#anyway can conor fight?

[ofstarsandmoonlightt]

Lin: You don't think I can fight because I'm a girl.

Kel: I don't think you can fight because you're in a wedding dress.

For what it's worth, I don't think Conor can fight in that dress either.

Conor: Perhaps not. But I would make a radiant bride.

[intermundia]

in general, i think engaging with star wars from a place of realpolitik and political analysis is a fun thought exercise, especially with the canon and legends lore fleshing out the world a bit beyond lucas's archetypal story. there's a whole swath of authors who have written books and comics for adults that all take the premises of the movies seriously, the work of james luceno jumps to mind, so you can choose to dig into that lore and take it seriously as well.

the politics of the saga are related to but greatly simplified from our reality, and there is much that can be said about the way that the galaxy is designed, from george's viet cong inspired rebellion to his prequels era citizens united and bush era executive overreach. i think it's a mistake to take the jedi's role in government too seriously, as they are kind of a hand-wavy organized militia answerable to the legislative branch (and later executive during the war).

they're both a symbol of how the system works at its best and its worst. under the flourishing galactic republic, they're ideal ambassadors of peacetime diplomacy, whose arrival at a conflict resolves it using negotiation and limited force, before those conflicts sprouted into inter-system military engagement. but under sidious, they're arguably willingly misused to enforce peace on a wider scale, due to sidious's design of breaking the galaxy with a civil war.

i see many, many takes that say that the jedi should not be involved in politics at all, but i really think that's missing the point. you can take how they are being used as like a health test of the body politic, they're an epiphenomenon dependent on the republic as a whole. by the era of the prequels, they were a tool of an age that no longer existed, a more civilized one, where conflict could be resolved locally.

should they not have participated? as george has said many times, they were in a bind. would you act to save civilian lives from an invading army of droids who didn't care for or actively sought collateral damage? could you live with yourself if you had the power to help but did not? it was doomed from the beginning, they were in a trap and about to die, but is it better to fight or run away?

anyway, i got slightly off topic. engaging with star wars politically can be a fun and meaningful exercise, which even academics are not immune from the lure. here are a few articles that i enjoyed reading, if anyone is interested:

Charles, M. B. (2015). Remembering and restoring the republic: Star wars and Rome. Classical World, 108(2), 281–298. https://doi.org/10.1353/clw.2015.0014 (link) Conor Casey & David Kenny (2021): How Liberty Dies in a Galaxy Far, Far Away: Star Wars, Democratic Decay, and Weak Executives, Law & Literature, DOI: 10.1080/1535685X.2021.1991610 (link) Rackaway, C. (2020). Star Wars: The Fascism Awakens: Representation and its Failure from the Weimar Republic to the Galactic Senate. Studies in the Social Sciences, 1(1), 7-22 (link)

have at them and enjoy :)

[formulaford2022]

Okay long post ahead:

I realized I never gave my thoughts on Iowa. First of all, I am very sad for James Roe, I really thought he had that, but I'm a big Louis Foster fan so congrats to him. Also why did the NXT race literally have like two green laps, that was so much yellow. On to Indycar, not the most exciting two races I've ever seen, and as these were the races I would have seen live if I had not had other plans this weekend, I was kinda okay with missing them. I'm sad for Colton obviously, but congrats to Scott Mclaughlin on his first oval win and becoming a "real Indycar driver" lol, and also congrats to Will Power on his win. I do hope Palou gets his first oval win at some point this season. I am so glad Rossi, Sting Ray, Ed Carpenter, and Kyle Kirkwood are okay. I am so thankful for the aeroscreen as that could have been so much worse.

Onto this weekend, as much as this pains me to say, Lando Norris's helmet looks so cool. Also at the time I am writing this part of the post, Perez has crashed again in qualifying, and I can't help but think about my post about not understanding the resign when the redbull is no longer the best car on the grid. Congrats to AIX on their first win of the F3 season; I don't mind either of their drivers and I'm very happy about Dino P3. I didn't watch the actual race or the F2 sprint, and I really don't plan on watching either of them, so my thoughts are limited to only the podium results lol. I'm not really a fan of anyone on the f2 sprint podium so no thoughts on that. (after reading other people's thought's I guess It was a good race, and now I'm sad I didn't see it.)

I hope Alexander Rossi's thumb recovers well, I am devastated about that. I was hoping Callum Ilott would be the replacement (I was also thinking Conor Daly just because Indy is so much closer to Toronto thank Europe, but Mclaren never makes the choices I think are logical), but for Theo to get another chance in the car is very cool. For proving himself for an Indycar seat next year, this is a great decision, however, I so badly want him to never interact with Zak Brown again in his life, he deserves so much better. Also I know he's still under contract or whatever, but this makes him look like he's running back to his toxic ex lol.

Lando Norris on pole is kinda annoying, but Oscar P2 let's go, we can win from that. Williams P13 and P14 is doable I can see points coming this weekend (I hope). Also The worst part of racing is that during the summer I'm so busy and I always miss stuff or have to watch replays like days later, but during the school year when I really don't have morning/daytime/day long plans, there's really no racing. I attempted to watch the first London ePrix, but was unsuccessful in finding a place to view it, but congrats to Pascal Wehrlein. Wish I could have seen it. Colton Herta on pole let's go. Kyle P2 so a full Andretti front row. I have high hopes for the race. Pato's pretty far down there, but we can work with that I guess.

Onto Sunday, the F3 race was alright. Not the most interesting race I've ever seen, and I'm also not really a Tsolov fan so I did not really care about the front. I wish either Mini or Browning had made it into the points to make things a bit more interesting. Also rip Lindblad's race. I saw Kimi Antonelli won before I started watching, my only spoiler for the day which was nice, good job by him. Rip Paul Aron's race, but other than that, it was a great race. I really enjoyed it. The F1 race made my blood pressure rise, oh my goodness. OSCAR PIASTRI WIN LET'S GOOOO!!!! I'm so happy for him. He did so great. Also, this just solidifies why I do not like Lando Norris. (Just to clarify, I'm not a team orders fan (I'm a huge Indycar fan let's be for real right now) I just am not a fan of his attitude). But anyway, I am so excited about Oscar's first win. The first of many, many wins I hope.

Why is the formula e London track so sick looking, oh my goodness. Teammate fighting seems to be the theme of the day. That was a crazy race. I love how chaotic formula e races are. I also love when championships come down to the final laps of the final race. Great job to Pascal Wehrlein. He did great this season from the few races I've seen.

Did I miss the memo about literally every car being orange in Indy this weekend??? Why are there so many orange cars. Shout out to the AMR safety team and the aeroscreen once again this weekend. Big crashes freak me out, so I'm glad everyone is okay. So many yellows and a red flag is crazy. Colton Herta won though! Let's go! and Kyle got P2! I am so happy! It was actually such a good race! Woohoo! Colton and Oscar winning on the same weekend let's go!

[concealeddarkness13]

WHG 21 Prompt 5 - Chess

Content warning for explicit sexual dialogue and suggestive themes. About 1,500 words. Tagging: @ratracechronicler, @maple-writes, @pen-of-roses, @drabbleitout, and @grailfish!

Even though I had been to the ridiculous parties in the past few months, the stylist team still found things to poke and prod and rip out. They hadn’t sedated me yet, which was probably on purpose so I would have to experience all the embarrassment and pain. I just gritted my teeth (I had went back to dull teeth and no tail or scales) and stayed quiet. It would soon be over, and I wouldn’t even be able to get uncomfortable over the ridiculous outfit they’d have me wear.

The team told me that the stylist would come in soon, and they left me alone, with just a towel for cover. I wrapped it tightly around me when the door opened, but I frowned when I saw who it was. The fucking escort! The one who had looked at me and seemed to know me! He was still covered in glitter, making me want to gag at the garishness of it all. Great. I was doomed.

He smiled and bowed at me with a flourish. “Yes, it is I, the mysterious stranger from the party all those months ago. It is so good to see you again, little dragon.”

I blinked, recognizing what he was talking about, but still entirely confused. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

He blinked and stood up straight, before muttering something I didn’t catch. “I guess your mentor didn’t tell you that I would be your stylist?”

I blinked again. “No?”

He sighed dramatically. “Then I’ll need to start again. Goodbye.” He actually left the fucking room just to walk back in a few seconds later, smirking. “If you remember the party where you so gloriously bit that bastard’s cock off, I met you there first, and we talked. I hope you will forgive me for not doing what we had agreed would help you recognize me, but that would be unfortunate with how they left you for me.”

Conor. He was the whole reason I even had the courage to hurt Ashont that night. My cheeks burned as I imagined just kissing him here and now. “I…they sedated me after that, so I wasn’t able to look for you. I’m sorry.”

His smile got sharper, more dangerous. “They should be the ones who are sorry, little dragon. Punishing you for fighting against your own abuser. But I suppose little can be expected of them anyway.” He sighed and walked further away, towards a wardrobe. Which at least meant he didn’t notice how I embarrassingly leaned towards him as he moved away, as if he had a gravitational pull. “The stylist you originally had was going to put you in a ridiculous outfit that would have just shown off your body. No flair whatsoever. So, I decided to…intervene.” He looked back at me with a smile that showed off his fangs, and my cheeks burned worse. “I was thinking more of a theme, if you would be inclined to at least trust me in this.”

Anything would be better than being constantly sexualized. I nodded. “I trust you. In more than this. You—” You were the reason I held onto hope. Knowing that someone wanted to help, that there were people who cared, while being surrounded by indifferent Capitol citizens, saved me. I know I can’t really trust anyone, but still, I absolutely trust you. How the fuck could I say that to him? It sounded like a declaration of love.

He tilted his head. “Not recommended, when it comes to me.” He chuckled and opened the wardrobe, pulling out a red suit that glittered in the light and had a pattern that looked like scales. He turned back to me and handed it over. “Please change into this. I need to get some accessories that the Capitol did not provide.” He waved and left, and I scrambled to get changed, not wanting to sit around in that fucking towel anymore.

The suit fit well, but I changed so quickly that I had to wait for a while before he finally showed up again. He was carrying bottles and makeup and smiling conspiratorially. He didn’t explain though, just setting down the stuff and opening the wardrobe again, pulling out a crimson cape and a set of dragon wings that looked realistic.

I stared as he helped put both the cape and the wings on. “Could you remain partially transformed, with your tail, scales, and fangs?” I nodded, letting my tail, scales, and fangs appear, and he smiled wider. “Good girl.”

Fuck. My tail wagged, and I couldn’t stop it as Conor went and grabbed the stuff he came in with. “Sit down, please. I will apply your makeup and fix your hair.”

I did so, intentionally sitting on my tail to stop it from wagging. He set up an area in front of me, and my cheeks burned as I finally remembered how gorgeous he was. “The wings move, letting you stretch them out to show off to the crowd more, if you would like that. I have an idea to make your hair look red and firey in the light. Is that suitable to you?” I nodded, drowning in his eyes. He could ask anything of me, and I would agree. He nodded, his smile turning into a smirk. “I’ll take care of you afterwards so you will not have to worry about any leftover glitter from your costume.” I squirmed at his low voice and how he looked me up and down. Couldn’t he just take me right now if he was gonna be so flirty?

And then he just left me there in my horniness. He walked away from the palpable sexual tension and grabbed one of the bottles and shook it. “Make sure to cover your eyes,” he purred. Fuck, he totally knew.

I couldn’t help but squirm again as I covered my eyes and he sprayed the hair product all over my hair, carefully running his hands through it probably to make sure the product distributed all through it. Once he was done with that, he caressed my cheek. “Now, for the makeup. Try to relax, little dragon.”

Oh fucking hell, it was like he was using the flirts I had had to use on others right back on me. And as I kept my eyes closed but did move my hands away and he started working, he was so gentle. I was so used to people being rough, demanding so much from me, and instead, he was quiet and calm. It was…so nice. I really could relax and not worry about whether he would hurt me or not. I didn’t understand, but I trusted him.

It took a lot longer than I expected, but when he said he was done, I opened my eyes and stared at the mirror. My hair still only looked like a shiny green in this light, but my face. The makeup looked like I had glittering red scales covering my face and down my neck, with black makeup framing my eyes. I…I looked gorgeous. And not in the objectifying way, in the way that I would want to look.

I blinked and looked over at Conor, tears blurring my vision. “Th-thank you.” I tried to duck my head to hide the tears, but he held my chin up, wiping my eyes with a cloth.

He chuckled. “Wouldn’t want to mess up all my hard work now, would you? It is almost time, so it’s time to go. I’ll see you afterwards, little dragon.” He bowed.

I nodded and headed out, being careful to not hit the wings on anything. People stared as I walked past, but that didn’t make me feel uncomfortable for once. No one bothered me, they just let me walk onto my chariot on my own. And I just realized that I hadn’t received the sedation I was supposed to get. Was my stylist supposed to sedate me?

Even better that it had been Conor then. Maybe…maybe I wouldn’t have to be sedated again. And I could show them why they should fear me.

But not today. I just stayed happily aware as the chariots started moving, and as the audience screamed, I did stretch my wings out and glared at the crowd. When I saw myself on the screens out of the corner of my eyes, I looked dangerous, and my hair…

My hair practically glowed red with how shiny it looked. It matched the color of my clothes and makeup scales, and I made sure to smile to show off my fangs, and the crowd screamed more. I flipped them off and tried to block them out as I just kept that dangerous image of myself in my head. I wasn’t showing off for them. I was showing off for myself, to prove to myself that I was powerful despite what the Capitol did to me.

I ignored the president’s speech, and when the chariots left the area and stopped, Conor was waiting for me. He grinned and held out his hand to help me off the chariot. I refused his hand, getting down on my own, but once I was on solid ground, I did take his outstretched hand.

His smile turned into a smirk. “Let’s get you taken care of, little dragon.”

[imagineabuttercream]

The Little Spoon (Josh Pieters x Reader)

Being in a relationship with someone can sometimes come with the baggage of their past partners. This was definitely the case with Josh.

"Hey babe, do you mind if I run over to Caspar's to film a video?" The two of you had been spending a lazy day lounging in his room when his phone went off.

"Of course, not." you rolled over and kissed him before getting up from the bed.

"Are you sure? I don't have to." Josh said, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. He always worried that you would feel neglected.

"I'm absolutely sure." you chuckled. "I need to grocery shop anyways." Grabbing your purse, you walked to stand in front of Josh. "Be safe. Text me later if you want to do something." You said, bending down to pull him into a kiss.

"I'll make sure to text you." Josh replied, watching you leave the flat.

Josh never told you he was going to do something, instead he asked if he could. At first, you thought it was just one of those things that goes away after you've dated for a while. 6 months in, however, you were worried. It made you feel like he was afraid to do anything without your approval. Even worse, he never asked you to do anything for him, always putting the responsibility on himself.

You had text him "Hey, love. Want to hangout at mine tonight? I just got the Lego Harry Potter game!"

"I'm in!" he text back. "I have to run a few errands and then I'll pick up dinner and meet you at yours."

Happy he was coming over, you replied "Why don't you let me go get food while you run your errands and we'll just meet back here?" you added a kissy face.

"I don't want you to have to go out." Josh replied. "I'll just get it on the way."

"I've got a solution. PIZZA!" you had text back. "I'll order our usual and keep it warm in the oven until you get here."

"Perfect. I'll bring cash for the pizza. Let me know if you need me to grab anything. I'll try to be quick. See you soon, love." Josh text.

"Keep your money, babe. It's on me. And take your time! Be safe! I'm not going anywhere." you text back a winky face.

Josh had planned on stashing the cash in your purse anyways. You had to fight Josh to let you pay for anything or to let you do something for him. He always took care of you, but you wanted him to let you take care of him.

A few days later, Josh had driven quite a few hours with Joe and Caspar to take part in a video shoot. They had planned on being back later that day for a movie night, but the shoot ended up taking all day and into the evening. They had even asked the boys to return the next day. Joe suggested they just share a hotel room and so Josh had facetimed you making sure you were okay with it.

"That sounds like a good plan. I'd rather you stay there and be safe than drive all night!" You replied.

"I promise we're just going to stay the night and we'll head out after the shoot." Josh insisted on telling you. He didn't want you to think that they had planned this.

"Hey. Don't stress, love. Make a night of it. It's been a while since you and those two have gone out and had some fun. You've been so busy and friends are important." you told Josh. "Have a few drinks. Eat some good food." you smiled, hoping Josh would stop worrying.

"That sounds like a good plan." Joe had popped onto the screen.

"See!" you laughed. "Joe, make sure my boy has a good night."

Josh had a big grin on his face. "Nothing too crazy." he said, shoving Joe out of frame. He was always shocked at how easy things were between the two of you.

"Just don't stress, love. I'll be here with Jack, Conor, and Mikey watching movies and eating shitty popcorn." You laughed, showing Josh the bag of burned popcorn.

"You let Mikey make it, didn't you?" He laughed.

"I never learn." you replied. "Alright. Go have fun. Love you."

"I love you too." Josh blew you a kiss. You blew one back and closed the app.

That night, you decided to ask Jack for advice/insight. You had become good friends with Josh's roomies and you knew that he'd be able to fill in some of the blanks. You spilled your guts about how you were feeling.

"Josh is going to kill me for talking about this." Jack had said, handing you a glass of something fruity and strong and taking a seat next to you on the couch.

"Oh, hush. He's a gentle giant." you smiled over at your friend.

"Josh's last girlfriend was a total bitch." Jack said shaking his head and staring at nothing, looking like he was reliving a bad memory.

"What did she do?" you asked. Josh had told you that it was a messy break-up, but you never pushed him to talk about it.

"She used him. Made him do everything. Made him feel guilty for spending his energy on YouTube, but made him pay for everything. Convinced him he wouldn't find anyone better or 'prettier' than her." Jack looked over at you. "By the way, you're far better than her and you make her look like a troll."

You chuckled at the last part, but the first part broke your heart. "What a twat." you said, mad on his behalf. "Why did he put up with that?"

"Because he believed her." Jack replied. "We all told him she was shit. I don't think he believed us even after they broke up. At least not until he found you."

"I need to find a way to show him I'm not her." you said, sad that Josh had been stuck with someone so selfish.

"He knows you're different." Jack said, throwing his arm around your shoulders.

"But he acts like I'm going to get mad and leave." you let your head fall against Jack.

"But you aren't. You should talk to him about it." Jack encouraged you.

"I will. I think I'm going to steal him tomorrow." you smiled, planning an evening for Josh. "When he gets here tomorrow night, text me and then send him to mine." You spent the rest of the night silently planning while watching movies with the boys.

"He's on his way, love." Jack had text you, shooing Josh out the door.

"Thank you." You text back. "Wish me luck." You were nervous that Josh was going to be mad that you and Jack had talked about him.

Hearing Josh knock on the door, you opened it and greeted him. "Hey, babe!" You said, throwing your arms around his middle.

"Hey!" Josh couldn't help but smile. He loved that you always acted so happy to see him. "Jack said I had strict orders to come here straight away."

"You did." You smiled up at him. "Come on."

"Is everything okay?" He asked, closing your door behind him. He had kind of been waiting for the other shoe to drop. Everything between you had gone perfectly and it all seemed too good to be true.

"We're fine, but we need to talk." You said, pulling him into your living room. "Sit." You said, sitting down next to him.

"What's going on?" Josh said, his brow furrowing and his smile gone.

"Hey, none of that." You smoothed out his brow with your fingers, pulling him into a kiss. "I told you we were fine, right?" Josh nodded. "Then trust me, love."

"Alright." Josh waited for you to continue.

"I'm going to say some stuff and I don't want you to talk until I get it all out." You said, seeing him nod again.

"Josh, I love you. Like, more than I thought was possible. But I need you to know that I don't love you because of the things you do for me or the things you buy me. I love you because of your heart and your sense of humor and because you're you." You leaned over to quickly kiss him on the lips.

"I talked to Jack about your ex." You continued, stopping Josh from interjecting. "Babe, you didn't deserve to be with someone that selfish and cruel." you gently placed your hand on Josh's cheek, making him look at you. "Everything she told you and tried to make you think was complete bullshit." Josh turned his face away from you.

"Hey, look at me." you said, moving to straddle Josh's lap. "She made you think that you weren't good enough or that you were always doing the wrong thing and that's a load of shit, love." your hands gently rested on either side of Josh's face. "I love that you enjoy YouTube so much. I love that you get the opportunity to travel and see new places and meet new people. I am incredibly proud of you and how far you've come and how much effort you pour into it. I hate that you feel like I'm going to be mad or upset about any of that. I love it when you get to make memories with your friends. I trust you so I'm not going to be mad that you had a night out with the boys. I'm never going to be mad that you're running late or that you slept in or that we have to change plans. I have no problem cooking for you guys or running errands for you or skyping because you're a little too busy to visit. I want to be able to take care of you too. Letting me help isn't bothering me or inconveniencing me. It's letting me love you."

Josh was speechless. He nodded and wiped a few tears away from his cheeks before pulling you into a kiss. You felt his arms wrap around you as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. "I love you so much." he said, holding you tight against him. "I'm sorry I didn't talk about her before."

"I love you too." you replied, running your fingers up into his hair. "And don't apologize. We all have our baggage, love. I promise I'm never going to be like her."

"I know." Josh replied. You could feel him press his lips to the side of your neck. "I'm lucky to have you." Josh said, sucking little pink marks into the skin of your neck.

"MMmmm, I'm just as lucky to have you." You felt Josh's hands slip down to your thighs. Josh stood up and you wrapped your legs around his middle. "And I'm happy you're home." you kissed down Josh's neck as he walked the two of you to your bedroom.

Later that night as the two of you were getting ready for bed, an idea popped in your head. Climbing under the covers and facing the love of your life, you shared your thoughts. "Babe, I have a request."

Josh turned to face you. "Anything." The two of you had talked a bit more after your 'welcome home' shenanigans and you were both emotionally and physically exhausted.

"Can you ask me for something? You don't get to pay for it or make it up to me, I just want to do something for you. No strings attached." you asked. Josh thought on it for a minute and then his cheeks flushed red. "Awww, you're blushing." you smiled, running your nails through Josh's scruff.

"It's stupid." Josh turned his face to hide in the pillow.

"Hey, it's not stupid. I'm the one that asked." you ran your hand slowly up and down Josh's back.

He mumbled his answer into the pillow and you couldn't tell what he was saying.

You giggled, seeing Josh so embarrassed. "Love, I can't hear you."

He turned to face you, cheeks bright pink and avoiding eye contact. "I've always wanted to be the little spoon."

"Aawww, that's perfect." you leaned forward to press a kiss to Josh's lips feeling him smile against yours. "Turn around, love."

"Are you sure?" Josh asked, feeling dumb for bringing it up. He had slid his arms around you when you kissed him and you were pressed together, front to front.

"Of course I'm sure. Thank you for telling me." You kissed him one more time and waited for him to turn around. Scooting up against Josh, you slipped your arm around him and tucked your thighs up behind his. You could feel him lace his fingers with yours. "I love you." you said, kissing the space between his shoulder blades.

"I love you, too." Josh replied. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, love." You said, feeling yourself starting to fall asleep.

[esotericmasturbation]

Road House

I recently watched the new Road House movie starring Conor McGregor and Jake Gylenhall, full disclosure I never saw the first one. Anyway I saw this one and it really was the perfect popcorn movie, I mean did it affect me in some deep emotional way? No but it had me thoroughly entertained for it’s entire two hour run time, which when seen on the Amazon Prime interface looked a little daunting to be honest, but it soothed me the entire way through with it’s mind numbing entertainment value.

Conor Mcgregor is a surprisingly good actor in it and by that I mean he didn’t distract me while I watched the movie. There were a few nitpickable flaws like the slightly off CGI and the ultra quippy, MCU type humor that was annoying in a few scenes, like when the protagonist is in an intense fight, getting his head slammed against a piano and says “this piano is out of tune.” Really this only happens a few times though so I can’t say it’s a huge negative.

The only real fault I can find in this movie is that it failed to really construct the protagonist's character well. He's supposed to be this anti-hero who has some dark inner struggle but that rarely comes out. You would think in this massive runtime with these extended fight scenes, they would find the time to squeeze in some character development.

Anyway I guess that’s not what you can expect from a movie like this, like I said I never saw the original Road House but I would assume it’s pretty much the same as this, an action packed fight fest with no real deeper story or meaning. To be clear I have no problem with that, I like movies like this, movies that know what they’re doing and doing it unrepentantly. I would much rather watch this than another confused adaption of a comic book trying to be both edgy and gritty for adults while being colorful and funny for kids.

[meraki-yao]

So it turns out Jeff is not a stereotypical bully he is in fact a babygirl and arguably the most babygirl one of them all EVEN MORE THAN HENRY HOW— anyways so here are some more

I take back Jeff and Luke getting into a fight, that fucking scene with the car, that kid's gonna bounce the second Luke shows any indication of violence

Somehow Jeff and Robert have a similar vibe but because of that they can't stand each other, still stand by Jeff going "oh my god shut the fuck up" whenever Robert sings

Conor getting really annoyed at Jeff like "what the fuck mate" but Timmy less so

Henry somehow becomes the mother of the group, he is exasperated, he also has no choice and settles into the role really fucking well, partly because he works well with children (see Henry at the children's hospital)

I don't know if anyone reading this has been in the situation where you're the "baby sitter/ mother" of the group (and it doesn't even need to be literal child, it's about their mental age) but like it can get exhausting and at some point you're kind of passively doing everything and answering everything with half a brain cell while dealing with like three of your kids at the same time, but somehow you're still functional enough to keep the peace, yeah that's Henry in this case lol

After Henry takes Conor and Timmy under his wing, the two kids become kind of protective over Henry and try to help him out with the mess they're in

So if Jeff whines about something or asks a dumb question, Conor, Robert and Luke would be done with him, Henry would sigh but indulge him and Timmy would chime in

so this weird Nicholas Galitzine universe family is: Henry is the parent, I can't decide whether Conor or Timmy is the older but yeah they're the oldest and middle child, Jeff is the baby, Robert is Henry's sort of opposite younger twin and Luke is uhhhhhh that one estranged uncle

Yeah I said I was gonna write more on Henry being a big brother to Conor and Timmy and I still wanna do that and maybe including Alex to the story

But then Jeff blew the original dynamic I had in mind out of the window (I did not expect to find him cute. I am personally not into jock. I hate cheaters. He was really fucking cute. He is babygirl. What the fuck.)

Yeah I don't know how much of this makes sense, it's the middle of the night, I'm sleepy and supposed to be finishing a lab report, but here's some brainrot lmao

Ok I saw a post before saying what if we put all of Nick’s characters in one room (I can’t find op anymore) and after the last reblog it got me thinking so here’s some weird multiverse imagination

Note that I’m only gonna use the characters I’ve seen/know about, so that’s Henry (RWRB, duh), Conor (Handsome Devil, watched the whole movie and really liked it), Timmy (The Craft: Legacy, only watched Nick’s part lol), Robert (Cinderella, the first time I actually saw Nick, I watched… enough, plus a bunch of video essays on it because I am a musical theatre person and a fairy tale person), Jeff (Bottoms, from what I can get from the trailers), and Luke (Purple Heart, which I love you Nick but I will not put myself through that, based on what I’ve heard about it and reading the synopsis on Wikipedia) if you can think of more please join in on this mess

Let’s say some weird random ass multiverse magic got all of them into a room. After the initial “Good God is that what I look like with a buzzcut?” and “Why the fuck are they British- is that kid Scottish?” and “HE’S A PRINCE? OH THAT GUY WHO’S SINGING IS A PRINCE TOO? HOW AM I A PRINCE???” then someone (honestly out of the six I listed probably Henry or … Luke?) telling everyone to settle down and introduce themselves so they can figure out their differences, what’s gonna happen?

Well...

Luke and Jeff will definitely get into a fight at some point. Maybe Robert gets unintentionally involved too

I dread to imagine the conversation/confrontation between Luke, the conservative marine and Henry, now a gay icon in a loving, committed relationship with the bisexual POC son of a democratic female president (I’ve heard some folks call Henry the rainbow prince and oh my God I love that) interacting, but Henry is still a prince and a lot stronger and willing to stand up for himself and his relationship at the end of the movie, I want him to win in that argument

Henry and Robert will definitely judge each other. Robert on Henry’s clothes and how proper he is (think about his fucking line “dancing at these things are so mannered! And formal! And we look like fools!” and oh God I hate that I can quote that line) and Henry on Robert’s eccentric, borderline-childish mannerism, and wonder how on earth is this guy a prince (I know royal protocols are strict and Henry does definitely find them stifling at times but a large part of that is just… manner and etiquette? Like look at the pained face he makes when Alex devours the cornetto and then speaks with his mouth full of ice cream, he was definitely exasperated by his choice of men at the moment)

Luke and Jeff will get annoyed at Robert spontaneously bursting into song and tell him to shut the fuck up, but Henry might find it amusing and somewhat charming (come on I absolutely don’t believe that Alex and Henry don’t sing to each other, especially when they have Taylor and Nick’s beautiful singing voice in the movie verse) and maybe Conor starts shyly strumming his guitar to Robert’s singing

Jeff trying to bully Conor and Timmy then realizing these boys are no less strong than he is and gets his ass kicked

(The next couple of points are the main reason I wrote this post lol)

Henry recognizing Conor and Timmy’s struggles, seeing bits of his younger self in these queer kids that look like him, remembering what Alex said about getting to be someone his father didn’t see growing up, thinking he can do something similar for these two boys and taking them under his wing, pulling the both of them to a corner to talk

Conor telling Henry that he doesn’t believe there’s a place in the world where he could just be himself, and Henry remembering feeling the same until a certain American boy with fucking eyelashes, black curls and dimples stormed his castle

Timmy explaining how he feels like his bisexuality isn’t being validated (Nick did amazing in that scene please go watch it) and Henry gently telling him that that’s absolutely not true and that his boyfriend is in fact, bisexual, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with liking both boys and girls

Henry and Timmy sharing their grief over their lost parents

Conor and Timmy suddenly having a man who looks like them, who's in a position of power and in a committed relationship with another man in a position of power to look up to

Henry telling them his story and how he found love and support, giving the boys hope, and realizing that this is what making history can mean

I don’t know how my brain came to this but Henry as an older brother to Conor and Timmy now lives rent-free in my head, might write more on that alone

Very intrigued about how this is gonna be expanded when Mary & George comes out and we add George Villiers to the mix, Henry will pass out

[preciouslandmermaid]

nothing’s gonna hurt you baby (carmy x f!reader) -- Part 4

Note: [eyeball emoji] Ya’ll better have some water bottles ‘cause this one is SPICY. But then it gets angsty again LMAO.

Pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

Content: 18+. Smut. MDNI

Warnings/Tags: foul language, banter/rivalry, slow burn, denial of feelings, protected sex, injury occurrence (minor burn), praise kink.

Chapter Synopsis: It’s been two weeks since your Ratatouille-Moment after trying Marcus’ cake and deciding to open your own bakery. You’ve returned to Chicago and to help a friend cater a birthday party. Your halfway through your work when Richie asks you what you’re doing at his daughter’s birthday.

Passion comes in many flavors, but you didn’t think it would taste so sweet.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

(Read on Ao3)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And I’m thinking – I can take this dude. He’s tall but—"

“How tall?” Fak cut in and asked while hunched over, twisting a wrench along the pipe beneath the bathroom sink. “As tall as Conor Murphy?” He asked, referencing a player on the Chicago Blackhawks, who was notably over six feet.

Richie crouched beside Fak near the toolbox, “I don’t fucking know. I didn’t measure him. He was like as tall as me, dude.”

“You’re not that tall.” Fak said. He grunted with force before the nut finally came loose and clattered onto the white tiles.

He scoffed. “Fuck you. I’m six one.”

“Can you pass the flashlight? Thanks.” Fak peered into the pipe and checking for why it was clogged, “That’s like average.”

“Whatever, man. You didn’t see him. Anyway, as I was saying, I was about to clock this dude – right? Now, I’m not trying to white knight, okay? And before you get on my ass, I know what that term means. But it wasn’t about that.”

“What was it about then?” Fak encouraged, laughter in his voice, now fully invested in the story of the ‘douche from New York’ who visited with the ‘hot piece of ass from across the street’.

“I should’ve—” Richie mimicked punching someone while biting his lip.

“Because like you don’t come into MY house, right? You don’t come into my fucking house and start bossing people around - bossing my customers around and shit. He was asking questions and it’s like dude--order your fucking sandwich and leave. I’m not fucking Wikipedia for Sandwiches. I don’t need to fucking tell you what we make our giardiniera with.” Richie ranted.

He scoffed, then mimicked the Douche From New York, “Is it organic giardiniera?” He rolled his eyes, passing Fak a thin piece of wire at his request. “Like fuck off.”

Fak laughed, delighted. “He really said that?”

“He said that!”

“Wait. Why did you try to fight him?”

“I already told you. Because he was being a fucking—a fucking dick!” Richie gestured aggressively with his hand, “and I didn’t try to fight him. He left before I could throw down.”

Carmy stepped into the tight customer bathroom, “We good in here?”

“Yeah,” Fak tugged on the serrated, thin wire that was used to clean hair and other gunk out of pipes. The wire slid from the mouth of the pipe with a sucking, wet sound, and a wadded reddish-pink clump plopped onto the tile like the worlds’ most dejected jellyfish. Everyone stared for a second as comprehension dawned.

“What the fuck is that? Dude – “ Richie gawked, “is that a fucking tampon?”

Fak picked it up by the string with a gloved hand. “Yes, Richie. Yes it is.”

“Great.” Carmy pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fak – uh – c-can you just put up a sign that says don’t put shit down the sink, please?”

“On it.”

“Thank you.”

“Who puts a fucking tampon in the sink? There’s a trash right fucking here.” Richie shook his head in disbelief and Fak giggled.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You stepped off the plane and into the terminal while scrolling through your phone and dragging your rolling suitcase behind you. Your phone vibrated incessantly as airplane mode was turned off and service was back on.

It had been two weeks since you were in Chicago.

After your epiphany, you bought the first ticket back to Cincinnati and strolled through your favorite neighborhoods. You went to bakeries and grocery stores and cafes. You talked to owners, pastry chefs, and waiters. You talked to their customers when the opportunity revealed itself. You visited your friends. They offered their perspectives and gentle, unwavering support. You slept on their couches and air mattresses and in guest bedrooms. After a week in Cincinnati, you booked a flight to Washington DC to experience a bakery that won several local and international awards. You took a rental car to New York City where you spent the last few days repeating the same process of talking to pastry chefs, tasting food, and taking notes. Your notebook was ready to split at the seams.

Your brain was fogged with jetlag. Your stomach sloshed with coffee and half a granola bar. You had about a hundred things to do. Yet you still felt excited. It was good to be back in the city. Tim called you earlier this morning and informed you that the refrigerated cases you ordered (for displaying cakes) were installed. You shoved your suitcase into the backseat of the taxi and checked the time on your phone screen.

“Where to Miss?” The driver asked.

“Uh…shit. Let me check.” You pulled up the text from your friend, Margot, “50 East Walton St.”

You checked and replied to emails while the driver pulled away from the curb and merged onto the highway. Margot’s sister-in-law, Delilah, owned a bakery called ‘Sweet Sensations’ and after hearing about your business plan—Margot made the call to have you shadow with them. It would hopefully give you the hands-on experience you craved.

You generously tipped the driver and pulled your suitcase out from the back. Ordinarily, you’d go home first. But Delilah said they were catering a party today and if you could get here ASAP then that would be ideal. You were always up for a challenge.

Delilah greeted you at the back where deliveries were accepted. She was a tall, willowy woman with pale-blonde hair tucked beneath a hairnet. She wore pink cat-eyeglasses over her friendly brown eyes.

“I honestly thought you were kidding when you told me you were on the way.” She said, smiling warmly. “Did you have a nice flight?”

You exchanged pleasantries and small talk with her before getting down to business. She offered for you to lock your suitcase in her office and gave you a uniform to borrow. The uniform involved a bright pink t-shirt with the bakeries’ name written in flowing, white script that glittered under the fluorescent lights and a baseball cap with a  cupcake on it. She provided you with a white apron that covered your lap. And after a quick once-over, she deemed your shoes safe and acceptable. The clothes fit, but they felt a bit like trying on your parent’s shoes as a kid. Awkward, out of place, too big and gawky. You tugged on the hem of the shirt.

“Now, we’re doing a six-year old’s birthday party. The cupcakes are already made so it’s just a matter of delivering them and helping to set up.” Delilah explained. “We’re a team so just ask any of us for help or any questions.”

“I really appreciate the help, Delilah.” You said earnestly. “Especially considering our professional relationship going forward.” You had big plans to include delivery in your bakery as well, but you wanted it to expand beyond the 713-area code. You held a personal goal of delivery services nationwide.

Delilah smiled wider, “There’s always more birthdays happening year after year. I think we’ll survive another sweet shop on the street.” She said with a playful wink. You found her ease and confidence to be calming and charming. You’re not sure when the thorn was pulled from your side at the thought of other restaurants and bakeries around you. Logistically, they were your competition. They were a threat to your profits and livelihood. It just didn’t stress you out as much anymore.

“Actually, I do have one question.”

“Mhm?”

You gestured to your outfit and the pastel-pink palette of the kitchen, the front of house, and nodded toward the lined up pink delivery vans.

“How much do you love the color pink?”

Delilah laughed brightly. “Oh, well, it’s only my favorite - can’t you tell?”

You smiled, “I mean…it’s only a little obvious.”

“Subtly never came easily to me.” She shrugged, “I figured I may as well embrace it.”

Your chest warmed. In some situations, you were about as graceful as a shovel to the face. It was nice to know there were others in the world as blunt as you were.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Delilah left you alone to arrange the cupcakes on the serving table. They were meant to be arranged on a three-tiered platter. It wasn’t too hard. The only tricky part was not getting frosting on your gloves. The cupcakes were incredibly delicate. It was counter intuitive, you thought, to have such fancy cupcakes at a children’s party. They were just going to smush them into the grass or something.

“No fucking way!” A familiar voice announced from behind you.

You spun with a cupcake in hand and met Richie’s bright blue gaze.

“What are you doing here?” He tucked his hands into the pockets of his tracksuit pants. He was wearing a Beef T-shirt which made you wonder if he called out of work today to be here. Wait, why was he here? Nevermind. It simply didn’t matter. Richie could go to whatever birthday parties he wanted to go to. You idly hoped The Beef wouldn’t suffer too much without him working the front of house. Then again, your mouth twisted humorously, maybe Richie’s absence would be an improvement.

You looked pointedly at the cupcake in your hand. “Setting up.” You turned back to your work and tried vainly to ignore Richie. See, something you learned about Richie was that he loved the sound of his own voice. You couldn’t just turn away and expect him to stop talking.

“I can’t believe you’re catering Eva’s birthday.” He said, chuckling, “Small world, huh? Small world.”

You carefully picked up a cupcake and gingerly placed it on the platter. They were frosted in a twisted two-tone of lavender and light pink with silver sprinkles. At least, this batch was. The second tier was light blue and dark purple frosting with dark chocolate. The final tier was a gluten-free option with white vanilla frosting.

“So, what happened with your spot? You’re not doing that or what?” You heard a telltale click of a lighter behind you.

“I’m helping Delilah.” You said in a reserved tone. “My spot is fine.”

“So, you and Carmy?” He queried with obvious interest. You wished you could throw a cupcake at him. Once my bakery is up and running, I will make a cupcake, and I will smash a cupcake into Richie’s face just to see what happens. You swiped your frosting-tinged fingers onto the front of your apron and shot Richie your coldest glare.

“Don’t you have something better to do than to gossip?” It was a weak retort, but you couldn’t help it. Your mind ruptured on the very real possibility that Carmy told people about you and about what happened between you. And why wouldn’t he? Guys talked about their casual sexual encounters all the time. It wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t a secret. You needed to get your head back into the game. You huffed and returned to the cupcakes.

“Hah! I knew something was going on!” He snapped his fingers. “He’s been different since meeting you. I fucking knew it. I knew it.”

“Nothing is going on.” You said firmly.

“Oh yeah? Then why’s he such a little bitch baby?” Richie asked. It was probably a rhetorical question. You bent over to reach for another cupcake out of the container and whipped your head to look at Richie – he was smoking and looking smug. The urge to throw a cupcake was astronomical.

“Wow! And here I was convinced that the role of bitch baby was your position.”

“Hey.” He pointed two fingers at you while holding his cigarette between them, “You don’t know shit about my positions.”

You snorted. “I’m sure it’s nothing fancier than missionary with the lights off.”

“Whoa!” Richie shouted, throwing his hands in the air, “I’ll have you know—”

“Nope!” You interrupted. “I absolutely don’t want to know!”

Richie barreled on, “that people call me insatiable, okay? Yeah?” He said, raising both eyebrows and pointing at you again.

You pressed the palms of your hands over your ears, not caring if you got leftover frosting on your face or in your hair. It was a small price to pay for the relief of deafening Richie’s sex-escapades.

“I can’t hear you!”

“Yes, you can! I know that you can!” He said, stepping closer to you, and the smoke from his cigarette swirled between you in whorls of gray like frosting pushed from a piping nozzle.

“I can’t!” You lied, shouting over him. “No one wants to hear it, Richie!”

“Oh, they fucking hear it, alright? The whole neighborhood hears it.”

Despite his height, you didn’t feel overwhelmed, nervous, or cornered. It was like arguing with a string bean. There was nothing threatening about him. You laughed incredulously, which unfortunately revealed you could hear him, and Richie’s eyes brightened.

“Aha! I knew you could fucking hear me.”

“I can hear you but I’m not listening.” You clarified.

“You guys okay over here?” Delilah asked with a tight-lipped smile. You and Richie looked at her in tandem.

“Yup.” He said.

“Yeah.” You said.

You noticed Carmy walking toward the table and your heart plummeted to your toes. Fuck. You hadn’t seen or spoken to him for two whole weeks. You thought and hoped that time and distance would lessen the visceral effect he had on you. Unfortunately, it did not. His dark hair was messily curled around his face, a patchwork jacket covering his frame, and a giftbag dangled loosely from his long fingertips. A surge of heat flooded your face at the memory of those capable, confident hands.

Jesus Christ. Get it together. You are working at a kid’s party. God! You mentally berated yourself. I should’ve fucked some random stranger while I was in Cincinnati then I wouldn’t be dealing with this.

You risked a glance at Richie. He wore a self-satisfied grin on his stupid fucking face. Your heat-flooded face clearly betrayed you.

“Shut up.” You hissed at him.

“I didn’t say shit.” He quipped.

“I can read minds.”

Richie blew a raspberry with his mouth, “Pfft.” He then waved an arm over his head, “Cousin! You made it!”

You focused every iota of brainpower and hand-eye coordination on the delicate, delicious cupcakes. You weren’t ignoring Carmy. You were just busy with your work. You were staying on your side of the street.

Carmy and Richie spoke briefly before an obvious - “Hey,” from Carmy was sent your way. You spared a quick glance over your shoulder.

“Hey.” Once your back was turned to them, you closed your eyes and pressed your lips together with a soft, harsh exhale through your nose. It shouldn’t feel this weird. You wanted so badly to turn around and engage him in conversation, ask about The Beef, check-in with the random bullshit of his life because you…cared…a little bit. You squashed the desire with a heeled boot. There was nothing in the Rulebook of Professionals that said you couldn’t engage in small talk. However, your own Rulebook of Not Getting Involved specifically stated ‘keep your distance’.

“Where you been? Haven’t seen you around.” Carmy said with a sniff.

Delilah, bless her heart, unintentionally saved you. She said your name in that chipper, bright tone of hers and walked to you with quick, determined strides.

“I need a favor.” She said.

“That’s what I’m here for.”

“Our box of gluten free cupcakes – well – they’re currently all over the driveway.” Delilah cringed. “I was hoping you could go inside and whip another batch? Normally, I’d have Stacy do it – but she was stung by a bee and so Katherine and Ryan are rushing her to the emergency room.”

“Oh shit!” Richie brought a fist to his mouth, “Is she allergic?”

Delilah sighed with relief, sparing a quick appraising glance at Richie. “No, thankfully. But it stung her eye.”

“Gnarly.” Richie blanched.

You pulled your gloves off your hands and tossed them in the small trash bin by the table. “No problem.”

“The recipe is inside in the—”

“--Pink binder.”

“Pink binder. Yes! Exactly.” Delilah looked immensely relieved. “I’ll finish up out here. I already spoke to Tiffany, and she said it was OK if we used her kitchen.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You measured out the gluten-free flour into a glass measuring cup. You peered at the recipe to ensure you hadn’t misremembered the digits. It was quieter inside. Some of the children and their parents started to arrive and you could see Eva, Richie’s daughter, running around with an iridescent birthday hat. You watched Richie chase after his daughter and cackle boisterously. You smirked to yourself and rolled your eyes. While working, you wore the ‘Sweet Sensations’ pastel pink baseball cap backward to keep your hair out of your face and food.

Carmy leaned against the doorframe in the kitchen and the sight of him nearly startled you. Your heart did a funny, excited leap.

“Isn’t there a rule about creeping up on people when they’re in kitchens?” You said with feigned annoyance.

“I – I uh didn’t creep.” He stepped into the kitchen proper and looked over your spread-out supplies and ingredients. “How’s it going?”

“I don’t need a sous Chef it that’s what you’re asking.” You said while hand whisking the batter. If being cold and distant didn’t work to send him away, then maybe you could try being more of a bitch. You assumed it had a fifty-fifty chance of working.

He gestured lazily with one hand at the air between your bodies, “I t-t-thought we moved past this.”

“There’s nothing to move past, Carmy. We’re good.”

“We’re good?”

“Yeah.” You drank in the sight of him in stolen, quick glances, and felt your chest constrict each time. Your hands faintly trembled while holding the large, metal mixing bowl aloft and sectioning the batter into the small cupcake tins.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

You scraped the last of the batter with the rubber spatula and held the bowl aloft to shield yourself so Carmy couldn’t see your face. You wanted to talk to him. That was the problem. You wanted to vent to someone who actually would understand. Carmy owned a restaurant. He knew intimately about the stress and heartache of trying to make something good and worthwhile. You wanted to bitch about Tim and his workers who were dragging their feet about the hot water sink. You wanted to talk about your staffing issues and desperation to find people who actually loved the work. You wanted to tell him about your adventures in Cincinnati, and DC, and New York, and the wonderful pastries you ate and the amazing people you talked to.

The faint smell of smoke singed your nostrils and your blood turned to ice.

“FUCK!” You dropped the mixing bowl with a loud, metallic clang. It hit the edge of your baking tray and sent a splatter of cupcake batter into the air, hitting the ceiling and dropping in wet globs onto the countertop. You yanked the oven door open and coughed at the pluming exhale of fine, black smoke. You were vaguely aware that Carmy was beside you and you stared – dejected – at the burned cupcakes. Their puffy little tops were charred beyond recognition and looked like miniature Mount Dooms.

You snatched a kitchen towel from the counter because it was closest. You didn’t have time to get an oven mitten. You realized your mistake about a second later. Your fingertips flared with pain and the pan clattered noisily as you tossed it forcefully onto the stove. The kitchen towel, riddled with holes, laid on the ground near your feet. The fire alarm chirped – shrill and relentless.

“Fuck. Ow!” You rapidly shook your hand and brought your burning fingertips into your mouth. It didn’t help, of course, because your fingers burned with pain and the interior of your mouth was warm. Carmy slid behind you, his hand trailed against your lower back, and he flipped the faucet on.

“Here, come here.”

In a daze of pain and frustration, you thrust your burned fingers under the rush of cool water and your shoulders slumped. Carmy’s large hand scooped behind yours, his thumb pressed into your palm, and gently maneuvered your hand beneath the stream of water. You clenched your jaw. You fucked up cupcakes.

“You know, I went to fucking Stanford. I graduated in the top 3% of my class. Everyone and their fucking richer-than-God uncle wanted to hire me.” You babbled and swallowing back the painful, sharp stab of disappointment and embarrassment. “But I can’t bake a single fucking tray of fucking cupcakes without setting off the fire alarm.”

“Shit happens.” Carmy said calmly, still carefully holding your hand, as water flowed through your fingers and pooled around his thumb in the soft well of your palm.

“Yeah, right.” You murmured derisively.

“The night I won Food & Wine’s Best New Chef; I started a fryer fire. I nearly burned the place down.” He admitted softly. You peered at him out of the corner of your eye. He lifted his gaze from the sink, from your hands, and looked at you. His eyes were honest and sincere.

“I remember thinking that if I don’t do anything…then this place would go down and all my anxiety with it.”

You inhaled sharply and your fingers twitched in his hand.

“Shit…” You whispered. It was another layer to the Carmy-cake that you absolutely didn’t want to discover and devour. Why couldn’t he just be a simple, arrogant egomaniac like the rest of the chefs you knew? It would make everything so much easier.  

Carmy weakly chuckled, “Yeah, shit.” He cleared his throat, eyes on the sink again, and you could feel the pad of his calloused thumb sliding up your palm. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from his profile. His large, handsome nose. His long eyelashes framing his sky-blue eyes. The way his hair curled around his ears. The moles on his fair skin. His thumb reached your middle finger and you let him move it with the light pressure of his fingers pressing into your knuckles.

“How’s it feel?” He asked.

“I’m considering amputation.” You joked with a brief smile.

His lips quirked in a lop-sided smile. His eyes fluttered to yours again. You were suddenly aware of your shoulder pressed into Carmy’s warm chest. His body crowded around yours, solid and secure, and the sound of screaming children outside deafened to a low roar. He blinked languidly and you watched awe-struck as his gaze dropped to your mouth. An intense, tingling sensation spread from the center of your chest and melted across your skin like hot butter.

You quickly pulled your hand from the water and wiped the water droplets off on your apron. You cleared your throat and hurriedly started to clean up the mess left behind by the knocked-over cupcake pan of wet ingredients.

“You should go celebrate.” You said offhandedly, your pulse erratic in your jaw, and your ears burning with heat. The sponge gushed with soapy water as you cleaned the countertop in wide, circular motions. You could feel Carmy’s gaze burning into the back of your head. Carmy should be out in the yard with Richie throwing glowsticks at children or whatever. Besides, you didn’t want Richie giving you shit and saying something like ‘Hey, yo! Were you fucking my cousin in my ex-wife’s house? That’s a fucking power move dude.’

He wordlessly grabbed the pan out at the sink and used a fork to pluck the failed cupcakes out of their tin and into the trash.

“Yeah, I’ll pass.” He said as the fork tines scraped against metal, “I’m good here.”

You wrinkled your nose. “You’re not getting paid to do this, you know.”

His eyes flicked up toward you, “I know.”

“Then…” Your tongue swiped across your lower lip, “Why stay?”

He shrugged and his eyes dropped to the pan, “I like being in the kitchen.”

You shook your head and bit the inside of your cheek. Part of you wanted to probe for more information, but that would break the rule of Not Getting Involved. You scrubbed the countertop clean of sticky cake batter with a furrowed, determined brow. You avoided looking at Carmy even after he finished cleaning out the wrecked pan and started wiping batter from the floor. Together, you fell into a strangely comfortable silence of monotonous work.

“You gonna try to make it again?” Carmy asked while drying his hands and jutting his chin toward the open pink recipe binder.

“I’d rather be fucked by the standing mixer.” You replied nonchalantly and Carmy laughed. It was a warm, fleeting sound. Your eyes widened and soap bubbles squeezed through your fingers. He covered his mouth with the back of his hand, but you could see his faint smile lines and light flooding his eyes.

“That’s a vicious mental image.” He said, rubbing his lips together, and pressing down his smile. You caught yourself biting your lip to stop yourself from grinning. You turned your face away and began unlacing your apron.

“Yeah, well, I just speak from the heart, you know?” You balled the apron between your fists, “I gotta talk to Delilah. Um...thanks for helping me clean up.”

Carmy lifted one shoulder in a half shrug, “Yeah, it’s no problem.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After hearing about your kitchen catastrophe, Delilah asked you to drive to Sweet Sensations and pick up their on-hand gluten-free cupcakes. However, their frosting was caramel and not vanilla, and consequently Delilah gave Tiffany a discount on her order for the inconvenience. You had to admit you were impressed by Delilah’s efficiency and cleverness. She rolled with every punch that was thrown her way.

Once the cupcakes were delivered, you and Delilah left the boisterous party. You sank into the passenger seat with your feet up on the dashboard with a loud, tired sigh. You didn’t have time to say farewell to Richie or Carmy, but you doubted they’d take it personally. You were working. It wasn’t a social visit.

“You did great today.” Delilah said.

“I nearly burned down the client’s house.” You said tongue-in-cheek.

“Crazier things have happened.” She said sympathetically, “Last week, Ryan accidentally drove the van over a client’s sprinkler system, and it caused a minor flood.”

You laughed quietly. “Yikes.”

“That’s just this business,” She said with a smile, “You can have two wedding cakes prepared, one for the client, another for back-up, and then suddenly your power goes out and your calling every 7-11 to see how much ice they have.”

“Sounds like chaos.”

“It is.”

You sidelong squinted at her, “Everything in your tone implies you love it.”

Delilah favored you with another bright smile, “Oh, that’s because I do.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sketched another idea in your notebook while watching The Great British Bake-Off then reached out to the remote and clicked pause. You pressed your lips together.

“Fucking…cupcakes…”

You tossed the blanket off your lap and grabbed your keys. You weren’t going to be outdone by fucking cupcakes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your phone was dusted with flour as you scrolled through a recipe. Your first batch was horrendous. You must’ve measured the flour to baking soda ratio incorrectly because they came out hard and inedible. The second batch was too dry. Whatever. Practice makes perfect and who cared if it was after 9PM? You were confident in this third batch. You slid them into the oven, double-checked the temperature and time, before pulling the oven mittens off your hands.

A text from your mom came through on your screen: ‘But why are you baking there and not at home?’ She included an emoji of a face with a question mark floating above their head.

You replied with one hand while shrugging on your zip-up sweater, ‘I need to know how these ovens function. They’re different than the ones at home and I need to be familiar with my own space.’

You pushed your front door closed and sat on the concrete stoop. You pulled your crushed cigarette pack from your pocket and lit one while gazing across the street. The streetlamps washed the asphalt in hues of orange. You could faintly see the kitchen lights from the interior of the Beef glowing out into the empty sidewalk.

You noticed Carmy throw two black bags of trash out into the dumpster. You smiled around the filter of your cigarette and looked back down at your phone. You had no reason to talk to him or interrupt his workflow. You were going to stay on your side of the street. You belonged here, frantically making cupcakes to prove a point in sweatpants and an overly large Sanford red t-shirt. You scrolled through and read an article about a French pastry called a ‘Mille-feuille’. It sounded cool. You doubted your own skill set could succeed in making one of those but that didn’t mean you couldn’t serve them.

Your eyes instinctively caught movement above your brow. Your heart stuttered. Carmy was halfway across the street and walking toward you. What could he possibly want?

“Need to bum a smoke? Or a light?” You asked loudly and wiggled your pack above your head when he was close enough to hear you. “Or are you here to tell me I should focus on – I don’t know – fancy steaks instead of pastries?”

“Smoke.” He said, “Richie and Tina already left and they’re the only other smokers.”

You clicked your tongue and held out your cigarette out to him. “You’re lucky I’m a generous soul.”

“Mhm.” He nodded while inhaling, the tiny ember faintly illuminated his face, and reflected in the dark pupils of his eyes. “Can I chill here?”

“Sure.”

You were going to stay on the side of your street, but you had no rules about Carmy coming over to your side. It was uncharted waters. You could tell him to fuck off and leave, you supposed, but you selfishly didn’t want to. His shoulder rested against yours in the small space.

The moon shone in pale light above the skyline. It was the witching hour. A time for secrets and shared smoke-breaks with carcinogenic smiles. Carmy exhaled smoke through his nose and passed the cigarette back to you. Your fingertips touched. Your eyes met. And you knew you were going to break a few rules tonight.

��Your hair is covered in flour.” He brushed his hand along the top of your head, flour scattered like snowflakes between you, and he rubbed his forefinger and thumb together. His mouth curved to a slight smile and his eyes gleamed with humor.

“When the bag opened it went—Poof!” You explained.

You flicked the building ash off the top of the cigarette and watched it drift across the sidewalk in flecks of gray and white. You didn’t imagine that moment in the kitchen. Carmy wanted to kiss you. You wanted to kiss him, too, but that was beside the point. You took another slow drag and licked your lips before the smoke left your lungs. You glanced furtively at Carmy. He seemed lost in thought with his wrists resting on his knees and hands limp.

“Do you want to fuck again?” You asked candidly.

Carmy looked at you. His jaw went slack, and his forehead creased. “S-s-seriously?”

Rejection was a scorpion sting on your heart. You snubbed the cigarette out on the concrete below you. You wanted to put your hood up and storm off. You should’ve kept your big, dumb mouth shut. You could’ve had a nice little smoke break, kept it professional, but now you revealed your secret, desperate truth and you couldn’t un-ask the question.  

“I’ll take that as a no. Forget it.” You spat and quickly covered your hurt with deflection. Before you got up, or turned away, Carmy grabbed your chin between his fingers. It wasn’t a bruising grip, but it was strong and firm.

He held you in place and his knees touched yours when he shifted in closer. The shadowed walls and rumbling sounds of Chicago melted away like ice cream during a summertime heatwave. He leaned in and his nose bumped into yours. You shuddered, every nerve-ending coming to life, as you opened your mouth beneath his. Your heart fluttered at the soft press of his mouth. His tongue slowly slid into your mouth, and he hungrily drank in the soft, quiet moans that slipped free from your throat. Your palms slid along his chest and curled around his shoulders. You liked the discreet solidness of Carmy’s shoulders and arms.

“Stop – please stop putting words in my mouth. I hate that shit.” He muttered against your mouth in a huff of warm air.

“Noted.” You whispered before chasing his mouth with yours. You drew his lower lip between your teeth and smiled faintly at his sharp intake of breath. The intoxicating power-trip of making this capable, confident man whimper into your mouth made you dizzy. Carmy’s arm encircled your waist, pulling and drawing you impossibly closer. He smelled like fucking giardiniera and sweat and cigarette smoke. You wanted to drown in it. His tongue flicked across your upper lip, kissing you with a slow, torturous sweetness that made your core throb.

“In the kitchen,” He said, between one kiss and the next, “We say ‘heard’ when we want to communicate understanding.”

You wrinkled your nose. “Yeah, fuck off. I’m not doing that.” You said, keeping your tone light and playful.

Carmy’s lips smiled against yours, his hand left your chin and slid across your neck in a tantalizing, teasing touch before he cupped the nape of your neck. Your fingertips ghosted across the hollow dip of his throat, and you pushed one hand through the neck hole of his t-shirt to touch the warm, soft skin of his collarbones. His golden chain faintly scraped against the pads of your fingers. Any lingering trepidation about breaking your own rules dissolved when Carmy stammered your name. A pulse of blood rushed between your thighs.

“You’re so needy for me.” You teased, letting your head drift to the side as Carmy’s mouth skirted across your jaw and kissed your flushed skin. You wondered if he’d give you another hickey on your neck. You wouldn’t mind it…as long as you could give him a matching one. You doubted he had the time for girlfriends, but Richie’s joking words lingered in the back of your mind. Why would he assume you and Carmy were sleeping together if Carmy didn’t already have a reputation?

“I’m needy?” He taunted while pushing his hand beneath your large shirt. His thumbnail scraped across the underside of your breast, and you hissed, your back arching toward him. “Hm?” Your mind went blank.

A cheerful, and repetitive ringtone blared out of your pocket. Carmy pulled away from you as if he’d been struck by lightning. You pulled your phone out of your pocket with an annoyed, grumpy huff and pressed ‘Stop’ on the timer screen. You couldn’t believe you were getting cockblocked by cupcakes. Fucking cupcakes!

You got to your feet and offered a hand to Carmy, “You comin’ inside or what?” Despite your casual tone, you mentally cringed at the fear of rejection breathing coldly down your neck. He kissed you, but that didn’t mean he wanted to continue. Anyone could change their mind at any second and you wouldn’t hold it against him. You’d just nurse the bruised ego over a drink later.

You noticed him glance at your four bandaged fingers (the middle three and your thumb), before gingerly taking your hand and standing. The sense of relief was swift and dizzying. You rewarded him with a tumultuous smile.

“You’re welcome to try the cupcakes once they cool.” You said before pulling the glass door open and locking it behind you. You didn’t bother with a tour. You made a direct line to the kitchen, slipped oven mitts on both hands, and pulled the cupcakes from the oven with hurried purpose. You flipped the switch to turn the oven off. No reason to burn the place while you were getting dicked down. As you tugged the mittens off your hands, you glanced back at Carmy, who was looking at your kitchen with open admiration and awe.

“You really pulled out all the stops.” He said in quiet reverence. “It’s beautiful.” And you could tell from his tone that he wasn’t fucking with you. It was genuine. Your heartbeat quickened and you wanted to curse him for making a simple compliment illicit such a response beneath your skin. Two weeks ago, if Carmy had been in your kitchen, you would’ve dragged him out by the back of the shirt and told him to stop spying on you.

You weren’t going to bother for modesty. You weren’t modest or humble when it came to this project.

“It is, isn’t it?” You replied smugly. Carmy finally drew his eyes away from the equipment and shook his head in disbelief. You scooped a spoon into your vanilla buttercream frosting and tried an experimental lick. Carmy was watching you. You pointedly sucked the spoon clean with heavily lidded eyes and a small smirk. You noticed his eyes narrow and how he shifted his weight. Interesting. You released the spoon from your mouth with a soft ‘pop’ and smiled.

You brightened with an idea. “Hey, will you try this?”

He closed the short distance between you, “You want my professional opinion?”

“If it’s not too much trouble.” You shrugged. A knot of nervousness twisted inside your stomach. You watched him bring the spoon to his mouth and slowly pull it from his lips, a bit of frosting catching on the corner of his mouth. Your scalp prickled with awareness. It took every ounce of your self-control not to lick the leftover frosting off his mouth. He pressed his lips together, eyes cast heavenward, the nodded. Your breath snagged in your throat when he finally gave his answer.

“Too much vanilla extract.” He said. “Consistency is good, though. A-and I can tell you added lemon zest which brightens it.”

“M’kay, that’s enough America’s Top Chef or whatever.” You teased, grabbing the front of his shirt, and dragging him forward.

“You asked m-mprh.” You sealed your mouth over his. The spoon clattered onto the countertop and Carmy’s hands cradled your face. You could taste the frosting on his tongue, and it tasted so much better than when you licked it off the spoon. You walked backward, clinging to him, guiding him toward your office. Kissing Carmy was a bit like dancing. You had to let him lead from time to time and allow yourself to be pulled along by the pure, raw sensations. You were aware of his hands, roaming, squeezing, and grabbing you, and his mouth – sweet-laced with lingering icing – engaged in a playful, give and take of nibbling bites and breathless moans.

Your ass hit the edge of your wooden desk and you broke the kiss to tug your shirt over your head. Carmy’s hands covered your breasts, kneading them, and you thanked the preemptive laziness that made you forgo a bra this evening. His warm, wet mouth traveled down the column of your throat. You whined a little and squirmed. You wanted more than this. You grabbed Carmy’s wrist and tugged his hand, bringing it between your legs.

“Like I said…” He rasped, breath hot against your neck, “Needy.”

“Carmy…” Did you sound a little desperate? Maybe. Your skin flushed with heated desire and echoes of recollection of how he made you feel the first time. His mouth left a trail of open-mouthed kisses down your chest and to your stomach. His hands caught the waistband of your sweatpants and he knelt on the carpeted floor before you. You blinked, as if a stunned daze, and held onto the edge of your desk as Carmy pulled your sweatpants and underwear off of you. You swallowed, eyes-wide, at the stark difference of your naked body before him. You clamped your thighs together and Carmy gently held the back of your knees.

His face looked quizzically up at you.

“You gotta take off your clothes too.” You shrugged, “It’s only fair.”

“I was plannin’ on it.” He gave you that slight, almost boyish smile again. He leaned back on his haunches and peeled the t-shirt off himself. Not confined to a dark car backseat, you can see every line of him, every muscle, his strong shoulders, and dip of his clavicle. His golden chain glinted softly in the warm, intimate light of your desk lamp. His hair mussed around his face from your fingers constantly running through it. His chest heaved softly with labored, quiet breath and you realized you were going to think of this – Carmy kneeling on the ground before you – every single time you walked in this room.

His rough hands caressed up the length of your legs, along your thighs, and you slowly parted for him. He dropped a singular soft kiss to your inner thigh and your body tensed. But it wasn’t anticipation. His tongue flicked across your swollen clit, and you gasped and froze. You couldn’t let him go down on you. You’d be at his mercy, within his grasp and control, his selfless actions bringing you to the peak without any ‘reward’ for him. Yes, yes, you knew it was fucked up to think of sex as transactional and as a powerplay – but you’d unpack that in therapy later.

“Wait.” You tugged gently on the back of his head, and he looked up at you from between your thighs. “I don’t…can we…not do that?”

“Yeah, yeah – yeah – of course.” He stood up, and your throat tightened at the absolute tenderness in his gaze. His hands came to rest on your waist, thumbs moving in slow, soothing back-and-forth touch across your warm skin. “You okay?”

“I’m good. It’s just not something I’m comfortable with right now.” You blinked rapidly in surprise of your own blunt honesty.

“Okay.” One of Carmy’s hands slipped between your legs and you gripped his shoulders tightly, your body trembling in anticipation. “This okay?” He asked softly.

You leaned back into your desk and spread your knees for him. You sighed happily with a slow nod, drawing your lower lip between your teeth. This was familiar. This was good. Through lidded eyes, you reached for the waistband of Carmy’s pants and palmed his cock while he touched you. His fingers were quick, deft, drawing moans and whimpers from your mouth with practiced ease. Like he memorized what you liked last time and applied it to this time. His mouth found yours again and you pulled down the zipper of his pants while his thumb drew tight, firm circles against your clit. Your fingers stumbled and you hiccupped a sharp, surprised gasp.

“Yeah?” He murmured against your lips before slipping his tongue into your mouth.

“Yeah.” You jolted, hips canting into his hand, as you raked your nails down his chest. You pressed your face into his, nose squished against his cheek, and panted until each breath was a moan. You trembled and your orgasm hit you with syrupy sweetness, slow and unfurling, pulling a guttural, embarrassingly loud cry from your lips. You dropped backward onto your desk, your spine hitting an open notebook, and released a satisfied sigh. You looked down and saw Carmy pulling his cock free from his boxers. Your body hummed with pleasure and delight.

“I have condoms in my bag.” You said, pointing to your backpack hanging on the wall. “Front pocket.”

“Not because I expected this to happen.” You clarified quickly, “It’s just good to have things on hand. There’s Advil in there, too. Because I’m prepared for anything.”

“You’re a boy scout.” Carmy chuckled softly and you tried to not think about how the sound of it made your body fizzle like being dropped into a glass of champagne.

“Exactly!” You gave him a mock salute.

He returned to his place between your legs, and you pushed the notebook out and away from underneath you. It clattered to the floor and spilled open with pages of notes. He peered up at you through his sweaty, curled hair and you bit your lip and smiled. You wrapped your legs loosely around his hips and dragged your hands across his muscled chest in admiration.

You were rewarded with the blissful sight of Carmy’s eyes rolling back into his head as he slid into you. Your eyes shuttered closed and the world whited-out into noise and feeling. Your back arched and Carmy leaned over you, his lips covered the side of your neck, and your hips bucked in response to his teeth meeting your skin.

“Are you—fuck, fuck, fuck” You lost coherent thought for a moment as Carmy thrust into you in earnest. “—are you giving me another hickey?” You gasped, fingers tangling into his hair. “You ass-asshole.”

“You want it somewhere else?” The tip of his nose grazed the soft spot of skin behind your ear.

“Please.”

He dragged his mouth to your collarbone and your hardened nipples rubbed against his damp, sweaty chest. You clung to the back of Carmy’s head as his tongue laved over the spot just below your collarbone and dangerously close to your heart. He drew the delicate, pliant skin between his teeth and sucked hard, making you see stars, and your thighs clenched around his hips. The desk groaned beneath your combined weight and a cup of pens clattered to the floor.

“You feel so good,” He breathed, “better than I remember.” Your walls fluttered around him at the compliment and Carmy looked up from your chest, meeting your eyes, “I felt that.”

“Shut up.” You lightly slapped his shoulder and turned your face away.

“So, you don’t want me to tell – to tell you about how amazing – fuck – how amazing you feel?” He said, adjusting his position so he wasn’t leaning over you, and was standing instead. He drew your thighs away from his hips and rested them on his chest, so your ankles were at his shoulders. You groaned at the sudden change in depth and tightness and your hands splayed across the polished wood.

“You’re drenched.” He panted, his face red, “and taking me so well. God – you’re incredible.” You couldn’t control it. Your body responded to his words, core tightening, your walls pulsing around him at the praise. You slipped your hand between your thighs, finding your slick and swollen clit, and your fingertip occasionally brushed against his shaft while you touched yourself in quick, needy motions.

“Fuck. F-fuck. That’s so hot.” Carmy moaned. He followed your lead, responding to the nonverbal cues of your body, and the very-verbal cues of your mouth repeatedly gasping his name. It was as if someone disconnected your brain and your mouth. You were only able to say one thing and it was ‘Carmy’ followed by ‘Yes’. Your body coiled and goosebumps erupted across your skin. Your muscled tensed, your walls spasmed around Carmy’s cock, and sent an avalanche of pleasure in a quaking release.

Carmy released a strangled noise, his thrust erratic and shaking the desk beneath you, and you knew—you knew based on the bright pink color of his cheeks and neck and the deep furrow to his brow that he was about to finish. He slammed into you in one powerful, final thrust, burying himself as deep as he could go, and cursed loudly and a sheen of perspiration glistened off his body.

He collapsed on top of you and caught his weight with his elbows. His face rested in the crook of your neck and his heavy, labored breath blew across your sweaty skin. You closed your eyes, relaxed and secure under the weight of him, and felt him gradually grow soft inside of you. You languidly lifted a hand and carded your fingers through his long hair. You laid like this, completely devoid of conversation or coherent thought, for several minutes with the sweat rapidly cooling off your bodies. Carmy’s thudding heartbeat reverberated against your skin.

Carmy wrapped his fingers around your wrist and pulled your hand away from his head, he held your hand in the air, and your fingertips naturally curled forward. The bandages were surprisingly intact given all the sweat and bodily fluids. Though, now that you were thinking about it, the skin beneath the bandage started to throb with pain. His thumb stroked your inner wrist.

“How’s the burn?”

You pulled your hand away and wiped the sweat from your forehead. “Manageable.” You wiggled underneath him, aware of the intimacy of the moment, and internally panicking. Your plan to be Professional with a capital ‘P’ might be totally fucked, but you still had to retain some distance. He wasn’t your boyfriend. You weren’t dating. Hell, you didn’t even know if you were exclusively sleeping with each other or if this would happen a third time.

“Stop squishing me.”

He smiled into the hollow of your throat and climbed off you. You snatched your t-shirt off the ground and pulled it over your head, grateful for how it covered your body, and reached just above your knee. You ran both hands through hair and finger-combed through the sex-snarls while Carmy pulled up his pants.

You held up a finger, “I don’t want to do the weird after sex talk.”

“I’m not familiar.” He said whilst pulling his white t-shirt over his head. You pursed your lips. Someone shouldn’t look sexy while getting dressed but somehow Carmy managed it. Ridiculous.

“You know, when people have sex and then they act weird, and awkward, and can’t make eye contact.” You said, folding your arms over your chest, and avoiding eye contact. Your desk was foggy with body heat, sweat, and the edge glistened from where your bodies were joined. You might have to buy a new desk. How were you ever going to get work done in here now?

“Okay.”

“Great!” You forced cheerfulness into your voice. “My offer still stands about the cupcakes. Feel free to grab one on your way out.” You said before stepping into your sweatpants and pulling them over your hips with a satisfied smile at the ache in your abdomen.

Carmy muttered your name.

“Is this…” He rubbed his nostril with his knuckles, “I mean – are we going to keep doing this?” He asked, his blue eyes imploring, and your heart flinched. You looked away and at the calendar on the wall. June, June, June. All your plans, all your projects, and ambitions. Everything you were so hungry for. You didn’t have time for anything serious and you weren’t equipped for serious relationships. Casual and random suited your lifestyle fine, thank you. You were sure Carmen could understand that. You were career people.

“This is the after sex talk I was hoping to avoid.” You said with a weak, flat laugh.

Carmy was quiet. You suspected – and hoped - he would drop the topic and walk away.

“You can’t just avoid things because they’re uncomfortable.” He said and stepped into your field of vision, and you were forced to face him – face this. You sighed and nodded with your lips pressed in a firm, hard line.

“I don’t have the time or energy for a relationship.” You admitted.

“Neither do I.”

You inhaled deeply. You knew what you had to do—the only proper, professional choice. It was time to rip off the band-aid. You needed distance, professionalism, and mutual respect. You couldn’t have that if you were crawling into his lap and letting him fuck you so hard you forgot your own name. And it wasn’t just the sex. It was everything else. It was looking for him in a crowded room, it was holding hands through a panic attack, it was sharing cigarettes and bashful smiles. All of it was distraction. All of it was too dangerous for you like standing close to an open flame.

“Normally in a situation like this, I’d suggest we become fuck buddies and blow off steam together.” You began, “However, I can’t – I can’t commit to that either. I need to…I need…”

You licked your lips with your heart pounding in your ear.

“You need to focus on your own shit.” Carmy guessed. You nodded, thankful for his understanding, and his empathy.

“Yeah.” Your lips quirked up in a weak, rueful smile. “I assume you’re in a similar situation.”

“No, no, yeah, yeah. I am.” He nodded, “Obviously. The whole restaurant and my brother and everything…yeah.” He rubbed his forehead with his hand. You had the wild, stupid desire to brush the hair out of his face and press a kiss to his nose. (Which is EXACTLY the reason why you needed to stop sleeping with him starting yesterday). You were getting too close, too eager, and vulnerable with him. It blurred too many lines.

You rocked back and forth on your heels and tried for humor, “So, we can settle for friends who have seen each other naked?”

Carmy exhaled shortly and harshly through his nose. It was almost a laugh.

“Alright.”

“Cool.” You swallowed, hoping for an exit sign on this conversation before you asked him to come over because your resolve was dissolving faster than sand underwater at the sight of him. “Get home safe, okay?”

“Y-yeah. Yeah, you too.”

Carmy left the room, and a lingering sense of longing permeated the air with you as its source. You plunged your face into your hands and sighed heavily. You could do this. You couldn’t afford distractions, or more responsibilities, or messy feelings and neither could he.

“Grow up and get over it, right grandpa?” You muttered to yourself, repeating his most commonly used phrase whenever something went wrong.

< Part Five >

[seiyasabi]

Fixation 2

(Aloha, this is a part two to Fixation w my girl Yelena lol. Anyways, this is a Yandere Yelena x Fem Reader story, so it does contain dark content!

TW: !Noncon/Dubcon!, you’re held captive, threatening behaviour!, intimidation!, manipulation!, etc.. 

Please proceed with caution!)

It feels as if you’ve been run over by a bus. Your entire body hurts, and as you try to roll onto your side, you realise that you’re being held down by something. Opening your bleary eyes, you release a pain filled moan, as you look at the thing holding you. 

A large hand is pressed against your middle, whilst an even larger form is pressed to your back. 

Your entire body takes a screenshot. 

Flinching as if Conor McGregor just swung on you, you try to pry the mystery person off of you in a way they wouldn’t notice. In the process, you realise that you’re currently naked. You’re naked, and your pussy and ass feels like it was beat the fuck up. 

Panicking, you practically shove them off of you, as you stumble to your feet, legs shaking. The blanket previously covering you slides off of you, exposing you to the cool air of the room. Now fully nude to the room, goose flesh raises on your skin, as you glance around the room. 

Seeing a set of doors, you aim for them immediately, only to be stopped by a strong hand yanking you back onto the bed. Their large form easily envelopes yours, practically crushing you into the mattress, “Where are you going, Princess?”  

Realisation hits you all at once, “Yelena?” Your voice sounds small, as it echoes around the room. She hums in acknowledgement, shoving her head in the area where your neck and shoulder meets. Her short hair tickles your cool skin, and her breath fans across the nape of your neck. 

“That’s my name,” If you weren’t so freaked out, you’d roll your eyes. You stare at the wall on your side of the bed, fear practically swallowing you whole. 

“What happened last night? I can’t remember anything,” Yelena hums once more, her hand around your waist massages the fat of your stomach, loving how you feel in her arms. 

“Awe, does my Princess not remember our love making?” You visibly cringe at her words. It couldn’t be love making if you were black out drunk. 

“I-I don’t know what I did or said last night, but I’m sorry for leading you on. I think of you as a friend-” She shushes you, not allowing you to continue speaking. 

“No, I know you’re in love with me too. You told me so last night,” Technically you did, but it wasn’t necessarily in the way she means, “You also said you’d move in with me, so we should get started on the paperwork.” 

Shaking your head, you try to pry her hands off of you, “Listen, Yelena, I’m sorry, but I can’t do that. I don’t like you like that, and I don’t think I ever will. I don’t think I even want to be your friend anymore.”

With that, she snaps, grappling you face first into the mattress. She uses her bigger stature to hold you down, making it hard to breathe, much less continue your mean rant, “Shut up.” 

You thrash around, trying in vain to get yourself free. Screaming into the grey mattress, you try to push yourself up, only to be forced back down. 

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” By now, she’s yelling too. She’s so angry that you’re still refusing her. A furious flush coats her cheeks, as she grits her teeth, “I won’t let you get away, (Your Name)! You’re mine!” 

Her rough hands fondle your naked body, trying to assert her dominance over you. Forcing your hips up with one hand, and keeping your head against the mattress with the other, she places her thigh against your slit. She makes you rut against her muscular leg, purposefully pushing against your clit harshly. 

“Hump my leg, whore, and I’ll think about not punishing you,” You shake your head, tears and drool coating your face and the sheets below you. It feels like you’re drowning, but the stimulation against your clit makes it hard for you to think properly. Your limbs feel like jelly, and you can’t find it within yourself to fight back anymore. 

Moans mixed with sobs fill the room, as your body rocks with her ministrations. You grind your clit against her thigh, as she moves you back and forth against her naked skin, your juices starting to drip onto her, “Look at that- your slutty cunny is so honest!” 

You try to reject her words, but it only comes out in muffled whines and moans. Your hands grip the sheets in a tight hold, as your body arches, and you squirt all over the large woman’s leg. 

Yelena lets out pleased laugh, “There we go, pretty girl. Come on, let’s give you a bath. Then, we’ll sign those papers.” 

She flips you face up, your chest heaving, face puffy and slick with tears and drool, “I-I want to go home. Please let me go-“ 

Yelena silences you with a kiss, tongue thrusted into your mouth, completely dominating you. Mouths still connected, she pulls you into her arms, and carries you to the bathroom. 

Releasing your mouth for a moment, she smirks down at your breathless form, “You are home, (You Name). The sooner you realise that, the sooner you can go back outside.” 

[1ddiscourseoftheday]

Wed 2 June ‘21

Louis sent a message to a fan looking for a hello after a major surgery-- “Get well soon mate. Sending you loads of love x”- and added that he hopes ALL of us are doing alright; I never doubted it Louis! Niall got a little more specific with his really lovely message today- “HAPPY PRIDE MONTH, BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE. It’s your life, LOVE who you want to LOVE,” he tweeted! THANKS GUYS.

Liam though, Liam was all over today! He checked in on his way to play golf, on his way back from playing golf (with videographer Conor!), posted comments on discord, joined a new chat platform (Telegram; 5 minutes into Telegram and chill Liam was like OKAY it looks like we may need some moderators for this app lol YOU THINK?), he did a whole 25 min live, AND checked in even later to say he’d just had a shower and was about to play a new video game! New news of the day-- he is going to host a Veeps show showcasing new artists in July!! NEAT! His post about how his team forgot to turn off notifications on the phone they set it all up on for him on is really funny, YIKES; “this used to be an iphone now it’s just a bell” he joked, with video of the phone frantically chiming nonstop (“the power of you guys still blows my mind to this day”.) Also he said that he was very busy getting ready for June 15. Why, you ask, what is on June 15? UH? IDK?? He has so many things coming up? But that’s the NFT I think, which I KNOW a lot of people are mostly not that excited about but I will say that while I don’t care about the technology, I am excited to see Liam’s artwork he’s working on for it (which hopefully the purchaser will share with us), and Liam is truly so excited about the platform, he’s really trying to talk us into it. More on that in a sec...

But let’s get to the other parts of Liam’s live first. He has that new song coming, about which he said “it’s one that I’ve written the most on so far actually, as a single, I’m excited to say my own stuff for once a little”, love that. He’s still coughing but says he’s tested repeatedly and it isn’t COVID, and that he’s gone vegetarian recently, and he says the chat channels were inspired by seeing people using the veeps chat rooms even after the show ended, not wanting to leave. And he talks about 1D- about the notifs mishap he said “back in the band we used to wait for people we didn’t like to leave their notifications on and then we would like- oh make sure you follow this person on twitter! And then their phone would break for days- if someone did something that annoyed you.” HAHAHA where’s my masterpost of people who annoyed them 1D told us to follow, PLEASE? And also “it’s hard sometimes you’re watching people stories from afar that you used to know so well and that can be difficult… we’ve all felt this at different times me and the boys… it’s almost like missing a very dear friend a lot of the time but everyone’s so busy… I’d love to get us all in a room somewhere sometime” aww. But also he said he talked to Harry recently, “really a lovely call, he has a sixth sense for if I'm struggling or if one of us is in trouble, I spoke to him and it was a really lovely catch up. I have a lot of love for the man, he's really, really great"; well I wish Liam wasn’t stuggling but that’s lovely. And Louis too! "I spoke to Louis, I wanna say yesterday. We speak a lot, there's just a lot of laughing about random crap," he said, plus some Louis memories- “I can just hear his laugh in the back of my mind. We once broke into one of the stadiums in America and got chased by a woman… on one of those cop type things, a mall cop thing, and that was quite crazy. He also left me on my own while I was being arrested nearly by a French policemen that I had to push over… which that still scares me to this day. [laughing] That’s what friends are for! I helped him over the fence to get in somewhere, he left me with the policeman, who didn’t have a clue who I was and tried to arrest me even though I was just trying to go into my hotel.” UMM sorry I can’t hear anything past LIAM PUSHED OVER A COP?? Go ahead, make a list of ‘1D members most likely to fight a cop’ and if Liam isn’t DEAD LAST you’re just wrong and yet HERE WE ARE!! WHAT A DAY.

But alas rather than fighting cops now Liam is partnering with an entrepreneur (which I have had to type so many times in the last two days thanks to Liam that I guess I know how to spell it now they just keep SAYING it SO MUCH). Steve Bartlett said “the secret” is out, he recorded a podcast with Liam yesterday-- I’d call secret a bit strong, we had actually got that mate, but okay; he called Liam an entrepreneur and said “yesterday I recorded one of the most powerful, honest, REAL conversations on my podcast to date” and “if you love Liam you’ll love this.” I can absolutely guarantee you that is not true, I love Liam and already hate everything about this collab, but his wording does make me think we’ll get a bit of Liam’s trademark emotional spillage which I suppose I might appreciate despite this self help CEO guy being there too. Liam does have one thing to say that could sway me in this guy’s favor though- “he has the cutest dog ever” apparently! Anyway I may as well get used to him he’s suddenly everywhere-- Liam also patched him into his live to try yet again to convince us that NFTs are good by awkwardly relating it to “fans of boybands” by saying you know this could eliminate like fake tickets and such… Sure Steve sure but anyway he also says of Liam, “the guy you see on camera is the exact same guy off camera”.

Harry and Olivia were seen together in London (well, a grainy ass video of their backs was seen anyway), walking, with some people who look to be her parents and Harry’s PA (so romantic! Not at all work related!) I was initially skeptical of the claim that it was her parents since this fandom is obsessed with saying everyone is so and so’s parents (we’ll NEVER top the time the fandom was sure Harry was seen having lunch with Eleanor’s father though) but it actually seems like maybe it was. More for Harry to add to his collection, that man truly loves an extended family! I mean the whole thing is sketchy as hell, from the assurance that that’s DEFINITELY actually Olivia in the grainy video, FOR SURE, to the confirmation that that’s her mom with them which came when a blank insta page produced a random old picture of her mom in the same skirt, but like is it them, sure I imagine so, and people making sure we get the story anytime they’re together isn’t exactly new. In other news, Dave Meyers, director of the Adore You music video, says he originally pitched the Eroda story idea (“I have this idea, of you love- liking a fish”) to Katy Perry and the Black Eyed Peas, ASJKJASKL CAN YOU IMAGINE?

[1ddotdhq]

🏴‍☠️Sat 31 Oct ‘20🎃

Harry is sending out 150 Golden postcards (they appear to be numbered out of a batch of 150) from the Golden website! They all have the Amalfi Coast on the front, “You’re so Golden” written on them, and are signed, “ <3 HARRY”. Look, I thought that LOUIS had trouble with hearts, but Harry’s are, uh, somehow worse. It’s been gleefully pointed out that fans have been selling postcards for Harry’s singles for the last few months, and that Harry once again seems to be looking to us for promo ideas! Hey, if it works, it works, and if Harry wants to send me a postcard I’d LOVE it hahaha. Niall is taking a page out of Liam’s book and is rehearsing his show - which is in ONE WEEK (!) - and his band members continue to post pictures of their rehearsals. Love that! But lest you think it's a slow news day aside from Liam NO-- Zayn posted his annual halloween look!! A zelfie!!! Less elaborate than past years, maybe he's not getting enough sleep for some reason, but amazing (amazayn) nonetheless: he's angled downwards, pulling a funny face, with his freshly buzzed hair, earrings, and a Slytherin tie over a white shirt captioned, “Happy Halloween from Slytherin”. Liam’s chat when the picture dropped: “Zayn have you SLITHERED IN HERE???” Hope he enjoyed Tom and Liam's show...

And on to the main event: Liam has DONE IT AGAIN!! Despite some wibbly wobbly timey wimey stuff with the event time (it started one hour and ten minutes later than planned), once Liam got started, nobody could drag him down! Lola Young, Carly Gibert, and Tom Felton were all charming openers, and, because of their very different styles, they all brought something new to the table. Then Liam, broadcasting from the London Dungeons (a spooky tourist attraction), started the show trapped in a cage (so HE’S the cage dancer this time!). The songs he chose from his own discography were ghoulish and grim and surrounding the topic of, uh, life and death. It did seem to be intentional, though, as this all led up to a moment when a masked guard led Liam out of the concert and into a bloody tribunal, where they accused him of “crimes against fashion” and “being a bad bandmate”. They had fans on zoom playing the prosecutor and defense. He was acquitted of the first crime after a fierce defense from a fan, but after a long list of joking accusations of him being mean to the other boys (it felt uncomfortably like a normal day on twitter, but Liam says no fighting about it!), the prosecutor convicted him (was I outraged?? YES! I WAS!), and the sentence was DEATH. Liam then did a bit of a costume change: he went from Jack Sparrow to ZOMBIE PIRATE, ie added some uncomfortable contacts ("guys I can't see anything").Then he came back to finish his set with Billie Eilish and 5SOS covers, and SEVERAL One Direction songs: Live While We're Young, Drag Me Down, One Thing, What A Feeling (can you believe this is only the SECOND TIME a member of 1D has performed it live? AMAZING!), and a cool personalized version of Midnight Memories (“the opening number has now become the closing number”).

And then the Afterparty!! Liam, as promised, involved MUA Abby Roberts in picking his Halloween makeup looks, the winner being a fantastically scary writing of “Liam Payne” on a fan’s face that was made to look like mottled scar tissue - UGH what an INCREDIBLE look! He also pulled up his “accusers” on zoom, told fans that it was all in good fun and to not send any hate, and admitted that he also felt bad for pantsing Harry. But, he insisted, it’s not his fault! Louis dared him to do it! And, as everyone knows, no one in that band was allowed to back down from a dare. Abby Roberts admitted to being a 1D fan - she even visited some popups! - and videographer Conor also spilled that he first met Liam at a 1D meet and greet. Liam thought this was the best thing, and reminisced about being at the very dungeon he was in ten years prior for Halloween with the (then brand new and still on the X Factor) band. A crew member then managed to scare up (heh) a picture, which was sweet and nostalgic, which was true of a lot of the show! Personally, this has been my favorite LP Show, and Liam has really raised the bar for what online shows can and should be.

Of course, like with all good parties, there was an AFTER afterparty, where he spilled some more tea! He streamed live on Tik Tok - is it time for me to concede and get a Tik Tok??? Sigh, the things I do for these boys. In his after afterparty, he answered some more questions about himself and the boys. He said he was glad to have done a show on the anniversary of the last One Direction show (sad), that he wrote several songs with Louis that have not been released, notable HideAway and even sung a bit of it: “Something in the way she moves...we just have to hide away”. He also said that he saw Harry last year at the Jingle Ball and that he had a slight American accent (“he said ‘AHND’ that way”), that his phone bill would be huge if he called Louis right now (hmmmmm), and that even if he DID call to prank him, Louis would just swear anyways, which was not what they were going for. Awwww, friendship!

[pen-of-roses]

Ok, to be nice to Reine now. How about a what if scenario where Reine didn't leave Conor and they stayed friends and they all become friends?

(And change so much of my canon 😂)

The ship rocked steadily below her feet, and the salty air whipped against her face. Just like all those years ago. Abysses, how she missed it. But for a moment it was like she’d never left the sea.

She was alone out here, this late at night. Or at least, she should be. However a single dark figure stood staring at the waters below.

Conor startled as she placed a hand on his shoulder, but with little more than a cursory glance at her face, his gaze returned to the crashing waves.

“Do you still fear it?”

“It’s better now, you know. Don’t worry. It’s just been years since I’ve…since we’ve been back here. And yet it’s like nothings changed.”

She snorted, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, it plenty has changed in the last century, Conor.”

“You know what I mean Raindrop. We haven’t changed, have we?” He was searching her face for something, what she didn’t know, but offered a smile anyway.

“Not in the ways that matter. We’re still here, still together, Aleksis is still a mother hen who disappears at night and we pretend not to notice and you’re still obsessed with seeing the world and anything new it has to offer.”

His lip twitched at that, a genuine smile that was at ease as she felt. “And you? Still determined to be everyone’s hero?”

“What else can I be?”

The sky was splattered with stars, an endless sea of them, only broken by the passing clouds. It would be a good night to actually sail, peaceful and relatively calm waters. Maybe they should, instead of staying—

“You know you don’t need to, right?”

“What?”

His expression had turned serious again. No not serious, more. Thoughtful. “You don’t need to be everyone’s hero. You’re a good person as it is, you’re allowed to take a break, rest.”

“Ever thought maybe this is what I enjoy?”

“Oh of course, I can see it in every bar fight you get into. Clearly it’s the rescuing the damsels in distress that you enjoy. But you still need to rest.”

“Not yet. Not until we figure out what’s—”

“Reine, we may never found out what’s in those marks or what they mean. You’re more important, this, right here and now, this little family is more important than any of that ever will be. You know that right?”

“I…if you insist I suppose.”

“Good.” He took her hand and led her away from the waves and swaying ship. “Then do me a favor and for once in abyssal damned life sleep for more than a few hours. Your bags are darker than my eyeliner or Allycats coffee.”

Her laughter carried on the winds.

[whatiwillsay]

For the fun of it, can you give us a rundown of why exile is swiftgron even though you said you wouldn’t yet😂

ok y’all have earned a lyric analysis

so i think it’s possible that exile is about dianna seeing taylor with joe at snl/the afterparty in 2019 + all the people dianna has had to see taylor out with after their breakup

we know that taylor and joe were seen making out at the afterparty, but dianna was noted to be in taylor’s inner circle there, making me think they were hanging out, and a gaylor eyewitness said that dianna made a face when taylor sang magnetic force of a man in lover:

the vibe of exile is this hurt betrayal that goes beyond your ex simply moving on and makes me think joe being a guy plays into it... i can’t exactly explain it but sometimes it hurts more if she moves on to a guy.

taylor bringing in a man to sing a whole verse about seeing taylor out with another guy feels like what she used to do with her pov switches like “from the male perspective” to the max

the first verse i think is dianna’s pov and i think it makes sense that part of the offense, as stated in the first lryic, is that dianna can see it “i can see you standing honey, with his arms around your body” because taylor gets to be public with joe in a way she never was with dianna.

i think i’ve seen this film before, and i didn’t like the ending 

1. sounds like allllll the guys taylor had to parade around in front of dianna as she could only watch, conor and harry during their relationship, then calvin and tom so publicly in the aftermath of their relationship and then joe being real and special in a way most of these other guys weren’t and don’t even get me started on kaylor and karlie and how public that was.

2.  the film reference and how the ending doesn’t spell out good new for the couple is also expressed in the 1 with the lyric “the greatest films of all time were never made” and ofc you guys know i think the 1 is about dianna

3.  all the film references in this song make me think it’s possible she’s singing to someone who acts in films - dianna!

You're not my homeland anymore So what am I defendin' now?

this whole vibe of a homeland and defending something makes me think of a war or a fight and the 1989 breakup muse taylor goes to war with (i don’t think against, i think they’re on the same side and they were fighting to make it/come out, but that’s another post for another day) in clean she loses the war and in iwyw she says she wants to remember what they’re fighting for.

I can see you starin', honey Like he's just your understudy

again - dianna is an actress and so is joe so him being her “understudy” is a really apt metaphor if it is about her.

Like you'd get your knuckles bloody for me

gives me major dianna vibes since we think she shoved harry just for adjusting taylor’s scarf 😭(maybe)

Second, third, and hundredth chances

gives me swiftgron vibes, “it was months and months of back and forth” just painful, slow to end, and on and off is very much the 1989 muse imo

Balancin' on breaking branches Those eyes add insult to injury

swiftgron vibes 100% now we’re in taylor’s pov and ofc she’s mentioning dianna’s eyes which she sang about again and again and she mentions the balancing act they had to do for their treacherous love 

I'm not your problem anymore So who am I offending now? this also sounds like taylor’s pov of swiftgron, i think it was taylor’s career and fame that broke them down in the end, the pressure of staying a secret was unbearable and they ended up breaking up due to that.  taylor framing herself and all the baggage that comes with secretly dating her as “your problem” 

Now I'm in exile seein' you out this feels like a macabre play on being “out” - i always theorize dianna wanted them to come out together.  but they didn’t and now she’s out with joe, instead of out of the closet.

So I'm leavin' out the side door more commentary on hiding in the shadows, even their breakup is shielded from public similar to the silent screams taylor keeps framing their break up(s) as in this love and clean also reminds me of dianna having to leave out of side doors of restaurants like she did when she met andrea (while harry got to stride out of hotels for “morning after” pap walks in full view of everyone)

All this time

I don’t know if we talk about this simple lyric enough!  whatever taylor is singing about it’s been a connection for a long time!  it certainly fits for that damn 1989 muse that taylor seems to keep coming back to.

I never learned to read your mind

this is such a dianna lyric - she is this confusing amalgamation of mystique and even winston comments on it in the song he wrote about her, woman, which says, “i can’t read your mind though i’m trying all the time”

now let’s talk about how she sent the song to radio on karlie’s birthday.  i do think it’s possible this song is about her (though it feels more dianna to me) the mentions of a crown, and packing up in five minutes reminds me of that blind (back before enty went crazy) that said Taylor kicked karlie out and had her stuff packed up in a few minutes do make me think of karlie.  but if the song is dianna the reasons i can think of taylor sending it to radio of karlie’s birthday are: 1.  it’s simply a coincidence, we do have to allow for coincidences even as gaylors.  2.  she was just being petty, you guys know i think they’re not on good terms(x, x), if she had to send a sad song to radio in late summer, like the release of folklore demanded, why not send it on karlie’s birthday just as a bit of a snub. 3. maybe it’s because karlie was one of the people dianna had to see taylor out with (amas! 143 remember those days!) so it was proper timing and thematic and it just worked out like that.

anyway this is just a theory, maybe the song is about someone else, maybe it’s fictional, but you guys are here for swiftgron takes so i’ll deliver them!  i guess i’m gonna add exile to the official songs about dianna agron playlist!  

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 114

I’m hoping this chapter find everyone safe and sound. Normally, I wouldn’t start off with something like that, but I am queueing this on 11/5/2020, and a lot has happened in our world.  Not just my country, but earthquakes, shootings.. it’s a lot.

Please be safe.  My only, most sincere hope, is that reading this can bring you some relief from everything going on. And if you are reading this far after the fact - I’m glad you’re here to read it.  I appreciate each and every follower and reader, and I just want you all to be okay.

As always, shoutouts go to @baelpenrose for beta reading this chapter, @raven-fae for being the reason I dared to post my scribbles in public, and @charlylimph-blog for being a bright light in a dark world. Charly, I don’t think you will ever know how much everyone loves you. I mean that. And finally, @zommbiebro for the ever-fun to write character of Jokul. You pushed and pushed to have this character exist, and I’m incredibly glad you did, because he is so much fun to play with.

“Antoine told me that Conor is going back to therapy,” Tyche mentioned nonchalantly as we were heading toward the exercise area.

I arched an eyebrow at her. “What do you mean back to therapy? I didn’t know he ever stopped.”

She flapped a hand at me. “You know what I mean. Not a touchbase appointment, a ‘this isn’t working’ appointment.”

“Ah,” was my sage reply. “Yeah, there was a tense moment.  To be fair, though, it’s the first time anything like that has happened since he started seeing someone, and I think it needed to happen.”

“In what world…” she started, hands on her hips as she stopped walking.

Turning, I held up my hand to cut her off. “The last time someone was upset about what has been triggering Conor, I ended up with a busted lip.” I stared at her meaningfully.

She stared blankly for a moment, and I could almost hear her brain whirring. Then her eyes got wide and her mouth narrowed into a small ‘o’. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Ohhhhhh…. Well that makes sense I guess. So, does that mean you and Maverick…?”

“Yep, group therapy!” I threw my hands up half-heartedly. “And there was much rejoicing. Yay.”

Her gaze snapped over my shoulder and her neck twisted as something caught her attention. “What the…” She blinked furiously before rubbing her eyes and squinting. “I’m hallucinating. I have to be.”  Without waiting for me to ask what she meant, she grabbed my shoulders and turned me around.

Now it was my turn to blink. Walking towards, very focused on what looked to be a heated discussion, were none other than Arthur Farro and Jokull Bjornson. But… they weren’t arguing.  Both looked to be wearing gym clothes, and I could tell they were sweaty even from so far away.  As they got closer, they both also appeared to be bruised, and Jokul was even bleeding from the corner of his mouth.  Regardless of all that, the animated way they were talking to each other looked more like a conversation between equals than it did the type of discussion that would lead to….

Well, that would lead to the fight they looked like they already had.

Soon enough, they noticed me and Tyche - it couldn’t have been hard. We were standing in the middle of the corridor, staring in shock and tilting our heads like it would force the scene to make more sense. “Reids!” Arthur greeted as he waved. “I need you two to settle an argument. Fortifications, yay or nay?”

“I thought the sentient bacterium and twelve-foot talking mushrooms were the weirdest thing I would ever see….” Tyche muttered.

I was far more eloquent. “I…. Arthur… this… what?” I sputtered, gesturing frantically between the two men.

Some part of that seemed to make sense, because he glanced at the taller man beside him and just shrugged. “Jokull wanted to practice hand to hand combat, and I’m the only one willing to hit him after the… Exhibition match? Everyone on the ship was nervous for some reason. Well, except Charly, of course.”

Jokull shook his head.  “I feel my chances of survival with Farro are far higher than another fight with Miss Harper.”

Arthur eyed him weirdly, clearing his throat. “That’s because there is zero chance of me missing and ripping your throat out by accident, because I don’t bite.”

“Indeed.”

“There is zero chance of Charly missing,” I interjected. “And that was once, and you had it coming.”

Arthur continued, ignoring me. “Anyway, it’s not like anyone else on the Ark wanted to spar with me after that little show, either. So, win-win. Besides, he’s not a bad guy when he’s not doing things to make me actively want to kill him.”

Jokull laughed, but I was pretty sure he didn’t realize that Arthur was only half joking.  Maybe half. 

“Again, I’m sure Charly would spar with you, Arthur,” I pointed out.  Tyche choked on laughter.

Arthur just looked at me like I spontaneously grew a third head and it happened to be drooling. “What part of she bites did you miss?”

“That. Was. One! Time!

“Besides, I’ve seen how you small women learned to fight in the After.  I don’t know how hard I’d have to hit her to get her to stop biting, and I’d rather not hit a student hard enough to find out.”

Jokull mumbled, “Surprisingly hard, and in a nerve cluster, apparently.”

Both of us looked at him, eyes narrowed. Arthur’s next words came out very slowly. “If you’ve decked Charly, Jokull, you are on a fast track back to ‘let’s try axe versus saber’.”

Jokull turned to me frantically, “Councillor, I wasn’t aware…”

I interrupted him, again. “Arthur, it was that time she chomped his collarbone. Old news.”

Arthur was still scowling. “As long as that was the only time…” He shook his head, clearing the glare from his expression. “Anyway, it’s been kind of fun, actually. We’ve been comparing notes about our experiences in the After.  What it was like for our groups, people we skirmished with, things we did to keep our territories safe and our people provided for…”

Jokull nodded, very seriously. “We have discussed several ideas regarding sustainable settlements and potential fortifications once we reach Von, along with distribution of resources and sheltering against winter months.”

“I’m pro-fortification, by the way,” I responded, now that I was caught up on the context of that question.

Arthur scowled at me and shook his head. “Et tu, Sophia? The need for any fortifications is still up in the air, but the rest are really solid.”

“I told you, Farro, fortifications against people are also fortifications against wildlife.”

“And I told You the odds of predators on Von are very low. Grey said so theirself.”

“Moose. I’m talking about moose.  We don’t need predators if there are herbivores that large!”

“Grey insists there aren’t any indigenous species larger than Lyric on Von.”

“Have you met a badger? Really…”

As they started arguing, I slowly turned to Tyche, meeting her matching wide-eyed expression. “Did we  somehow walk into a parallel universe?”

“I don’t think so?” She turned toward the fierce debate. “For what it’s worth, I’m anti-fortification.”

“SEE!? One of the Weird Sisters has sense!” Arthur crowed triumphantly.

“Councillor Reid is on my side!”

As the debate grew more heated, I whispered to Tyche. “You love fortifications,” I pointed out.

“But that wouldn’t have added fuel to the fire,” she replied, magnanimous as ever.

I rolled my eyes, before trying to shout over the men. “We’re headed to the gym! Stop at a medbay pleasethankyou!”

Arthur waved at the same time that Jokul gave me a thumbs-up, but neither stopped their debate for even a breath.

Shaking my head, I tugged Tyche away. “Boxing today?” She hated boxing.

“Hmmm.”

“Ark to Tyche,” I gently shook her arm to get her attention. “Unarmed workout today. Boxing?”

“Huh?” She snapped her head at me and everything caught up. “What? No. Have you lost your mind?”

“It’s my turn to choose.”

“Just. Not that.”

“Ugh, fine,” I groaned dramatically. “Something with cardio, though. We both could use it with the gravity increases.”

“And what about armed workout.” For all that we were in a relatively peaceful situation, we were far from the only people on the Ark who practiced with weapons on a regular basis.

“Knives, duh.”

“Fighting or throwing?” She glanced at my expression and rolled her eyes. “Throwing. Of course. Why did I bother asking….”

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[julessworldd]

I love them Poly!Guns x reader

I seen where someone wanted more Poly!Guns, so you asked so you shall recieve. Who doesn’t love Poly!guns anyways.

Summary: The reader’s mom and sister show up unannounced, planning on taking the reader back home. Tabloids showed up her in her hometown, the family was worried about her in LA. I always wondered how Poly realtionships work when telling the parents, so here’s my take on it. 

Warnings: The boys being protective, silly with the reader. Cussing, arguing, implied smut. Think that’s all, sorry if I missed any

I moved to L.A. the day after graduation from high school, and had been saving money since I was 13. Living in a small town Colorado, where you’ve gone to school with the same kids since Elementary school, becoming a townie scared me. Since then, I’ve not talked to my family that much.  I met the boys one night after a show, Izzy bumped into me while walking down the strip. We all became friends and then our little thing started, we dated each other. It had been a thing for two almost three years now, I loved every minute of it, and loved my boys as well. 

Duff and I were making breakfast as slowly each boy came down, pissed that they had to start their day. “Did you open that one envelope? Looked like it was from home”, Duff asked. “I’m not sure how they found me. I’ve not gave them my new address”, I laid eggs on a plate. “Why don’t you talk to them anymore?”, Duff asked again. “Just don’t. I’m the black sheep of the family, babe. I never wanted to stay in Colorado,work on the family ranch or get pregnant with a shitty high school football player. They didn’t like it so I left after graduating.”, I said. “I’m glad you left”, Izzy passed by us. “I’m not saying I’m not glad she left, but it’s weird that the envelope has stayed on the counter, unopened”, Duff said. “Fine, I’ll open it after I eat and shower”, I groaned. I know Duff was only being nice, but I didn’t like hearing from my family.  There was knock on the door, “Come in”, I said, sliding into some black skinny jeans. “Hey”, Duff said, shutting the door behind him. “You’re really determined to have me open that aren’t you, baby”, I smirked. “Yes. It could be a death in the family and you wouldn't know it”, Duff stubbed up.  “Alright”, I slides my finger under the seal and opened the envelope. 

 Jacqueline Bennett

It was my mom’s name and my childhood home’s address. “What the hell do you want?”, I groaned.  The doorbell rung, “You expecting anyone?”, I asked Duff. He shook his head no. “Y/nn!”, Slash yelled. I dropped the letter on the dresser and headed downstairs. “Think it’s you with the visitor babe”, Duff said, following suit. “Who knows”, I said. I made it downstairs, in the living. I looked up, it was my mom and older sister, Kelly standing in front of the door. “Mom. Kelly. What are you doing here?”, I swallowed. “We came to bring you home”, My mom said. “No, you’re not. I have a life here and did you forget I’m 24”, I said, crossing my arms across my chest. 

The boys stayed silent, watching me and my mom go back and forth. Kelly was checking Izzy out. “I left for fucking reason and swore I would never move back. Leave mother!”, I ran upstairs, slamming my door. 

Izzy’s pov-

 Y/n’s mom and sister stood there in shock, tension was tight. I stood up from the couch, “I’ll go check on her” I reached her door, heard crying. “Y/n. It’s me, Iz”, I said. A little ‘come in’ was said, she was crying her eyes out before I walked in. “Hey baby. Wanna talk about it?”, I said, shutting the door, her back was turned to me. Y/n jerked up, “Why does she think I need to come back home? It’s hell there, Izzy. I’m overlooked there, they forget my name, if I’m sick or not. My siblings have families and have good careers, I have five siblings, I’m just the second middle kid. Please don’t let her take me back”, She cried. “We’re not gonna let her. You’re 24, you have your own life. Screw what your siblings have, you have us, friends, free travel when we’re on tour. They’re stuck in some hick town while you get to see the world, don’t worry about them. I’m not being mean, but they really don’t care. Just worried that you’re with five guys instead of one. It’s not their business how many people you date or have kids with, you’re an adult”, I said. Here lately every magazine has been exposing our relationship with each other. Y/n has been called a groupie, whore that can’t be satisfied by one guy. Guess it made it to Colorado.

Y/n calmed down and was sitting on my lap, brading a strand of my hair. “Think I’m gonna take them on the patio, I hate that you guys were stuck between it.”, Y/n said. “Okay, I’ll have Duff take them out. Give you a little more time”, I said, walking to the door. “Thanks. Hey Izzy?”, Y/n asked. “Yeah?”, I turned back at her. “I love you”, She smiled. “I love you too, princess”, I smirked. “Hey Duff”, I said, locking eyes with the tall blonde. “She okay?”, Duff started to worry. “Y/n asked if we could take her mom and sister to the patio. She wants to talk to them in private. Can you take them out there please?”, I asked. “Of course”, Duff said. I watched as Duff brought them through the kitchen and out to the patio. Y/n’s mom gave me the stank eye.  “Izzy, are they out there?”, Y/n asked. “Yeah. You gonna be okay?”, Duff answered. “I think so. I love you, Duffy”, She kissed his cheek. “I love you too, Princess”, Duff kissed her lips. We both watched her go out there. “We’re not letting them take her back”, Duff said. “Oh hell no!” Axl and I said at the same time. “She won’t go down without a fight”, Slash said. “Okay, lets quit being peeping toms”, Duff said. We all went downstairs.  

Y/n’s Pov

“Okay tell me how wrong I am being with them?, I sat down at the table. “Why are you with them? Do they pay you?”, My mom asked. “Because I love them very much, I feel safe and loved by my boys. No, I don’t get paid to have sex or whatever crazy ass thing you’re thinking”, I giggled. “Are you together or it’s a groupie thing?”, Kelly asked. “What’s a groupie?”, my mom asked. “Someone who has sex with a couple members of a band or the whole band. No strings attached, some have girlfriends or are even married. But when on the road, they get lonely and their girl isn’t there to you know?”, I said. “And Kelly, we’re together”, I said. “Okay, huh. What made you get into a relationship with them?”, Mom asked. “I don’t know, it just kinda happened. Nobody hasn’t spoken up and said they wanted out and to be with another person.”, I said, looking at her face. Confusion and disgust was all over her face. Kelly was from my time, understood what groupies were and sure she’s married but she was passed around the offensive line and the quarterback in high school. 

“What it is called? When you go out with multiple people, honey?”, My mom asked. “Polyamorous”, I sighed. “Poly what?” “Poly means multiple”, Kelly said.  “Right. Mom, I know this isn’t something you wanted to hear that your daughter is in love with five guys. I didn’t think I would either but life put it that way. I’m happy with them, they all make me smile in their own way. I get something different from each other. You don’t have to worry, this might to be anything any longer, but let me enjoy it while it’s still a thing”, I said holding her hand. “Guess, we didn’t see that way. You do glow more, I’m sorry for never realizing how unhappy you were back home. I love you so much, Y/n. Please keep in contact with us okay?”She smiled. “Okay, you two want to stay for lunch?”, I asked. “No, thank you sweetie. We’ve been here a week trying to find you. Our plane leaves in a few hours”, My mom stood up. “Sorry, you didn’t find me sooner”, I sighed. 

“Can you at least meet them? I’ve met half of their parents”, I smiled. “After our tiny argument?”, Mom asked. “They don’t care, come on”, I giggled. They were just spooked that their girlfriend was yelling at a random lady in the living room. I would be too, if their mom came in guns blazing.

“Boys. I want you to meet my mom, Jacqueline and my sister, Kelly. Sorry about earlier”, I said. They were at the table, Duff was digging something out of the fridge.  “This is Izzy, Slash, Axl, Steven, and who is gonna hit his head is Duff”, I pointed at each of them. “I am not! Son of a-”, Duff groaned, after hitting his head on the edge of the counter. Kelly giggled. “You didn’t bust it open this time, bonehead”, I rubbed his head, for any nics or blood. “I hated having staples in my head”, Duff raised up, rubbing his head. “I know you did, I hated them too”, I giggled. Duff had pulled me into his side and brushed a piece of hair out of my face. I caught my mom smiling at us. “Honey, I hate to leave but we have a plane to catch”, My mom said, tearing Duff and I apart. “Right. I’ll walk you out”, I said. “Axl, what are you doing?”, I asked as the red head followed us. “I have to get something out of my car, babe”, Axl smiled, grabbing my hips. “Not now”, I whispered, feeling his bulge poke my ass. “Not my fault you and your sister have ass”, Axl smirked, passing me to go to his car. “I’ll kill you”, I mouthed as I approached their rental car.  “It was nice seeing you, sis”, Kelly smiled. “You too. How are the kids?”, I asked. “Good, growing like a weed. Conor almost passes me”, Kelly said. “Wow, that means he towers me”, I giggled, thinking of my nephew. Kelly was 5’8, means Conor is at least 5’10, and I’m still 5’3. “Yeah. Annie starts 3rd grade next year, they miss their Auntie Y/n a lot”, Kelly gave a small smile. “Next time, if we’re close to home I’ll see what I can do to come see everyone. Tell everyone I love them.”, I said, pulling Kelly into a hug. “I love you, Kelly”, I whispered.  “Love you too, kid”, She tightened the hug. “Okay, my turn”, My mom whined.  “You’ve changed into a beautiful woman, Y/n. Your Dad would be so proud of how you’ve grown, he misses his buttercup a lot. Call him when you can, okay?”, My mom said. “I will, Momma. I love you and Dad”, I smiled. 

I watched them as they drove down to the neighbor, going to the airport. “You okay, Y/n?”, Steven asked. “Mhm, oh yeah. I’m good, Stevie”, I smiled. I walked over to Steven and smiled. “You forgot something?”, Steven smirked. “My good morning kiss”, Steven pouted. “Nobody got theirs, Stevie”,I giggled, leaning up to kiss his lips. Steven opened the door, there stood Izzy with his arms crossed,pout on his face. I pulled him down to kiss him, “There you, big baby. That better?” “Very much so”, Izzy grinned. I laughed, walking upstairs. Slash pulled me to his lips, “You’re off your routine girl” “Sorry Slashy”, I rubbed his cheek.  “Are you still gonna kill me?”, Axl asked, smirking. “No”, I kissed him. “Good girl”, Axl smirked, smacking my ass. Duff’s back was turned, I wrapped my arms from behind. “Hey Baby”, He said. “Hi. You wanna a kiss?”, I asked. “Mhm, I’ll take a makeout session instead”, I knew he was smirking.  “Put me on the counter and I’ll deliver”, I smirked as he picked me up. I kissed him. “Hey Y/n, is it weird I find your mom sorta hot?”, Axl yelled from upstairs. “Very! She’s bitcher than I am”, I yelled back, rolling my eyes. “I like your bitchyness, it’s hot”, Duff pulled me into  him more. “You’re fucking crazy”, I said. “That song is about you, you know?”, Izzy smirked. “Fuck you, Izzy”, I flipped him off before hopping down from Duff’s arms. “You did last night, hot lips”, Izzy said as he disappeared upstairs. 

[welcometophu]

The Meaning of Home, Chapter 3

The Meaning of Home Chapter 3

Tags for all Welcome to PHU novels will be available at the PHU tag list on Pillowfort. This list is under construction as of Sept. 5, 2021.

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“You could have mentioned.” Pawel fills a bowl with chili from the slow cooker, then adds a scoop of spiced chicken and cheese, and tops it with sour cream. He hands it to his dad and points to the table. “There’s salad, too.”

“More meat, Dad,” Conor says, handing him his bowl. “Beans are weird. They have a really strange texture.”

“They’re also good for you.” Pawel doesn’t skimp on his son’s bowl; he’s seen just how much his kid can pack away. “And you need to eat salad, too.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Conor mutters. He slides into one of the chairs at the tiny round table that sits between the kitchenette and living room. When all three of them sit down, there’s barely room to move. Pawel’s afraid he’s going to take a bite and end up elbowing his father in the nose.

Still, it’s good to have real food with them, and know that both of them are eating something healthy.

Pawel sits back a bit from the table so he doesn’t knock knees, and holds his own bowl in his hands. The chili isn’t as spicy as he usually makes it at home, but that’s probably better for his father’s stomach anyway.

“Could’ve mentioned what?” Dad asks.

He sounds so innocent.

“That the guy who takes in fosters and happens to work with you is Leo Papa. As in my ex-boyfriend Leo,” Pawel says dryly. “We bumped into him and Emma and another one of his fosters—”

“Jennie,” Conor supplies.

“—At the grocery store,” Pawel finishes, as if Conor hadn’t interrupted. “And oh, funny thing.” He glares at Dad, who blinks back at him, calmly eating. “Turns out Leo’s married to Colt Harrison. My other high school ex.”

“Emma’s dads are the guys you dated in high school?” Conor asks. “They’re really cool. Why didn’t you keep dating them?”

“Leo graduated and left. Colt and I went to different schools. I met your mom.” There’s a lot more to each of those stories, but Pawel doesn’t want to get into the details right here and now. He’s not sure he wants to talk about the drama of his teen life with his son in general.

Conor already knows enough of the details, like the fact that he was born while Pawel was still in school.

“Colt’s really calmed down,” Dad muses. “He used to have a lot of attitude when he was a kid. I remember when you first started dating him, and he’d look down at our house. He thought everything should be served up on a silver platter. Being a dad’s taught him a lot more about reality than anything else did, I think.”

“Are you telling me he doesn’t drive a Porsche anymore?”

Dad barks out a low laugh. “Where would he put five kids in a Porsche? They’ve got practical cars. Although if they take in any more kids, they’ll need one of those big vans, or a miniature bus.”

“Emma wants Dad to find her parents, so she can go home,” Conor reminds them. “She says she’s not staying. I’ll be sad when she goes, though. And her house is fun. It’s kind of chaotic. I mean, Duke’s quiet—he doesn’t talk at all—but Matt’s always saying stuff, and he keeps changing into different animals. And Duke and Matt fight, even if Duke doesn’t yell. He still seems to get his point across, and then he chases Matt, and yeah, it gets messy. You met Jennie—she’s cool, for a little kid, but she’s always eating. Nevaeh’s really pretty. She’s learning how to drive.” 

Conor shovels food into his mouth, a spoonful between every sentence. His spoon clatters back into a mostly empty bowl, a few beans lingering in the bottom. “Can I go call Alan? We’re going to game tonight. I got my homework done while you were cooking.”

“Salad,” Dad reminds him, and Pawel’s thankful for the backup, even if Dad himself hasn’t taken any yet.

Conor puts just enough lettuce and vegetables into his bowl to satisfy the requirement, and finishes it quickly. He drops his spoon on the table. “Gonna go call Alan. Bye!”

The place is small enough that even though the door to the guest room bangs as it bounces closed, then open again, Pawel can still clearly hear Conor shouting a hello to Alan.

“How the hell do they have five kids?” Pawel can’t imagine trying to wrangle more than one.

“There are two of them. There’s a better adult to kid ratio, plus you know Leo’s family helps out.” Dad pulls the salad towards him, heaping his bowl full. “That’s what family does, and you know it. Ours is just smaller than most.”

Him, his dad, and Conor. Yeah. It’s a pretty small family.

Which reminds him, he should probably tell his dad about Chelsea.

Dad points his fork at him. “I’ll agree, though, I didn’t see it coming,” he continues. Pawel stays silent; Chelsea can wait if Dad’s going to tell him more about what the hell’s been going on while he was absent. “Leo and Colt were good together; have been since they first met. But when Leo came in and said he needed a few days off to go pick up a foster kid—almost four years ago, now—it was a hell of a surprise. Matt had a tough time of it, too. His parents gave him up, put him right into the foster system because he’d Emerged as Clan. If Lucy hadn’t gotten him out….” Dad trails off, shaking his head.

“Leo said something about Lucy and Rowan,” Pawel says slowly. “I have two students whose parents are in a triad, and two of those parents are Lucy and Rowan. I’ve spent time with their family in Vermont.”

“Likely the same,” Dad says. “Lucy’s a teacher, and she keeps an eye out for Talented kids who might slip through the cracks otherwise. Apparently she’s been doing it since before the Emergence; it’s just easier now. She’s got a network of teachers, and one of them knows Colt, and that’s how it all came together. Matt did so well with them that when Lucy found out about a thirteen-year-old girl who’d run away from her family with her baby sister, she brought them straight to Leo and Colt, too. Rowan’s a lawyer, and he’s the one who works to make sure the kids are safe, and aren’t going to end up back in bad places. Nevaeh and Jennie’s parents didn’t want a little girl who sparkled all the time, and they were a danger to her, so they were declared unfit.”

“Conor thinks they’ll adopt them. Since Jennie’s grown up with them.” Pawel’s still trying to assimilate it, putting “parents” into the same box as “ex-boyfriends” in his brain. He still sees them both as the awkward teenagers they used to be.

Colt would say he has never been awkward.

He might even be right.

“They’ve thought about it. I think Colt’s looked into it, but even with the parents out of the picture as they are, they’re still alive, so adoption becomes a tricky thing.” Dad picks up his empty bowl along with Conor’s and takes them over to the sink.

Pawel uses the freedom to stretch his legs under the small table. He’s barely eaten anything yet, so he starts working his way through his chili, letting his mind spin.

He should get in touch with Lucy and Rowan. They’ve talked before, more than once actually. Maybe it’d be good to let them know he’s aware of their efforts. That he knows Leo and Colt.

No, not like that. That makes it sound like he knows them better than he does. Until he ran into Leo in the store, he hadn’t seen him in more than a decade. It hasn’t been quite as long for Colt, but close enough.

Still. This sounds like something he should offer help with. Even if he can’t foster, he can help with Lucy’s ability to network down in Unity. He’s sure she could use that, and well, he owes her family for all the help they’ve given in the last year.

He scoops up the last mouthful of chili. That’s decided then. He’ll give them a call later. Or text them. Reach out, anyway.

“Bring me your bowl.” Dad waits until Pawel brings his dishes over before he adds quietly, “Never did figure out if you ended things on good or bad terms, but I know you moped about both of them enough to figure they weren’t easy breakups. They’re both doing well now. They’re good for each other. Leo’s a valuable part of my force, and Colt’s a voice to be reckoned with in the courtroom. They fight for Talented folks to be safe. So if you’re thinking of somehow getting in the middle of this….”

Dad’s voice trails off and he gives Pawel a look.

Pawel has no idea what Dad’s thinking. “Get in the middle of… no. What? I was just going to reach out and offer to be a liaison in Unity, if Lucy and Rowan don’t already have one. And thank them for all the help they’ve given us. And maybe talk to Colt and Leo about whether I can help Emma out. Since apparently people disappearing has become my specialty.”

Dad huffs and turns away. “Fine. Just don’t go making any trouble for them. They’re good folk.”

“I won’t. I’m just going to—” Pawel gestures at the couch, but that’s not really helpful for getting any distance or privacy. “Actually. Why don’t you go put your feet up. I’ll finish the clean up.”

“You cooked.” The protest is half-hearted.

“And I was home all day, so I can clean, too.” Maybe being home support is a good way to thank his dad for everything he’s done. It’s something Pawel can do, anyway.

The TV goes on loud enough that Pawel can hear it clearly over the running water. Pawel takes a moment to tap out a quick message to send to Lucy.

Heard you help find foster homes for Talented kids in need. My son’s met a few of the kids you placed in my home town. If you ever need a contact in Unity, I’d be happy to help.

He leaves his phone face up on the counter.

He’s up to his elbows in suds, scrubbing the inside of the slow cooker, when his phone buzzes. He glances over to see a response from Lucy.

I’ve actually got folks in Unity and Valiant, but that doesn’t mean we can’t talk. I already know you’ve got a vested interest in keeping Talented kids safe, and a larger network means more help. Just like we’ve been telling you with our family in Burlington: lean on people when you need them.

Even people who barely know him are giving him advice. 

He lets the screen fade; he’ll reply later when his hands aren’t soaking wet. Instead he finishes filling up the small dishwasher and gets it started. As soon as the rumbling begins, Dad turns up the volume on the TV so he can hear over the rattling of the dishwasher.

It’s just too much noise for Pawel. He makes his way to the guest room, knocking on the half-open door before he nudges it wide enough to step inside. Conor waves a hand, and Pawel takes that as meaning close the door, so he does.

“What are you playing?” Pawel looks at the screen, but all he sees is Alan, who waves at him.

“We haven’t started playing yet.” Conor’s voice is too loud, his headphones still covering his ears. Pawel taps at them, and Conor removes them and switches the sound to the speakers. “We’ve just been talking. Alan was telling me about all the things happening at home. I really like my class and my teacher here, but I really miss home. Except for Marjorie. I don’t really miss her.”

“But you miss me,” Alan says, grinning. “Hi, Mister Szczek.” 

They’ve known each other long enough that Polish names, along with the random few words Conor knows and has shared, roll off Alan’s lips like he’s part of the family. Well, he and Conor are schoolyard married, so maybe he is part of the family.

“Hi, Alan. Actually, I’ve got a question for you both.” Pawel sits down on the bed next to Conor, leaning in so he’ll be on camera. “I picked up tickets for SongFest out in Buffalo this weekend. I was thinking you could join us if you boys want.”

“You got us tickets for SongFest? Do I get to see Rory and Thorne on stage? What about that girl? Trish? Is she doing music there, too? You changed your mind! You said I was too young for concerts.” Conor bounces on the bed enough that the laptop wobbles. Pawel reaches out to stabilize it as Alan laughs.

“You’re too young for clubs,” Pawel says. “And this is going to be a long day, out in the hot sun, assuming it doesn’t rain on Saturday. But I figured we could give it a try, and since it’s outside, the music won’t be quite as bad on your ears. You already don’t listen to half of what I say.”

“Mom says my dad and me have selective hearing,” Alan volunteers. 

“She’s not wrong. Sometimes it’s better to just not listen. Can’t get in trouble if you don’t hear it,” Conor agrees. His gaze slides sideways, as if he forgot Pawel is sitting there. “Soooooooo,” he draws the word out before his gaze locks back on Alan on the screen. “Can you go with us?”

“We’d be driving out on Friday,” Pawel clarifies. “The actual festival is in Buffalo on Saturday, and it goes late. We’d have a hotel for both nights, and come back on Sunday.”

The smile falls away as Alan shakes his head. “I can’t this weekend. It’s my cousin’s birthday next week, and we’re doing a big family thing this weekend in Boston. She’s my aunt’s miracle baby, and we always get the whole family together to celebrate her. She’s three this year. She’s my oldest aunt and my youngest cousin. I’m youngest, before her.”

Conor ducks his head. “Oh.” He pulls his blanket onto his lap, picking at the fuzz on it.

“We’ll have to find a different weekend for Alan to come out and visit then,” Pawel says firmly. The boys have been apart for two months, and that’s a long time in a nine-year-old’s life. “Then you can introduce Alan to Emma.”

“We’ve met.” Alan sounds cheerful about that. “She’s pretty cool. She and Conor call me sometimes. I think she should come live with you guys when you come home.”

Conor makes a low scoffing noise. “She’s not like a stray dog. We can’t just keep her. She’s already got foster dads, and besides, my dad is going to find her parents. Then she’ll have to go wherever her home really is. Which will suck, because I really like hanging out with her, but it’ll make her happy, so that’s cool.”

“Yeah, that’s really cool you’re going to do that, Mister Szczek,” Alan echoes.

It’s very cool, right up until the moment Pawel thinks about how that means figuring out a plan, and then interacting with Leo and Colt to enact that plan.

“I’ll do my best.” Pawel touches Conor’s shoulder. “Why don’t you guys do your game for a bit. It’s a school night, so you still need to get to bed.”

Conor shakes his head, as if he can shake off the blues. Maybe it works, because he’s smiling when he reaches for his laptop. “Okay, Alan. Let’s do this.”

Pawel is clearly dismissed.

He exits the room, leaving the door propped just enough that he can hear the rumble of Conor talking as he puts his headphones back on, and nothing else. Dad’s half-asleep on the couch, watching a show through his eyelids, so Pawel sinks down there and joins him. As Dad snores softly, Pawel grabs the remote and stops the show. Dad can get back to it later, and he won’t notice Pawel channel surfing while he snoozes.

Time passes in a haze of snippets of comedy and drama. Pawel can’t seem to find anything he really wants to watch, and Dad has no opinions as he naps. Pawel keeps one eye on the time, and he’s just about to call out when he hears Conor yell, “Got to go! Bye!” The sound of the laptop closing is clear enough to make Pawel wince, but he knows that machine has put up with a lot from his son already.

Conor emerges a few minutes later, already in his pajamas. He heads straight for the bathroom, and Pawel can hear the water running as he brushes his teeth and gets ready for bed. By the time Conor makes it into the living room, the noise has disturbed Dad, who sits upright and yawns.

“Bed,” Pawel says firmly, not entirely certain which one of them he’s talking to. Probably both.

“Goodnight son.” Dad squeezes Pawel’s shoulder as he stands. He reels Conor in for a long hug on his way by, then disappears into his own room.

Conor stands there, hands clasped behind his back, his lower lip drawn in between his teeth.

“You want something,” Pawel says.

“Since Alan can’t go and you said you already bought a ticket, can we bring Emma with us to the festival this weekend?” Conor blurts it all out in a rush, biting his lip again when he’s done. “I know you don’t know her really well yet, but she’s nice and we won’t be trouble and it would really be a lot of fun.”

If Pawel takes Emma all the way to Buffalo, he can’t see her foster parents letting her go alone.

Pawel slides his palm over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. He hears the soft, defeated exhale from Conor.

“Okay,” Conor says softly. “I get it.”

“That’s not—” Pawel hesitates, peeking between his fingers at where his son stands there, waiting for an answer. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll talk to her fathers. Foster fathers.” Even without Emma there to correct him, he corrects himself. He understands the importance of terminology. Sometimes you have to make sure you say things the right way. Words have power, even when you’re nine.

Words might even have more power over children. That’s why it’s important to acknowledge the ones they want to use.

Conor darts across the room, plowing into where Pawel is still on the couch for a flying, tackling hug. “Thanks, Dad. I love you. Can I tell Emma you’re going to ask? Should it be a surprise? When are you going to ask?”

So many questions.

So many complications to this one simple request.

Pawel wraps his arms around his son, choosing to just hold on for the moment. He pats Conor on the back, and Conor slowly disengages from the hug, bouncing on his toes as soon as he’s upright.

“I’ll talk to Leo and Colt,” Pawel promises. “But you need to give me time.”

“It’s already Tuesday,” Conor whines. “You said we’re going on Friday. That’s not a lot of time. Wait, what about school? Are you taking me out of school?”

“That’s one of the things I’ll need to talk to Leo and Colt about.” One thing among several. And this is coming out of the blue, after all these years of silence. Because of course Pawel’s son has managed to dump him into chaos. It’s what the Szczeks do.

“For now,” Pawel adds, “go to bed. Let me take care of the adult things, okay?”

“Okay. G’night, Dad!” Conor slams the door to his room behind him.

Pawel’s left on the couch—his bed for the summer—alone with his thoughts. 

So. They’re taking Emma to the festival. He promised. If her foster fathers allow her to go.

There are so many ways in which this could get awkward.

It’s up to Pawel to take the first step, so he opens his phone and brings up a text to Leo’s number.

Okay. Dinner. When?

He presses send. There, that’s started. It’s in the hands of his exes now.

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