind of repeatable board wipe where all you need to do is put a few +1/+1 counters on this or something (which if it’s your commander you’ll definitely build your deck to do) and you can, again, hold your opponents hostage.

Bachasarius, Stage Presences by @little-red-rabbit

Well you forgot legendary lol, but the intention was clearly there. This seems fine, good uncommon legendary design. Simple, points you in a pretty clear direction. Solid, not a ton to say here.

Acorn, Trostani’s Disciple by @squeezyboi

Well firstly, this has the same targeting issues I talked about in another card. (Like, the exact same, with only targeting on certain resolutions of the ability, it’s funny how y’all both did similar things in that regard.) But I like the general shape of the design, with “Play a bunch of creatures and you get a different effect each time”. And the vhitu ghazi token is cool. I just wish it was less cramped to read.

#mtg #magic the gathering #custom magic card #inventors' fair #alone in the big city contest #commentary

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mrabubu · 2 months ago

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- Did Ana went to hidden city? Like leo and the rest brought her there to see senior bone man, and what the city has?

- I can imagine drax go "Hmm, either am old or she has hidden power and since am still young then she has something hidden, better do some experiment on her-" Leo pop up "ABSOLUTELY NOT!!"

- Did Ana met the turtles's enemies? Big mama, hypno, foot clan..etc?

- how does the turtles react to their brother Leo begin in love with Ana? Like they'll definitely gonna pick up on it, no?

- If you could make an episode mainly about Ana & Leo duo what would the episode be about?

- what's Ana (teen & krangfied ver)'s love languages is?

- does Ana has a dream job?

- Does ana go into part-time jobs and get fired like April?😂😅

- if ana would be officially a hamato, what would her signature color be? Like Leo is blue, raph is red..etc.

Oh, wow, we're still cooking ~

I think The Hidden City would be one of the first places Leo would bring Ana to see. I'm not sure what adventures they would have, tho, I came with an idea almost the same as in that episode Minotaur Maze with Leo mastering the maze to prove he's the champion. I have an idea of Leo dragging Ana into some kind of contest where they would need to work in pair to win. Except that unlike in that episode, this time they would actually win, and this would be one of the first times Ana would show Leo her faith in him.

Draxum would try to make a ninja out of her, because of her stealthiness xdd

I'm going to mix this question with the question about the episodes. So, I once had this dream where the turtles fought Hypno, and he used a spell that took a person's eyesight. So here would be an idea for an episode where Ana would accidentally get caught in the fight between the turtles and Hypno, and Hypno would accidentally put this spell on Ana. After that, Hypno escaped and the turtles went to find him to get rid of this spell before it becomes permanent (I even remember that this spell looked like a clock-face on your eyes.), and Ana would ask Leo to hold her hand the whole time because she's scared. And this episode would go the way to show how Ana would help saving the turtles when Hypno caught them, with them, and Leo especially, being Ana's eyes. I also have an idea for a more lighthearted episode where Ana would invite Leo to go to the amusement park with her, and he would thought they would do something like winning toys and maybe ride on a Ferris wheel, and she would drag Leo to ride on a roller coaster, double shot and stuff like that that's more extreme, and it would turn out she really loves something more like this, but doesn't ride them because she doesn't like to visit Amusement parks alone.

So, yeah, Leo's brothers would be in shock at first, because in the show Leo was usually shown to feel even disgusted by any display of love, so when he would have a crush on Ana, everyone would be stunned and shocked, and I of course they wold tease him. I imagine Donnie would give Leo some tips on dates and all.

As a teen i would go with words of affirmation and/or acts of service. After kraangification it would be mainly physical touch.

I think she's too nervous to work, but if she would try, yeah, I imagine her situations would be even worse than April's, because she's clumsy xd

I think either yellow, or some shade of red/pink, like, coral pink.

#abubu ask #krangified au

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lemonidae · 4 months ago

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Nitro+Chiral VN

Togainu no Chi

In a ruined world, seeds of new chaos. In the years following a third world war, a devastated Japan is divided between two rival factions with no hope for reconstruction in sight. Caught between East and West, Tokyo has degenerated into a brutal, crime-ridden wasteland. Like many of those reaching adulthood in this dark new world, a young man named Akira seeks some kind of meaning in the violent street fighting contest Bl@ster. But even as he rises up the rankings, he feels almost nothing. Is this all there is? In Toshima, a district of Tokyo ruled by the mysterious syndicate Vischio, the blood sport Igra makes Bl@ster look like child's play. Competitors have the chance to win control of a drug empire worth more than in their wildest dreams, but losing a bout means losing your life. When Akira is arrested for a crime he didn't commit, a strange woman appears with an even stranger offer: he can regain his freedom if he fights his way to the top of Igra and destroys Vischio from within. What dangers and revelations await Akira on Toshima's pitiless streets? Is he strong enough to survive them?

Buy: Steam | Jast

Lamento: ~Beyond the Void~

The game takes place in a fictional world inhabited by Ribika (who look like humans but have cat ears and tails). Their world has fallen into dark times -- a mysterious void has made some places (and even animals) impossible to touch, causing major food shortages. A strange and deadly disease that has killed off a large percentage of the female Ribika population is also spreading. The hero, Konoe, exists in this miserable world, living alone in the starving village of Karou who have turned to cannibalism. The story begins with Konoe in Karou, where he suddenly begins to see horrible dreams and strange marks appear on his body. This is believed to be a curse so Konoe heads off to Ransen (the big city) in order to heal his body…

English fan translation: How to install | Game files ver.1: onedrive | Game files ver.2: internet archive

(Patch could not work if the game is updated to version 2.00)

Chiral Mori

This is a fan disc of the Nitro+ Chiral characters, featuring 3 mini games. Various characters from Togainu no Chi and Lamento -Beyond the Void- are included. Play poker against cute chibis of the Togainu cast, or test your typing speed with the furry-eared guys of Lamento. There's even a strange version of the Puyo Puyo falling-block game for you to enjoy.

more info here

Sweet Pool

After recovering from a serious illness, Sakiyama Youji hoped that things would finally get back to normal. But shortly upon returning to school, his world begins to change—and no one seems to notice. Bizarre symptoms plague his body, and vivid hallucinations of blood and flesh stalk his every waking moment. At the same time, two fellow students — the stoic Tetsuo and the notorious troublemaker Zenya — begin to take an intense and inexplicable interest in him. What are Tetsuo and Zenya after? Are his hallucinations really nothing more? Everyone seems to know more than they’re letting on—but by trying to put the pieces together, Youji may be sowing the seeds of his doom.

Buy: Steam | Jast

Dramatical Murder

"I will destroy you." Midorijima. Situated to the south of Japan, this beautiful island was once a place where people lived in harmony with nature. Then the Toue Corporation took over, driving off most of the island's residents and forcing those who would not leave to live in the shadow of Platinum Jail, a walled-off megaresort where the wealthy wallow in luxury. Aoba is a young man living with his grandmother in the Old Residential District, the last refuge of Midorijima's people. While his peers join gangs and fight for dominance of the streets or immerse themselves in the virtual reality game Rhyme, Aoba works part-time at a junk shop and hopes only that his peaceful life will last. But strange things are happening on Midorijima, and Aoba will soon have to fight… or lose everything that he holds dear.

Buy: Steam | Jast

Slow Damage

The year is 20xx, and the declining nation of Japan has built the ultimate casino resort: Shinkoumi. This “special economic zone,” once known as Tokyo Waterfront City, is functionally its own separate country under the complete control of a private managing organization known as the Takasato-gumi. But of course, a city with open doors has its dark side. Amidst the rampant crime and decay, degenerate hedonist Towa lives each day like it’s his last…

Buy: Jast

nitro+CHiRAL tumblr fansite : nitrochi-paths

BL game downloads: BLpaca

sources:

#visual novel #nitro+chiral #nitroplus #visual novels #togainu no chi #slow damage #dramatical murder #chiral mori #lamento: beyond the void #chiralmori #lamento beyond the void #dmmd #only compatible with windows sorry apple users #videogame

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unhinged-summer-fun · 2 months ago

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common grounds (oshamir) - chapter 20

Pairing: Osha Aniseya x Qimir "The Stranger"

A/N: if yall could see the dead look in my eyes rn lmfao

series masterlist

chapter 20: where there's smoke...

The place Idise chose was outside the city: one of those small, never-closed dives that lined the northern highway at the halfway points between cities. When Osha arrived a little before sunset, she couldn’t quite recognize anybody in the booths because of the late afternoon glare through the windows.

“Over here,” Idise’s voice said, guiding her in the opposite of the direction she was looking.

Idise’s shiner had faded to almost nothing, just the shadowy lines of damaged blood vessels spidering around her orbital socket. Osha was no stranger to bruised faces; they often looked worse the closer they were to healing completely. Her body language was neutral—tense, but open. She kept her hands where Osha could see them, despite this not being that dire in the first place. She could only muster a sliver of guilt for sizing up Idise how she would another fighter in the ring.

Osha slid into the booth across from her, but they didn’t speak for two entire minutes until a waitress came by. They broke the staring contest by awkwardly ordering coffees, ice waters, and—

“A big plate of fries, too. Thanks.”

It was hard to imagine Idise eating junk food. Let alone ‘babbling,’ how Qimir described her doing. She noticed Osha’s mild incredulity and shrugged.

“Typically, the full moon is my cheat day, but 92% waxing gibbous will do.”

At the ridiculousness, Osha cut to the chase. “Did Vernestra want you following… me?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Idise said, but didn’t seem to hold it against her. “I’m not gonna take the job, but I know there are definitely people that would, if that tells you anything.”

That could have meant any number of things: a knock on her peers, implications to the contract’s payout, or just a hard view of how good Vernestra was at convincing others.

Osha sighed. “So I’m going to be followed.”

“You are,” Idise hummed. She sipped her coffee, but quickly withdrew and hissed at the scorching temperature. Osha watched in captive astonishment as Idise scoped a few ice cubes from her water cup into the mug with her fingers. She continued on as if she hadn’t just done something a little insane. “Do you know why you’re going to be followed?” She asked it with the confidence of someone who already knew the answer to their question.

Osha looked down at the milky brown (ice-free) surface of her coffee. “I’m guessing it’s because I’m in about the same position that Qimir was in—a potential loose end that leads to dynamite.”

“Nothing potential about it, Osha. Whether you’ve realized it or not, Vernestra has only let you untether yourself to the Temple this far because she allowed and encouraged it.”

“What do you mean?”

Idise’s jaw flexed a little, a displeased pinch to her features. “It’s been her M.O. for a long time. She burns someone, then lets them run—lets the leash go slack long enough for them to want to come back under her thumb. All her bishops and pawns and knights at the Temple have been reeled in just the same way, believing their nooses to be lifelines.”

“I’ve—heard some people say the Temple is all they have.” Osha had to play her cards right. Following her conversation with Qimir that morning, her opinion on Idise hadn’t been so much changed as it had become open to change. This meeting would determine lots of things, which was one of the reasons for the clandestine sneaking-around-and-going-through-his-phone.

Idise nodded, impervious to Osha’s suspicious nature. “That sounds right. I didn’t get the chance to talk to many people in the Temple before I flipped ‘em the bird. They were all tight-lipped regardless. That’s the noose, I suppose.”

She really likes metaphors, huh.

Osha sat in her discomfort, teetering between showing her hand and seeking more assurances before doing so. “If Vernestra is so certain I’m going to allow myself to get reeled back in, why bother hiring you to follow me?”

“Because she’s not certain.” Idise added more ice to her coffee before explaining. “I think, in some fucked-up way, that after everything she did to Q, she actually thought he’d come back begging. From how he tells it, he very briefly did—and that made things complicated for several legal reasons. Regardless, he snapped back outside her periphery and hired me to widen her net. She didn’t want him completely gone, that would be an unacceptable concession of control, but she didn’t want him near, either. Q is a fucking natural disaster. She can’t ignore him, but she also can’t invite him to her door. In the beginning, she was paranoid that he’d do something, so I consulted with her about hidden cameras, recording equipment, spy devices.

“But that’s not what you asked. You asked why she was concerned about you. I guarantee she knows you know something, but she doesn’t know exactly what that is, and if she strikes at you she runs the risk of admitting to the whole damn scheme just to see if you know. How much do you know about the cover-up?”

Osha startled at the sudden shift in attention. Idise was intense, that much was true. But she also seemed to know what she was talking about. “Well, I—it feels like I should know a lot, considering how close to it I am—” How close to Qimir I am. “—but it just keeps… I don’t know.”

“Growing bigger and bigger?” Idise suggested.

“I guess, yeah.”

“Well, you’d be right. For as many dead ends we hit trying to chase down leads, we hit just about as many doors that opened into more mazes of mystery.” Idise, c’mon, the metaphors.

“That’s more how I feel,” Osha sighed. “A lot’s happened recently, I don’t know how to keep track of it all.”

“Write it down,” Idise said simply. She reached into her leather jacket and started dumping an absurd amount of things onto the vinyl table. Keys. Wallet. Phone. Switchblade. Taser. Pen. Another switchblade. “Here we go.” She pushed a pocket notebook over to her. “There might be a shopping list in there, but it should be mostly blank for you. Write what you see, what you hear, when you learn things. Eventually, things start to make sense. It’s why people do the red-yarn corkboard thing.”

It was surprisingly genuine advice, and not what Osha expected to hear. She thanked Idise for the notebook and considered her misconceptions. Going into this meeting, she had been prepared for Idise to grill her on what she knew, regardless of her rejection of Vernestra’s contract. There was something in the way she didn’t ask those things that implied this meeting was Osha’s to run, not hers. It felt very… respectful.

Speaking of respect. Speaking of misconceptions.

“I’m sorry for how I spoke to you in the gym. You’re right; I was running on false assumptions and limited information. It wasn’t fair to speak to you like that.”

This wasn’t what Idise was expecting to hear. She tilted her head to the side, so similar to how Qimir would do it that it made Osha’s heart ache. Fate brought us together, and now fate won’t let us part.

Inexorable. That was Idise and himself. Osha often felt that way about Mae, growing up—that they were one person beneath the skin. She didn’t imagine many people had the chance to know another person like that. But Idise and Qimir were similar enough that Osha felt comfortable calling them twins in the privacy of her thoughts.

Idise brought her back to the conversation with a light laugh. “You are polite. I thought they were all just fucking with me.”

“Huh?” Osha wasn’t sure if she should have been offended or not.

“Medora and Kana—I wanted to get the lowdown on you—” She quickly hastened to qualify, “For my own personal interests.”

Sure.

“They told me you were well-mannered, as polite as you are impolite when you spar.”

“Well, I don’t know about all that…” Osha grumbled, bashful all of a sudden.

“You’re a talented fighter. Skill recognizes skill,” she said, gesturing first to herself, and then Osha.

“Thank you,” she said haltingly. “That’s kind of you to say.” At the smirk peeking over Idise’s coffee cup, she rolled her eyes—she was proving Idise’s point about her manners.

I have got to get ruder.

The fries came, a welcome interlude to their conversation. They shared the plate, talking aimlessly about their favorite cheat-day meals until Idise steered them back on course.

“I’m guessing you didn’t want to meet just to ask if I was following you.”

Osha shook her head. “I wanted to ask you about the case you were building against Vernestra, against the Temple. How far did you get before he called it off?”

It was striking how quickly Idise’s eyes sharpened, and her demeanor shifted from semi-relaxed to professional private investigator mode. “I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific about what you want to know,” she said, not outright suspicious but wary.

“I want to know if it could work. If you had what you need.”

“What I need,” she repeated, half scoffing the words. “What I need is a strong prosecutor who won’t be bullied by Rick Lakshay in trial court, what I need is tangible evidence to prove the wrongdoing was actually wrongdone, what I need are witnesses who also won’t cave to the threats Lakshay would make against them.”

Osha hadn’t met the man more than once, but had seen Rick Lakshay at the Temple before. Outside of being a member, he was constantly in and out of Vernestra’s office, which always befuddled her. Why would Vernestra want her lawyer over all the time? Sol had simply instructed her to be polite to him, but the cold look Lakshay gave Osha at eleven years old withered her bravery. She had avoided him whenever he came in since.

Osha was about to speak, but Idise held up a hand. “Hypothetically. I’m not committing to anything, or saying anything, only alleging it to you. Heading back down that road has risks, so whatever you’re going to tell me has a high bar to meet.”

I never told Idise the real reason why.

Then Osha didn’t have to tell her, either.

“Hypothetically,” Osha started, “if we had those things—the lawyer, the evidence, the testimonies… what’s the scope we stop at? Vernestra? The Temple? More?”

Idise frowned. “That was always a subject we argued about til we were blue in the face. When does vengeance become justice?”

Osha considered that.

It’s... not healthy to let myself think about returning to that mindset again.

It was eating me up—scraping me raw.

One half seeking to do no harm, one half only seeking harm.

“It’s difficult to look at it objectively, when you’re in the shit,” Idise said, when Osha’s consternation showed. “Objective fact is the only thing that matters to the court. You asked what we had. We had nothing. We had my testimony about the stalking, Qimir’s testimony about the abuse but not the assault, Paul’s testimony about the malicious neglect and otherwise, a lead on a handful of sealed juvenile records we’d only access through discovery, and a scrap of paper that said one of the trainers signed in Qimir at the clinic.”

“That’s not nothing.”

“It’s essentially nothing. And none of those things, no matter how you looked at it, could support a civil suit, let alone a criminal case. We’re pretty much past the statute of limitations for felony child abuse and neglect—which most of this hinges on. Next summer, we’ll never have a case even with all the evidence in the world. We don’t have the benefit of time, here. The longer we wait, the riskier it is to squeeze any kind of justice out of this.”

That was news to Osha. She wasn’t even aware something like that existed—perhaps it was lucky that she wasn’t.

“But Qimir’s testimony is watery at best. He doesn’t talk about the assault, not to anybody. He doesn’t even talk to me about it, never had, not in fourteen years.”

That struck Osha as odd, considering all that Qimir had shared with her about it. She didn’t have the full story, not yet, but she had quite a lot more of it than it seemed Idise had.

“It sounds like he won’t testify about the actual assault the case hinges on.” She’d heard of cases where little more than testimony was able to convict someone.

“He didn’t want to retraumatize himself, I think,” Idise said, her demeanor taking on a sad shine.

That was the last thing he wanted, and then Mae had to go and—

I asked him if he remembered what it was like at the Temple.

Osha could only nod, commiserating. “That’s not to mention the NDA shit-show. Oh, shit. Wait.” Osha pulled out the (still unsigned) employee evaluation from her pocket, adding it to the table of fries and Idise’s pocket goodies. “Thanks for the advice that day,” she said.

Idise fell upon the document with trenchant focus. Her lips moved a little as she peered at the fine text beneath the rest of the employee evaluation, then she looked back up at Osha. “This can’t be all you have.”

Osha hid her excitement as she opened her phone to the picture she’d taken of the two articles about Qimir in the Temple: the Junior Championships clipping and the Padawan Program article. Idise cradled the phone in her hands like it was a precious gem, withholding her remarks until she’d finished reading, finished processing what she’d seen.

When she had, she looked up with an expression of disbelief. How did you find all this?

“I came upon the articles completely by accident. Luck, I guess. As for the document, I had some advice telling me not to sign anything.”

Idise was very clearly trying to contain her excitement over what the documents could mean. “This is… a start.”

Okay, cards on the table.

“I also have two statements from people in the Temple who were coerced into signing the NDAs.”

Idise met her gaze. And? her dark eyes asked.

“One was coerced into signing an NDA, but the other was witness to the—assault.” It felt clunky and awful to regard the injury as such, but she had to face the facts: whoever had injured him was a child abuser, and had assaulted him to the point of permanent injury.

Idise covered her mouth with her fingers, setting down Osha’s phone and gingerly pushing it back across the table. For a moment, Osha interpreted it as a rejection, a quiet refusal of the call. Osha held her breath while Idise considered the page again.

“We…” She abruptly shook her head. “I need to make a few calls. Don’t go anywhere.”

She stood from the booth in a breeze of sandalwood perfume, snatching up her phone before she left. Osha could only watch as she stepped into the parking lot and disappeared around the corner.

“More coffee, hun? She coming back?”

I hope so. “Yeah, thanks.”

Twenty minutes (and half a milkshake) later, Idise returned. Snow dusted her hair, but she shook it off as she slid into the booth as casually as if she’d only gone to the restroom. She looked a lot more relaxed than when she’d left, but her energy felt… wired.

“You want the rest of thi—okay.” Osha watched Idise empty the rest of the malt cup that came with her milkshake without preamble. “You’re welcome,” she grumbled.

Idise smiled at her. “So.”

“So…?” Osha was confused.

“Looks like we’re getting the gang back together. Are you in?”

“Yes.”

The bingo hall was startlingly normal compared to the tempest of her thoughts. She had just enough time after meeting with Idise to shower and get ready before Qimir picked her up. Between the buzzing excitement from the new developments in her life and the serious need to keep them secret, she felt like a live wire.

Qimir shut it down the first time, though. Shouldn’t we bring him back in? Idise asked her.

He told me that being in that retributory headspace wasn’t healthy for him. There’s a chance this still might not be enough, and I don’t want to ask him to open up that part of him unless absolutely necessary.

The matter wasn’t settled, but it was a solid enough reason to keep this from Qimir—for now. She had every intention of telling him once she knew they could focus on objective, undisputed evidence and a clear path to justice.

Well. Clear-er.

“Bazil!” Qimir called, his left hand waving to him and his right locked with Osha’s.

Bazil stood among a group of other old, similarly mustached men. He turned when Qimir called his name and exclaimed in delight. Osha recognized a few words of Tynnan here and there, good and you.

Osha recognized Yord’s uncle Odu, who ran the grocery store a few blocks from the Temple. Her blood went cold as ice as the man alighted on Qimir, face going slack while Qimir’s hand tensed against hers.

The man said something—a name?—in Tynnan that made Qimir almost sway on the spot upon hearing it. He nodded, swallowing roughly a few times. Then he quickly bowed his head—a Tynnan sign of respect. Osha felt trapped in her skin, unable to move. Did they know each other? Do we have to go?

Osha had met Odu a few times when he visited the cafe to see his nephew, smiling widely as he spoke to Yord in Tynnan over the counter. Where Yord was willowy, towering strength, reserved and blunt, Odu was short and squat, cheerful and—oh, hugging? They’re hugging?—affectionate.

He’d let go of her hand when Odu yanked Qimir into an embrace. It left Osha feeling unmoored and confused (a common feeling these days). Bazil sidled up beside her, patting her arm and pointing to a table where she could buy the bingo cards. He handed her a five-dollar bill and pointed again.

“Oh, I can get my own—” she said, eyes flicking back and forth from Qimir—still hugging—to Bazil.

He gave a disapproving grunt, shaking his head and refusing to let Osha give back the money. She laughed and nodded her acceptance. “Okay,” she laughed. Haltingly, she tried to say thank you in his language, like Qimir had taught her. Bazil lit up like a hundred stage lights.

“Osha,” Qimir finally said, drawing her attention back. His hand found the small of her back, warm and affectionate. She hadn’t expected him to be like this, so… well, touchy.

“Yeah?” she said.

“This is Odu. Do you remember when I told you I learned Tynnan from somebody who worked at the FDO? This is him.”

Osha was startled at the new information. Odu was such a sweet, caring man—she instantly believed he could teach a young orphan conversational Tynnan. “That’s—it’s so nice to—well, I didn’t know that,” Osha fumbled.

Odu spoke slowly and clearly. “Yord is my nephew.”

“Ah,” Qimir nodded. “Your coworker.” His eyes were full of mischief. The one who breaks the espresso machine, he didn’t add.

“Yeah. Odu has come by for years. The cafe couldn’t run without him; emergency supply runs and all.”

Qimir nodded sagely. “I made a few grocery runs to his store quite a few times as well,” he commented. She couldn’t even gawp at that information before he was speaking in rapid-fire Tynnan again, now to Odu and the rest of the group, and when she caught her own name, she realized he was introducing her. How did he present me? His girlfriend? His neighbor? His gym buddy?

Bazil answered that question when he exclaimed, “Girlfriend!” with delight.

It was difficult to keep up with everything. The whirlwind of chittering syllables and drawn-out vowel sounds felt like a deep river with a strong current she could hardly float in, let alone swim across. Qimir murmured translations to her as fast as he could, but Tynnan expressed even complex concepts and long expressions in a fraction of the time than she would have been able to. They got their cards and sat with the group.

Odu sat across from Osha at the table, his dauber capped but nearby. While the others talked about—well, while they talked, Odu peered curiously at her. “Sol?” he asked.

She could feel Qimir paying attention to her, even as he was engaged in other conversation, so she spoke carefully. “Yes, Sol’s my dad.”

“Hm.” Odu nodded to himself, not sharing whatever conclusion he’d come to from her answer. She didn’t want to read too much into it, but she was fairly certain he looked troubled.

“Yeah, just don’t tell Sol I’m dating, he’ll flip his lid,” Osha said to Bazil, only half-joking.

“I tell him nothing,” he harrumphed, put out at the very suggestion.

“Oh, c’mon, haven’t you told him whenever we had friends over?” How else would Sol have been able to come down so quickly and interrogate them?

“Nothing!” Bazil declared, holding his bingo dauber aloft. She tried to laugh it off, but for some reason the exchange made her a bit uneasy.

The old men were intent on teaching her Tynnan between bingo rounds. It made her laugh, whenever they tried to flirt with her—and despite his reaction to Kana’s cigarettes the other day, Qimir took the teasing with grace, rolling his eyes and putting an arm around her shoulders. Mine, the move said.

Osha was only paying half attention to the game itself, enjoying her new friends and her boyfriend’s hand idly drawing shapes into her shoulder. Things were kind of slow-going due to the frequent interruptions from the power going out and returning several times through the evening. Qimir always snuck a kiss when the lights were out, a game unfolding between them.

“Osha,” Qimir said, breaking her happy, zoned-out dream state.

“Yeah?” she asked, turning to face him. Their faces were so close, inches away. Even in these fluorescent lights, he was handsome. Unfair. It was just not fucking fair that he was so pretty.

I’ve found the one thing he’s not fair about, Osha thought with amusement.

Her breath caught in her throat as he leaned in, and she thought for a moment that he was going to—

“You’ve had double-bingo for a few minutes.”

Oh.

Hold on, she had what?

His smile curled up like a love letter in a roaring hearth, destructive, warm, and just for her.

“BINGO!” Osha shouted, right in Qimir’s face. “DOUBLE-BINGO!”

He threw his head back to laugh as she waved her card in the air, underscored by the cheers of the old Tynnan men at the table around them.

Winning in the ring always felt like an expectation. Winning spars, winning mock matches, even winning at workouts. Much of that ethos echoed in other things, like school and friendships. Osha could tell when a conversation was tilting towards defeat on her end and would often leave before she could be left. The familiar devastation of losing was always a point of shame for her. It reflected personal failure, like she couldn’t detach herself from the pass-fail binary that dictated her worth as a person.

Osha had felt like a winner from the moment she sat down in that bingo hall. The $200 was just a bonus. She fanned herself with the bills the entire way out to the parking lot. As Qimir said goodbyes, a tug on her sleeve brought her attention away from the group. Odu’s demeanor was no longer jocular and smiling; his deep green eyes glinted with something too sober for the merriment just a few feet away. “Sol.”

Osha’s stomach dropped. “What about Sol?”

“Bad man. I’m sorry.”

He patted her shoulder and hobbled away, leaving her frozen in place until Qimir’s touch pulled her from it.

“Everything alright?”

Bad man. I’m sorry.

“Y-yeah,” Osha said. “I was just saying goodbye to Odu.”

He smiled, temporarily oblivious to her stricken state. “It was really nice to see him again.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pressed a kiss to her temple. They started walking to his car. “I don’t know why I stayed away so long. He was always so kind to me—first at the FDO and then when I would come by the grocery store.”

She smiled and leaned into him—for warmth or support, she didn’t know.

“I’ve been looking forward to kicking your ass all week!”

It was the night of the full moon—a few hours to Dance Night. The fight list had come out again—and Osha’s name was not on it. Armed with the assurance that this wasn’t taboo (or, colloquially, a Lance Situation), they were free to spar at Unknown Planet.

They hadn’t worked out together since he’d returned from Khofar; they were too busy with her birthday—and other fun things. But now they were back in the gym, pulling a double-header with the mantra of work hard, play hard, strengthening their enthusiasm.

Perhaps too much enthusiasm.

The jab (though true) had Qimir going stock-still before turning his head over his shoulder. “Is that right?” he said, voice deceptively light and playful. It made her heart drop, but her insides started to burn at all the possible applications of that exact voice, in much different contexts.

But first.

“Mhm. Gonna kick your ass.” Osha bounced on the balls of her feet, though she knew better—she wanted him to underestimate her, see her like a bright-eyed rookie destined to become a black-eyed loser.

He pointed one long, slender finger down at the spot before him. “Why don’t you come over here and say that?” he taunted.

Oh fuck. Osha swallowed, bouncing a half-step backward instead. What was it he’d told her long ago? You’re rattling a bit close to the sun?

“No.” Osha almost froze at the ice in his voice, the ice that came from deep glaciers frozen for thousands and thousands of years without ever even knowing about the sun. “C’mere, I wanna hear you talk that talk right here.”

She was lucky there was pretty much nobody in the gym. Anybody sane would have been downstairs, waiting for the bar to open, not wasting their time upstairs like they were. They’d been at it for about an hour, working through calisthenics and kick combinations and, of course, spars.

Is this hot? Is this legally foreplay? Osha thought to herself.

But Qimir still wasn’t crossing the distance. If she wanted to spar, she would have to bring the fight to him—and all her bravado with it.

Damn him. It is hot.

She crossed the mat in two great strides, setting herself up for a leaping kick—

Oof.

Stars danced in her eyes. Hello, ground. When did you get here?

“I’m waiting,” Qimir said, walking around so his feet were just a foot from her head on the mat. He’d barely fucking moved. “What was that again?”

She gritted her teeth. Fucking bastard. With a roar, she bridged back on her shoulders and pivoted with greater momentum to swing her legs around, hoping to swipe at him. He retreated, swift as a fencer, out of range from her kick. She snarled and sprung up, all that make-believe rookie confidence shucked aside for the scrappy fighter beneath.

He had his that’s my girl face on.

She wanted to smack it off of him.

All thoughts turned to fast-twitch muscles and reflexes that knew her better than she knew herself. He went in for a jab—blocked. A kick—dodged, returned to sender. (He wheezed.) More and more hits and attempts to grapple her to the ground, and she deftly avoided them, for the most part.

Fire danced in his eyes whenever she looked away from his body’s bluffs and tells. His breath whistled through his teeth, some high note that made her think, alarm, before she fell back into the fight.

Right hook—duck, jab jab. He shouted, laughing? Yes, that was laughter. Alarm. And then he moved back on the foolish offensive, coming in close to grab at her shirt—disengaged. Another attempt—batted away. A smirk—

Punched.

He wheeled back, going to one knee with a dazed expression that quickly fled his eyes. ALARM. He stood on swaying legs, laughing and coming closer. She almost grabbed him for a takedown throw to the mat, but then her punch-drunk boyfriend kissed her, all sweaty and slick and hot to the touch.

He pulled back again—swaying—ALARM!

“Whoa, whoa, what’s wrong?” she said, helping him stand.

“Just got my bell rung. I’m—” he tried to inhale and wheezed again. Her stomach dropped.

“You’re hurt.” I hurt you.

His mask slammed on, hiding the hurt from his face while his arm still covered the place where she caught him in the ribs. Her despair must have shown enough for him to soften.

“I’m alright, Osha,” he said, strained.

“Quit fucking lying to me,” she hissed. The intensity of it startled the stars from his eyes and left him gaping up at her. “We’re done for the day. C’mon, we gotta get ready anyway.”

Osha felt his eyes on her as she snatched up his towel and his water bottle—any gym rat would follow as if on a leash. She led the way to the Smiley dressing room with utter confidence that he would follow, and he did. She waited for him at the top of the stairs, worried for him as he took each stair carefully, slowly. But she did not reach out a hand to him for help, knowing he wouldn’t just refuse it; he’d resent it.

But they made it to the dressing room, and she pointed to the chair. He went without a word of protest, a complete turnaround from how she’d reacted to his similar gesture downstairs. The authority she seemed to have over him was a heady feeling—a heady high, so he’d described ‘the power of two.’

She immediately realized that she didn’t know what she was doing. She had no medical background and barely had first aid training—mostly for cafe-related injuries. She pulled up the side of his shirt and sort of just… stared at his chest. She looked up to find Qimir staring blankly at a spot on the ground. “Hey,” she said. His jaw flexed. “Hey,” she said again. “Look at me.”

She was certain her hands trembled, but she tipped his chin up so he would look at her. Shock replaced that absent look in his eyes, welcome surprise. The gesture seemed to shake him from his fugue, though. His eyes looked much clearer.

“Where does it hurt?” she asked slowly. His teeth found his lower lip, protesting against giving her the answer. She tamped down her frustration and raised an eyebrow at her. Alright, you wanna play that way. “How’s your back?” she asked. “One to ten.”

He exhaled a huff of amusement. “It’s a five.”

“And what is it normally?”

“A three on the good days.”

A small sorrow slipped through her bloodstream, an ache she felt in every inch of her. “Okay. Does anything feel wrong in your back?”

She dropped her hand so he could move around freely, sitting up straighter and twisting this way and that. He only winced when it pulled at his ribs.

“What was that?” she said, catching the flinch.

“I regret teaching you how to do this,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes.

“Why’s that?” she said.

“Because I like it,” he bit out—like it pissed him off both to feel it and admit it.

He likes it when I play doctor with him.

Osha’s body flushed with heat in a great wave that began and ended in her core. Damn him for talking like that. “Answer my other question.”

“I think… okay, come closer.”

She did.

“Lift up my shirt.”

She did, with enthusiasm.

He propped his elbow up on the back of the chair, bracing himself. “Find the bottom of my ribs, and walk up each one, pressing down on them—like this.” He gently prodded her forearm to show her how, and she nodded.

But she hesitated.

I’m going to hurt you again.

“Osha. I need you to help me,” he said. The words sounded clunky and foreign on his tongue, but honest. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me, and you don’t want to hurt me again. I feel the same way about you when we’re up against each other. I need you to do this.”

She really fucking loved him. It was becoming a problem.

He breathed in deeply, slowly, forcing the pain to run its course as she assessed each rib—for bruising or breaks. “Bearable but distracting pain, anywhere from fives to eights, could mean bruised ribs. Extreme pain—your sharp eights, nines, and tens—typically indicates a break. True agony, that.”

“You know from experience?” she asked softly, committed to her task.

“More than most,” he admitted. “The cage is unkind, brawl or otherwise.”

She nodded, thinking about his name on the email he showed her earlier that day. Unkind was certainly a word for it.

They spoke softly, both concentrating on assessing him. He took a deep breath in, coughing once and groaning, but it didn’t sound serious.

“Well, what’s the diagnosis, doctor?” she asked him, smiling softly.

“I think you just kicked my ass—” he said, grinning. “Just like you’ve been wanting to all week.”

“Go get them,” Osha urged. They were at a high-top table in the back of the bar, Osha perched on a stool and Qimir practically caging her into it. “It’s like a fifteen-minute round trip; just go get your shoes.”

He was being stubborn. He’d forgotten to pack shoes for dance night, and stood there in his silly bright-blue gym shoes—that he’d not realized glowed in the dark until now. “I’m fine.”

“If Kana sees you wearing these, he will roast you alive. Go. Get. Your damn. Shoes.”

“No, he’s n—”

“What are thoooooose!” Kana’s voice boomed like a fucking cannon in the bar—practically deafening from a few feet away. The dance music prevented most people from witnessing the spectacle, but upon Kana’s proclamation, about fifteen pairs of eyes now alighted on Qimir’s shoes. His words were echoed by all who saw the shoes, complete with pointed fingers.

“Told you,” Osha laughed. Qimir groaned and pressed his face against her shoulder for a second, before pulling away with a kiss.

“Stick with Kana. Please.” He high-tailed it through the back exit, keys in hand.

Kana gestured for her to follow him, and he led her to an open seat at the bar. This month’s dance night wasn’t as crowded as last month, but then again, the nights were colder, and the roads were treacherous even in the warmest parts of the day.

“What that was all about? Why wouldn’t he just go get the shoes?” Osha laughed, shaking her head.

Kana had the answer. “This crowd is mostly morning-daytime members. He doesn’t know them as well as the evening-nighttime folks.” She wondered, briefly, if Sour Patch was among those assembled.

“So what?”

“He doesn’t want to leave you alone with people he doesn’t know—people he doesn’t trust.”

Such a casual delivery, so nonchalant—like it wasn’t melting her fucking heart like springtime. “Oh.”

Kana slid a cocktail in front of her. “Yeah. Oh.”

As she’d insisted, it only took Qimir fifteen minutes to leave and return (wearing reasonable dancing shoes). He found her quickly, coming up behind her to trap her between his arms against the bar. He pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Miss me?”

“Oh, terribly.” She gave him an actual kiss before settling back against his chest. She swore she could feel him purring against her shoulders.

“You two are disgusting. I love it.” Kana set a beer down in front of Qimir. “Thanks for wearing those fuckin’ glowsticks. Made my night. You use those to look for scorpions or something?”

“Fuck you too, Kana,” he said, toasting his brother before taking a drink.

…don’t go ‘round tonight, well it’s bound to take your life: there’s a bad moon on the rise…

“I had no idea this was a dance song.”

“Anything’s a dance song if you dance to it,” Kana pointed out. Qimir shrugged, accepting his logic. The red lights flared around them, and Osha was glad for the mirror behind the bar, giving her a view of Qimir as he continued hugging her from behind.

Osha was happy this intimacy was growing more familiar every day. She never dreamed she’d be a PDA person, but she wanted every single fucking touch he gave her—in public or private. On a tamer note, she also loved knowing they could easily and comfortably drift onto the dancefloor without stopping their conversation. “How’s your ribs?” she asked, setting down her empty glass on the bar.

“Better already.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. She knew he didn’t keep anything more than aspirin in his medicine cabinet.

“Not healed better, just better,” he clarified. Their muscles were still warm from the gym upstairs, so she was sure he’d feel a little sore in the morning.

“What happened to your ribs?” Kana asked, concern in his eyes.

“I—”

“I kicked his ass,” Osha said proudly. Kana groaned.

“Again? This is the second time I haven’t seen it in person.”

“You weren’t missing much,” Qimir grumbled, taking Osha’s hand and dragging her to the floor.

“You’re so grouchy,” she laughed, bringing her arms up and around his neck as they swayed to the jaunty beat.

…looks like we’re in for nasty weather, one eye is taken for an eye…

“We should probably take it a little easy tonight,” Osha suggested. “Since we already pushed it up there.”

He smirked. “When did you get so responsible?”

She remembered the last time he said those words, tucked this close upstairs in the dressing room when all he wanted to do was ravish her against the nearest surface.

The thought stayed with her through the next several songs they danced to. When the lights went purple and blue over the sea of bodies and a new song began to play, Osha found herself falling into the beat like she was made to do it.

Her top tonight was a little dangerous, admittedly. Another loose crop top and jeans, but this time she decided against wearing her bra. The spar had gotten them both so sweaty that she really didn’t want to deal with more sweat and an underwire on the dancefloor. To keep from accidentally flashing anybody in the bar, she moved in smooth, sensual motions, keeping her body (and chest) pressed as close to his as possible.

Her hand pressed flat to his chest, not pushing him away, but keeping him right there with all his attention on her. This was one of the very few songs she knew all the words to, and sang along as they danced together.

…make me feel like I’m the only girl in the world, like I’m the only one that you’ll ever love, like I’m the only one who knows your heart…

If he understood the lyrics, his face didn’t tell her—all she could glean from his expression was a deep hunger for something that shouldn’t be eaten right in the middle of a crowd of people.

His hand crept up behind her, trailing from her belt loops to the small of her back and up, up—

He fell off-beat when he realized there was nothing else under her shirt. She knew his eyes were a very pretty shade of brown, warm and welcoming, belying a strength that hid just below the surface. But they were black, all-pupil as he pulled her closer, squishing her chest against his as he leaned down—

“You are a very naughty girl,” he said in her ear, loud enough for only her to hear. His lips brushed the soft, delicate skin there before they drifted down to her neck.

What a perfect reaction, she said, trying not to swoon right there with him kissing on her neck like a man possessed. She moved in for the kill, her fingers threading into his hair to pull him off. He groaned, bereft. “Don’t be pouty,” she teased. “We hardly did our cooldown, and you wanna get all hot again?”

“We didn’t do our cooldown,” he said, half-lidded eyes still glittering with what he didn’t try to keep concealed.

The dances continued, Qimir’s hand remaining stuck beneath her shirt, sometimes grabbing hold of it like he, too, needed to make sure she wouldn’t expose herself to the rest of Unknown Planet.

“Kana said you didn’t want to leave me alone with people you didn’t trust,” she said later.

He rolled his eyes, grumbling something she couldn’t hear—only feel with her hand pressed against his chest. The slow dance they’d drifted into allowed them some rest among the crowd.

“What are you trying to ask me?” he settled on.

“Well, did you?”

“…yes.”

“Why don’t you trust the people here?”

“I trust them as much as I have to,” he said, pulling her in so he could speak into her ear. It always gave her shivers when he did so, the feeling of his words being meant just for her. “It’s not personal—most of the time.”

Her mind went to Idise.

Qimir doesn’t fucking talk about the assault. He doesn’t even talk to me about it. Never had, not in fourteen years.

He didn’t trust her with that.

Her mind went to Medora.

Q was with him a few months by then, recovering from that horrible car accident.

He didn’t trust her with that.

Her mind went to Kana.

Qimir is an enigma. I wasn’t lying to you when I said he’s lonely and prefers it like that.

He didn’t even trust Kana to talk about his life.

Did he trust anybody? Could he, after all that Vernestra and the Temple had done to him? She couldn’t blame him for that, but she didn’t have to be alright with it. It only made her wonder what else he could have been keeping from her.

The lights went red again, a thick drumbeat and guitar riff tearing through the air at the end of the slow dance. She wasn’t satisfied by slow-drip answers and war-rationed information, but Qimir didn’t know any other way.

You could ask.

And damn it, she knew she could ask. She hated knowing that he would answer her if she was direct about what she wanted to know. The issue was that the pool of knowledge she had about him was becoming unbalanced, oversaturated by what everyone else told her instead of what she found out from him directly. Asking him too specific a question would raise suspicions, and then she’d have to be the one giving him answers and hoping to get some in return.

If he wasn’t too upset with her, that is.

But shit, she had to start somewhere, or else she’d never know. She opened her mouth to ask—

As the lights in the bar powered down to near-darkness. “Fuck, another power surge?” Osha muttered, with about two dozen other people echoing the sentiment.

“Hey,” he said, lacing their fingers together. “Where’d you go? You looked lost in thought before.”

She shook her head with a little laugh, then realized he couldn’t see her. “Think I’m just tired. Might need another drink to get me dancing again.”

She cursed her cowardice.

They waited until the lights returned and the party continued before refueling. In that time spent waiting, she didn’t ask him a single question.

One drink later, he twirled her back onto the dance floor, ending with her pressed up against him, her back to his front. His hands wrapped around her torso, and she almost jumped when he started to grind their bodies together, lewd and just for them in the dark mass of dancers. Nobody was paying attention to them; perhaps that’s what emboldened him.

…and I am imagining a dark-lit place, or your place or my place—

She leaned back against him, letting him lead though they were going nowhere fast, stuck in place and writhing together. One of his hands came up her front, tracing the toned muscles of her abdomen before—

A soft press of fingertips to her lowest rib—floating ribs, he’d told her once. She muddled through the reason for such a gesture before her mind connected now with a moment shared, hours ago, two floors up. Testing for a bruise or break.

“Playing doctor?” she asked, resenting the breathy, heart-skipped note in her voice. He just pressed his face into her neck, mouthing at her skin as he walked his fingers higher and higher. Eventually, his hand came to rest almost neighborly against the side of her breast. It wasn’t a grope, it wasn’t copping a feel in public, and from the way they were standing, nobody could tell what he was doing.

Still, it turned the heat up in the friction-place between them—not an inch of air separating their bodies. He was hard, a white-hot brand against her ass—Look what you do to me, his body said. Look what I do to you, his smirk teased. Look what you let me do, his free-roving hand whispered against her skin.

A gasp stuttered through her lungs, tripping oxygen into her veins. His thumb continued its trail in, teasing, teasing—

And then the room went black again, frustrated chatter covering up the quiet whimper she gave as he fully cupped her breast beneath the shirt. He seized the moment, rolling her nipple between his finger and thumb and kissing down the side of her neck. Someone jostled them as they moved, and still, he did not let go of her.

His other hand came to join, came to match the first. It took everything for Osha not to fully moan for everyone to hear.

The familiar click-click-click-thrummmm of the power returning signaled the departure of his hands from her chest, and she sagged back against him—both in relief and mild disappointment.

He just chuckled in her ear, and the music returned.

Osha could hardly hear the loud, thumping bassline over the pound of her heartbeat. His other hand bypassed the teasing tug at her belt loop in favor of wrapping and dipping his fingers into the waistband itself—not delving or diving, just holding. Gripping. Controlling. You’re not going anywhere until I’m done with you.

Lips against her neck, Qimir definitely felt the feral whimper claw its way out of her throat, desperate and needy—for him alone. In the dark, nobody could see her, but in the light, nobody could hear her.

Regardless, something snapped in his composure, and he was tired of playing with her like this. He spun her around, capturing her in his grip and kissing her filthily.

They didn’t even bother trying to dance, though their bodies moved against each other in some facsimile of what everyone else was doing. Qimir’s mouth was hot as it claimed her, and how hot did he have to be hotter than the air around them, hotter than the blood in her veins, which felt like fucking fire—

He groaned against her, stoking the flames higher and higher. He tasted only vaguely like his drink from earlier, her tongue instead recognizing the sweet burn of the cinnamon gum he kept in his car.

Said gum seemed to want to join the kiss as well. At the (objectively mortifying) realization, he started to move back. Osha didn’t know what compelled her to do it, but she stole it right from his fucking mouth with a deft flick of her tongue. She pulled back, chewing and snapping it between her teeth to show off her victory.

Qimir looked close to snapping what was left of his composure.

You’re rattling a bit close to the sun, Osha.

“Trouble,” he called her.

“Can you blame me?” she said around a grin, snapping his gum.

Osha’s giggles harmonized with the scuffle of her shoes as she stumbled up the stairs. Qimir herded her like a sheepdog, helping her to wander in just one direction instead of the multiple directions she’d been going. It must have been like walking an overeager puppy for the first time. Once inside, she halted suddenly, making him run into her back with a soft oof.

“Can I wear your gray shirt again?” she asked quite seriously, eyes focusing and unfocusing on his face. As such, she only half-witnessed the fond smile he cast down at her.

“Of course,” he chuckled. “You should sit down.”

“Okay!”

He returned holding a similar set of clothes to the ones he’d given her the last time she slept over—yes, including the gray shirt she’d worn last time. She started undressing automatically, and he quickly stepped into the kitchen, abruptly searching for something in his cabinets. One by one, Osha’s boots thunked to the floor, followed by her jeans, one sock, her coat, her knit cap, the other sock, and then her shirt. She’d foregone a bra in the bar, something she knew Qimir knew if the reddened skin at the back of his neck was anything to go on.

She giggled again as she shimmied into his shirt, the soft material feeling super cozy, even if it was loose on her smaller frame. The shorts were a little more difficult to get on, seeing as her sense of balance was all fucked up.

That means she found the floor.

“Oof,” she muttered, shorts halfway up her legs.

A few hurried steps preceded Qimir’s return; he muttered something under his breath as he helped tug the basketball shorts over her ass and then tugged his girlfriend off of the ground. “You’re wiggly tonight.”

“Myep.” She leaned against him, swaying like she was still slow dancing back at Unplan.

He kissed the top of her head. “Let’s go, drunkie.”

He sat her down on the edge of his bed (her side, her mind so helpfully suggested) and pulled a water bottle out of nowhere, cracking it open and immediately placing it in her hands.

Drink, the gesture said. That was an order.

Osha did her best to lock eyes with him as she gulped the water down, hardly tasting it as she did as she was told. He’d told her once that she did a good job of that—or at least better than the swimming and dive team did. She wondered if the sudden darkening of his eyes meant he was thinking the same thing as her.

She gasped for air when she pulled the bottle away, a single errant drop trailing from the corner of her lips. His thumb reached out, viper-fast, to brush it away before it fell any further. Like he’d done with all her tears.

She loved him.

Oh no, she had to be careful. Her lips were definitely a little looser after all she drank, but she still had the wherewithal to keep that little secret firmly behind her teeth.

He lay her down in the bed and pulled the covers up before going around.

Something itched at her mind. There was something wrong with this. Her body didn’t feel ready for bed. “No stretching?” she asked when the room went dark.

“I’ll do it in the morning,” he sighed, snuggling closer to her side until they were comfortable.

She wanted to protest more, but then she was asleep.

Qimir was still asleep, passed out on his back and half-sprawled on top of her. Osha’s head hurt, but not too badly. She was mostly just thirsty.

She knew her way around his kitchen from their many dinners together here.

I never got to cook him breakfast the other day when he slept over, she realized. Time to change that.

Osha was a pretty alright cook. While her dinner skills lacked finesse, breakfast was where she shined. Pancakes. We can have pancakes. We can have pancakes that are so good we can have morning sex for dessert.

She leaned against the counter, drinking water and searching through his iPod to find the right song for optimal breakfast-making vibes. She kept the volume low, letting him rest while setting things up.

…give me a long kiss goodnight and everything’ll be alright, tell me that I won’t feel a thing… so give me—

A noise came from the bed. The sharp sound would haunt her for a very long time after this day. She dropped what she was holding to turn toward whatever fatally wounded animal had made that noise, full of gasping agony and endless despair. She ran to Qimir’s bedside, where he stared at the ceiling and breathed through his nose like it was the only thing he could do. His jaw was clenched far too tightly for him to try to breathe in or out with his mouth—save for that wretched, awful noise.

“Qimir? What’s going on? What happened?” she asked, her voice suddenly panicked.

Panic. She needed to breathe; panic was the enemy of focus, and she’d need a lot of focus because he obviously—

“Can’t move.”

CHAPTER 21

#unhingery #common grounds #osha x qimir #oshamir #oshamir fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #the acolyte #the acolyte fanfiction

18 notes · View notes

fraugwinska · 6 months ago

Text

Chapter 5 - Junction

Junction (noun) 1. a place where things come together (esp. roads/railroads) 2. a place or point of meeting

Tags & Warnings: none

“And this is the en-suite bathroom! We just had a new shower installed! Not every room has it's own, so you're one of the lucky ones!”

Charlie was made of nothing but energy. Like a bouncy ball, she jumped from here to there, showing you every inch of your room with eager fervor. She seemed so excitable, happy to have someone to show around. A vast contrast to her girlfriend, who stood at the closed door of your room, arms crossed and with a sour face.

“Do you like it?”

You tried to soften your face, it wasn't a smile, but well. It was all you got.

“It's very, very nice Charlie, I appreciate it very much. Thank you.”

Charlie let out a happy giggle. Vaggie came to her side, eyeing you suspiciously.

“What exactly do you do, as Alastors assistant?”, she inquired, her tone harsh. You looked at her with an indifferent look.

“Anything he tasks me to do.” Short, simple, vague answer. Robotic, a little voice in your head whispered, and you added “I am just basically there to make his everyday life easier, is all.” Better.

“Did he hire you?”, Vaggie pressed. Charlie looked uncomfortable, her eyes darting from you to Vaggie and back.

“Of course he did. I wouldn't work for him if he didn't.”

For a few seconds, there was only silence, a staring contest. Your stoic wall of indifference against her fiery canons of indignation. Charlie, laughing nervously, and brave as she was, took a step in between you two.

“We're just a little.. surprised. Alastor never told us about an assistant. And well...”, she wrung her hands, smiling shyly, “Given his... reputation, Vaggie... we were wondering if you were really here because you wanted to.”

Your tail swished around your ankles in a fit of annoyance. “I'm here on my own volition. Alastor asked me to help, and I said yes, so you really can relax.” Not a lie, at least technically.

Charlie put a hand on Vaggies shoulder. “See, Vags, it's okay. Cool down.” She gave you an apologetic smile. “Please believe us, we are really happy to have you here. We're just.. um.. worried about you.”

You shook you head. He wasn't exaggerating when he said that they were on the edge with him. “I can assure you, I really am fine. Alastor is very kind to me.”

You could literally hear their jaws drop. Vaggie even heaved in outrage. “Kind? KIND? You got to be shitting me!”

You looked puzzled that such a simple sentence would spark this much.... reaction. Who would be this angry about such a statement? Charlie intervened quickly. “Wow. I mean... WOW. Well, that's a... word.... you don't hear often together with... Alastor. Huh. Okay. That's cool, then.” She took your hands, looking at you earnestly.

“But just in case, if you ever have something you want to talk about, or something you need help with, please, come see me... us. OUR...”, she pronounced the last word prominently, a not-so-subtle warning to her companion to calm down, “...door is always open for you. Now, we'll let you settle. See you in the foyer for dinner in about an hour?”

You thanked her again, promising you'd join them for dinner and after Charlie practically pushed a still fuming Vaggie out the door, you were alone. You rubbed your temples, breathing. The room was big, bright and very victorian-esque. Thick, cream colored brocade curtains lined the big double window overseeing Pentagram city. You've never seen a canopy bed like the one right next to it before – it looked like it was carved out of a single trunk, warm, creamy wood plushed with rich, thick red velvet and matching red curtains. You sat down. The thick mattress was soft and felt extravagant. You felt a bit lost in it. With an exasperated moan you let your back hit the soft cushions, allowing yourself to feel the delicate linens and squishy mattress, humming deeply in accordance with the comfort. This was your new home now. It felt nothing like it, but you would come to manage. You always did. The bed made it easier, enveloping you in a warm embrace, and you closed your eyes and started to finally relax. The room was quiet, except for a subtle buzzing sound. Your ears perked up and you opened your eyes, pushing yourself up on your elbows while you scanned your surroundings. You found the source of the buzzing to be a single one of Alastor's shadows. You recognized him immediately, his shape and cyan eyes and maw were so distinctive. It was one of his more sentient ones, one that was one of your masters closest servants that had a habit on spying on you at nights. You sometimes heard Alastor call him Ozul. You raised a brow at him.

“You heard what was said. You can go and tell him now, everything went a-okay.”

The shadow hissed at you, not particulary aggressive, but not too friendly either, like a child blowing you a raspberry, then he disappeared. You shook your head. Great. Now you had a babysitter here too. You cracked your back and started to unpack.

Ah, how he loved the smell of the unholy trinity – he had cut up the c elery, onion and green bell pepper, and in the pot they went, together with jalapeno and a good measure of garlic. He always hummed a tune while he cooked, it evoked so many fond memories. Just when he put in the rice, some stock and crushed tomatoes, he felt something tug on his pantleg. Without moving even an inch, he looked down, lids almost closed. The kitchen was left empty, as usual when he was in there... the others were still avoiding being in a room with him for too long. Good.

„Yes, Ozul?“, Alastor asked his shadow companion, while he expertisely added seasoning. Oh, that wonderful smell of home.

Ş̷̞͂̀h̷̜͕͋̌e̵̖̊̕ ̷̛̟̈́a̵͎͐l̴͇̃̀o̵̤̳̎͛n̷͔̅e̸̩͝ ̴̄̽͜n̶͍̬̎ö̵̻̝́̀w̷̙͚̒̉.̶̢̇͘͜ ̷͙̔̔s̵̬̲͋̒h̴̑̓͜ë̷̙́́ ̴̮̓̃g̷̨̓o̸̩̿͠ǫ̷̣̑d̸̺̍ ̷̠͈̔͂ḡ̸̺̳i̵̭̤̓r̴̯̚ļ̷̤͐̽ (She alone now. She good girl)

„So, my little kitten had her first trial by fire and didn't burn herself?“, he quibbed, smiling gleefully. He wasn't surprised. Ah, how obedient she was. He would have preferred her to heed his advice of smiling, but he had sensed her rare hesitation and let this matter go for now. He could always command her, if it started to be a problem with the snoopy folks here afterall. Additionally, and he was surprised of himself, he found the thought of her smile being an exclusive right to see quite satisfying.

s̶͔͝h̵̦͋e̷̘̜̋ ̵̠̃̏ͅś̸͈̉â̷̬̗i̴̞̐d̷̬̎ ̸̳̰͝y̷̲̽o̸̙̔́ṷ̸͙̌ ̵̨̙̐̐k̶̤̯͌i̶̙͇͛n̷̝̞̿̋d̴̩͙̓͝.̶̟͍̋̍ ̴̡͂͆ǫ̴̯̑t̶̬͛h̸̘̲̆e̷͓̲͛ŗ̸͉̋s̵̢̝̑ ̵̹̮́ą̸̞̂n̴͈̋̄g̷͖̊r̸̝̒͝y,̵̞͔̑͠ ̶̫̳̂b̶̲͓̒̈́u̶̜̚t̶̠͖̽́ ̸̻̿s̵̤̈́͝h̵̙̾͛ę̵̰̀̈́ ̵̫̀ḡ̴̜̺o̸̤͊ő̵̗d̸̳̯̓̑ (She said you kind. others angry, but she good.)

Now that turned his head. She said he was kind, he thought, and couldn't help but snicker. Such an interesting girl he had, he could imagine the look of her heart-shaped face while she said that to the wary princess and her little angry companion. He heard Rosies voice ringing in his ears.

'This girl would do anything to please you.'

And how eager she was indeed, to do him right. It amazed him how he didn't even need to install fear in her to behave exactly as he wanted her to. She had promised him loyalty, and against all odds it seemed as if she would hold up to that promise. He couldn't be more satisfied. Slowly but surely, she would help improve his standing here, freeing his way to more prosperous opportunities.

í̵̘̭͗s p̵̣̍̈ṛ̸̚ȅ̵̫t̸̡͙̆t̵̮̀ŷ̸͙̚ (is pretty.)

Ozul hummed content. Alastor rose a brow at him.

l̵̡̝̃i̵̠͝k̴͍̇e̴͂̑͜s̴̹̕ ̴̦̬̿͗v̸͇͋̐o̴͔̘̿ȉ̷̪c̷̰̝͒͘ê̴̱͗,̸̢͍̅͆ ̵̗͉̇͠s̶̡̀̏͜ḧ̸̥̙́e̵̤̊̓ ̶̱̔͛m̷͕̫̒ŏ̶̠̭͛a̷̼̝͆n̵̖͛̍s̸̝̠͝ ̷͈̳̓ṕ̶̛͓ȓ̸̲ȅ̵̱͜ẗ̶̥͉́̊t̷̝͆̈y̸͙̔̽(likes voice. she moans pretty.)

He tutted. “You should better know how to behave yourself, my little fellow, or I'll have to send someone else to guard her.”

Ozul just buzzed and hummed mischievously, rushing back over the walls to her room. Alastorshook his head, a little exasperated. The bay leafs he added sunk into the stew, and bubbles popped on the surface. He covered the stew and set his pocket watch down at the counter – making a mental note to check it in twenty minutes.

As inappropriate as his little naughty shadow was, he thought for a second that he couldn't say Ozul was entirely wrong.

You had just finished to put your toiletries in the bathroom when you heard loud, obnoxious knocking on your room door. You cautiously went to open it, hand almost on the golden doorknob, when it suddenly - and violently - swung open. You had to jump back to save your toes from getting cut off.

“Heya, fellow neigbour.”

It was Angel, waltzing into your room and throwing himself on your freshly made bed with a long, lascivious sigh.

“Man, they gave you one of the good ones, lucky bitch. My room looks like a dump, compared. Well, maybe it's also because of all the toys and trash lying around, but I'm too hot to clean, 'ya know?”

He stretched himself loudly, and turned himself on his belly, facing you. His face was full of mischief.

“Can I help you, Angel?”, you asked calmly, softly shutting the door, leaving it open a bit, just in case. You hoped Ozul wouldn't barge back in here in plain sight. That would not be good.

“Ah, I just wanted to check 'ya out, calm your perky tits. Sooooo...” Angel wiggled his eyebrows. “You sure you're just an assistant to our own strawberry pimp? 'Ya never, you know... shed his antlers?”

No one would've NOT blushed at the very explicit gestures Angel made.

“A-Absolutely not.”

You felt heat creeping up your neck. Angel seemed disappointed, although he didn't give up on prying more.

“Hey, no judgment! I wouldn't blame 'ya, toots. I mean, you could fuck way worse down here. I bet 'ya good money he would be into some weird dominatrix-shit. Or a praise-kink! And he's kinda hot, if you don't mind the whole creepy dial-stare which is definately his O-face and the piss-stained teeth.” he picked on his nails, glancing at you playfully.

“Please don't talk about him like that.”, you steadied your voice, a hint of anger in it you just couldn't suppress which Angel immediately picked up. He let out a small, teasing laugh.

“Uh, kitty got claws. Okay, okay, no more dissing the deer daddy in front of his pet cat. But I'm just sayin'.”, the spider stood up, and oooooh yes, he was a spider alright. He used his four arms to push himself from your bed, ruining your hard work of smoothing the sheets out neatly. “I work in the business. And – aside these god-awful grandma-clothes, 'ya could get some fine ass down here. Those freaking eyes alone are meant for a million buck 'rail-me look'. Uuuuuh, mind if I take these? Thanks!”, he quickly grabbed two of the cookie-packs Charlie placed on a golden tray on your nightstand. “Fat Nuggets loves these.”

“Sure, I don't like raisin cookies anyway. Take all you want.”

You had a feeling it was best just to pick your battles, and cookies were definitely not it. Especially raisin cookies... And what was a Fat Nuggets?

“So... you've got the room next to mine?”

Angel sneered. “Yeah, so fair warning, if 'ya hear some 'loud noises' at night, don't come knocking, it ruins the mood.” He winked, and your treacherous ears twitched in a wave of amusement. Fucking traitors.

“I'll keep that in mind, but thanks for the warning.”

Be likable. You mentally checked to see your face was still void of any detectable expression, and added “Same goes to you, if I'll ever get some.”

Angel stared at you for a moment, mouth open in surprise, then he burst out laughing, patting you on the back.

“Oh shit, toots, you do have a little bite in ya. And here I thought you'd be as uptight and boring as your frigid boss. 'Ya know what? Tell me if 'ya ever wanna get 'ya nasty on. I'm not into chicks, but I know a few guys with really biiiiiig...”

“Please don't.”

“...Personalities.”, he gave you a grin not unlike a cheshire cat. “Anyway, gotta dip. See ya downstairs, puss-n-boobs.”

And with another laugh he was gone. You felt like at least that interaction went kind of well. You were... likable, weren't you? At least, he didn't leave mad like Vaggie or worried like Charlie, so you were pleased with that. A mocking hum made you almost jump, and you saw Ozul had indeed come back, looming in your vanity mirror. Fuck, when did he sneak in? What did he hear? You caught a glance of your face in the mirror. Your cheeks were still a little flushed from Angels lewd remarks. He was so... blunt, and absolutely no-nonsense about the idea of Alastor and you... NO! You scolded yourself for even thinking about it. That cheeky shadow buzzed, it sounded like an amused snicker.

“Oh, grow up.”

You quickly went back to the bathroom and splashed some icy water in your face. After checking your face to see the last reddish hue fade into ghostly gray, you ignored the snickering shadow and were out the door.

You skipped down the stairs – god, so many stairs, this place was in dire need of an elevator – and finally landed on the ground floor. You heard the lively sound of tableware and glasses clinking, muffled chatter, laughing and arguing. These people were so loud. It reminded you of your time in the academy. Which one was it again? The sound of people, coming together, spending time in a group, bound by a shared experience. Even as mundane as dinner. You followed the sound, but stopped when you saw the winged cat-demon, eyes sloppily closed, playing with cards at the bar. Alone. You hesitated, then you walked over.

“Go away kid, bar's closed.”, he grumbled, pulling away from you and swirling a dark, brown liquid in a glas.

“I don't want a drink. You are Husk right? I didn't get to properly introduce myself.”

His gaze went a bit darker, but he didn't stop the spiral movements of the thick, slightly dirty glas.

“No need to. I've got all I need to know about you when you came in with that piece of shit.”

He took a big gulp out of the glass, his eyes wandering away into the distance. You thought for a moment. He seemed angry at you, but you couldn't for the afterlife of you figure out why. You pulled over one of the barstools and sat down, resting your arms on the sticky bar, eyeing him curiously.

“I guess you don't like my boss very much?”

Husk huffed, growling. "No shit."

“And because I chose to work for him, you don't like me very much either?”, you inquired, tilting your head a bit, softening your face into what you thought was a understanding expression.

“If you're not one of the stupid fucks like me who made the mistake of dealing with this clown – yeah. No one in their right mind would choose to be around that bastard.”

Oh. So Husk was another soul Alastor owned. You surpressed the urge to raise a brow at that. What did happen between them, you wondered silently.

“I see.”, you finally break the silence, playing with a few of the cards splayed around the bartop. “I won't reason against that, the 'not being in the right mind'. I mean, we are in hell, right, if I was right in the head I wouldn't be here? But I don't need to be like Alastor to work with him.” You made a little house of cards. Husk glanced at you, suspiciously.

“I just want to say, I hope you can get past my job and decide, whether you just don't like my position or me as a person, is all.” You stood up, placing the stool back neatly and looking at Husk, whose eyebrows twitched, unsure what to make of your statement. “Are you coming to dinner?”

“Nah, I'm covered.”, he refilled his glass and turned away. You sighed defeated and turned towards the humming voices. That would be one hard nut to crack at another time.

***

The dining table almost bent under the weight of the food, glasses and elbows. Dinner was as chaotic as suspected. Alastor's jambalaya was delicious – as always – but you hardly ate anything. Or rather: You didn't get to eat. Every time you wanted to take a bite, someone at the table asked you a question you tried you best to answer. You wished for five minutes of peace to just eat and listen, talking felt straining. Alastor sat to your left, casually conversing with Charlie. Angel sat on your right, viciously trying to get you to laugh by telling dirty jokes or whispering stories of 'funny' accidents at his porn shoots in finest details into your ear.

“Okay Rocky, I'll get out the big guns. Do 'ya know what the difference is between kinky and perverted?“

You sighed and put down your spoon. Again. Angel quickly found his favourite nickname for you, 'Rocky', because of your stone cold expression. „No Angel. What is the difference?“

Angel giggled, „Kinky is when you tickle 'ya girlfriend with a feather, perverted is when 'ya use the whole fucking chicken!“

Angel laughed loud and slammed his fists on the table. You just rolled your eyes.

“Mh. At least that one was better than your gynecologist joke.”, you deadpanned, finally shoving some food in your mouth. Angel gasped theatrically, a hand outraged on his chest fluff.

“Ex-fucking-cuse me, at least I have a sense of humor. You wouldn't get a good joke if it danced around you wearing a cheap elephant thong.”

You quickly brushed your hair back to hide the twitch in your ears. That came close.

“Angel, that poor girl will fully loose her appetite if you continue to pester her with these filthy antics.”, Alastor smirked dangerously. Angel returned his grin, leaning a bit over the table, eyebrows suggestively high. And you sat chewing, in between them, trying to disappear into thin air. Great.

“Aw smiles. I never took you for the kind of man to get so protective over a pussy.”

You choked on your food, coughing quietly. Alastor and Angel both looked at you, Angel delighted to have some kind of success in getting a reaction from you, Alastor exasperated and almost accusatory.

“Sorry, I bit into a jalapeno.”, you mumbled and hid behind your napkin as you patted your mouth. Charlie looked at you, bemused. She sat opposite of you, her plate almost cleaned.

“So, (Y/n), do you like it here so far?”

You nodded, still feeling Alastor's eyes on you. Be likable. “I do, it's very... lively. Reminds me of my time in the Academy.”

Charlie smiled to you, encouragingly. “Oh, I've been dying to ask – what did you do when... well, when you were alive?”

You chewed your food slowly to buy some time. “I was a performer. I've studied musical theater at the Academy, but never made big shows after graduating.”

Charlie was over the moon, bulldozing you with a million questions at once. Vaggie glared at you, her eyes narrowed. “So, you were an actress?” You didn't need to catch on, her thinly veiled accusation of you putting on an act was heard loud and clear. And by the static that bristled on your left, Alastor heard it too. You calmly gathered the rest of your Jambalaya on your spoon, ignoring her stare.

“More or less. Acting, singing, dancing. I've always liked the combination of all elements. After graduating, I stuck mostly to sing and dance though.”

Angel snorted. “No wonder you didn't make it, toots. Do you even have another look other than 'lobotomized'?”

“Angel!”, Charlie scolded, feeling very offended for you.

“What?! Look at her. All she does is this!”, he did a poor imitation of your expressionless face. He teasingly poked your side. “Maybe she just needs a really good shag to pull that frown upside down.” You felt Alastor's static prickling slipping through your clothes and all over your skin. He was getting really agitated. Shit. Be likable. What would someone like Angel find likeable and end this conversation?

“Well, Angel, if one good shag would make anyone smile, you should look like my boss by now.“

The whole table started giggling as Angel playfully protested, even Vaggies lips twitched, though she quickly turned her head. You heard a low chuckle from your left, out of the corner of your eyes you saw Alastors smile widen and his features relaxing. A sign of approval. You felt better.

The radio demon had also finished his meal and conjured a crystal decanter and a matching glass, sipping on something that looked like whiskey. You stood up and took the chance to flee further conversation, offering Niffty to help with clearing the table and washing the dishes. One by one, the others left after saying good night. Angel winked at you as he went back to his room. He was abrasively raunchy, yes, but aside that it felt like he would be a generally a nice, funny person to be around. Charlie gave you a warm smile before retreating to bed, and even Vaggie, although still frowning at you, nodded and wished you a somewhat-friendly good nights rest. The last to go was Niffty, enthusiastically thanking you for helping her clean before she jumped out of the dining room chasing after some rouge bugs, leaving you and Alastor alone.

“I've heard you steered the wild waters today quite smoothly, my dear.”, Alastor smiled in satisfaction, toasting to you. Your tail swished nervously. “I must say I expected nothing less from you. Good girl.”

His last words made your cheeks feel instantaneously hot and you quickly turned to the kitchenette to grab a bowl. “Thank you, sir.” Get a grip, (Y/n), Angel just got you in a really weird head space. “Alastor, dear. I think you've made very good progress with the princess, but I'm even more surprised our only guest seems to take a special liking to you.”

“I think Angel just finds it's funny to try and make me blush.”, you murmured, scooping some leftover jambalaya into the bowl.

“Yes, his sense of humor can be quite... obstreperous.”, he hummed, running a long finger on the rim of his now empty glass while intensely watching you, a subtle curl on his lips. “I sincerely hope you don't plan on taking him up on his offer, dear – I know for a fact he has a rather miserable taste in potential partners.”

You almost cut your hand off with the serrated knife you held as you cut a thick slice of cornbread. That fucking tattletale of a shadow.

“I most certainly will NOT.”

“Glad to hear that, kitten.” With a swish of his hand, he vanished the remaining cluttered dishes, the decanter and the glasses, leaving the kitchen and table sparkling. The deer demon swaggered over to you – thank god your face cooled down by now, and he leaned over your shoulder, eyeing the meal in your hands. He was oddly close. And warm. “Ah, darling, I'm happy to see that my mothers recipes never fail to impress. Are you planning on having a little midnight snack?”

“That's not for me.” You left him standing, looking very impish yourself and Alastor thought he could have even seen the hint of a smile tucking on your lips. With intrigued suspicion he watched you walk through the small corridor with the meal in your hands, melting into his shadows and attaching himself on your own to follow you unseen.

The sound of your clicking heels, not much unlike your masters, echoed in the now sinister looking, empty foyer, startling Husk awake from his alcohol-induced doze. He looked up through glossy, dark eyes, grumbling something about 'fucking loud-ass shoes' but shut up when you placed the portion you had prepared in front of him on the counter.

“In case you want to give your liver some well-deserved rest. It's still warm, and the corn bread is really tasty. Good night, Husk.”

You didn't wait for his reaction, or reply. Alastor's shadow detached from yours with a giddy fizz and scurried away. When you reached the staircase, you could hear the satisfying sound of cutlery against porcelain. One step at a time.

“Listen, Vaggie, I hear you. But (Y/n) hasn't even been here a day, and she's given us no reason to be so... distrustful.” “Hon. I love that you see only the good and nice in people, I do. But I don't want that to be a weakness they can exploit.”

He listened closely, hidden in the shadows of the corridor. Such a stroke of luck, but he had always had a habit on being in the right place at the right time. This conversation was definitely not intended for his ears.

“Well I refuse to judge her before I even got to really know her. You try to look out for me, for the hotel, and that's like....great. But we need to give her the benefit of the doubt.”

“I don't have a good feeling about her, Charlie... Even if she is not a bad person per se, if that asshole is using her...” “Then we'll show her compassion and we will help her, not throw her out. Alastor may be the radio demon, but I'm not a nobody. If she is really being used, we can show her that we all be there for her and protect her. 'Killing with kindness', you know that's what I'm best at.”

“I know, I know, you are right... Just... we need to be careful.”

The room became quiet, and Alastor had no intention to linger. He heard what he needed to hear and soundlessly vanished, flowing into his shadows and into his own room.

The little exchange was indeed interesting. He wasn't surprised at all about Vaggie's apprehension of his little doll, and Charlies naive sense of benevolence in her defense. No, no, no, that was to be expected. What was out of the ordinary was the comical belief that they could turn (Y/n) against him. Ah, such simple minds they had, he thought bemused. He did good on keeping the deal with her a secret. They would've been much more hostile if they knew about the circumstances. He took off his overcoat and hung it up his coat rack. He sat down in his armchair by the fire, watching over to his conjured swamp. Fireflies illuminated the bayou in a soft green and yellow light. It never failed to calm him, looking over the shimmering water, listening to the soft rustle of the cattails. He closed his eyes and smelled the damp and musky scents. Fatigue crept into his limbs, heavier and more intense than usual. Maybe, he thought, his body could allow itself to sacrifice a part of this night for a little sleep. But his mind was as busy and restless as always, and he supposed he would have to settle for just this small moment of tranquility. A soft knock on the door pulled him back to the present. He glanced at his wall clock. It was almost midnight. He sighed and walked over to the door. Whoever it was that disturbed him now, they'd better have a good reason. He opened his room to two golden eyes, shifting in colors of the rainbow by the firelight.

“Why kitten, what brings you to my humble abode at this unholy time?”

He tilted his head, surprised to see her - She had never visited his room at night. His gaze wandered to her black satin dressing gown – Rosie insisted on gifting it to her - loosely thrown over a simple, cream-colored leisure suit. She wore her hair down as if she had already gotten ready for her night's rest. A steaming mug rested in her hands, it smelled like vanilla, honey and lavender.

“I'm sorry to intrude this late.”, she spoke softly, almost a whisper. “I came to bring you this...”

She reached into the pocket of her gown, pulling out something round and golden and familiar. His pocket watch. His eyes widened.

“I went down into the kitchen to get a glass of water and found it hidden behind the fruit bowl. I was sure it was yours, so I wanted to return it to you right away.”

His hand reached out and brushed her delicate fingers as he retrieved his possession. He hadn't even noticed it wasn't in it's usual pocket in his overcoat. He must have forgotten to put it back after he had finished cooking. He felt a bit annoyed at his own negligence. He really should get some sleep....

“It is indeed mine, and very precious to me. How very thoughtful of you, my dear.”

She just nodded, a gesture that had become so common to her. Then she held out the cup to him.

“You looked a bit weary today, so... I made a cup of hot milk for you. To sleep better.”

There were only a few times in his hellish life Alastor could recall that he had been caught off guard. This was one of them. Fortunately, one strength of his was his unfaltering smile, he was trained in keeping his impulsive emotions under control. But underneath this familiar mask he stared at the small, weak servant of his, her arm patiently streched out to him, in absolute astonishment. He carefully took the cup from her. It was piping hot. Freshly made.

“I'll leave you to rest now. Good night, Alastor.” “Sleep tight, kitten.”

And with that, she turned on her heels and quickly blended with the darkness of the corridor. He closed the door slowly when her footsteps became only an echo, and looked at the beverage in his hands. His shoulders shook, and finally, he allowed himself to laugh. His shadows swirled and purred, startled by the bellowing laughter of their master. When he sat back down by the fire, he still chuckled. He brought the cup to his lips, savoring the creamy, subtly sweet taste. Poor, poor naive princess. She would do better to prepare herself for bitter disappointment. This girl was his.

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