#but i am swamped this week so no time for anything new

[yourbuckies]

[egcdeath]

clean sheet

pairing: joel miller x reader 

summary: nothing stirs the pot like your ex-husband, gossipy soccer moms, and a weekend-long soccer tournament. (part two of spectator sport)

word count: 7.7k

warnings: canon divergent: no apocalypse, implied past emotional abuse, jealousy/misunderstanding, kinda angsty in the beginning but verrrry fluffy at the end, insecurities, there was only one bed, mutual pining, sarah and chloe being menaces as usual

author’s note: this past week has been extremely rough. like, ao3 author’s note apologizing for being gone rough, so i’m just as surprised as you are that i was able to write 7,000 words of a part two to spectator sport. enjoy!

 part 3 / series masterlist

Tournament season was nothing short of an absolute pain in the ass. It was a pain in the ass when you were married and able to evenly split your responsibilities, and it’s even more of a pain in the ass now that your ex-husband has decided to participate minimally in all soccer related ventures. 

To be completely honest, it seemed like it wasn’t just soccer ventures your ex wasn’t too enthused to partake in, as Nathan had ditched most of his fatherly duties whenever a new, younger girlfriend was in the picture. But that was neither here nor there.

Despite Nathan taking Chloe to her past few games this season—you were completely swamped with work and you had practically gotten on your knees and begged for him to take her to them—he didn’t seem to have any interest in assisting you with tournaments. 

That was fine and good. You knew about the events far enough in advance to move some meetings around, block off some time, and cross your fingers and hope that nothing came up unexpectedly in the days prior to your game. Although, what you couldn’t account for was your car completely breaking down on your way back from a bagel shop the morning before you were meant to be on the road for the next three hours. 

But alas, the universe had its way of kicking you when you were already down, leaving you biting back tears in the passenger seat of a tow truck as you attempted to figure out a Plan B.

“Please, Nathaniel,��� you pleaded over the phone, pacing back and forth in your bedroom as you tried your absolute best to hold the last bits of your composure together. 

“I’ve been at her last three games,” it was impossible to miss the sneer in his voice as if his own daughter was the biggest burden in the world. “And where have you been? It’s practically been a month.”

“Where have I been?” you laughed out of anger and at the absurdity of his words. You knew that he knew for a fact that you’d been drowning in work. “Nathaniel. You know how my work has been. Please just do this one thing for your child. It’s the fucking weekend. It’s not like you’re doing anything else.”

“It’s always work with you. You know, this is why I couldn’t be with you anymore. You were always so selfish with your time and inconsiderate with mine,” he sighed dismissively. “And for the record, Claire and I have a reservation tonight. So I am doing something else.”

It was staggering how minimized and powerless he made you feel after every interaction despite how little he actually was in your life. Every time you interacted with the man you thanked whatever forces out there that you somehow found it in yourself to leave. 

You huffed and blinked away tears, hugging yourself to attempt to bring yourself some sort of comfort. After signing the papers, you told yourself you would never waste one single tear on the man again. You wouldn’t let a little argument like this change that promise.

“Can I at least borrow your car?” you sounded so meek and desperate, but you were running out of options, and with every passing minute you had less and less options.

Instead of responding, Nathan simply laughed at you before ending the call. Humiliated didn’t even begin to cover how you felt about the whole situation. 

You angrily wiped away the hot tears that had slipped down your face without your permission and sighed as you evaluated what options you had left. You could take an Uber, but it would be ridiculously expensive. You could rent a car, but Chloe was bound to get stains and dirt tracked throughout the vehicle. Anything else was far too short notice. 

You flopped down onto your bed and screamed into your pillow. The stress from your overfilled work week combined with an extremely inconvenient situation was taking its toll on you, but you needed to figure something out. 

Maybe you could carpool with someone. Although, you weren’t sure who was still in town, as most of the families liked to leave at the ass crack of dawn. If that wasn’t enough, you weren’t exactly sure you wanted to sit in a small contained space with some of those families for a prolonged period of time. 

Maybe you could ‘borrow’ Nathan’s car regardless of what he said. You were sure his new girlfriend had a car–if she was even old enough to drive one–and they could certainly take that car to their ever-important reservation tonight. Although, maybe getting a grand theft auto charge in order to make it to a soccer tournament wasn't your greatest idea.

You were deep in the eye of a brainstorm when a soft little knock rapped against your door, seconds before Chloe peeked her head in. 

“Hi mom,” she greeted, completely unaware of the extent of your conundrum. “Sarah can’t find her cleats and wanted to know if she could borrow one of mine. Where do you keep my old ones?” 

Joel.

Oh shit, Joel.

Joel who you’d accidentally ghosted after the promise of a date. With work and ex-spousal drama, you hadn’t even had a moment to think about the date. A knot tied in your stomach as you thought about how you’d treated him. He probably thought you were icing him out on purpose. 

“They should be downstairs in the front closet under the coats,” you informed her. “You almost ready to go?”

“What does it look like?” she retorted sassily, doing a little spin for you to show off her full soccer attire. 

“Alright,” you chuckled, trying to keep it together for just a while longer. “Go find those cleats.”

With that, she was off, and you were alone with just one option. 

You dialed the number that you’d only texted once, and bit your lip as the phone rang out. The knot in your stomach tied and untied with each ring of the phone, nausea rattling you as you thought about all the ways he could answer. He’d probably be pissed that you were only reaching out to him now, only when you needed something from him. He’d probably tell you off, just like Nathan, and laugh at you over the phone over the mere prospect of hitching a ride with him.

After three rings, Joel finally picked up, saying your name aloud, as if he was genuinely surprised to be hearing from you. 

“Joel, I’m so sorry,” you took a deep breath and attempted to hold back the wave of emotions coming over you. This stupid stressful morning. This stupid stressful month. And stupid you for leaving a good man waiting for you. A good man who was probably moments away from becoming a bad man, like every other one that seemed to appear in your life.

“My car broke down this morning and I don’t have any other way to get to the tournament. Is there any way we can carpool? I’ll literally pay you to take us. I’ll drive Sarah to school for the rest of the school year. Hell, I’ll take her to games too. Just… please.” It felt like you were talking a million miles a minute. 

“Hey, take a breath,” he said, clearly picking up on the frantic energy you were radiating through the phone. “We’re heading out in about twenty minutes. We’ll swing by your place. And don’t worry about all that other stuff, okay? Just take a big breath. I’ll see you soon.”

You were flooded with relief as you spoke your gratitude and hung up. It almost felt odd to not have someone go off on you for waiting so last minute to reach out for help, or for not reaching out to them after you said that you would. You were puzzled, and not completely sure what you did to deserve someone like Joel in your life, but you were grateful to have him regardless. Especially now that he was coming to save the day. 

Sure enough, around twenty minutes later, a pickup truck arrived in front of your house, and Chloe was sprinting to go sit with her friend in the backseat, still overjoyed from the news that she would be traveling with her friend. 

Timidly, you entered the car, still anticipating a stern lecture or even a scolding for being a shitty mom, and an even worse potential partner. “I really can’t thank you enough for this, Joel,” you expressed before he had the chance to speak, hoping that if you expressed your gratitude before he had the chance to yell at you, the blow would be lessened. You kept your eyes down as you sat down and set your overnight bag in front of you. 

“Of course. You know, I still owe you a favor after that dinner fiasco,” he glanced over at you and smiled, and some of that fear you had been holding onto began to melt away. Although, you blanched at the mention of the date that you were meant to go on, but hadn’t had the chance to do so. Yet, there didn’t seem to be any malice behind Joel’s words. 

“I guess we’re even?” you offered, looking over at the man to attempt to read him as he slung his arm around the back of the headrest and looked through the rearview mirror as he pulled out. 

“Yeah,” he said shortly, almost… dejectedly? Maybe you were reading into it too much. After all, his attention was split between you and getting out of your driveway safely. 

Regardless of what anyone was feeling, your journey began with the girls in the back chatting amongst themselves and a slightly weighted silence between the two of you in the front while the sound of radio filled in for the lack of conversation between you and Joel.

You spent the majority of the ride looking out your window, deep in thought. You tried not to let Nathan get under your skin all that often, but maybe he was right about the way you spent your time. You’d practically thrown away your shot at any relationship with the man next to you, simply because you were too busy and forgot about a promise you’d made. 

You tried to focus on the excited chatter in the seat behind you, and less on the venomous words Nathan had given you over the years, but it was a difficult task. Paired with the fact that you were still waiting for the shoe to drop and Joel to go off on you, it wasn’t the most pleasant time.

After about an hour of driving (and in your case, brooding), you had to make a stop at the gas station, as the truck was running low on fuel. You reached for your wallet and grabbed a twenty dollar bill, then passed it back to the girls behind you. “Go get some snacks for us?” 

“Of course!” Chloe cheered, hopping out of the car and racing Sarah into the entrance of the gas station.

Joel was definitely going to go off on you now that the kids were gone. You held your breath as you got out of the car, leaning against the hood of the vehicle as Joel stood by the pump, his eyes fixed on his vehicle.

“I can’t tell you just how sorry I am. About not reaching out to you to go out sometime, and for having to ask you so last minute to take us to the tournament. I’ve just been absolutely swamped with work, and Natha-“

“You’re fine,” Joel cut you off as he acknowledged your apology, keeping his gaze trained on the car. Here it comes. “You don’t need to apologize. Sometimes life just throws a bunch of shit at us at once.”

You nodded in agreement, your breathing picking up as you waited for the condescension or lecture to begin. Yet… it never came. You weren’t sure if he was as upset as you suspected, but Joel was certainly feeling more than he was willing to let on. The lack of eye contact and his slightly off responses told you that much. 

“Is everything okay?” you finally asked, trailing off. “You’ve barely said a word all trip.”

“Everything is fine. I’m just tired,” he rubbed his forehead with his hand. 

“Well, if you’re tired, I can drive us the rest of the way over and you can sleep. That way you’ll be rested for the game,” you offered, taking a daring step towards him, and setting your hand on his bicep—a peace treaty of sorts. And maybe a hint that you were still interested in whatever sparks had been evident before. 

Joel immediately stiffened under your touch, and subtly rejected the motion. He glanced over at you for just a moment before looking back down at the gas pump and shut his eyes. “That’d be great. I’m really exhausted.”

While you could believe that maybe Joel was just tired, there had to be more to the story. The way he rejected your subtle touch and the way he just couldn’t seem to meet your eyes told you that much. Perhaps you underestimated just how hurt he was by you not making plans with him, although it wasn’t like he’d reached out to you to set something up. In fact, the last time you heard from him was the night before the girls’ game following their team dinner.

“Of course. Go ahead and get back in the car, I can take everything from here.”

The rest of the ride wasn’t too long, but you were happy to contribute after asking for such a last minute favor. You drove straight to the grounds that the team was playing on that afternoon, as you were already pushing it on time, and certainly did not have time to go check into your hotel yet.

Your kids jogged off to greet their team and warm up with them, leaving you alone with Joel once again as you grabbed fold-out chairs from the back of his truck. 

“You feeling any better now after sleeping?” you asked, turning to look at him and inspect his face for any suspicious expressions.

“Yeah, definitely,” he affirmed, but his words didn’t exactly match what it was you had observed. He closed his trunk and began to walk away, and you followed after him, feeling a bit like a lost puppy.

“Joel, really. You can tell me what’s wrong,” you practically pleaded, part of you still waiting for the moment he would tell you off.

“I already told you,” his tone was defensive, and when he turned back to look at you, the agitation was clearly painted on his face. “Nothing is wrong.”

You were taken aback, but understood that you had crossed some sort of boundary in your continuous pressing of what was wrong. You felt more like a kicked puppy than a lost one as you walked out to the fields behind Joel, setting your chair up close to him, but with a little more distance between the two of you than what you would have preferred. 

You didn’t talk much during the game, outside of cheering for your daughters and momentarily celebrating when one of them pulled something impressive off. 

Although you didn’t interact much, it still felt nice to be back at a game after being gone for the past few weeks. And honestly, it felt even more nice to be back in Joel’s presence after those weeks, even if it was clear that something had shifted between the two of you. 

When the second game began, you were surprised to come back from your short leg-stretch walk to find another chair placed next to Joel’s—and a woman happily chatting his ear off.

A pang of jealousy struck your gut as you observed the two of them. It was no secret that most of the moms (and some of the dads) on the team (and other teams) saw the same things in Joel that you did. But you had absolutely no right to feel jealous, considering the way you’d basically led him on, and you had absolutely no reason to believe that there was anything romantic going on between them.

But you felt unwell anyway. 

You urged yourself not to look at them for too long, instead focusing on the game in front of you, but the sounds of their voices and the way their conversation easily flowed was far too distracting. Just the rotten cherry on top of an already shitty day. 

You felt ridiculous and childish sitting there with jealousy burning deeply in your stomach as you mentally ran through all of the things you could have done differently. Maybe if you’d texted Joel the night of your dinner and found a day where you both weren’t busy to go out together, or if you’d just said no to taking on a few extra hours, you’d be the one giggling and playing with your hair as you chatted up Joel.

It was official: you couldn’t torture yourself with staying one more moment with the two of them. Instead, you shot out of your uncomfortable little chair, and hauled your jealous little ass over to the concession stand. If you couldn’t go back in time and fix all the mistakes you’d made leading up to today, at least you could stuff your face full of peanut M&Ms until you felt better.  

As you focused on tearing the yellow plastic with a little more force than what was necessary, you completely missed Alice—one of the more gossipy mothers on the team—approaching you. 

“Hey babe,” she greeted cheerily. “We haven’t seen you in a few weeks. Where’ve you been?” 

Your mouth was currently filled with candy, so it took you a second to respond. “Work,” you said in between chewing. “I barely had time to breathe, let alone bring Chloe to her games, so I had to basically beg on my knees for a little help from her father. Speaking of which, how was Nathan?”

“Oh,” Alice paused and looked off to the side, a little too guiltily for your liking. “Yeah, he was fine.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, brows furrowed at her strange reaction. 

“Yeah! He was great. It’s just…” she trailed off and offered you an awkward smile. “We thought you two were maybe back together. You know, with the whole co-parenting thing.”

Your eye twitched. So the parents of the team were gossiping and theorizing about your love life. Great. That’s probably what was wrong with Joel—word had gotten back to him that you and Nathan were playing house again. No wonder he was putting such distance between you. 

“Babe,” you tried not to let the annoyance you were experiencing reflect too much into your tone, “why would you tell people we were back together? Bringing your own child to their sports events is not exactly groundbreaking or relationship material.”

You were now gritting your teeth as the irritation really started to sink in. Joel probably didn’t reach out to you for your date since these fucking real housewives you were surrounded by had decided to spread baseless rumors about you from the moment your ex had stepped onto the sideline. 

You were wrong. This was the rotten cherry on top of the absolute dogshit milkshake of a day you’d had. 

“I’m sorry,” Alice didn’t sound as remorseful as you wish she did. You knew that deep down, she was enjoying this little game and would be more than happy to spread this information back to her friends. “I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“It’s fine, the damage is done,” you sighed, shoving a handful of candy in your mouth. 

“Have you seen Joel and Cindy, though? They’re so cute together!”

It was now clearer than ever that Alice was only interacting with you to stir the pot, so you simply put on the best fake smile you could muster and nodded. “Adorable. Now if you don’t mind, I’m gonna go sit back down. I haven’t seen Chloe play in a few weeks, and she was doing so well in the last game, I’m sure she’s doing great now too!”

You didn’t wait for a response before walking off, attempting to suppress all of the feelings you were having with this new information you’d been given. In the three weeks you’d been gone, Alice had convinced the team that you and Nathan were back together, and Joel had already moved on. If you hadn’t cared so much about Chloe’s passions, you would’ve had her quit on the spot. You simply could not handle any more of this soccer parent culture. 

Sitting back down in your seat, you offered Joel an M&M, to which he politely declined. You wondered if there was a way for you to casually explain that you and Nathan were not and would not ever be an item again, but then again, it seemed like with Cindy in the picture, the ship of making anything work with you two had sailed. 

You attempted to focus on your daughter, who unsurprisingly was doing quite well in the game. You were glad that no matter how shitty your day was turning out, your kin was at least having a better day—and having fun doing it.

You simply went through the motions through the rest of the day, squeezing your daughter tight with a hug when all of the games for the day were finished and telling Sarah about how great of a job she did, then falling back into a somewhat uncomfortable silence on your drive to the hotel. 

Checking in had proved to be… a bit of an odd situation. As you pocketed your room keys, Chloe made an odd offer—her and Sarah would share a room while you and Joel would share your own. 

It shouldn’t have surprised you as much as it did when your daughters proposed that you and Joel share a room so that they could have a sleepover, but it caught you off guard regardless. 

You were hesitant for several obvious reasons, but their room was adjoined to yours, and there was a perfectly nice pull-out bed in the sofa, which meant there was absolutely no need to share a bed with Joel. After some consideration and discussion with the man who would be your roommate for the night, you ultimately settled on allowing it. You would take the sofa. Joel would take the bed.

Besides, it’s not like he’d be spending the majority of the night in the room. After a short conversation, he was getting dressed and going off to dinner with Cindy. 

You tried not to feel bad for yourself for too long. You’d already spent the majority of the day feeling bad for yourself, whether it was for the shitty situations you found yourself in, or the way the moms on your team treated your love life like their favorite reality show.

Knocking on the door adjacent to your own, you were happy to see Chloe crack open her door. 

“Hi girls,” you greeted. “What do you say to a pajama party?”

“Yes!” Chloe squealed, swinging her door wide open. Conveniently, they were already dressed the part, and were seemingly ready to wind down after a long day of physical activity. 

After ordering an absurd amount of room service and having nothing short of a feast with your favorite pre-teens, the three of you sat on the floor under a blanket fort you’d constructed as you played Uno with some random network romcom playing in the background. 

It felt like after a long day of holding your breath, you could finally let go of it, winding down with your two favorite children.

“Do you feel like you had a good day today?” you asked, placing a green three on top of the pile of cards. 

“Yeah! I missed having you and my dad together at our games,” Sarah remarked, drawing a card. 

Chloe nodded in agreement, setting down one of her own cards. “You really spice up our games. I think Joel yells a little louder at us when you’re here. He was pretty quiet when dad was bringing me.”

You tried not to let your emotions show on your face too much in front of the children, but it was undeniably sweet that you being around brightened Joel’s light, even now, when things were a little more awkward between the two of you. You simply hummed as you set down your card.

“Yeah, he kept asking me if I knew where you were,” Sarah drew a card then placed the card back down on the pile. “I think he missed you.”

So maybe Joel wasn’t as mad at you as you thought he was. Asking where you were had to be a good sign, right? Maybe it really just boiled down to him thinking you were back together with your ex-husband, and him not wanting to cross any boundaries. 

“I think you’re our good luck charm. Did you see how well we played today?” Chloe asked, discarding a card. “Uno.”

“I think you guys are just good,” you set down a card. “Uno.”

“I dunno, when you were gone we kept losing,” Sarah set down a skip, causing Chloe to exclaim in frustration. 

“Our friendship is over,” Chloe announced to Sarah for what must’ve been the third time that night. 

“Mean it this time?” she teased. 

“I swear!” the pair broke out into giggles as you set down your final card. 

“We need to team up on you! How is it that you keep winning?” Sarah asked, pointing an accusatory finger at you. 

“She’s a dirty cheater,” Chloe tutted. “Just ask her why we don’t play Monopoly anymore. Right, mom?”

“Hey!” you exclaimed. “It was a rough patch. I keep winning Uno because you two keep targeting each other. What happened to team work?”

“No such thing in Uno,” Sarah shrugged. 

You laughed aloud, feeling some of your stress melting away with the motion, “you guys are too funny.”

Chloe yawned and reached for the pile in the middle of your little circle. “You can’t compliment your way out of this, cheater.”

“Ugh, whatever. I didn’t realize I raised such a sore loser.”

“Takes one to know one!” Chloe jeered. 

“Sure,” you chuckled. “Well, I think it's this cheater’s bedtime. Can I help you guys undo the pillow fort?”

The girls agreed, and you helped take down the mess of blankets, chairs, and pillows as they began to wind down and settle into bed.

“Goodnight, girls,” you bid farewell as you approached the adjoining door. “If you need anything, just come on over, okay? Sweet dreams,” you blew kisses to both of them before going back over to your side of the room.

When you made it back to your room, Joel was already in bed, the soft light of the television illuminating his face in the otherwise dark room. The light from the screen and his pajamas were doing him all sorts of favors, making him look like he walked straight out of your domestic fantasy. 

“When did you get back?” you asked as you grabbed your phone charger from your bag and approached the pull-out bed. 

“Like, an hour ago,” he shrugged, leaning back against the headboard. 

“You should’ve come over and played Uno with us,” you suggested, attempting to get cozy in your makeshift bed as you pulled the threadbare hotel blanket over your legs. “We had a little fort and everything.”

“Didn’t wanna intrude on your girls’ night,” he mumbled sleepily, hugging a pillow as he adjusted himself in bed.

“We would’ve been happy to have you,” you muttered, trying your best to relax in the rather uncomfortable makeshift bed.

Joel simply grunted in response, his eyes now shut. You could only assume that sleep set in quickly, and you’d now lost him to dreamland.  

You stared up at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep. Part of you wished that this whole day was just an awful dream, and that you’d wake up the morning after the team dinner at Joel’s house, able to do everything all over again. 

Rolling onto your side, you hoped that the shitty pull-out bed would become even slightly more comfortable, but your hope was to no avail. You sighed softly and closed your eyes, wondering if you started counting sheep, if it’d be any easier to fall asleep.

About fifteen sheep in, Joel’s soft voice calling your name pulled you out of whatever sleepy daze you’d been in. 

“Hey, are you sleeping yet?” he practically whispered. 

“No,” you responded, voice far above a whisper. “The floor would probably be more comfortable than this.”

“I told you you shouldn’t have taken the pull-out bed,” he goaded.

“You wanna get down here and sleep on it for me?”

“No. Well… Would it help you sleep better?”

“Joel,” you huffed.

“I shouldn’t have asked,” you listened as the bedsheets began to rustle.

“No, no, don’t do that. Your body needs an actual bed after all that hard manual labor you do. Lay back down.”

“Not if you can’t fall asleep because of that shitty bed. Trust me, I’ve slept in worse conditions.”

“Just because you can doesn’t mean you should. Now I’m going to sleep. Goodnight.”

Joel paused for a second, and you assumed he’d finally given up. Good.

Until he called your name once again. “Come up here and get a good night’s rest.”

“No,” you argued, though your sleepy brain was practically begging you to move to the comfier location. “You need it more than me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You snickered, “whatever you want it to mean.”

Silence on his end once again. Time to start herding your sheep. 

“Why don’t we just share? There’s probably room for three of me on this bed.”

A bold proposition from a man who got back from a date only a few hours ago. A bold proposition that you were probably a bit too enthusiastic to take. 

“Fine,” you huffed. “Only to get you off my ass.”

Every part of your body was thanking you as you slipped out of the shitty couch-bed and padded over to the empty side of the real bed. Tentatively, you got in bed and under the sheets, making sure to keep yourself on your side and keeping your back facing his.

“Goodnight, Joel.” you finally whispered. 

“Goodnight,” he softly said your name, and you imagined the look on his face. Maybe in a different world, one where you’d gone on a date with him when the offer was on the table, you’d be in bed with him without the argument, with his arm wrapped around your waist as he wrapped you in a warm embrace, or with him hovering above you as you attempted to keep quiet in a hotel filled with guests who were more than willing to speculate about you.

It was nice to have someone in bed with you again. Even if all you had was the heat radiating off of the man next to you, and the sound of his deep breaths as he fell deeper and deeper into sleep. Despite all that had gone wrong in the day, and whatever Joel’s situation was with his date, somehow laying in bed with someone else made you feel at ease.

You didn’t have to count any more sheep to fall asleep that night. 

When you woke up, Joel was already out of bed, pulling on a hat and slipping on his shoes. “Oh good, you’re awake,” he commented as you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. “Wanna get complimentary breakfast before it goes away?”

You stretched out as you listened to the proposition, wondering if the phantom feeling of an arm around your waist during the night was real or just a dream. “You know me so well.”

Somehow, the tension between the two of you didn’t feel so heavy that morning. Maybe sleeping in bed together had helped to break the ice, or maybe some other variable was at play. Regardless, you were happy to feel like your relationship had gone back to what it had been a month ago, even if Joel really was beginning to form something with Cindy. 

The hotel lobby wasn’t too busy when you and Joel went down. You were certainly grateful, as the fact that you had just rolled out of bed and gone to breakfast was more than obvious to anyone who’d looked at you for more than two seconds. 

You were stirring endless circles into your coffee when Joel sat down across from you, sighing as he leaned back into his chair. 

“Sleep well?” he asked before taking a hearty sip of his own coffee. 

You held back a laugh and exchanged it for the slightest hint of a smile. If only he knew just how well you slept. “I guess,” you admitted. “I always sleep well in hotel beds.”

You were completely uncertain of how to address the bed-sized elephant in the room, or if it was even a good idea to do so. But the lack of coffee in your system and the remnants of sleep clouding your brain had lowered your inhibitions significantly, causing the next words to tumble out of your mouth. 

“Thank you for letting me join you,” you involuntarily held your breath after saying so, too afraid to openly wait for his reaction. 

“Of course,” he hummed, beginning to stab at some of the food on his plate. “I couldn’t just let you break your back on that couch-bed.”

“Well I appreciate it,” you began to pick at some of your own food, the two of you falling into a far more comfortable silence. Obviously something had shifted between the time of the game and now, but you couldn’t quite place it. Since you were already in the mood to address elephants in the room, you had no issue blurting, “How was your date last night?”

“Date?” Joel looked up from his scrambled eggs with a furrowed brow. 

“With Cindy? From the other team?” you took a bite of toast and didn’t back down from the loaded eye contact going on between the two of you.

“Well, it wasn’t a date. Cindy’s married. Happily, I might add. Just catching up with a family friend.”

You were slightly taken aback, but not necessarily in a bad way. Suddenly, you felt silly for all the energy you’d wasted the day prior feeling jealous and bad for yourself, when you didn’t even know the full story.

“Well, what about Nathan? Is he a family friend?” it came out defensive, and you couldn’t particularly blame him for it. Finally some proof that this was what that weird tension had been all about. 

Maybe if your mind was slightly more clear, you’d find it cute that you were both a little jealous over each other. Maybe you really hadn’t thrown away your chance at this thing the way you’d thought you did.  

“No! I told you, I’ve been swamped with work. Like, getting home so late that I only see Chloe in the mornings and when I tuck her into bed, late. She needed to go to her games, and I knew there was only one person I could possibly guilt trip into bringing her. But I would rather marry the actual incarnation of Satan himself before spending another day with her father.”

“Oh,” Joel said quietly, lifting his disposable cup to his lips and seeming rather deep in thought.

“But you thought I was with him this whole time?”

“I guess?”

“And you still invited me into your bed?” you pressed, a hint of amusement in your voice.

“There was nothing inherently romantic or… sexual about that. I just didn’t want you to wake up in pain,” he set down his cup, but continued staring you down.

You shrugged. Solid answer, although you certainly wouldn’t be opposed to either alternative scenarios. 

“But even if there was, it’s only because you deserve better than that man. And from what I’ve seen, pretty much any man is better than him.”

“Including you?” you pressed. 

“What do you think?” the little smirk he was obviously trying to fight only egged you on. 

“I think I agree with you. Except, I don’t love that you just assumed something about my relationship status because one of those human rumor mills told you it. Next time, you wait until you hear it from me, okay?”

“I normally would’ve, I guess I’m just so used to things not working out with me, my brain was just looking for a reason why this wouldn’t work out either.”

“To be fair, not contacting you after saying I’d go out with you is pretty solid grounds for thinking we wouldn’t work out. But at least let me take you on a date before we try to figure out if we’ll work out or not.”

“You still want to go on that date?” Joel asked, sounding more astonished than you would’ve expected. 

“What do you think?” you winked, tossing his words right back at him. 

Just as your exchange began to wrap up, you were joined by two sleepy kids, who most certainly heard part of your conversation about going on a date. You couldn’t even bother with feeling mortified, too high on the knowledge that you had yet another shot with Joel. 

“How was your sleepover?” you asked the girls without missing a beat. 

“Fun. We missed you, though,” Chloe sighed as she buttered up a bagel. 

“Yeah, Uno’s not the same without you,” Sarah added as she began to cut up her pancakes. 

“I’m flattered, girls. We’ll have to have an Uno tournament sometime and get Joel on it too. Mostly so he can witness me beating everyone’s ass at it.”

“Language, mom. And we all know you’re a cheater.”

“Keep telling yourself that, sweetie.”

“I don’t know, I kinda believe it,” Joel teased. 

“Not you too, Joel! You’re supposed to be on my side,” you laughed. 

Your table fell into comfortable conversation for the rest of breakfast before you had to send the girls off to go get ready for their games. You almost wanted to pinch yourself to check if you were still dreaming after waking up in this domestic paradise following the terrible day you’d had yesterday, but even if it was a dream, you weren’t sure you wanted to wake up.

The rest of the tournament went smoothly, with the ice sufficiently broken between you and Joel, and you even joining in on his conversations with Cindy as the three of you sat together. The girls’ team ultimately won, leading to some very happy passengers as you drove back home. As you exited Joel’s car, you gave him a soft kiss on the cheek and a whispered promise of going out with him soon. To think, when you’d started your weekend, you never would have believed it would end in this manner. 

——

“Mom, hurry!” Chloe yelled up the stairs at you, sounding a little more impatient than what you would’ve liked. 

You could understand where she was coming from. Following the end of the soccer season, Joel had been quite busy, and Chloe hadn’t been able to see her closest friend outside of school hours for quite some time. If you were Chloe, you’d probably be anxious to see Sarah too.

Hurrying down the stairs with a newfound sense of urgency, you gave your daughter a little side hug. 

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” you apologized, understanding her urgency a little too well.

“Don’t be sorry. Just be efficient,” she pulled away from you and checked out your clothing. Sure, it was 6 PM and you were already in your pajamas. Sue you for wanting to come back home after a long day at work and put on your softest cat-printed pajama pants. “That’s a good outfit.”

“Oh, thank you. I was actually invited to Paris Fashion Week, but-“

“You can tell me in the car!” she exclaimed as she scurried off, with you following behind the little slippery bastard. 

In the car, Chloe seemed to be acting a little… suspicious. Although, you didn’t pay much mind to it, making small talk on the short drive over to her friend’s house. Her friend whose father you still hadn’t found time to go out with. 

“Oh yeah, being here reminded me that Joel had something to tell you,” Chloe announced as you pulled into their driveway. “Come in with me?”

By now, you were slightly suspicious, but the idea of having some sort of confrontation by Joel about you not following through on your word once again overrode your suspicions of your child. 

As Chloe rang the doorbell, Sarah swung the door open, smiling at her friend, then up at you. 

“Hi, come on in!” she said sweetly, opening the door all the way and leading you inside. 

As you walked in, your eyes caught on a makeshift pillow fort—one that oddly resembled the one you’d helped the girls make during their tournament. Cute.

“My dad’s inside. He wants to talk to you. See you later, bye!” Sarah talked quickly, and even quicker than her speech, she disappeared up the stairs with your daughter.

Something was definitely up.

You approached the fort with trepidation, and slowly pulled up a flap, where you found Joel dressed similarly to you in a loose shirt and plaid pajama pants, comfortably splayed out on his back while he seemed to be playing Candy Crush on his phone. 

“Oh, hey,” you said awkwardly. “The girls said you wanted to talk to me?” 

“Oh, hey,” he parroted back, seeming even more taken aback by your presence as he immediately sat up. “Uh, I actually didn’t know you were coming over?”

Oh.

It was always something with your kids. They knew how to scheme, and they knew how to scheme well.

“That’s fine,” you laughed to yourself about the situation. “I was gonna head out anyway. It was good to see you, and for the record, you clean up pretty well,” you teased, alluding to your similar mid-evening pajamas. 

“Wait!” he said quickly, nearly cutting you off. “Sorry, wait. Don’t go yet. Unless you have somewhere else to be…?”

You shook your head and shrugged. 

“I mean, obviously our kids set us up again, but we also haven’t followed through on that date yet. So maybe we can do it now?”

“Maybe,” you hummed as you sat down next to him on a mountain of pillows. “What would you want to do?” you asked, gently tapping his leg with your fuzzy-sock clad foot. (Chloe didn’t need to know that what was taking you so long was finding these god-forsaken socks.)

“Well, I’ve been wanting to take you out to some snobby, fancy restaurant,” he began. 

“Oh?” you voiced, brows raised. 

“But I don’t really think that’s either of our speeds.”

“Agreed. I don’t know where you’re going with this, but I’m liking it so far.”

“We also probably shouldn’t leave the girls home alone at night,” he continued to think out loud, his soft eyes never leaving your own. You almost felt like you were caught in a trance by them. 

“So what do you suggest we do, Joel?” you asked. 

“Well, we have this wonderful pillow fort already at our disposal. Maybe we can order some food and watch a movie?”

“I think sitting in a pillow fort while eating food and watching a movie is my love language. That sounds lovely.”

You two smiled at each other, and you could hear your heartbeat pound in your ears as a warm feeling filled your chest. It had been far too long since you’d felt any semblance of this feeling.

An abundance of Thai food and an argument over what movie to watch later, you were curled up like a cat beside Joel admiring the look of his face under the lighting of the fairy lights that were hung up throughout the little fort. 

“Ugh, why haven’t we done this sooner?” you asked, lifting your head out of the dip of his shoulder. 

“We’re both too busy,” he murmured, looking away from the television screen to look over at you. 

“I’ll literally take sick time off just to do this again,” you remarked. 

“I think that’s just the Thai food talking.”

“It was fucking amazing.”

“Told you.”

“But it’s not just the Thai food. I really like you a lot, Joel. I like spending time with you. I like talking to you and arguing about whether a shitty romcom or shitty action movie is better. I like doing mundane shit with you, like putting up fairy lights in a fort to enhance our ‘fort experience’. I like cuddling with you. Has anyone ever told you that you’re basically a human furnace? Anyway, I hate the fact that our daughters had to make an elaborate scheme just to get us together. I wanna make more time for you, because you deserve it. But like, only if you also wanna spend more time with me,” you confessed. 

“Of course I want to spend more time with you. And in the spirit of honesty, I really do have the time, sometimes. I guess I just worry that you wouldn’t want to spend your free time with me.”

“Joel, I would sit and watch paint dry on a wall if you were there with me. From the moment you entered my life, you’ve made everything a little better. If I have the time, I’m never gonna say no to being with you.”

He paused for a moment as he seemed to process that information, only coming back with a quiet, “Can I kiss you?”

You grabbed his cheeks and kissed him like no one you’d ever kissed before. It felt like the Fourth of July in your stomach as a moment you felt you’d been waiting for all your life finally came to fruition. 

By the time you pulled away, you were breathless and felt warm all over. You could go out on a limb and say that as far as dates go, this one was pretty successful, and to think, if it wasn’t for your daughters’ intervention, none of this would’ve happened. 

Yeah, you definitely needed to treat them to something.

[virune]

Well if you're not completely swamped with prompts yet — Shadow has been struggling with figuring out how best to confess his feelings to Sonic, and finally decides as that as Sonic's brother, Tails would know best what he'd like and how to ask him out. At the same time, unbeknownst to him, Sonic has gone to talk to Rouge for much the same reason…

Tails was incredibly smart.

No, he was a genius.

So when he withered in response to Shadow's question, Shadow couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed.

"You two are best friends, aren't you? Surely he'd mention… something?"

"Brothers," Tails corrected, setting his pencil down atop the schematic he'd been working on. "And Sonic doesn't talk to me about his love life."

Shadow glanced around the workshop, looking for… what? He wasn't sure. A clue of some kind? A photograph, maybe, or an item that might belong to someone besides Sonic or Tails. But there was nothing, that he could tell, of the sort.

"Is that because he isn't dating, or because he keeps his relationships private from you?"

Tails shrugged. "I don't know. Could be either."

"Hm."

"Why are you asking about his love life, anyway? Are you interested in him?"

Shadow froze up, staring at an oil stain on the floor as the words of denial died in his throat. He heard the chair creak as Tails shifted his weight on it.

"Are you planning on telling him how you feel?"

"I don't know how," Shadow said softly.

The fox's keen ears twitched, hearing it anyway. "You want me to help?"

Shadow's eyes snapped back up, mouth parted in surprise. Hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, all he could do was nod.

"If it makes you feel better, you have my blessing. Not that you need it; Sonic's allowed to date whoever he wants. I'm just letting you know."

Something fluttered in Shadow's chest. Tails had always seemed so afraid of him. He never thought the fox would ever approve of Shadow courting his best friend - no, his brother.

To hear his approval was… it was nice. Encouraging. Shadow had harboured feelings for Sonic since they first met - he just hadn't realised what those feelings were until a few weeks ago.

Unsure how to navigate this new, foreign territory, Shadow had to admit to his own inexperience and ask for help.

"Thank you."

Tails smiled softly at that, and Shadow sensed a new, small friendship blossoming between them. He promised himself he wouldn't trample it.

"Like I said, I don't know anything about Sonic's love life," Tails continued. "But you could always try taking him out for food - you know he loves eating almost as much as running, right? And then, maybe you could go somewhere nice. Watch the sunset with him or something."

Despite his nerves, Shadow couldn't help but scoff. "That sounds awfully romantic. Are you sure that Sonic even likes romantic?"

Tails looked at him strangely, as though privy to something Shadow wasn't aware of. "Oh, I don't think he'll mind."

Shadow considered the idea; he imagined booking a reservation at a nice restaurant and wearing something nice. Maybe Rouge could help him get dressed up. Would Sonic dress up too? Would he have to ask Sonic to dress up? Would Sonic even want to--

"Shadow?" Tails called, snapping him from his racing thoughts.

"Yes. Sorry," Shadow babbled, shaking his head. "Does Sonic own any formal attire?"

Tails scratched behind his ear. "I think he might still have an old suit laying around for when he has to attend fancy ceremonies and stuff. He doesn't like wearing it though, so it's usually shoved in a box somewhere until he needs it."

Shadow's shoulders drooped. Ah. So formal wear would be off the table. He didn't want to make Sonic uncomfortable - that would be counterproductive to his goal.

"Never mind, then. I can find somewhere without a strict dress code."

"Huh?" Tails' namesakes bushed up behind him in delighted shock. "So you're really gonna take him on a date?"

Warmth blossomed in Shadow's muzzle. "I am simply taking your advice. Does Sonic have a food preference? Allergies?"

The young fox laughed brightly. "Nah, he'll eat just about anything. Why not take him someplace you like?"

"I do not…" Shadow paused, gritting his teeth, and inhaled through his nose. "I do not have experience with this sort of thing."

"Oh… oh! That's - that's OK!" Tails waved his paws in front of him, quick to assuage Shadow's nervousness. "I can look into it for you and text you an address. Do you have my number?"

"That sounds acceptable." Shadow fished his phone from between his quills. "Here. I don't think I have it."

Tails accepted the phone delicately, tapping digits on the screen. Then there was a ping sound from somewhere on the desk behind him and he reached to pick up his own phone, which now had a text from Shadow's number.

"Done and done! I'll add you as a contact and keep you updated when I find something."

"Thank you," Shadow repeated, taking his phone back and returning it safely within his quills. "I was wondering, though. Why are you OK with helping me? I know that I haven't always been kind to you, or Sonic."

"I know you're a good person," Tails offered, giving a warm smile that crinkled blue eyes. "Sonic knows it too. Trust me."

Shadow peered at him. "Even after all the times we've fought?"

"Well, sure. Have you met the guy? He loves sparring with you. I think he enjoys being challenged, too, because it keeps his skills sharp." Tails turned his attention to his computer, tapping away at the keyboard to begin his search. "Don't worry. I have a feeling it'll go just fine."

Shadow didn't know what to say, so he simply nodded.

---

"My, my! So the Hero of Mobius is asking me for dating advice!"

"Keep your voice down!" Sonic hissed, looking around quickly. "This was a bad idea. Why did I do this?"

"Oh, honey, don't be absurd. Who else could help you with such a delicate topic? So!" Rouge leaned her elbows against the table, resting her chin on her hands as she watched Sonic squirm. "Who's the lucky lady?"

"Uh." Sonic found a group of friends chatting at the bar particularly interesting. Then, a food stain on the floor. Anything but Rouge's piercing stare. "It's actually a… a guy."

Rouge's eyebrows shot up. "Well, aren't you full of surprises, Big Blue?"

Sonic slumped in his seat. He was sure the blush on his face was as obvious as it was warm. "Will you help me or not?"

"That depends. Why don't you tell me a little about this mystery man of yours?"

"Um, well. He - he can be pretty serious most of the time, but he's a good person once you get to know him."

"Is he handsome?"

Sonic flinched like he'd been hit. His fingers tugged at the cuff of his glove.

"Yeah," he admitted.

"Oh, just look at you!" Rouge cooed. "Well, I hope you'll introduce me to him one day!"

"Actually, um. You already know him."

Rouge grabbed her iced tea and stirred it before she took a sip. "Are you going to tell me? Or do I have to guess?"

"You have to promise not to laugh."

"And why would I do that?"

Sonic narrowed his eyes. "Because you would if you knew who I'm talking about."

Rouge sighed and folded her arms. "Just spill it, Blue. You know I'll find out eventually, so I may as well hear it from you first."

"I hate that you're right."

Sonic rubbed his red face. He also hated how difficult this was. Sure, he'd never actually felt this way about someone before, but he was the Hero of Mobius! He was supposed to handle anything thrown at him!

But this was different. This was…

"Shadow."

Rouge blinked. Her wings fluttered slightly, scraping the seat behind her. She tilted her head as if she'd misheard.

"Pardon, sugar?"

"I said - I said Shadow." Sonic's hands curled into fists in his lap. "It's Shadow."

He waited. Waited for the surprised gasp, the hearty laugh, the wipe of an invisible tear from her expensive mascara.

Instead, Rouge had gone quiet. Unusually so. It made Sonic's fur prickle all across his chest.

"Well?" he blurted, aggravated by the silence. "I told you, didn't I?"

"I wasn't expecting that."

"What were you expecting?"

"I don't know, I just…" Rouge's eyes seemed to lose focus, as though she were recalling a memory, and then she snapped back to the present moment. "Wow. OK. This is big news!"

Sonic watched her carefully. She must have known something he didn't, but Chaos help him if he tried to find out what.

"You're friends with Shadow, right? So how do I go about… y'know." Sonic gestured vaguely into the air. "Asking him out?"

"Besties," Rouge corrected, smoothing down the longer fur on the back of her head. "And I can tell you for certain that Shadow doesn't care for expensive luxuries. Not like me."

"Does that mean a fancy dinner date is off the table?"

Sonic couldn't help but feel relieved by that; he had an old suit somewhere back home, one he kept around for special events, but he hated having to wear it.

"I think so. But you could always try somewhere a little less… stuffy." Rouge rifled through her handbag and took out her phone. "Let's swap numbers, and I'll track down a nice place for you."

"Oh. I don't… I mean, I've tried to have a phone in the past, but I always end up breaking them." Sonic gave an awkward laugh as he rubbed his neck. "Tails is still figuring out how to make one that's indestructible."

"Well, in that case, I'll get in touch with your little fox friend. He's a smart kid. I'm sure he'll be helpful."

"No, wait! Tails can't find out!"

"Why not?"

"Because I…" Sonic fumbled, feeling more and more like an idiot by each passing second. "I haven't exactly… told him yet."

"I understand," Rouge purred. "I'll keep things vague. Neither your name, nor Shadow's, will ever come up."

"OK. OK, yeah, that sounds good."

"Never doubt me, Big Blue. You've entrusted me with this, and I won't let you down. I'm a professional in affairs of the heart."

For emphasis, Rouge gave a theatrical salute.

Sonic groaned.

[matrixbearer2024]

Since the poll is practically over and the outfit's largely been decided, I'll be dropping the first post to the strip challenge in a couple hours on my Ford Blog @gftimelord to christen it HAHAHHA- (psst go bother him it'll be funny HAHHAHAH) Thanks for the interaction everybody, I only hope to deliver. Here's the first drabble to start it off with since I am pairing every drawing with a story sequence as promised. You could probably think of this as my interpretation for some kind of continuation to Ford's route in "Swooning Over Stans" by @gfdatingsim since I've genuinely been non-stop playing that game since it's recommendation to me. I will balance med proper and my delulu if it's the last thing I do HAHAHAHA-

Reply to this post as well if you want to be pinged for whenever this challenge updates!

I Accept Your Challenge!

(Stanford Pines x Reader)

After you heard a new challenge becoming trendy among couples you decide to try it on a certain Stanford Pines; just... you didn't exactly explain to him what the challenge was.

Maybe his competitiveness was a good thing in this case. You at least got a bloody good show out of his cluelessness.

Another slow summer day and you were in the living room of the mystery shack alongside the Pines as they went about doing whatever. Navigating your relationship with a certain scientist definitely somewhat of a learning curve but you digressed. Similar to Dipper and Mabel, you'd receive post cards from the twins about their seafaring adventures; your mail just came with additional special letters from your beloved. All of which you'd neatly stowed away in a bag that you always had with you, no use keeping it at home when you were rarely there.

Often traveling for a nomadic lifestyle was serene and fun at times, but you found yourself missing this place. It felt more like a home to you than your own place did in the couple weeks you'd stuck around after your car got smashed into the side of the log cabin.

Who knew that the same man who totaled your car one day would be the same adorable nerd you now called your lover?

It felt a bit like those romance dramas Stan liked to watch but you quickly dismissed that thought. Fairytales weren't real, fate isn't exactly something you believed in either. Stories of princesses finding their prince charmings were mostly smoke and mirrors, things you'd tell a child to give them hope of a better world than reality.

In gravity falls however... you quickly learned that nothing was truly impossible. Never say never in this small town of Oregon.

You sat on the floor next to Dipper and Mabel as they boredly flipped through TV channels; books, papers and crayons littered about around the three of you. The glass danced with colors from the rapidly flipping images while the twins struggled to find anything even remotely entertaining to watch, you couldn't help but allow your mind to wander from the boredom.

You and Ford spent quite a bit of time since you'd arrived at the beginning of the week, frankly you'd made the trip as soon possible when Stan shot you a message that they'd finally docked to spend the summer with the kiddos. You hoped it wasn't all that obvious how much you missed Stanford, but you didn't really need to worry when he was the one who immediately swamped you up in a hug the second you were out of your car. It's only been two years thus far since you've known the man but Stanley and Mabel insisted that you stay with him in his room, you didn't know why they were so adamant until you saw the state of the man's living quarters.

A whole day was spent with the both of you furnishing and cleaning the said room because of that but neither of you complained, most of the time was spent goofing off anyway.

Now... you were wondering where Ford was, not to mention what he was doing. Was he down in the lab tinkering again? You didn't want to disturb him, but you really wanted to find him. Any time spent apart didn't feel like time used to it's full capacity, even if you did enjoy the company of the other Pines; it just wasn't the same.

At some point, you were bored enough to not necessarily care whether you'd be disturbing Ford's work or not when you went down to the lab. It was just last summer when he taught you how to get down there, as well as spilling more about his past. All of which you simply listened to unless he asked anything; it was better to listen and attempt to understand than say or do something that would make it worse.

Seems like he really wanted to get it off his chest too, be transparent with you; something you appreciated.

You were shaken out of your headspace when you heard the rustling of boxes from the lab, as well as some hushed but frustrated cursing. You didn't really recall a time Ford swore unless he was legitimately ticked off, the man made a valiant effort not to compared to his twin.

But they both had sailor mouths anyhow even if it was fitting.

"Ford? Are you down here?"

"Ah-! [Y/N]! What- what are you doing down here?"

You moved closer to him in an attempt to see what he was doing, even if the man looked a bit rattled to be found like this by you.

"What are you doing?"

"I asked first my dear."

Ford chuckled, shifting to hide something behind his back. You pouted at him and crossed your arms. He couldn't help but smile at how cute you looked doing that.

"Was looking for you, Dipper and Mabel are bored watching TV upstair anyway... sooooo- what are you doing?"

You smiled when Ford returned your inquisitiveness with a small laugh, showing you what he held in his hand. A pair of goggles?

"What's that for?"

"I was attempting to sort through which of my belongings I could still use among the ones I wish to discard. Inadvertently I ended up finding these, I think I could still make use of them."

You tilted your head at him as a silent prompt to continue, it took every bit of control from Ford not to laugh again. You looked like a curious puppy, though he figured he shouldn't say that outright.

"It's simply among the items I collected and kept with me through my time in the multiverse. Protective eyewear can be useful for many things."

"Huh, if you have that— does it mean you still have the rest of the outfit?"

Now it was your turn to think Ford was being cute, he just wordlessly blinked at you in surprise. Was your request really that odd? You'd barely seen him in any other outfit combinations, of course you'd be curious.

"I—... I think I do? Why do you ask?"

"Do you think you'd still be able to rock it like you used to?"

"'Used to'? Excuse me?"

"I mean, it's been a couple years... why don't you try it on again?"

Ford laughed once again from your teasing, the way you sassily tried to goad him on was entertaining in it's own right. He was a bit on the fence about the whole outfit however, especially due to the memories associated with it.

It's not that bad compared to some things he'd found though... maybe he could indulge you.

"Hm..."

"I-I mean, if you really don't want to—"

Your panicked stammering was cut short when a warm palm cupped your cheek, meeting Stanford's eyes as he pressed a chaste kiss to the crown of your head. He could feel your skin heat in up in his hand, hiding a cheeky smile in your hair as he held you there.

"I'll show it to you... as soon as I can find the rest of the outfit."

Ford couldn't help but smile wider when your cheerful laugh rang out; it's the best sound to ever have graced his ears in the time he's been alive. A bit surprising given how many things he's been exposed to, but he couldn't name another chime so pleasant.

"I'll hold you to that Ford."

"And I accept your challenge my dear."

YEAAAAH HERE IT ISSSS- TEXT THING CUZ WE NEED INTRODUCTION-

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman - Part 8

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternate Universe : Military School

Words :

TW: Alcohol

Masterlist

——————————————————————

Saturday, October 24; 9:05 AM - Ona's Room

I try to get out of bed without waking anyone around me. Damn camp habits. Bronze had warned me that I'd get into a new rhythm. Now I'm like clockwork at ridiculous hours. I used to wake up around noon, not nine! Once I'm out of bed without a hitch, I grab some clothes from my closet and lock myself in the bathroom. With everything that happened last night, I didn't have the courage to take a shower before bed. So, I start my day by letting myself relax under the warm water jets. I take my time since the Mapi and Joan certainly won't be awake for a good hour. It's the calm before the storm. Joan promised me a surprise if I came back. That's probably still on since the others knew I was coming back. Hopefully, he hasn't invited the whole family. He loves everyone, unlike me. I get out of the shower after fifteen minutes. I don't risk turning on the hairdryer with the two sleepyheads, so I dry off with just a towel. I get dressed and brush my teeth. I finish with a touch of makeup before going downstairs. It's time to see the others. I'm glad not to run into my mom or Marcus on the way. However, I smile when I see Samuel and Sofia in the kitchen. My smile widens at the sight of their faces.

"Oh my God,Ona!" says Sam, hugging me. "Happy birthday!"

"Already awake!?" Sofia is surprised. "Happy birthday, sweetie."

"Thanks, that's kind of you," I reply, hugging her in turn. "I missed you guys."

"And we missed you! Everything's been so quiet since you left."

"No one to bother us," Sofia adds.

"I'm only here for two days, but I plan to make up for it," I tease them.

"No doubt," laughs Sam. "Do you want your breakfast now, or are you waiting for the girls?"

"Given when they'll wake up, I'll have it now."

He nods with a smile and gets to work. I find my spot at the bar. I no longer insist that I can cook for myself. He always brushes me off when I do. He keeps telling me it's his job. It's true, but it makes me feel like I'm being pampered. I hate that idea because it reminds me that I won't be able to do anything when I leave home. I won't complain either. His dishes are delicious. They have nothing to do with camp food. Besides, it's nice to do nothing, so might as well enjoy it.

"Since when do you get up so early? That's not like you," Sofia comments.

"I've been like clockwork for a week. Curfew at ten PM and wake-up at six. I guess I haven't lost the habit."

"Isn't it too hard?"Samuel replies

"No, it's fine. I prefer it this way. »

"Seen like that... Knowing you, you probably slept the whole way."

"Yeah," I chuckle. "Thanks," I say when he places my breakfast in front of me.

"You're welcome, miss," he teases with a wink.

He made me a cup of hot chocolate and a homemade croissant. Everyone would say there's not much difference from my camp breakfast, but for me, it's a big change. Sam knows how to perfectly dose my hot chocolate, and his homemade croissant is life. I savor it all, letting out a sigh of satisfaction.

"Did you miss it?" he chuckles.

"Totally, yeah!"

"I'm flattered," he says, making me smile.

"Have you received any birthday messages?" Sofia asks.

"I was about to check now."

"What? You haven't checked yet?" she exclaims. "My God, what have they done to our Ona?"

I chuckle lightly. I was asking myself the same thing, actually. I'm much less on my phone. I no longer have the reflex to check it upon waking up due to our fifteen-minute preparation time. I suspect the school did it on purpose to give us such a short deadline. I should have asked Bronze; she would have answered me. It's like the shower. We had to change our habit with Alexia and take it in the evening to be at ease. Anyway, I decide to take out my phone, which is swamped with social media notifications and messages. I start with the messages. Alexia, Leah , Alba... All my camp friends thought of me. They're so sweet! I also have other messages from old friends here, which really pleases me. I take the time to reply to everyone while chatting about trivial things with Sam and Sofia . I talk to them about my new life while they tell me about Joan's antics since I left. It seems he doesn't stop. He's decided to avenge my departure by being a perfect little rascal. He throws fits over nothing and barely listens to my mom or Marcus. Sofia or Sam often have to step in. I think he's decided to follow my example, which I don't really like. I'll need to have a little chat with him. Speaking of him, he just walked in and immediately comes over to me.

"Hi Oni ."

"Hello little rascal. Slept well?"

"Yes! Mapi is still sleeping."

"Let her sleep, she'll be down soon."

"Can I have my breakfast please ?" he asks Samuel.

"I'll bring it to the dining room in five minutes."

"Can't I have it here?" he pouts. "I want to stay with you!"

"Of course you can. Come, I'll put you in the chair next to me."

"I want to sit on your lap!"

"Alright, alright, as you wish," I laugh. "Come here."

I lift him under the arms and easily place him on my lap. I hold him with one hand and grab my cup with the other so Sam can put Joan's plate instead of mine, which is now empty. I smile as he starts telling me about the weeks I missed while eating. Of course, I don't hear any of his mischief from his mouth. I prefer not to spoil the moment and deal with that problem later. Mapi finally shows up around 10:30. I expected to see her later.

"When did you get up?"

"Nine o'clock."

"Good God, they must have brainwashed you," she grumbles, sitting next to me.

"Don't you start too," I laugh.

"Are you staying for breakfast, Mapi ?" Sam asks.

"What kind of question is that!"

I giggle, finding the question as silly as Mapi does. She's like the third daughter of the family, after all. I wait for her to finish her breakfast while chatting. Joan abandoned us halfway to go upstairs. I don't comment on it, but I feel like something's up.

"Maps?"

"Hmm?" she replies with her mouth full.

"What does Jo have planned?"

"Nothing, why?"

"We both know you can't lie."

"Stop being impatient, you'll see."

"Mapi..." I say, making puppy dog eyes.

"No, no need for that face! I'm not telling you anything!"

I sigh, pouting, making her smile. She used to be easier to convince, in my memories.

"By the way," she says.

"Yeah?"

"We're going out tonight."

"You're not serious?"

"I am, and it's non-negotiable. You haven't been to a party since-"

"A year and a half," I finish her sentence.

"I was going to say a century, but it's almost the same. Come on, please! It can only do you good!" she says, giving me puppy dog eyes.

"Stop imitating me," I say, her expression worsening. "Oh, you're annoying! Fine, you win," I grumble.

She lets out a cry of joy and does a dance in the middle of the kitchen. It stops quickly when my mom enters the room. It's the first time we've seen each other since my troubled departure, which didn't end particularly well.

"Oh, hi Abby," she blushes.

"Hi Mapi, it's been a while," she says before turning to me. "Happy birthday, Ona," she says hesitantly.

"Thanks."

I won't ruin my birthday by venting my hateful thoughts. My voice betrays me slightly. It's not like we have a good relationship to begin with. Everything just got worse when she decided to send me across the country.

"How's school?" she asks.

"Oh, great, Mom," I say sarcastically. "If you wanted me to be monitored all the time, you nailed it!"

She sighs at my anger that I couldn't hold back any longer. What a question to ask! She finally gives up on the conversation and turns to Mapi.

"And you, Mapi ? How's your leg?"

"Good, I'd say. I still don't have any pain for now."

"That's at least some good news... See you later, girls," she finishes, leaving the room.

My mom has been Mapi's doctor since we met. She had an accident with her parents when she was little. She came out with a slightly disabled leg. They developed a special bond. My mom is certainly closer to Mapi than to me. It's ironic, given that Mapi doesn't have this bond with her parents. She left their house at the first opportunity. I'm glad she found this bond with my mom, but I'm also jealous. She got the maternal instinct from my mom that I didn't get. As long as it doesn't stop Mapi from listening to me when I complain about my mom, I don't care about their relationship.

"Shall we get ready?"

"I'm already ready, Mapi."

"Are you kidding? Your hair is a mess. And don't tell me you're going to spend the day in jeans and a shirt?" she criticizes, looking me over.

"Hey! My outfit is perfect!"

"There's no way you're staying like that on your birthday! Come on, get up!"

"Oh, please Maps, shut up. You sound like my camp supervisor."

She forces me off my chair, laughing. I let her drag me to my room. I don't know why, but I feel like I'm not going to enjoy what's next.

Saturday, October 24; 11:35 AM - Ona's Room

Mapi has been hogging my bathroom for a while now, even though the shower hasn't been running for some time. Knowing her, I probably have a bit more time before she comes out. She made me put on a dress. Me, in a dress! It's been ages since I last wore one. But that's the least of my worries right now. I was lying on the bed, enjoying the quiet, when I had the brilliant idea to charge my headphones for the return flight. So, I took them out, but I also came across another gift that I had completely forgotten about. Bronze's gift... I wondered why I listened to her and didn’t open it right away. I could have easily done it in the taxi without her knowing.

"What's that?" Mapi snaps me out of my bubble.

"A gift."

"Thanks, I figured that out," she replies sarcastically. "From whom?"

"My supervisor," I sigh.

"Sexy commander?"

"Stop calling her that," I scold, giving her a dark look.

"Oh my! What are you waiting for to open it?"

"I don't know."

"Want me to do it for you?"

"No!" I reply much too quickly.

"Well, do it then."

I feel ridiculous for not doing it, but I'm disturbed. I don't know what to expect; she doesn't know me. I sigh and start to carefully unwrap the paper under Mapi's watchful eye. Besides, she already contributed to the headphones. It's silly for her to give me a second gift. Mapi mocks my slowness, but I don't let it bother me. I frown as I finally see the contents. For now, I'm only paying attention to the small card placed on top of the box. I turn it over to find a note. I smile, recognizing her handwriting that I've seen several times during my tidying in her office.

"After so much effort... A well-deserved reward! Hoping you'll continue down this path. Happy birthday, Ona. - L. B."

My smile doesn't leave my face. L. B.? So her first name starts with an "L"? The "B" surely stands for her last name. I place the card next to me on the bed and remove the lid of the box to discover the rest. I'm left speechless.

"Wow. Sexy Commander really went all out! This stuff isn't cheap, is it?"

"No... She’s insane!"

I can’t believe my eyes. It’s my favorite brand for drawing supplies. One of the most expensive for its quality. Even Mapi recognizes it, having come with me to buy it before. It's a set with different pencils, pens, and brushes of all sizes. She also included a sketchbook underneath. There’s everything needed to create artworks. It's a real treat for an amateur artist like me.

"She must really like you to give you all this."

"That's not really the case," I laugh. "We were at war for three weeks. I even went so far as to trash her room. Didn't I tell you?"

"Yes, you did," she laughs. "But she wouldn’t have given you such a gift if she didn’t like you at least a little! Seriously, this stuff costs a fortune!"

I can't argue with her. She must have spent quite a bit. Not to mention her contribution to the headphones. They’re worth at least two hundred euros, and I doubt the others managed to pitch in that much between the six of them. We’re interrupted by my brother entering my room without knocking.

"Ona? When are you coming down?"

"We’re coming right away," Mapi answers for me. "Just let your sister put away her new toys."

"Ha ha ha!"

I remove the wrapping to throw it away before packing my new supplies into my backpack. I plan to take this one to camp. I have everything I need here, unlike there. I unplug my now charged headphones and put them in the bag.

"We can go."

Nothing could make my brother happier. He pulls me as hard as he can out of my room. Mapi follows behind us after closing my door.

"Hurry up!"

"Calm down, Joan. There's no rush!"

"She’s using my old expressions!"

I look up as my foot touches the ground floor. The shock stops me in my tracks. I’d recognize that voice anywhere. My eyes well up when I see him in person before me. I never expected to see him here again.

"You're ruining your makeup," Mapi whispers to me.

I ignore the comment meant to make me laugh. I don't want to spoil this important moment. I go to my grandfather, who takes me in his arms. It’s been two years since I last saw him. All my emotions pour out once again.

"Grandpa!"

"You haven't changed a bit," he says, making me smile.

I can't believe he made the trip from Portugal just to see me. It’s insane! I’ve always been very close to him because he bears a striking resemblance to my father, both physically and mentally. We share a very special bond, just like I did with my father.

"What are you doing here?" I ask.

"Did you think we’d miss our granddaughter’s birthday?"

I turn towards the other voice to see my maternal grandmother. I smile warmly at her. It’s not that I love her any less, far from it. She’s just as adorable as my grandfather. But she lives in Barcelona, so I see her much more often than him. I still greet her with a hug, happy to see her here.

"How about we celebrate Ona’s birthday and chat over a drink in the living room?"

We all agree to Marcus' suggestion. I hadn't even noticed him enter the hall. Joan impatiently drags me to the next room. In the end, I might really enjoy this birthday. I'm still on bad terms with my mom and Marcus, but I put my resentment aside for this moment. The atmosphere was tense at first, but Mapi is here to lighten things up. She’s great at diffusing awkward situations. Joan also helps by talking non-stop. That’s how the conversation topics emerged. We talked about daily life and then reminisced about past years. The festivities were kicked off by my grandfather sharing stories from when I lived in Portugal or visited on vacations. Mapi had a good laugh at some of the stories. I'm the first to laugh as I remember them. We’re interrupted by Sam announcing that the meal is ready. We move to the dining room where a perfectly set table awaits. The only times I’ve eaten here are for celebrations like today. I can count them on my fingers. I smile when I see the dish. Sam prepared paella, one of my favorite dishes. He knows my tastes well from cooking for me. The good mood continues through dinner. It’s the first time there’s been so much cheer in this room. Usually, it witnesses crises or arguments. That’s one reason I rarely set foot in here. It’s where I learned about my departure to Manchester , for example. I'm delighted that today’s event changes things for this place. I’m happy to be surrounded by my loved ones today.

Saturday, October 24th; 9:30 PM - Barcelona Street.

I sigh for the umpteenth time since we left the house. I try my best to keep up with Mapi, who is ahead of me.

“Slow down!” I shout. “It’s bad enough that you made me come out, but you’re also making me wear heels. The least you could do is wait for me! These things are a death trap!”

“Didn’t they teach you to complain less in that damn school of yours?” Mapi teases.

“Ha ha ha! Very funny. You know it’s my specialty, and it will never be taken away from me!”

Focusing too much on my feet, I bump into Mapi’s back as she suddenly stops without warning. I look up and realize we’ve arrived. It’s not hard to figure out with the loud music blasting from the house across the street.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. This is our Party?”

“Yep!”

“A college party, really? At our old high school friends’ house, no less?” I grumble.

“I figured going to a familiar place would be best… Oh, come on, don’t make that face! I told them about your big return, and they were all thrilled to know you’d be coming tonight.”

“Damn it, Maps…”

“Relax a bit. You need this night out, and we both know it.”

She stops me from protesting by pulling my arm. I attempt to walk as normally as possible in my heels. I hate wearing these things. Mapi knows I never walk very straight in them. I’m usually all about flat shoes. As soon as we step inside, the music pounds in my ears. I wonder how I ended up here. I doubt it’s a good idea. It’s been so long since I’ve been to a party. I already regret giving in to my best friend’s puppy-dog eyes. I regret it even more as we approach the host and my old high school friends, whom I abandoned years ago.

“Hey, look who it is!”

I timidly step forward from behind Mapi, who is still holding me firmly. She must know that if she let go, I’d already be running away. Especially since Nathan Miller, the host, makes me uncomfortable with his comment.

“Hi everyone! As promised, I brought our favorite girl.”

“Hey…” I say timidly. “Good to see you all…”

“You too, sweetheart. I hope you haven’t forgotten us after all this time!”

Why was I so worried? They have every reason to hate me, but they don’t. Maybe because they’re all guys. Let’s face it, they’re less complicated in friendships. I smile at Kyle’s comment and feel the pressure lift from my shoulders. I didn’t expect to see him here. I eagerly await Mapi’s explanation for this. They all surprise me by wishing me a happy birthday. Mapi must have reminded them before we came. It still makes me happy.

“Ana didn’t come with you tonight?” Bryan asks.

“No. She was supposed to, but she ended up at another party. She wanted me to go with her, but I chose to spend the weekend with Ona. By the way,” she says. “She wants to meet you when you come back,” she tells me.

“No problem, I’m looking forward to it.”

“She’s a real nutcase, don’t be too eager to meet her,” Connor whispers to me.

“Hey, I heard that!” Mapi retorts. “Don’t call my girlfriend crazy, or you’ll see!”

“Well, you have to be a bit crazy to date you, don’t you think?”

“Are you implying you’re crazy, by any chance?”

“Oh, but I’ve always claimed that, haven’t I?” I join in.

“All right, 1-0, Batlle,” she says, making me smile. “We’re going for a walk, we’ll catch up with you later.”

“No worries, see you later, girls,” Nathan replies.

I just lifted a weight off my shoulders seeing them. We hadn’t seen each other since the end of high school, yet nothing has changed. They were my last group of friends before my downfall and ghosting them. I thought no one would want to talk to me anymore, but they don’t seem to hold it against me.

“What’s Kyle Wick doing here? Have I missed that much?”

“Oh yes,” she laughs. “Let’s get a drink before we go outside to talk. Does that sound good?”

I nod, and we head to the table serving as a drink buffet. Numerous red and blue cups are arranged there. We grab two clean red cups, and I let Mapi serve us. That was always her role when we went to parties. She probably knows my tastes in alcohol better than I do. She hands me my cup and surprises me by also handing me a bottle of coke. I smile, seeing that she’s holding a bottle of orange juice and vodka under her arm. Well, she’s right. Might as well enjoy it if I’m already here. We head outside, where there are fewer people. Luckily, two lounge chairs by the pool are free. We sit next to each other. I finally take a big gulp of my drink, closing my eyes as it burns my throat. Mapi laughs at me. There’s a reason to laugh. I haven’t had a drop in a long time, and it feels great!

“So, what do I need to know?”

“Hmm, well… let’s see…” she pretends to think. “First, Miller and Bryan are dating.”

I spit out the liquid I was supposed to swallow. My head quickly turns to Mapi. She answers before I can open my mouth.

“Yeah, I was as shocked as you are,” she giggles. “They confessed their love for each other a year ago now. We were all stunned. I chose not to tell you at the time… You were in the middle of… well, you know.”

“Yes, I understand… Oh my god,” I laugh in shock. “I didn’t see that coming and, I didn’t expect to see him here.”

“He’s become friends with my friends,” she shrugs. “I can’t blame him. »

“And Connor?”

“Not much on that front. He brought a girl recently, but it didn’t lead to anything.”

“I didn’t think you’d still be hanging out with them,” I admitted.

“Except for you, we all stayed around for college,” she shrugs. “We just kept in touch, I thought it was good.”

“It’s true,” I say, lowering my head.

“You don’t have to feel guilty, Ona. We don’t blame you. We know it was hard for you.”

I hide my sadness behind a smile. She shifts to a few juicy stories from parties or other events during my absence. I regret not being able to join in. The stories were pretty funny. An hour and a half later, after finishing three-quarters of the bottle between us, we decide to join the others around the patio table. I’m tipsy enough to agree to play silly games I would have hated if I were sober. My state doesn’t improve after several shots during “Never Have I Ever.” Mapi took the opportunity to drag me to the dance floor right after. She knows it’s the only time she can get me there, thanks to the confidence alcohol gives me. We have fun dancing closely. After a while, I notice the boys have joined us. They must not be in a better state than me to have come. Fortunately, Miller offered for us to stay the night if we wanted. I wouldn’t have had the courage to walk home in this state. I tell myself it’s my birthday, so I have the right to enjoy it! Midnight must have already passed, but it doesn’t matter. I lost track of time since my phone died. It’s been ages since I had this much fun. Laughter keeps ringing in my ears. A body presses against my back during a dance, but I don’t pay much attention. I even have fun dancing closer to her. From her build, I’d say it’s a girl. Everything was going great until I feel her hands on my hips and her voice chills me to the bone.

“I missed you…”

I snap back to reality in less than a second. I stop dancing and quickly pull away from him. I need to see to believe it. Unfortunately, it’s real.

“Feli…” I whisper.

“Ona-”

“Don’t come near me!” I scream.

“No, wait-”

She tries to grab my arm, but I flee outside. I thought she’d understand I don’t want to talk to her, but her voice calling me from behind as I head to the back of the garden tells me otherwise.

“Leave me alone!”

“Please, listen to me!” she yells back.

I sigh, realizing I’ve trapped myself against the hedges. I turn around, pointing a finger at her.

“Stop! Don’t come any closer!”

To my surprise, she stops a meter away. Just seeing her in front of me makes me incredibly uncomfortable. I never thought I’d see her here.

“Please,Ona-”

“Shut up! I’m the one talking here,” I shout. “What are you doing here?”

“A friend of your friend.”

“I don’t want to see you anymore, Feli. If I wasn’t clear when I left, I am now!”

“Ona, please, let me speak.”

I look at her for a long time, trying to judge her. I try to discern the truth in her. One thing is for sure, her sad face doesn’t help at all.

“Two minutes,” I relent.

“I’m really sorry for everything I did,” she begins, knowing I’m serious. “I wasn’t myself. You know drugs make us do things we wouldn’t want to... I know I crossed the line more than once with you, and I regret it. I never wanted to hurt you, quite the opposite... I love you, Ona. I always have, and I know I messed up. I really lost it, and that’s why I asked for help... I’m seeing a therapist,” she admits, lowering her head. “He’s helping me get better, and so far, it seems to be working. I’m not asking for your forgiveness... I know it would be too hard for you, but I’d like you to give me another chance when you feel ready... I-... I’d like to be part of your life again...”

“Let me stop you right there. Get the idea out of your head that we can be together again because that will never happen! Is that clear?!”

“OK, OK,” she replies quickly. “M-maybe not a relationship as I’d like... B-but maybe a friendship, or-or...”

I laugh bitterly. Damn, why did I have to run into her. I run my hand over my forehead and push my hair back.

“No.”

She looks at me with wide eyes. She doesn’t need to act surprised. She ruined my life.

“In your pathetic speech, you’re right about one thing, Feli. I can never forgive you for all your damn actions,” I say, enunciating each word. “I trusted you! You told me you’d give me a better life, but in reality, you’re just an asshole! You have no idea how many scars you left on me! I wonder why I’m even talking to you, damn it.”

I step closer to her, pointing my finger at her chest.

“I forbid you from approaching me again, or it will go very badly for you.”

I keep my composure as best I can. The alcohol helps me hide my anxiety in front of her. I give her one last look before leaving her without regret. I’m not going to ruin my evening because of her. Mapi doesn’t even notice my absence since she asks me to join her at the drink stand as if nothing happened. She keeps dancing and singing while pulling me along. Instead of pouring myself a drink, I grab a bottle of tequila and head to the kitchen. Mapi looks more than happy with my initiative and shouts for the guys to join us. I plan to finish my night as it started. I’ll have plenty of time to regret it tomorrow when I return to harsh reality.

[heaven4lostgirls]

reconciliation (S.R)

pairing: steve rogers x fem!reader, billy russo x reader implied

warnings: angst, jealousy, kind of toxic?

summary: your conversation with steve has left him reeling to try and get you back, and you've just dropped the biggest blow to his chances of trying to win you back.

word count: 1.3k

a/n: i'm really sorry this took so long to get out, uni has swamped me with work but here i am ig! maybe another update will get out during the weekend? dont hold me to that tho lmao

tags: @blackhawkfanatic , @buckys-wintersoldier , @witchychanel , @nicoline1998enilocin

part 1, part 2, part 3

You weren’t sure what you were expecting after your conversation with Steve if you could even call it that. It had been a couple of weeks and surely but surely you had started warming up to him again, it started with small nods in his direction as a greeting but that soon moved into small conversations. It had been a slow and torturous process for Steve, but he knew just as well as you did that, he was nowhere near even being able to exercise the ability to complain about his situation after what he had put you through.

The real heartbreak hit him when he realised, you’d been looking for apartments and job hunting, for some reason he had assumed that although you no longer joined the avengers for meeting briefings and were off the last few missions, you were just taking a break. Evidently, he was quite wrong, you had been spending your time responding to ‘work-related’ emails regarding a company called Anvil run by Billy Russo.

Now, Steve hardly kept up with any news that was not regarding his position as Captain America and very loosely he kept up with the NFL, so he knew next to nothing about Billy Russo until he was listening to your conversation with Tony in the kitchen.

You had walked in to make your breakfast and just as Steve and you had good morning to one another, Tony strolled through the open door on the phone with Pepper, adamantly in an argument with something to do with Tony’s public appearance at some gala.

“Pep-honey-, yes I understand but-“ Tony rolls his eyes and what Pepper says next and as you make your way to give him some privacy, he holds up his hands to make you wait and as your quirk an eyebrow, you lean against the kitchen counter waiting for the conversation to end. “Fine! Whatever you want! Just please don’t seat me next to that mayor” he pauses “yes! That one! He always smells like cheese” Tony shivers and you and Steve share a quick smile of amusement before you look away with flaming cheeks.

Tony hangs up the call and looks at you with a sly smile.

“Anvil huh?” he asks as he makes his way around you and Steve to the coffee machine, with a quick good morning to Steve, he looks at you expectantly.

“Oh, come off it Stark, I put in my two week notice ages ago, knowing Friday, he probably already told you when I applied” you reply with a joking eyeroll.

An automated voice floods through the system and you nearly jump out of your skin” I would never Miss Y/L/N” you’ve still got to get used to that. 

“Anvil?” Steve questions tersely with pursed lips, you can’t tell if it’s out of anger or worry.

“Yeah! It’s a private military firm and since I used to be in the Navy, Billy reached out to me and offered me a position as his personal assistant!” you reply enthusiastically and through your excitement, you fail to notice how Steve’s face falls and Tony’s eyes light up with humour.

“Billy huh?” Steve’s strained smile makes you pause for a second before Tony snorts into his coffee and as you turn to glare at him, he shrugs innocently.

“Yes. Billy. He asked me to call him that because we’ll be working together” you reply curtly and fight the urge to lash out at Steve and let him know he has no right to be jealous because he no longer has anything remotely more than friendship connecting the both of you.

“Doesn’t hurt that he’s good looking either” Tony remarks and yelps as you swiftly throw one of the knives near you towards the cupboards right next to his head.

You shake your head and move to leave the kitchen before you turn around to the both of them and remark “I shall now be going to set up a meeting time with my boss if that’s okay with you two idiots?” you smile sarcastically, and Tony just waves you off.

Steve frowns as he watches you leave with an ugly feeling of jealousy bubbling underneath his skin, he glares at the counter in front of him before his anger is interrupted by Tony’s voice floating through the silent room.

“You know, you were her boss once” he remarks, after he had comforted you as you sobbed in his arms, he had been particularly harsh and unwelcoming to Steve even though you had spoken to him about Steve trying to work whatever your relationship with him was.

“I’m aware” Steve responds as he grits his teeth whilst fighting the urge to break the granite counter under his fingertips. He scoots his chair out as he makes his way to ask Bucky to train with him, he’s got some anger to work out and Bucky is realistically the only person that could handle his full super soldier strength pummeling at them.

You had successfully set a meeting time to go over your contract with Billy with his current personal assistant since she’d be taking her maternity leave in the next couple of weeks.  Your mind had kept wondering to Steve’s reaction to you getting a new job, you understood his jealousy all too well since that wasn’t even the beginning of your deep-rooted jealousy and insecurities that affected you by Steve’s relationship with Sharon.

Still, you knew that it was no longer your responsibility to worry about his own emotions and how he coped with them. You no longer felt complied to comfort him whenever you saw his sorrowful longing gaze towards you whenever you walked into a room, or when hurt and pain flashes through his gaze whenever you referred to him as ‘Rogers’ in front of the others.

Meanwhile in the training room, instead of focusing on the hand-to-hand combat Steve had asked Bucky to help him with, he was basically interrogating his friend.

“What do you know about some guy called Billy Russo?” Steve panted as he tried to dodge Bucky’s jabs as he moves swiftly and quickly around the mat.

“Not much mate, just that he’s stinking rich for his age- hey! stop fucking jumping around like a goddamn bunny punk” Bucky huffs out at Steves insistent buoyancy.

“I’m just light on my feet!” Steve defends.

“Yeah, if you were on a fucking bouncy castle” Bucky rolls his eyes and winces as he doesn’t dodge Steve’s punch in time.

“Is he good looking?” Steve asks and Bucky has to pause to look at his friend with a weird expression. Steve just stands there with a serious expression and widens his eyes as if to say go on.

“Sure pal, the dude’s good looking, he was in that fuckin Forbes magazine for Millionaires under 30” Bucky says and watches as Steve loses focus, Bucky aims for his weak spot on his right shoulder and watches as his best friend collapses onto the mat, out of breath.

“What’s with all the questions punk?” Bucky frowns as he holds his hand out for Steve to take and as he pulls him up, he watches as his friend’s winces at the question.

“Y/N is going to work for him” Steve says and Bucky nods with a pitying smile on his face that Steve hates. He doesn’t want pity, he wants to fix this, except he doesn’t know how.

You’ve never looked better the past couple of weeks after yours and Steve’s separation, it’s almost as Steve was constantly sucking the life out of you and now you looked just as good as the first day, he met you.

He hates the idea of you going out into public and working under someone else just for someone to see what he once saw in you, now that he knew that you were unattainable for him at the current time but attainable for people like Billy fuckin Russo made him feel closer to possessive and feral than he’s ever felt.

“Then we’ve got work to do mate” Bucky slaps a hand on his shoulder as he maneuvers him out of, the room, chatting away about a plan to win y/n back. Steve is hardly listening and is planning to kill Billy Russo in 300 different ways before he’s even able to think about having a chance with you.

[idesofrevolution]

My Best Friend, the Ghost

It was the best feeling in the world. Picture this: a simple spread of the legs in the summer heat, sweat dripping from your forehead. You feel a cool, slick touch slide down your inner thigh. It feels almost slimy, though it leaves no residue as it inches toward your taint and ever closer to your rear. You gasp as it circles the tight hole, as if an expert were rimming you with their cold, wet tongue. Then, quickly, a gentle thrust. You feel it enter you, slithering slowly, intentionally. It begins to fill you, that frosty ooze spreading all throughout your body. Your breath is laboured, as you begin to contort and expand as it is overtaken, washed and inundated with this foreign substance bubbling beneath your skin. It pushes up your throat, choking you, taking the last of your breath away before it presses at the top palate of your mouth. It would feel almost like drowning, though your sensations only fire endorphin after endorphin of euphoria. Pressure builds as it presses harder and harder, until... pop. The hard palate gives way as it rushes and balloons into your head. Thoughts and stresses fade away, and you're left in a state of total ecstasy as your body begins to move on its own.

Fuckin' amazing, am I right? Well, guess what? I get that incomprehensible experience whenever the hell I want. Perks of living in a haunted apartment! Confused? Let me explain.

I moved to New Orleans a year ago, give or take a couple of months. I graduated college, and after testing out a couple of places that didn't really pan out for me, I landed in the cement swamp in the height of the summer. I'd just left Salt Lake City, so coming from the tepid air of Utah to the brick wall humidity of Louisiana was a lot. Yet, I was determined to make the best of this one. I'd secured a low-level office gig at a non-profit, and rented out a cheap two bedroom just outside the French Quarter. The house was one of those old shotgun-style places. It wasn't well maintained, frankly incomprehensibly so to be up to purpose for a tenant, though I was still paying an arm and a leg.

The first few nights, I didn't sleep super well. It was hot, I was sleeping on a hard air mattress, and the tall ceilings and old wooden floors made every little creak and groan of the house sound like some demonic entity moaning in the darkness just out of sight. At the time, I was resolved to believe such a rational theory. After all, ghosts aren't real. That recent college graduate sensibility: anything can be rationalized. Looking back, I scoff at what I thought I knew compared to what I know now. But that skeptic within me was what I relied on. It got me through my courses, it got me my job, it is what guided me through the insanity of life. So, as more peculiar occurrences began to happen, that is precisely the lens with which I saw the world.

When things started to go missing: my trusty running shoes, a pair of underwear, my gold chain, my laptop, even my keys, it was just me being forgetful. I took my Adderall and just ordered new things. I hunkered down and just focused on my work. When I heard scratching in the walls at night, footsteps down my hallway, quiet breaths echoing in the shadows... I was just sleep deprived, I took my Xanax and zonked myself out. Those dark shadows that crept around the corners just on the edge of my peripherals? Eye floaters, nothing more. Though, after about two weeks of just a miserable living experience, I finally experienced something I couldn't rationalize.

It was after a soul sucking day at the office, having spent all day sifting through piles of meaningless paperwork to the grating click clack of my coworkers silently typing on their keyboards like mindless drones. I'd gone into overtime that day, and after five or six cups of coffee, I can't say I was even remotely physically tired that evening. My mind, of course, was entirely devoid of functionality. Walking through my front door, tossing my keys in the little dish by the door, I collapsed onto my couch and just scrolled through Netflix, looking for nothing in particular. That's when I saw it. I'd turned to grab my vape pen from the side table, and my glance had grazed past the mirror which hung above my mantle. Floating behind me, clear as day in the mirror, was a figure. It was larger than I, big broad shoulders and pecs, tapering down to a narrow waist, flanked on either side by two muscled arms. It's face was chiseled and sharp, brows furrowed, golden eyes narrowed and full lips twisted in a mischievous smirk. It had no legs; rather, its body was condensed into a long whippy tail. Most notably, I would argue, was the... well... rather sizeable phallus which stood erect above it's navel, with two grapefruit sized balls hanging beneath it.

I sat frozen, unable to look away from it sizing me up in the mirror's reflection. All the other things I could make sense of in my head were obliterated at the sight of what was merely inches behind me, and inches above the floor. I finally found the strength to merely exhale, letting a soft billowing cloud of breath out of my mouth. It was the middle of June, and perhaps 91 Fahrenheit outside. It was impossible. Everything about what my eyes were seeing was impossible. As it began to creep toward me, I fully expected to spin around and like every haunted house movie of all time, there would be nothing there. Though as I whipped my head to look behind, no such luck. I was face to face with it. It was grinning as we were nose to nose. Bringing it's cool, ghostly hand to my cheek, it caressed it with the back of its fingers and winked at me.

"Hey there." It's voice boomed like a timpani, yet it's timbre was gravelly and suave. I couldn't help myself. In a primal state of panic, I shrieked a terrified scream. It didn't last long. The spirit seized the opportunity I was entirely unaware I had given it- quickly shoving it's head into my open mouth. The force by which it had taken me was overwhelming, though I suppose with it's sheer size, in retrospect it makes perfect sense. I was flung down into the cushions of the couch, as it pushed itself into me. I grasped at my throat, which was bulging from the thing which was now flooding down my gaping maw. I could hear it laugh from within me as it squeezed itself in, it's massive upper body condensing in on itself and slowly pushing deep into my gut. My stomach ballooned out, stretching as if it were rubber while it's tail whipped aimlessly against my face before it slipped between my lips.

This was the first time I felt the sensation. The euphoria. The cascading waterfall of endorphins as my body was contorting and stretching as the ghost slipped me on like a suit. I could feel it thrusting it's hands into my arms which expanded and stretched to accommodate the spirit's size. I could feel my chest burst through my shirt, with two jiggling pecs now engorged with it's essence. I could feel my thighs and calves swell with thick muscle, and my feet lengthen and explode through my socks. It was as if someone had taken a water hose and filled me like a balloon, and as I felt it's head rising up my throat one last time and slither into my head, I can't say I wasn't in the throws of intense and indescribable bliss. My eyes opened, I was no longer in the driver's seat.

"Ahhh fuck." It's voice boomed out of my mouth as I found my body moving of it's own accord. No, rather moving of his accord. I stood up, feeling my jiggling muscles slowly firm up and tighten as I walked to the mirror. The thing which wore me as a suit was checking itself out! It had my skin, my face, but otherwise I was unrecognizable. I was indeed approaching 6' 4", my jawline was square and chiseled, my arms as large as my head, my feet probably a size 16, and my... appendage? Let's just say he was now an anaconda snaking down my thigh, his hood restored and flanked on either side by an impressive bulbous sac. "Shit, that feels nice." My voice was soft like velvet, but frayed with a coarseness which tickled the mind like sandpaper. It stretched my muscles and cracked my neck and knuckles before finally bothering to introduce itself. "Name's Antoine, nice to meet ya." My hand slinked down to my member giving it a playful tug. "Actually, tonight, your name is Antoine too, baby." He smiled with my pearly white teeth, and it would be an outright lie to deny I was not eager to see what this Antoine would be using me to do that night. We sauntered over to my bedroom, tossing shirts and pants out of my drawers before he found some shorts and a tank top that fit my new musculature whatsoever. I had but only one pair of sandals that he could force my massive feet into, but neither he nor I could care less. As walked to the front door, and stepped out into the humid New Orleans air, he took a deep breath with my borrowed lungs, sighing in satisfaction. "Aight, my man. Let's see what kind of trouble we can get in tonight."

Thus began our mutual understanding. Our partnership. Frankly, our friendship. That night was one filled with club hopping across town, hitting dancefloors right and left, drinking outrageous amounts of liquor, grinding on sexy men with our tongue down their throats... None of which I would have ever experienced on my own. It was an entire world I knew nothing about, nothing I could have ever imagined myself doing, but with Antoine it seemed like second nature. After a night of debauchery and a tryst in some leather daddy's hotel room, he returned near the crack of dawn, collapsing onto my bed in a sweaty, swampy heap. He closed my eyes and almost immediately afterward I reopened them. The sun had risen, and peering at my phone, it was then 9 AM.

For a moment, I sat there and stared at the ceiling. I waited for my body to move on his command, though when it didn't, I whipped my sheets off to see that I had returned mostly to my former stature. I did note that I had grown ever so slightly. Perhaps his presence within me had left some residual effects on my body, a pleasant fact of which I did not mind whatsoever. I sat up, stretching my arms above my head, a wet warm musk wafting from my sweaty pits and steamy feet from the night before. For the first time, I found myself rather enjoying the scent... Where it once used to make me grimace with disgust, it now made me nearly salivate at the slightest tickle on my nose. I peered to the corner of the room, where now even in broad daylight I could see Antoine's spectral self floating above the floorboards, his arms crossed and his bright smile greeting me in the morning light.

We stared at eachother for a mere moment, before I smiled back at him. It didn't take words for us to understand what was to soon come to pass. Frankly, from then on, it was an unspoken pact. An inseparable bond, bound by an awakened hedonism and carnal desire. Starting that morning, our boys night out became a regular occurrence. I'd get home from work, exhausted and tired from a thankless day of grinding in the soulless office, and we would come up with a plan for the evening. He'd take his time slipping into me, knowing full well just how much I enjoyed each breathtaking second of it. In fact, we took a Saturday to go shopping for "night clothes" which would actually fit us when he was inside me.

Antoine was a bit of a casanova, able to make any person he met swoon with a single glance. The parade of men strutting the walk of shame out of my home every morning did not go unnoticed by my neighbors, not that they particularly seemed to care. It was the spirit of New Orleans, live every day like it's your last. That sentiment was instilled in me, along with a new attitude. I began to care less and less about this dead end job which had only gotten more and more unbearable as our relationship grew. My boss began to notice this as well. He noticed that my productivity had slipped, that I'd begun to come into work with more and more tattoos (which were admittedly against company policy), that my musky scent was becoming stronger and more apparent, that I'd become more casual and laid back, that I was trying to force myself into work clothes that were increasingly more and more revealing as my body grew toned and large. This, to him at least, was unacceptable. I don't entirely recall what it was that finally set him off, though I think it may have had something to do with me having my feet up on my desk as I took calls and the delicious pheromones to which my coworkers had taken a liking to. Something to do with my cubicle mate Daniel lapping up the pungent sweat from my socks beneath my desk as I worked. Couldn't say. Either way, it was the last straw for me.

It wasn't much of a loss, as my frequent appearances at the clubs, or rather my appearance altogether, which the bar owners had taken notice of. I had a line of bartending and gogo boy offers to take up in it's stead. Though, it wouldn't be enough to cover the rent on my own. Thus, we hatched a plan. A solution to both our issues: my financial one, and a more permanent solution for Antoine.

It was an average night in the French Quarter, we were behind the bar, and there before us appeared our solution sitting on a stool near the drink well. He was a tourist, a particularly needy and rude one at that. No friends, failing every attempt to snag the attention of our regular hustlers with his more than lacklustre personality. He was perfect. It wasn't difficult to play into his inflated ego, all it took was playing into his cringeworthy advances and unwelcomed touches before he was licking our pits and nipples, ready to head to our place. A lack of a tip was the final nail in the coffin, we were ready. The 'three' of us stumbled back to our apartment, and it took merely five minutes of making out before the drunken asshole had passed out in our bed.

Walking back into the living room, Antoine regurgitated himself out of me. Feeling him exit was always a bittersweet experience, euphoric in sensation but longing in sentiment. He floated in front of me, winking as he compressed himself under the door of our bedroom, slipping in with a quiet pop. Wiping the sweat from my brow, and taking a deep whiff of my dank sneaker like degenerate scent pig I'd become, I popped open a bottle of our nicer tequila to celebrate. As the yellow liquor began to pour into the glass, I heard the delightful sounds of possession begin to loudly bellow out from behind the closed door. A shriek, followed by squeaks and rubbery creaks atop elated moaning and gasping. Taking the two glasses, I meandered over to the couch, kicking my wafting, wet feet up onto the coffee table and grabbing the bong to pack a nice bowl.

The sounds of inflation and gargling, stretching skin and growing muscle were like candy to my ears, as I wondered what Antoine would look like. The guy was less than ideal before, though as a host, the sky was the limit to how gorgeous he was going to be. I lit the bowl, taking a deep drag before blowing an adequate cloud. Antoine's moans got louder and louder, his voice all the more recognizable as it progressed. One more puff from the bong and the sound of that final pop soared through the air. The house was silent apart from the heavy panting quietly emanating from the bedroom.

I sat there for a solid moment. He always was the master of the tease, knowing full well that I awaited his reveal. I could hear his chuckling before I heard the click of the lock on the door. Slowly, I stood up and walked to the bedroom door, pressing my ear against the wood. Nothing. I grabbed ahold of the doorknob with bated breath, slowly turning it and pushing the door open. The lights were on in the bedroom, and there in front of the mirror taking a selfie with his host's phone was my Antoine.

He was better than I ever could have imagined. That lanky, sad excuse for a man was long gone and in his stead stood the dreamiest hunk I'd ever set my eyes on. Our bodies were nearly identical in stature, as over the past several months he'd completely stretched me out to his own measurements. Though, his delicious golden eyes on that gorgeous, masculine face sent me over the edge. He was stacked, he was tall, he was caramel, he was packing down there, and he wafted that buttery, salty musk that made me drool. All he needed to do was to turn to me and wink in his new body and I felt myself harden.

"What's up, baby boy?" He flexed his massive arms, seductively licking his sweaty bicep for me. Let's just say that tequila and that bowl were still there the next day. We were rather preoccupied throughout the dawn, the morning, the afternoon, the evening... Endless hours of carnal pleasures and sensual overload. Simply washing the bedsheets of our intertwined cum imbued into the very threads of the fabric took longer than expected. I imagine you get the picture, so needless to say, such days were and continue to be frequent.

I suppose that brings us to today. As I sit here and write out how we got to this very moment, waiting for an Uber to take us to our honeymoon, I'll go ahead and mention that my former boss just walked by us, feigning pleasantries as if we were old buddies. Asking if now that I had a partner, I was finally ready to knuckle down and come back to work in a 'real job.' I turned to Antoine, he turned to me, and as we found our hands sliding toward eachother's growing bulges, basking in eachother's beguiling musk while my frump of an old boss indignantly watched, I flipped him the bird.

He stomped off, I doubt I'll ever see him again. Why should I need to? I have my man, I have our future, we have all the delicious men of this raunchy city to enjoy... What else can a guy ask for?

[vodika-vibes]

can you do kix x reader where kix sees reader talking with keeli and gets jealous but reader is actually asking keeli about his twin kix?

Jaloux

Summary: Jealousy is not the best look for a man of his temperament, but when he catches the woman he’s been crushing on for months flirting with Keeli, there’s no stopping the burn of jealousy.

Pairing: Clone Medic Kix x F!Reader

Word Count: 1352

Warnings: Reader is described as having long hair, reader is described as getting a perm

A/N: This was fun to write! My sun lamp is working and I can focus a little better.

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“I’m so glad to be back on Coruscant!” 

Kix tosses a grin towards the woman lounged, dramatically, on one of the beds in his medbay, “What’s wrong? You didn’t enjoy the swamp?”

She sits up and points at him, “I am far too young to enter my swamp witch phase.” She drops her hand, and pulls her hair out of the strict knot she normally keeps it in while she’s working, “Besides, that place was awful. I’ve never seen so many men get so sick from pollen before. I thought you all were immune to allergies.”

“So did I,” Kix replies with a laugh, “Guess the long necks didn’t cover everything.”

“Guess not.” She combs her fingers through her hair, and Kix can’t help but watch the way her hair tumbles around her shoulders. She might be the most stunning woman he’s ever met.

She should wear her hair down more often…but also, he’s glad she doesn’t. He’d never accomplish anything if she did.

“Anyway,” Kix shakes himself from his daydream (which involves her in his bunk, her hair spread like a halo around her head-) “What are your plans back on Coruscant? Bar hopping? Clubbing?”

She laughs, and Kix falls a little harder for her, “Do you really take me for the bar hopping type?”

He laughs softly, “No, not really. Especially since you shy away from Hardcases’...uh…chemical genius.”

“I’m fairly sure that what he brewed should be classified as a chemical weapon, rather than a drink. I can’t believe you drank it.” She folds her arms, “You deserved that hangover.”

“Yeah, but you’re a paragon of kindness and mercy and nursed us all back to health.” 

“You’re lucky that Rex begged me to help.”

“Rex was just as hungover as we were.” Kix points out.

“Ugh. I work with a bunch of children.”

Kix laughs again, “We’re not so bad.”

The look she shoots him is slightly exasperated, though it quickly morphs to a grin, “I suppose you could be worse.” She finally hops off the bed, and stretches her arms in front of her, “Are you all packed?”

“Are you? I keep most of my stuff here.”

She makes a face, “Oh yeah.” She pauses, “But I do have everything packed.” 

The familiar feeling of the Resolute settling in drydock rattles across the ship, and Kix smothers a quiet sigh. He’s going to miss seeing her everyday. Sure, he’ll still see her at the base, but it’s not the same. 

He likes eating breakfast with her. She isn’t able to function without a cup of caf, it’s hilarious. He also likes needling her about her breakfast habits.

As the ship comes to a stop, and the announcement comes over the intercom announcing that all of the civilian employees can disembark, she grins at him and grabs her bag from the floor, “I’ll see you in a few days?”

“Yeah, of course.” Kix wants to say more to her. He wants to confess, or to ask her out on a date, but the words seem to stick in his throat. So, instead, he offers her a small smile and an absent wave, as she leaves the medbay.

It’s only a few days. 

Maybe he’ll work up the nerve to ask her out the next time he sees her.

The next time Kix sees her, it’s a whole week later. 

He almost doesn’t recognize her when he sees her across the massive room. Her long hair has been cropped to her shoulders, and dyed a deep blue that is the same shade as the blue on his armor. And, as he moves closer, he sees that she has a new tattoo on her left shoulder. 

It looks like an array of flowers wrapped around the medic symbol.

It suits her.

He weaves through the throng of his brothers, there are several battalions here, so he’s able to get to her, though he slows when he sees her talking to Keeli.

He slows his walk and he just watches them interact.

She looks…delighted. Laughter written clearly on her face, leaning in so she’s able to hear him better, reaching out to lightly touch his forearm when he says something.

And Kix burns.

He’s never been the jealous type, at least he never has been in the past.

But watching this, Kix realizes that maybe he just never had reason to be properly jealous before.

He takes a deep breath and swallows his jealousy, before he continues walking over to the pair. 

“There you are,” Keeli folds his arms, “You’re late, vod’ika.”

“Come off it, we were decanted at the same time.” Kix counters, “And I wasn’t late, anyway. I was just on the other side of the room.”

“Hey Kix!” She grins at him, “Did you really dare one of your batchmates to jump into the ocean when you were a cadet?”

Kix blinks at her, and then turns an accusing glare on his twin, “Really?”

“Really.” Keeli agrees with a grin, “Anyway, my General is calling. See you later vod, Doc.”

Keeli saunters off, with Kix glaring at his back, and then he turns to look at her, “You shouldn’t believe anything he said about me as a cadet, he’s a horrible liar.”

She laughs, “I’d believe that if you weren’t blushing, Kix.” She brushes a blue curl off her cheek, and favors him with a grin, “It’s alright, everyone does dumb things as kids. It’s a side effect of being a kid, you know?”

Kix flashes a tiny smile, “Yeah? What did you do?”

She shrugs, “I tried to sell my brother for a handful of credits. And then mom found out and I was grounded for three years.”

That makes him laugh, “Well, I suppose I’m less embarrassed now.” He reaches out and tugs on one of her curls, “This is new.”

“Yeah, I wanted something new, so I got a perm and a dye.”

“And a new tattoo.”

“Yeah,” she pauses, “What do you think?” If he didn’t know any better, he’d say that she sounded a little self-conscious.

“Well, you look like you belong with the 501st now,” He teases, though then his smile softens, “I think you look great. But I always think you look great.” A blush rises on her cheeks, so Kix continues, “You make the rest of us look bad.”

“You’re exaggerating. You and your brothers are very handsome,”

It’s the first time Kix has ever heard her make a comment about his appearance, she normally sidesteps the question when someone asks, so he inches a little closer, “You think I’m handsome?” He asks with a grin.

“Are you going to make this a thing?”

“Am I more handsome than Keeli?”

She stares at him and then she sighs, “I know you better than I know Keeli, so yeah. Stop being jealous, it’s silly.”

“...I’m not jealous.”

“You are. It’s kind of cute, and totally ridiculous.” She stretches her arms over her head, and then, without looking at him, continues, “After all, everyone knows you’re my favorite.”

Unlike the way that he burned earlier, at the thought of Keeli flirting with her, now he just feels pleasantly warm. “That right?”

“Yeah, it is.”

He hesitates for a moment, and then bumps her gently, “You know, there’s a botanical garden not far from here, it’s home to the most poisonous flowers in the galaxy. You wanna go?”

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

“Yeah, I am. If you want.”

A bright grin crosses her face, “It’s about time,” She finally turns to look at him, “Yes, please. I’d like to go on a date with you.”

The pair fall into a comfortable silence for a moment, and then Kix glances at her, “You know, you could have asked me on a date.”

“Jesse said that you would prefer a more…traditional relationship.” She shrugs, “I just trusted his word.”

“I’m going to kill him.” Kix grumbles and then her words fully register, “Wait, relationship?”

“Yeah, Kix. Relationship.”

“Huh.” He stares at the side of her head, “I can work with that.”

@imabeautifulbutterfly

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@continous-mistakes

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@rebell-ious

[zombeebunnie]

Trembling Essence:💙Script progress + Updates💙

Hello and welcome new followers, long time no see! I was very busy most of this month, but I am back and ready to continue from where I left off on the game! This game development post might be a bit long but I tried to condense everything! :]

"How are things going so far?":

It's going slow and steady! I haven't been able to do too much these past few weeks, however, I wrote a few parts out before I got too busy and couldn't do anything else.

I want to be very careful when it comes to spoilers but, based on your choices, some of these areas will give off immersive cozy/homelike vibes that really express Noah and the player(Y/N)'s view towards each other. In the old 2023 script I was very new to writing so the small semi-hints of romance weren't the entire focus compared to the horror aspect but there's a better balance between both genres now and I'm still aiming for a meaningful slow burn versus it just being all over the place. :] I liked writing them a whole bunch which lead to a lot of these taking place in the mid/end of Day 4+, they just need to be placed in specific areas that call for it. With that being said, it felt really comfy adding key details about Noah and creating meaningful sections in the game. I was even going to draw out some of the unseen script/scenes but I believe the best thing to do is give deeper lore from the [Extended Demo] first. Even though my writing style has improved I still have to fix the multiple pacing issues I wrote last year.

"Playtester's advice":

I wanted to continue working through Noah's backstory but I kept having moments where I'd get sidetracked into wanting to fix up the start of the game again. Eventually, I talked to my play testers about it and they gave me a few encouraging pointers.

To help keep my process at ease, I will fix the beginning of the game when I take breaks from writing up Noah's backstory. :]

I talked about this during early 2024 but the start of the game that leads up to the cabin is still getting reworked. I was able to get some of it fixed for the [Extended Demo] but I wasn't done. Things are still up in the air but, I will say that I have a better view of everything than I did before. :] Another priority that needs fixing are the backgrounds! I've improved a lot on drawing and they need to be optimized. When you first start up the game, you wake up in a holed out tree in the swamp with the choice to leave this area and possibly end up in the forest. I was going for a very immersive form of symbolism that only a few noticed but, I believe I can do a better job about this. Unfortunately I don't have any new backgrounds to show right now but maybe next week I'll have some finished up! :]

"Art process/Noah's sprite sheets":

As far as Noah sprite sheet goes, it's still in sketch mode.

I didn't draw anything since I was gone so I need to do a few warm ups before I get to them. There are some old drawing prompts I wrote down and old sketches that I never got a chance to doodle so hopefully I can get to them at some point with some attached lore. :,]

My Q&A / Ask box has been reset!

Thank you to those who have sent in asks in the past, unfortunately they all disappeared except for 1 while I was gone. I have no idea what happened but I can only guess it just got reset.

If you have any questions about Trembling Essence/Noah feel free to ask or resend them in here please. This makes it easier for me to see and answer accordingly! I would really like to hear from you guys!

This is all I have to share so far, Thank you to everyone for the continued support and patience while I was gone! I was ready to accept the interest for this game to fade out and coming back to see that it didn't happen makes me happy, I really appreciate it. :,]

[timeagainreviews]

Mining Gold

In his 2012 stand-up special “New In Town,” John Mulaney quipped that he “always thought quicksand was going to be a much bigger problem than it turned out to be.” This sentiment seems to have rung true with people online. Quicksand was such a big deal in media in the ‘80s and ‘90s. Who could forget Westley jumping headlong into quicksand to save Buttercup in “The Princess Bride?” Remember the first time you saved Mario from sinking deep into golden sands? Yet in real life, very little quicksand. While I am sure there are parts of the world that grapple with quicksand, it’s more of a trope than anything. Trapping our heroes allows storytellers to show who these characters are under pressure. While Doctor Who has its share of great escapes, it’s also prone to using capture to pad time. But isn’t that a cynical view? Can’t trapping our heroes also give the narrative a moment to breathe?

Quicksand is the perfect type of trap because it’s a ticking clock that must be treated with attention and care. Characters must slow down and assess their situation. It’s odd then that Doctor Who has never used quicksand in the show proper. But it’s just a placeholder. You could throw someone into the Timelash. The Fourth Doctor had to shoot a rope while standing over a pit of horda. Or again with the Fourth Doctor when he stepped on a landmine. But that last one is different, isn’t it? The horda and Timelash are as real as the Swamp of Sandness and the Bog of Eternal Stench. But landmines are very real. And in some parts of the world, a horrific day-to-day reality.

Returning after a seven-year absence, Steven Moffat brings the Doctor back into the minefield with “Boom.” But unlike Doctor Who’s last episode named after an explosive onomatopoeia, “Kerblam!”, this episode aims to chastise capitalism’s role in atrocity, not give it a free pass. Also making a comeback are a few Moffat staples- Villengard, the Anglican Marines, and stupid children. Each does their part to build a narrative mirroring the current political climate. But have any of Moffat’s less celebrated qualities returned along with him? Will he fall into his own trappings as a writer? Is this trope just padding out time? Or can a bottle episode become an instant classic?

Coming off the heels of last week’s manic “The Devil’s Chord,” the show was due a bit of a breather. While I’m all for bombast it’s nice to know this thing has an off switch. I already saw someone on Instagram who disagrees wholeheartedly. In their words “Boom? More like BORING,” so I imagine this one won’t be popular among dullards and the chronically contrarian crowd. But as an old, I appreciated the slower pacing and the emphasis on emotion. If you need a constant source of laser swords and loud noises, allow me to quote the Third Doctor- “Don't worry, Brigadier. People will be shooting at you soon.” Luckily, Billy No-Mates and his five Instagram followers appear to be in the minority. Most everyone I’ve talked to absolutely loved this episode.

The one issue I’ve seen fans bring up that holds any kind of water has been the conversation around faith. The inclusion of the Anglican Marines introduces a religious angle that some have criticised as preachy and offensive. In the past Moffat has used the Anglicans to various ends. Spanning across two centuries, the Anglicans we’ve met so far have come in numerous forms. Sometimes they’re allies of the Doctor, and at other times, they’re a fanatic organisation hellbent on stopping the Doctor at every turn. This time, however, the Doctor and they cross paths presumably by happenstance. (More on why I say presumably later.) This group of Marines are already in a deep conflict with an elusive enemy, which they appear to be losing. Despite these losses, they keep their faith. But it’s hard to keep faith when your enemy is as invisible as your god.

The two soldiers we’re introduced to are Carson and John Francis Vater. Not as in they’re married like the Fat One and the Thin One couple from “A Good Man Goes To War,” but rather that Carson only gets the one name. As names go, John Francis Vater is akin to purple hair in an anime- total protagonist vibes. Vater even has a daughter named Splice living back on base. He has a cute “save the cat,” moment when he tells Splice to brush her manky teeth. Which is why when he dies, it feels like there’s still more to his story. Unfortunately for Carson, he exists to illustrate the way the Villengard smartmines on Kastarion 3 operate. As it turns out, it’s pretty quick, rather violent, and kind of pretty. Even more unfortunately for Vader, he is now essentially lost as Carson was acting as his eyes due to temporary blindness.

It’s never really explained why the Doctor and Ruby are parked on the planet. Presumably, it’s the Doctor doing his usual “land wherever and explore,” approach. But it’s the death of Vater that draws the Doctor and Ruby into the action. After lifting the veil from his injured eyes, Vater’s injury draws the attention of a Villengard Automated Ambulance Unit with the video face of Susan Twist. Having assessed that Vater’s recovery time would be too big of a drain on resources the ambulance terminates him. The Doctor comes running at the sound of Vater’s scream but finds nothing but an empty crater and a smartmine under his right foot. It’s the inclusion of Susan Twist here that makes me wonder if this isn’t part of some greater plan. Pretty obvious, really. Also, didn’t a big portion of Moffat’s last episode also take place in a crater?

The Doctor’s voice carries out along the horizon with a mournful rendition of “The Skye Boat Song.” It tells of the journey Bonnie Prince Charles took from Benbecula to Skye after his defeat at the Battle of Culloden, thus spelling the end for the Jacobites. This worked for me on several fronts. As a fan of the Second Doctor, I admired the nod to his past. I also enjoyed the reference to Ncuti Gatwa’s Scottish identity. The forlorn quality of his singing reminded me of the Master playing the Skye Boat Song in “The Power of the Doctor,” which was one of the better parts of that story. I was also grateful that they didn’t undercut the tension with a pop song, or something truly cringe, like quoting from Harry Potter.

The Doctor is singing to calm himself and hopefully delay the bomb until he can come up with a new plan. But it’s this singing that draws Ruby to his location. Together the two of them must move their bodies in sync to a rhythm so the Doctor can rest his leg. In yet another contrast to “The Devil’s Chord,” music is being used in an entirely different manner. But this time, the Doctor’s dance partner, Ruby Sunday, is less complimentary and more complicated. The Doctor faces death all the time, but seeing Ruby put in harm’s way raises the Doctor’s blood pressure. The adrenaline becomes harder to control. And his bio-signs become easier for the smartmine to detect. Because of this, the Doctor’s emotions are raw and prickly, another stark contrast from last week. He chastises Ruby for not doing as he tells her, but she ignores him because she’s got her own ideas about what she is and isn’t allowed to do. I was getting shades of Amy Pond from Ruby in this one, and considering the author, that makes sense.

If you’ve ever heard me say that I wanted the chance for Jodie Whittaker to get mean, or show anger, this is precisely the kind of depiction of the Doctor I meant. In many ways, Ncuti is the same brand of golden retriever adorable as Whittaker, only here they’ve allowed him to show that he’s capable of a depth of emotion. The Doctor has an authoritarian streak that he hides well, but in times of stress, the walls begin to fall away and you see the complicated Time Lord underneath the fish fingers and custard, the floppy hair, and the eccentric fit. This is exactly the kind of episode I wanted to see Ncuti get to do. I’ve seen him deal with heavy subjects in “Sex Education,” I’m glad they didn’t just hire him because he’s hot and dripping charisma. He’s also incredibly capable of going into dark places.

While looking for a rock to help the Doctor balance his dangling left leg, Ruby happens upon the “smelted,” remains of Vater. The Ambulance sort of formed and condensed Vater’s body into a tube shape topped with a nameplate and a hologram projector containing an AI facsimile of Vater’s consciousness. And I’ll say it because everyone’s waiting for me to say it- it’s an actual fleshlight. There, I said the thing. Are you happy? Is this what you wanted from me? Are you not entertained? I’d like to pretend I was so wrapped up in the episode that I didn’t think it, but I absolutely did. It’s VOR all over again. I got over it pretty fast.

That’s the way good Doctor Who goes, really. The little hang-ups are more like snags when you’re moving along. It’s easier to look past the nitpicks and grievances when there’s so much more at play. When Doctor Who is bad, all it has are its nitpicks and grievances and that’s a real sadness when that happens because we’re no longer watching Doctor Who, we’re watching the background go by. We’re admiring the wallpaper because just because the writers phoned it in, doesn’t mean the set designers did. But this is Doctor Who firing on all cylinders.

We are however getting into the realm of one of my nitpicks about this episode and that’s Splice. Because she lost her mother, her dad, Vater, has special permission to let her live on base. The issue I have is that I wasn’t joking earlier when I said she’s stupid. I don’t say this to badmouth the little girl playing her, as she was good. I also don’t mean to denigrate the script. What I don’t understand is why is she so old? That may seem like a weird question because kids come in all sorts of ages, but this one is little kids stupid. I found it hard to believe that a girl of her age would confuse a hologram for her father. I get that she might be fooled by the voice and I can even believe that she would be foolish enough to wander into a battlefield to find him, but I’ve never once seen my dad looking like a translucent blue hologram. This is why I say she’s too old. An older kid would have figured it out. They should have either changed her dialogue or cast someone younger. Otherwise, she’s a perfectly fine character.

Splice’s emotional reaction draws the attention of another Anglican Marine named Mundy Flynn. Immediately my Whovian brain was doing backflips at the sudden appearance of Varada Sethu. For those of you not in the know, Sethu is planned to be a companion in season 2 next year. Seeing her this early was very exciting. Was this an Oswin Oswald scenario or a Martha’s cousin dying at Canary Warf scenario? Did they enjoy working with Varada so much that they created a character for her in the next season or is this some wibbly wobbly sort of thing? Well, as it turns out, it’s a wibbly wobbly thing. I didn’t learn this from the show, however. I learned it from Doctor Who’s social media. And honestly, I really wish they’d have just left us to wonder on this one. Would it have killed them to leave an air of mystery around her character? There’s still a bit of mystery, but I feel like they’re holding people’s hands a bit too much. I guess they’re afraid people’s imaginations will run too wild and we’ll set ourselves up for disappointment. They know who their audience is. But still, I like the not knowing part. I like the speculation.

Mundy sees the Doctor holding the remains of Vater and commands him to drop them. But if the Doctor drops the remains, he risks setting off the mine. But even worse, if the mine goes off, it will turn him into the explosion. The Doctor refers to himself as a ”complex spacetime event,” indicating that if he were to explode, it could take out half of the planet. But Mundy isn’t convinced and tries to shoot the Doctor’s arm to make him drop the tube. Sensing combat, the Ambulance bots start looking for the injured to either heal or put out of their misery. Releasing her mistake, Mundy commands Ruby to shoot her in the arm in order to draw the ambulance away from the Doctor, but in her hesitation, Ruby is mistaken for an enemy and shot by Mundy’s comrade Canto who arrives late on the scene.

While we’re on the subject of Ruby, I wanted to point out that I found it a bit odd that Kastarion 3 was her first experience on an alien planet. Sure this is only her fourth adventure onscreen, but we were told in The Devil’s Chord that six months had passed. Granted, Rose Tyler spent an entire season having earthbound adventures with the Ninth Doctor, so there’s an explanation. I have to tip my hat to their attention to detail here as not even the Doctor Who Magazine comics have taken her off-world. I guess “Space Babies,” kind of counts. Just something I felt worth mentioning.

Not only has Ruby now died, but the Doctor learns that even if he does dupe the smartmine into thinking he’s not a living person, it will eventually detonate by default. The only way to stop this is now outside of the Doctor’s control, sort of. He must convince Mundy to surrender. Since the mine belongs to the Anglican Marines, only their surrender will disarm the device. Otherwise- boom. The Doctor explains to Mundy that the war they’re fighting is with themselves. The Villengard algorithm has been tricking the Marines into attacking themselves to keep them buying their product. It’s a war being waged against nothing all in the pursuit of profit.

Mundy asks the Doctor for proof which is where the Doctor’s stance on faith comes into play. But I feel like the actual conversation the Doctor is having in that moment is that faith is both a good and a bad thing. It’s not that he’s saying it’s bad for someone to have faith in God, but that it’s bad to let faith do your thinking for you. Splice has faith in her daddy. The Doctor and Ruby have faith in one another. Faith can strengthen us as people. But when it’s used to justify not considering deeper truths, it’s a hindrance. I feel like this is very in line with things we’ve heard the Fourth and Tenth Doctor’s say about religion in the past. I will admit though, I am an atheist, so I can’t speak from the perspective of a person with faith.

When Mundy tries to send evidence back to command, it’s intercepted by the algorithm and overruled. The machine has taken over and the smirking face of Susan Twist shows no signs of compassion leaking through. But with the Doctor connected to the machine and his hand connected to the remains of Vater, he’s able to send Vater into the algorithm. As Vater battles the ghost in the machine, I was reminded of “The Doctor’s Wife,” when the TARDIS re-enters her body and destroys House from the inside. In fact, lots of this episode reminded me of previous Doctor Who. The short war fought on the basis of a lie reminded me of “The Doctor’s Daughter.” The message about unchecked capitalism reminded me of “Oxygen.”  And of course there’s the mine calling back to Tom Baker in “Genesis of the Daleks.” Lots of what Ncuti was doing this week reminded me of Tom Baker and I mean that as the utmost compliment. He was doing stellar work here.

This episode had me grinning from ear to ear for the entirety of its runtime. But it wasn’t until after that I realised what it was that had me so happy. Sure, the episode was good, but I realised that it was the first time in the last 5 or 6 years that I had enjoyed a new Doctor Who episode without a giant asterisk hanging overhead. I cried tears of joy during “The Woman Who Fell to Earth,” but that was excitement for Jodie. My opinion of the episode itself was quite low. I enjoyed “The Witchfinders,” (also how cool was that reference to it in this episode?) and I enjoyed “It Takes You Away,” but I loved “Boom.” Without any hesitation, I absolutely loved it.

While the RTD2 era has been a marked improvement, I have had a few reservations. Mostly that it has so far felt like they’ve been trying way too hard. Trying too hard to have fun. Trying too hard to be funny. Trying too hard to be action-packed. I hope that the people in charge have seen the fan reaction to Boom for what it is. You don’t need massive budgets. You can do smaller stories with simple sets. The fans will respond well when you nail the tone and writing. Even Ncuti Gatwa said that while he was confused the entire time shotting the episode, it ended up being his favourite of the season. This felt like the most Doctor Who episode of Doctor Who that I’ve watched since Moffat left, and I’m including the new Davies stuff in there. This is what I meant when I said I wish Davies would chill the fuck out. Stop trying so hard.

Where this falls short for me is it highlights how insular the show has been since it returned. Eight episodes, six by the same writer, one by a former showrunner, and the remaining one is shared by two new authors. Why? I’ll be honest, Davies has never been my favourite Doctor Who writer. He’s a strong producer who writes people well. But when it comes to his episodes, other than “Midnight,” he’s never written one I would call a favourite. This is just a personal preference. When they announced his return, I was more excited for a return to competence than a return to classic writing. We could use new blood in the writer’s room. Even Chris Chibnall could see that, and he did hire some pretty good talent. My two favourite episodes from his era are written by people new to the show. More of that, please.

In truth, bringing Moffat back was a good choice. Unlike Davies, Moffat has written some of my favourite Doctor Who. And as with most anyone who has written the shear volume of Doctor Who as he has, he’s also written some of my least favourite Doctor Who. It’s bound to happen at that level of output. He’s not a writer without problems. His writing of female characters leaves something to be desired. But Moffat writing under a different showrunner, with an editor? Total Chad material. Some of the best. If they kept bringing him back like this every year or so, I would absolutely love it. Especially because it would continue to leave room for new talent.

With Vater in the machine, the ambulance revives Ruby. Sadly, Mundy’s love, Canto, dies just as he proclaims his love for her. This part was a bit shallow in that it was barely set up and felt like loss for the sake of loss. As Jean Cocteau once said “Emotion resulting from a work of art is only of value when it is not obtained by sentimental blackmail.” So it’s a bit difficult to feel sorry for Mundy here, but it’s not completely void of an emotional core. It’s nice that Splice has a new caretaker in Mundy, and that’s as happy an ending as we need. What’s more important is the emotional depths we’ve experienced with the Fifteenth Doctor and Ruby. This was the moment when they were solidified for me as characters. I needed this episode. Not so much to show me that the Ncuti and Millie could do it, I knew they could. But rather to show me that the show could still do it. That RTD was still up to the task of delivering us something more than progressive happy fun. We’re not beyond the realm of complexity. And with that, I can relax a little. What else ya got, Davies?

[bird-slayer-brainrot]

Soldier On, Come Down - Chpt. 3. - - Ineffable Husbands WW2 au human!Crowley angel!Aziraphale angst multi-chapter

1941

Angel,

I would like to apologise for not writing sooner. If things went according to plan, which, they rarely do, I shall like to compose a note to you each day. Nothing grim, of course. I would fill pages of sonnets for you on the most mundane things.

For instance, today I was completing a task and I stopped for a moment two miles north of the camp to watch the sun set. My first thought was of how beautiful it was. My second thought was of you. I confess, I think of the night you told me you loved me often, and how the next morning you stirred beside me. I thought how there was no sky to match the beauty of the blue in your eyes in the early morning sun.

I wish you had seen it, angel. It brings me comfort to know you may now be looking at the same sky as me, and in the miles and miles between us, we are still connected underneath the sky.

I hope that you think of me too

Yours,

A.J. Crowley

 -

Angel,

It has been too long since I last heard from you. Longer since I saw you or held you in my arms. Do not believe for a second that the time has made me forget your touch. Or your face. Or your scent. You are as clear in my mind as they day we met. I do not believe I could forget you if I tried.

I will not go into detail about the front, as I have limited time and space to tell you everything I wish to say. And, I do not think you would like it. So instead I should tell you now that I am well, angel.

Please write me. I love you. I ache for you.

A.J. Crowley

-

Aziraphale,

I am sure by now that you have heard news of what is happening on the front. I made quick to write you this, trading duties with the Staff Sergeant for pen and paper. I hope this letter finds you even if you do not reply. I do not expect anything of you, angel, and I suspect there is a good reason you cannot return my letters. Nonetheless, I write to you because I want to. Because I love you. I love you.

I hope you are well. We hear news of England in pieces. I will not begin to lecture you on your safety because I do not believe you would find it funny, but I do hope you are staying safe. Are safe.

I have hesitated writing this because I did not want to fill you with empty promises. But we have been apart for too long and the weight of not giving you a promise to hold on to weighs to heavy on me. This war will end, sooner or later, and I will come back to you, angel. I will come back to you.

Your Crowley

*

1939

Angels were. as a rule, quite adept at sensing positive intentions. Crowley had sent Aziraphale a note asking him to meet for dinner at the pub they regularly patronized that evening. When he entered in, slightly out of breath from the walk, he could tell almost immediately that something was off.

Anathema and Crowley were engaged in what seemed to be a heated debate. Aziraphale decided to wait near the bar, hoping he hadn't been spotted yet. But as he sat down, Anathema appeared beside him.

"Hello Aziraphale." she said politely. Aziraphale noticed that her cheeks were flushed.

"Anathema, hello." Aziraphale tried to say cheerfully. Anathema just nodded in response, which was unlike her. Then, she spun on her wall and walked out of the bar.

Crowley was still seated at the table. Aziraphale took a seat hesitantly, not quite sure if he was welcome to. Crowley looked up at him then, tiredly. He didn't say anything, but smiled slightly at Aziraphale. Aziraphale knew Crowley would talk about what happened in his own time, so he didn't say anything.

Short update this week but i've been swamped with uni and getting over a bad cold so i haven't been writing as much. i will likely write another half chapter to post sometimes this week but i'll see. thank you for reading <3 i promise this is going somewhere

[ninadove]

Nina reads Dracula 🦇

May 9th

No news from my good friend Jonathan today… but the girls’ group chat is back from the dead! My good friend Mina has been swamped with work lately, it’s probably best we don’t concern her with news from her fiancé’s trip…

Instead, we shall exchange normal declarations of friendship, such as:

I am longing to be with you, and by the sea, where we can talk together freely and build our castles in the air.

WHATEVER THE FUCK THAT WAS

When we are married I shall be able to be useful to Jonathan, and if I can stenograph well enough I can take down what he wants to say in this way and write it out for him on the typewriter, at which also I am practising very hard. He and I sometimes write letters in shorthand, and he is keeping a stenographic journal of his travels abroad. When I am with you I shall keep a diary in the same way.

OK that is very very cute and also sending massive polycule vibes. @nebulousboops you were not exaggerating, my good friends are all dating each other… 🥰

I shall try to do what I see lady journalists do: interviewing and writing descriptions and trying to remember conversations. I am told that, with a little practice, one can remember all that goes on or that one hears said during a day.

Gosh she is so smart I love her already 🩵

I have just had a few hurried lines from Jonathan from Transylvania. He is well, and will be returning in about a week. I am longing to hear all his news. It must be so nice to see strange countries. I wonder if we—I mean Jonathan and I—shall ever see them together.

Hmm have you considered vacationing literally anywhere else???

Tell me all the news when you write. You have not told me anything for a long time. I hear rumours, and especially of a tall, handsome, curly-haired man???

Mina is eager to recruit new members into the polycule! Good for her!!! Just check their canines first maybe…

< Prev 🦇 Next >

[lolitastories]

GHOST

Javier Pena x Reader

Chapter 3

“Hey Lola” I smile and wave at Miguel as I make my way to the bar. “Same as usual?” He was already preparing my drink before I could answer.

“Thank you” I let out a sigh sitting on the corner of the bar. I look over and see Diego coming out. “Hey”

“What's going on?” He asks with a smile coming up and starting to dry the glasses. “Haven’t seen you in awhile” Miguel comes up and lays the drinks infront of me.

“Yeah, I've been busy with work. Its hits always at the same time” Miguel didn’t know to make my drink virgin but thankfully I needed this drink.

“Taxes season right” Miguel laughs before leaving to attend the other guests.

“Anything new?” I shake my head.

“Since he showed up on my doorstep I got a sweet invitation for dinner” I downed the drink. I’ve never been an alcoholic person, never got the point. They said it relaxed you and some other shit and maybe it does but never wanted to test out the waters. “More people have been around so I actually had to start working” I get a laughfrom him. Atleast someone is getting the humor out of all of this.

“That was quick?” Miguel comes over and takes the drink and goes to prepare another one. Diego just shakes his head.

“His movement has been still for a while and aslong as it stays there it means he doesn’t feel pressured. '' I smile as Miguel set another drink infront of me.

“I was wondering something” I lifted my eyebrow waiting for his next words. “Would you like to go out sometime? Maybe here for some drinks?” Stuck in the corner with that one. Miguel was a nice guy, hell with it.

“I would like that but I will let you know when. I’ve been swamped at work so I don’t know when I will get a chance to relax again”

“You know where to find me” He smiles walking away again.

“Look at you,” Diego says with a smile. “This will be your first date, since when?” I roll my eyes, taking my attention back to my drink. “Since never?”

“Shut up”

“Honey-”

“Don’t call me that” He knows when I am serious but he also knows just because it upsets me doesn’t mean I won’t get over it.

“Sorry” he lifts his hands up in defense. “I have knowed you since middle school and after that guy, you haven’t given nother guy the time of day” He moved closer making sure nobody heard. “And I know you are only doing this as a cover but it's time you put yourself out there again”

“I will” I shrug finishing me drink

“I can’t remember how many times you got the chance and never took it.” As he places his hands over mine I feel a smooth surface. I turn it to act like I am holding his hand and slip to grab the piece of paper in it.

“I will” I smile getting up.

“No late drinks tonight?” It was 9 and I usually stayed sometime after midnight.

“Not tonight Miguel. Got so much work to finish and I have until the end of this month” I thank them and leave. I carefully move into a spot where it's not suspicious to people who may be watching. I checked the note and intently grew tired. Close the blinds. Hell. As I walk home, well the motel. I drag my feet. This is the fifth night Pena has done this in the span of 3 weeks. He would sneak into the motel and have me close the blinds. Later after we spoke he would sneak out when the men across the street would turn off the lights. This usually happened when my lights were off for a while so it would send Pena out around 1 to 4 in the morning. I got the door acting all normal. I would set my things down and walk into the bathroom doing my usual routine. “I thought I told you to stop coming” I groaned, walking out the bathroom and placing my clothes on a table in the bathroom.

“And I told you I wasn’t until you decided to let us in” I rolled my eyes walking back out frustrated. This is how the night went. I got home and he would be sitting on the toilet. I would take a shower as we start our discussion. After that I would come out and close the blinds. Go into the bathroom and change as Pena moves to the kitchen table. Finally I would ignore him and give him bits and pieces as I try to catch some sleep until morning. He would be out by the time I opened my eyes. Today I was over it. I ignored him as I took a shower and even as I got ready for bed. “You’ve been working overtime and spending time on road trips, what does he have you doing?” I shrug, removing the pillows from the bed and getting into the covers. “Y/N!”

“Shut up” I groaned. It was close to eleven now and all I wanted to do was sleep. I wasn’t tired enough not to stay up. I was tired of the life that I have to live right now. I can’t leave and it's looking like it doesn’t have an end. “Pena” I sigh sitting up. “I don’t have time for your threats or whatever speech you prepared” I say a little too loud.

“You would have to hear it if you would just tell me what's going on” He gets up from the table and walks over. I get up and turn off the lights. I place on my shoes and walk towards the back. “Y/N” he warned. He knew to stay hidden behind the wall as I walked out into the sort of porch outside. I wrap my arms around me as the cool air hits my face.

“I stand out here sometimes. I like to look at the sky and picture myself somewhere else. Usually surrounded by water. Floating and letting the motion of the waves rock me to sleep” I turn my head catching Pena's eyes. “Ironic because I am scared of the open water. I am going to say this as nicely as possible” I turn my body to walk towards the door outline without stepping in, I needed to still feel at peace to not let the frustration out on him. “No matter how much this involves you, you can’t be putting me,you,Murphy, and any other agent on the line. I am not a little girl, all the information I give goes directly to you and the ambassador” Thats when Pena stands up and stops right infront of me. “I can’t have you coming here and risking this operation because of your stubbornness and pride” I say this a little harsher as his presance radiates. It's like I could feel him so much closer than he was. Like he has engulfed me in a tight hug and somehow, that made me feel at peace. “It's not the right thing to do and if I am being honest I feel like everything is slipping off my hands” I hate not having control. Something I should have since it's my damn operation but with him involved it like I can’t get a hold of it.

“Y/N '' I felt his fingers grab my own until he enterwines our hands. “You are stressed”

“No! Pena” I finally let out. “I am scared” That was the last straw. I don’t know what caused it. I don’t know if he hugged me first and tears started falling or he heard my whimper as I cried and wrapped his arms around me. Silence surrounded us both not knowing what to say. The truth came out and I felt vulnerable. I hadn’t felt this way. Losing control wasn’t part of my traits. I was close to losing control and it was making me think of unnecessary feelings I learned to put in the past. “I know what I got myself into. I learned to not take it personally. A great deal of my life I have always been good at keeping my emotions in. To ignore. But-” I look up not knowing what to end with. There is nothing to think about. There is no other choice here, I must finish my operation. I must get back in control. “I'm sorry” I whisper, moving my hands to cup his cheeks. I pulled him closer pinning us against eachother. The kiss was breathtaking. I felt down and sad and having him kiss me felt like a solution. He didn’t seem to mind. It felt like he was desprate to take all the sadness I had in this one kiss. I push him inside, not letting us reach for air just yet. We stumble upon the kitchen table. “Careful” I chuckle, wrapping my arms around him as he slips around my waist. It was a simple long kiss but it was turning into something I craved for.

“Querida” He groaned as we molded together. His back knees hit the bit and it makes him sit down. I dare not let go yet and crawl on to him pushing him even closer for the kiss to never end. I didn’t want to talk. I didn’t want to go back to reality. I only wanted to listen to his moans and groans as I start to slowly grind agains this jean pants. I only wanted to feel his heart beat beating with mine. His smooth finger continued to travel along my back and unclapsing my bra.

“Javi?” It sounded like a question to me but I was begging and he understood that. He took out my shirt and started to leave butterfly kisses starting from my mouth to my collarbone.

“Sounds so sweet when you say my name” I smile. My head falls on his shoulder moving up to kiss beside his ear.

“Javi!” I groaned louder, knowing he was ignoring my plea. Then there was. Not what I needed but it was a start. One head on my breath and his talented mouth on the other. Kissing first and the next licking and sucking like no tomorrow. I throw my head back pushing my chest closer. “Javi!” I screamed. “Fuck” I grab on his head pulling and tugging his hair. I forcefully continue to grind on him wanting nothing more than to get rid of the barrier of clothing between us.

“Mi amor” It was the heat of the moment I told myself. But it made a shiver run down my spin to my core. “Stop, you’re killing me” He groans and I start leaving kisses and hickies on his neck.

“Don’t you want to hear me scream your name some more?” I move up again, nipping on his ear and slowing down my hips but with more force.

“Yes” he whines. His hands grab on to my hips following my rhythm.

“But, we can stop if-” I didn’t get a chance to finish my sentence when he wraps one arm around my waist and the other helps him not fall on top of me as he turns us around and lays me down on the bed. “No?” I try to hold my laugh but it's cut short. His eyes hold seriousness. Still hovering over me he moves on hand to cradle my cheek.

“No” His deep voice sends another shiver down my spine. His thumb slides over my lips and I give him entrance. A simple suck and his eyes shut. “Mi vida” He groans. With his affirmations alone and sweet nicknames I could orgasm faster than if I was doing it myself.

“Wait!” I pushed into the bed, not in the way I wanted. I hold my finger up signaling him to keep quiet. I run to close the back door and the curtains. A quick chatter from outside and shadows that the moon allows to cast make me jump. I see Pena stand up and walk quickly towards me.

“Do you think-” I shushed him quickly. I grab on to his hand and push him into the bathroom. I open the cabinet and take everything from underneath.

“I need you to keep quiet and don’t come out until I let you out” I open a secret compartment. It was a small space fit for one person. “Pena” I turned around and stood up. “If you hear no commotion you let yourself out” I move out the way to let him. That's when a knock is heard on the other side.

“No way in hell-” I grab a fist full of his shirt.

“Don’t give me that shit right now!” Another knock. “You will do what I say. This is my operation and I won’t have you mess it up. I will send for you when I decide. And only then will you show up, understand? I can take care of myself” I ran back to the room and put my shirt on again. “Get in Pena” I hurry him inside and close it. I get the time to put everything in place before rushing back to open the door. “Hello?” I act like they just disturbed my sleep.

“We are sorry to come at this time Miss, but the boss would like a word with you.” Fuck.

“Okay. Give me a minute to change and I will be right out. They nod and I close the door. I can’t tell Peña because he would be right after us. I changed quickly going back to the bathroom and putting my head inside the cabinet knowing he would be able to hear me. “Please don’t do anything stupid and listen for once. I will keep you in the loop but I need you to promise me you will follow what I said before”

“Okay, but Y/N-“ I cut him off quickly

“I don’t have time Pena, I have to go over things with them so it will be awhile. In an hour you walk out the back door” I didn’t wait for his response as I walked to the door and into the car with these men.

Chapter 4

[magxit]

Just dropped: https://twitter.com/rollingstone/status/1663660316817780745?s=46&t=Jv7EvC8oVb-dKk_gHc29yQ

I haven’t read the full thing. But kinda sad when the media gets it more so than her own fans…

We Wouldn’t Be Having This Conversation If Taylor Swift Was a Man

Publicity stunt or not, Swift can have a sleazeball summer if she damn well pleases.

ON THE FINAL night of Taylor Swift’s MetLife shows this weekend, 80,000 Swifties screamed in the swamps of New Jersey for over three hours. They wore outfits from every era — tinsel fringe dresses, serpent arm cuffs, and heart-shaped sunglasses. I saw countless faces in cowboy hats similar to the emoji — only these cowboys were sobbing uncontrollably while eating foot-long hotdogs. And the bracelets! They were all wearing beaded bracelets coded in Swiftian lyrics, trading them in the parking lot like Deadheads swapping grilled cheeses. (Take my advice: do not try to pay for the bracelets. They will look at you like you’re from outer space.) 

It’s hard to believe that while this magical Eras tour is happening — and while Swift is somehow reaching previously-unimaginable heights of popularity, surpassing even the ludicrous highs of 2015 — she is also experiencing a backlash from some corners of the Swiftie community over her supposed new boyfriend, the 1975’s Matt Healy. 

Their sentiments were best summed up in an open letter on Twitter using the hashtag #SpeakUpNow (named after Swift’s upcoming re-recording of her 2010 album), which states that Healy’s many controversies “deeply trouble” them. “From engaging in racist remarks, making offensive jokes, and admitting to watching degrading pornography in which people of color are being humiliated and assaulted, his actions contribute to the perpetuation of hate, stereotypes, and objectification, which targets and hurts some people from the Jewish, Black, Chinese, Hawaiian, Inuit, LGBTQ+ communities, as well as women.”

The statement refers to the derogatory comments Healy made about the rapper Ice Spice on The Adam Friedland Show podcast in February and the questionable apology he delivered onstage last month. Fans raised eyebrows when Swift recruited the rapper for her “Karma” remix last week, and on Monday, Healy finally addressed the controversy in a New Yorker profile that only exacerbated the issue. He explained that the whole thing “doesn’t actually matter” and that the backlash he received was merely virtue signaling: “It’s just people going, ‘Oh, there’s a bad thing over there, let me get as close to it as possible so you can see how good I am,’” he said. “And I kind of want them to do that, because they’re demonstrating something so base level.”

If you didn’t catch this quote aggregated on the internet about 137 times (you probably had better things to do than scroll Twitter and hustle children for their handmade bracelets), you aren’t missing much. This is all part of Healy’s artistry: an intricate, tangled web of bits intended to rile you up and piss you off. This is the guy who eats raw meat onstage, gives Nazi salutes, and delivers intelligent observations like, “I’m obsessed with my dick for some reason.” Stupid Shit is his brand. Are we really supposed to take anything he says seriously? 

I’m not here to answer that, but I am here to tell you that none of it is Taylor’s problem. For the last 17 years, we’ve held this woman responsible for the actions of men she chooses to spend time with, and it’s time to stop. It would be fair to criticize her for walking out of Electric Lady with the ghost of Pol Pot or wondering why her dad and Matt Lauer are grooving out to her performance of “22.” But this is just a hot sleazeball who wants Oasis back together (I don’t know about you, but I’ve dated a lot of guys who fit that description), and it’s up to Taylor to spend her time as she pleases.

[literaticat]

Hey Jen, thank you for this. I am the asker about dropping their agent out of the blue. I didn’t mean to sound like such a huge jerk and dropping them out of the blue would be jerk behavior! So thank you for letting me see that. Thing is, my agent is slow. Like really really slow. A basic email takes 2-3 weeks to answer and I’ve waited 6 months for a full read before. I don’t know what to do. My agent siblings who have been with her years say the same thing and this is not new behavior. Agent has always been like this. I do like them as a person and they are well connected in the industry but I feel those wait times are hurting my career. I’m sure my agent would work faster if they could and I imagine they know they’re slow so I’m not really sure how to have this conversation. Any advice would be appreciated.

OK. (I gotta be honest, I was worried it was going to be something MUCH more controversial, so actually, this is a relief!)

I'm of two minds here to be honest -- and I think either option would be fine, so just pick the one you like best?

Option One: If you've never expressed frustration or asked about the slowness before, then I think now is the time, IF you are willing to give it another go. Something like:

"Hey agent, I know how swamped you are, and how slow the industry in general is, but I have to be honest, I feel like the constant delays on emails, reading mss, etc, are potentially hindering my forward progress and make me feel like my work is not a priority.

I wonder if we can have a conversation about ways to mitigate that. For example, perhaps it would help if we could check in periodically via zoom, rather than your having to write edit letters? Or maybe I can be sending you work in a different way or nudging more? -- Or, maybe you just don't have the bandwidth or the enthusiasm, and it is time to part ways. What do you think?"

You've given them an out here -- if they really just aren't feeling it or can't handle it, but they didn't want to disappoint you, they will probably say, I'm so sorry, yes, we probably should part ways" or something. But you've also given them the option of addressing the problem, maybe they will be like "I hear you, and let's try XYZ."

Option Two: Alternatively -- If you HAVE discussed this in the past, or if you just aren't feeling it and KNOW you want to leave (because yah, they DO know they are slow, and they probably wouldn't be if they could help it, quite right) -- It would be fine to just be polite and nice and cut the cord. No explanation needed.

"Hey agent, apologies if this is seeming to come out of nowhere. I really appreciate your kindness over the years, but I've decided I need to go in another direction with my work and would like to terminate the agency agreement. Happy to follow up with a call if you'd like, or just let me know if there's anything else you need from my end." Best wishes, etc.

[happi-tree]

dust to dust (tell me i am good enough)

“Does it ever get easier?” She asks, voice hoarse and low (you are used to this from her) and hesitant and very quiet (you are not used to this).

“What?” You ask, a knee-jerk reaction, overcome with shock that she would ask anything of you after everything you’ve done.

“Th- ugh, never mind, it doesn’t matter,” Her gaze drops to the pouch in her hands, fingers fiddling with its thick, plasticky edges, pinching at the places where it’s sealed and watching the last stubborn dregs of blood shy away from the pressure she applies. 

“I wish I could tell you it does, Scary."

Or: When newly-Turned Scary starves herself from blood to the point of illness, it's up to Terry to help her recover and help her gain her footing in the new, monstrous world in which she now finds herself.

ao3

Happy Dndads Halloween Week, lovebirds! Here's my fic for day 1: vampires. It's part of a supernatural au that @kaseyskat and @llumimoon masterminded alongside me, and I'm really excited to post more about it in the coming days. Hope you enjoy!

The silence between the two of you stretches like a rubber band, chafes like an ill-fitting starched shirt. Discomfort is familiar company, though, so you allow it to settle on your shoulders and pretend the way that her glassy, red-pupiled eyes stare through you doesn’t make you want to shatter the silence.

You’ve barged into her life enough, you think, you mourn. You’re always mourning something, been mourning since you were thirteen and it never stopped. 

But this isn’t about you. This is about her, the young girl that’s pushed herself up awkwardly to sit, still clutching one of the many drained pouches you brought for her. So you wait as stolen color begins to warm her pale skin, as her eyes seem to gain some lucidity.

She swallows, clears her throat, and you reach for another blood pouch, but before you can grasp it, she speaks. 

“Does it ever get easier?” She asks, voice hoarse and low (you are used to this from her) and hesitant and very quiet (you are not used to this).

“What?” You ask, a knee-jerk reaction, overcome with shock that she would ask anything of you after everything you’ve done.

“Th- ugh, never mind, it doesn’t matter,” Her gaze drops to the pouch in her hands, fingers fiddling with its thick, plasticky edges, pinching at the places where it’s sealed and watching the last stubborn dregs of blood shy away from the pressure she applies. 

She looks so small like this, you think for the millionth time since she invited you through the doorway in a blood-starved haze, propped up against the headboard of her bed and tangled in pastel bed sheets. Her dyed hair falls slowly from where she has hastily tied it back, ratty tee shirt and bright pink athletic shorts swamping her malnourished frame. 

“I wish I could tell you it does, Scary,” You say to her, blundering on and overstepping anyway, a habit passed down but not inherited. You can feel the weight of her new-moon eyes on you, hear the way her slightly-tremoring hands pause. 

“Oh,” She says, and that one syllable, soft and fear-edged, holds denial-anger-bargaining- depression-acceptance fifty times over, its very own Atlas upholding a life made much heavier than before. You know this because you have uttered it yourself, the same tone coloring your newly-unliving throat, a few years younger than her, and here its ghost is resurrected before you. Oh. 

“After a while, you adjust to it,” You reassure, “become desensitized to it, in a way. The newness wears off and eventually, it’s your new normal, but it never gets easier.”

You sigh, turning to look at her. “You can’t stop sensing the life in people, and you can’t stop wanting to take it for your own. It’s your nature now, and you can’t -” the words get stuck in your throat as you see her hands start to tremble again. 

You’re unsure if it’s the right move, but you rest an artificially-warm hand atop her corpse-cold one. She doesn’t move to hold it, but she doesn’t push you away either. Her fringe obscures her eyes, and her mouth is drawn into a taut line, as if she’s trying to stop it from wavering. 

“Scary, look at me, please, this is important,” You say, you beg, squeezing her hand once. She lifts her head, one eye still covered by magenta-ebony, but the other pierces into you. Good. 

“You can’t keep fighting yourself like this. Your mom was worried sick, and even though I’m used to this, I was terrified when she called me. I’m sorry you weren’t given the time to be a regular kid with a normal rebellious phase-”

“- It’s not a phase, Terry,” She scoffs halfheartedly, and it brings a smile to your face.

“Not if you don’t want it to be,” You agree. “But I need you to promise me something. I need you to take care of yourself, okay? It’s hard, and it’s gross, and it feels bad sometimes, I know, but I need you to keep going. For your mom, for your friends.” For me, you think selfishly.

“I - I don’t want to keep killing things,” She admits, voice lowered to keep it from wobbling, and it feels like something you aren’t supposed to hear. Scary is a fortress of a girl, and it worries you that going this long without has atrophied her walls where they should be unforgiving. 

You need to treat this moment with care, and a voice that sounds like your mother’s bounces around in your brain as you attempt to tow the line between empathy and care and pity.

“You won’t,” You say, just barely cutting off an oh, honey from the beginning. “Not right now. Maybe you will eventually -” Scary turns a shade paler and you squeeze her hand again. “But I would never ask that of you. There are other ways. I can handle it for now, if you’d like. Or your new friend would probably be more than willing to help.”

Scary shifts on the mattress. “Normal? Uh, yeah, he has already, actually, but I’ve never told him anything and I don’t know how he knows but he’s never asked me about it and it kinda weirds me out-”

“He’s an Oak kid. They have a habit for sniffing things out,” You say, lips curling at your own joke. “He’s a Good Person, they’re nice folks.”

“You seem… really weirdly certain about that.” Scary notes, question implicit.

“I know his father and uncle,” You say, smile nostalgia-tinged. “Childhood friends, actually, we go way back. Small world, huh?”

“Huh,” She says.

“Yeah,” You agree. 

You remember the times you had neglected yourself when you were younger, starving until your vision fuzzed and your stomach panged and you could barely stand. You remember the way that the twins had fussed over you like mother hens. Sparrow would push blood at you while urging you not to drink too much lest you make yourself sick, hold you with his warmth surrounding you and his nose buried into the side of your neck as if reminding himself by scent that you were still there. Lark would stand guard at the threshold, pacing restlessly until you gained your strength back, gold-tinted eyes darting between you and the world beyond, hands balled into clawed fists, protective and vigilant. 

You don’t have the nose that they do, but based solely on the snippets of anecdotes Scary’s mentioned, you wouldn’t be surprised if the two of them were packmates by now. The thought fills you with warm satisfaction. 

You weren’t lying when you said that Normal is a Good Person - in both senses of the phrase. She needs more people in her corner, you think, and Normally Oak-Swallows-Garcia is a decent place to start. 

She moves her hand out from underneath yours, only to brace herself on the mattress to sit up more fully. Her deathly pallor is a little less ashy, her expression a little less open, more lucid. Bloodshot eyes dart to the maroon-filled pouches beside you, and you wordlessly hand her another before she asks.

Scary raises a single slitted brow as she takes it from your grasp, and her hands are still far too cold for your liking, but at least their shaking has subsided.

She carefully pokes a straw through the packaging and sips, eyes going wide and dark before pulling away with a small cough.

Blood hunger is a delicate balance, you have long since learned. The longer you starve yourself, the harder it is to show restraint once you start to feed again.

She takes another small, delicate sip, and clears her throat.

“So,” she starts, “Mom doesn’t… know yet, right? About you.”

The implicit why haven’t you told her, what are you doing, why would you do this to her go unspoken but not unheard, accentuated by her pointed glare. 

(The overgrown child in your mind replies to the latter with two can play at that game, and you quash him down with prejudice.)

You exhale. “No,” You reply.

Veronica is a lovely woman. Too lovely for you, many would argue, including yourself. Beautiful and kind and hardworking and supportive, she is a spot of light for you, who cannot walk in the sun. 

She’s also remarkably headstrong and stubborn, you know. You see it in her daughter, immortalized in her blood: the strength of her gaze, the arch of her brow, the set of her shoulders, the calculated carelessness of her words.

However, Veronica Marlowe is also human - and one unaware of the second world that lies atop (or perhaps beneath) her own, like a second shadow or perhaps a mirage. The world you now inhabit, though you hadn’t always. 

The world her daughter now inhabits, unbeknownst to her.

Though San Dimas is… safe, for your kind (and you are forever grateful to the Wilsons for that), part of you still remains a little boy, rabbit-hearted and afraid of how others might react to you. Honesty and vulnerability had never been your strong suits, but that is no excuse for your cowardice.

“I kept… trying to bring it up,” you start, glancing just to the right of her face, unable to bear the full weight of her gaze. “It’s difficult, trying to tell someone that you’re undead, that you won’t age the way they do.”

Scary looks a bit pale.

“I was going to tell her, of course! That’s always been the plan, once I… knew that it would last. That I would be a more permanent fixture in your lives. I had planned on telling both of you, but then -”

“Then,” she finishes, her frown deepening, taking a small sip from her blood bag.

“Yeah,” You reply, feeling rather helpless. “Then.”

“Hey,” Scary says, and you look up at her. 

“You’re not, like… two hundred years old or something, right?”

The question shocks a burst of laughter out of you.

“God. Fuck no, absolutely not. No, I’m not that much older than I look. Oh, ew, I’m sorry if you thought-” She’s smiling, just a little, and a lopsided bit of fang pokes out from between closed lips.

“Okay, thank fuck. Not that I don’t still hate you for, like, getting with my mom, or whatever, ugh,” she grumbles, which is fair, you think. “Just, like, how -”

“Thirty-nine,” you answer for her. “I’m thirty-nine years old.”

“You’re younger than her?” She asks, bewildered. “I mean, I had kinda figured, since you… y’know,” she says, gesturing a hand at her own face. “Initially. But that was before I knew any of this.”

You simply nod in response.

Scary looks like she wants to ask something more, then disguises it with another sip at the pouch. She looks down, considering, and you wait.

“How,” she says, voice coming out strangled. A pause. “How young were you? Wh… when it happened?”

Something in you softens. Or breaks. It’s hard to tell, these days.

“Thirteen,” You tell her.

Her gaze snaps up to meet yours.

“Really?”

“Really.” 

A thousand things push with each pulse of your stolen heartbeat, beating against your ribcage and rising up your throat.

I know what it’s like, to be young and angry and seeking a darkness to match the one inside your head. I get it. I can help you. You will get past this, but it’s hard. It’s so terribly, horribly hard, growing up when you know that you’ll never grow old, and it sucks shit, and I’m sorry. You’re not alone. You have me, if you invite me, but I would never ask that of you.

Her eyes bore into your own, and you wonder if she can somehow read your thoughts.

Maybe she doesn’t need to.

“When you tell her -” she sighs, growls to herself, looks up again.

“When you tell her, do you think we could tell her together?”

You smile, and it’s a fanged, monstrous thing.

“Yeah,” You respond, and though you haven’t fed yet today, you feel oddly warm. “I’d like that.”

Your smile is returned, fanged and monstrous and headstrong and bright.

“I thought you might.”