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leapingbadger · 1 month ago

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Tattoo

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***

“Does it hurt” Omega asked, hovering over her brother.

“Nah, it’s fine,” Hunter replied, eyes closed. The buzzing made his brain feel like it was vibrating but there was no pain to speak of. He’d had much worse in battle.

“Like you’d say if it did,” Crosshair said witheringly. “You didn’t even complain when you got that shrapnel in the neck, remember?” He was bent over Hunter’s chest, scraping at the skin with the tattoo gun and aggressively wiping away the blood and excess ink.

Omega gasped, “you got shrapnel in your neck?” she asked Hunter, alarmed.

“Omega doesn’t know that story?” Crosshair said, a toothpick hanging out of the corner of his mouth absentmindedly.

“We didn’t tell her all of them yet. We were kind of preoccupied,”

“But yeah,” he said, turning to Omega. “I had to leave it in until we could get back to base.” He said, moving his hair with his left hand so she could see the slit-like scar on the back of his neck. Omega shook her head at him, sat back down, cross legged on the floor, elbows on her knees, chin in her hand.

“I remember that. Made me feel sick,” Wrecker said. He was next to Omega, scratching Batcher behind the ear. Her collar jingled and her tongue dangled out of the side of her mouth.

Hunter chuckled. The sun was streaming through the window of the small common room.

“What about Skako Minor?” Crosshair asked.

“Are you kidding,” Wrecker said, “that was her bedtime story for a while. Tech and Echo loved telling her that one,” Omega nodded in agreement.

Hunter was stretched out on the couch, arms behind his head. It had been a while since he’d gotten a new tattoo.

He had paid a professional to get his face tattoo and the skeletal outline on the left side of his body, but the others had been done by his brothers. The skull with a 99 in aurebesh on his right bicep was done by Crosshair on a particularly stormy day on Kamino when the ocean looked like it might come through the window of their room.

Tech had inked the Mando’a for brother, ‘Vod’, while scrolling his datapad. Hunter had watched nervously as he waived the gun around wildly while info dumping to the rest of them.

Wrecker hated needles and had a hard enough time being in the room while the tattoo was being done but he had inked a small aurebesh number four just so Hunter could complete the set.

The most recent one he got, before now, was a small Omega symbol on his wrist. He’d gotten it in a dingy underground parlor during a particularly tricky mission while looking for intel on the Pikes. He told Wrecker it was the only way to get the information they needed but he also needed a reminder of what he was fighting for. It was by far his favorite, although he’d never told anyone else that.

The new one, the one Crosshair was painstakingly scratching into his skin on the right side of his chest, was a familiar skull with lightning bolt behind it. Tech had designed it in their cadet days. He drew it everywhere; it was repeated on the back wall of his bunk on Kamino. He had scratched it into the side of his data pad and carefully painted it onto his customized helmet for their first mission.

Hunter was sure Tech would call him sentimental, or at least think it. But it was a way for him to keep his fallen brother close. It would be a reminder every time he got dressed in the morning. A reminder of what this life on Pabu had cost.

“Did you tell her about windsurfing on the Keeradaks on Skako?” Crosshair asked Hunter, throwing an amused look at Omega.

Hunter laughed, “I’d forgotten about that,” he said.

“Tech didn’t, he was cursing the entire trip to retrieve you,”

“Really?” Hunter said, surprised.

Wrecker laughed, “yeah, said you’d dropped your only braincell during that trip.

They all laughed, that kind of laughter that filled a room. It was boisterous, childish laughter, the kind that only siblings could share. Except, there was one missing. The realization seemed to hit them all at once and the joy was sucked out of the air.

Crosshair finished up the last section of the lightning bolt. He pulled back, cocking his head to the side to take in his work. Hunter looked down. The lines weren’t as straight as they could have been. Crosshair was still getting used to his prosthetic hand, but his painting had come such a long way that Hunter thought his brother was ready to get back to his first love. He had loved tattooing so much he’d even help the Regs out on occasion when they were on Kamino. It had taken some convincing but after a few weeks of Hunter’s unwavering confidence in his abilities, it finally seemed to take hold.

As he checked his new ink out in the mirror, Hunter noticed a slight tremor in Crosshair’s prosthetic hand. He narrowed his eyes in concern but said nothing.

“Omega said you went to Kashyyyk,” he said quietly.

Hunter traded looks with Wrecker who was now bench pressing Gonky in the corner. Omega looked at Hunter in concern.

“Ah, yeah. We did. Found a young Wookie. A jedi, actually…we…ah…took him home.”

“I always liked Kashyyyk,” Crosshair said, looking at anywhere but directly at Hunter. “It was our first mission.”

“Yeah,” Hunter said, sitting on the couch closer to his brother and resting his hand on his shoulder. “We’ll go back again, someday.” He added reassuringly. He had expected Crosshair to shrug off his hand like he often did. He wasn’t one for sentimentality, at least, he didn’t used to be. But they sat there for a few moments in silence.

“I missed a lot.” Crosshair said, his voice low and gravely.

Hunter, Wrecker and Omega traded glances again. The warmth and joy that had been on his face earlier had disappeared, replaced with a grimace. The ever-present toothpick in his mouth left an indent in his lip as he pressed his mouth into a thin line.

“But you’re here now,” Omega said reassuringly getting up and giving him a hug.

Crosshair raised his eyes and gave her a halfhearted smile.

“Are you ready for yours?” Hunter asked Crosshair, trying to change the subject.

“That depends, have you gotten any better since the last one?”

Hunter laughed, “probably not. But unless you want Wrecker to have a go, I’m your best bet.”

“I’ll do it,” Omega said hopefully.

“No,” Hunter and Crosshair replied in unison. Omega sighed and rolled her eyes.

Crosshair sighed dramatically and pulled up the sleeve of his shirt, “fine.” He sat down on the floor, right forearm stretched out over the coffee table.

Hunter was taken aback. Crosshair wanted the tattoo near the stump where his right hand should be. He gave a questioning look to Wrecker who just shrugged.

“Are you sure that’s where you want it?” He asked in a would-be casual tone.

Crosshairs eyes narrowed, “Yes. I have to look at it every day anyway. Might as well put something there I wanna see.”

The answer satisfied Hunter. He shrugged and set about cleaning and setting up the new equipment. It had been a long time since he had done this.

They spent the afternoon huddled in the common room, regaling Omega with stories of old missions, laughing, teasing each other and sometimes sitting in silence except for the buzzing of the tattoo gun. The vibration in his hand tickled his senses and Hunter had to pause often to flex his fingers. Hunter was satisfied with how the skull and lightning bold looked, given his lack of experience, but Crosshair’s was definitely better.

The sun was starting to set outside. The amber glow of Pabu’s evening light display would spring to life any minute.

“What about it, Wrecker?” Hunter asked.

“Oh, ah…yeah, okay,”

“Really?” Hunter asked, surprised, “you really don’t have to.”

Wrecker had been scared of needles since he was a cadet. No real surprise given the amount of testing he and his brothers had to endure.

“No, I want to. I mean, I don’t, but Tech would do the same for me,”

He and Crosshair shared a look but set about making it happen. Wrecker sat on the couch as Crosshair worked on a small version of Tech’s design on his bicep. Hunter and Omega tried to keep Wrecker distracted. He would occasionally wince, but Omega would hold his hand or offer him a snack and his face would soften.

By the time Wrecker’s was done it was completely dark outside. They set about cleaning up, getting things tidied up and dinner on the go. Wrecker took lead on the latter.

“Hunter?” Omega asked quietly, “can I get that tattoo?”

Hunter had been afraid of this. Omega wanted nothing but to copy her brothers, it was no surprise she wanted a tattoo like them as well.

“Ah, you know kid…” he looked at her big brown eyes, hair flopping over her forehead and cascading down her back. “I think you’re a little young…”

“I’m older than all of you,” she said, hand on her hips, a confident grin on her lips.

Hunter looked over at Crosshair for support. He just shrugged. Hunter knew how much Tech meant to her and how affected she was by his death. He paused for a moment and ran his hands through his hair.

“You know what kid, you’re right. Sure. What were you thinking?”

Omega jumped up and down with glee and Hunter’s heart felt like it was going to burst. He really would do anything for this girl.

The sun had completely set by the time it was done. The skin on her wrist was red except for the heavy black ink. A skull with a lightning bolt behind it. Just like her brothers.

#the bad batch #star wars #tbb hunter #tbb #tbb crosshair #tbb wrecker #tbb omega #sw tbb #tbb tech #clone force 99 #tbb fanfiction #tbb fanfic #bad batch hunter #hunter tbb #the bad batch hunter #hunter bad batch #the bad batch fanfiction

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sulumuns-dootah · 4 months ago

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Taking the WHB demons (+ angels) to the Zoo

⟡ Masterlist ⟡

A/N: It's my b-day! And as a treat to myself I went to visit a local Zoo so ofc I'll write about how our demons (+ angels) would behave if they got to go too! ^^

Characters: All of the demons + the Seraphs

༺☆༻

With Satan in your group, you don't have to worry about being suffocated in a crowd of people. In a true Satan fashion, they all get a healthy dose of his boots to their behinds if they get even remotely close. And no, children are not safe from him.

Sitri is the snacks and drinks provider. No need to buy overpriced slushies and ice-cream when as soon as you get a craving, something sweet is being handed to you.

As unathletic as Leraye is, you'll see him speedwalking from an enclosure to enclosure. Oh, but if the Zoo has a tropical house with storm sounds for the immersive ambiance? Good luck getting him out of there.

Paimon takes photos of everything and anything. Every few enclosures has to take a break to pick out the best photos and delete the rest to clear out space for more.

Interestingly, Belial - or moreso Jjyu is really quiet. Maybe because someone told him that if he doesn't learn his manners, he might end up as food for one of the animals. This also might be the first time Belial has had such peace and quiet since he first got Jjyu.

Please, tell Astaroth to keep his snake at home in advance. The last thing anyone wants is to argue with the staff that it's really his snake and that he didn't steal it.

You barely notice Zagan even being there. Well, if he didn't leave his talismans everywhere, that is. Despite being practically expresionless, you can see him softly smile while watching animals do something cute.

Ppyong acts like a toddler. In the beginning he'll fly around all excited, happily exclaiming at the actions of the animals. Then he gets all tired and whiny, so Zagan someone has to carry him around. Once he's all rested up, it's back to square one

༺☆༻

"Oh, that's you favorite animal? M'kay, gimme a second to look up how much it costs." - Mammon

"Look at them, all they do is lay around and do nothing and we still have to pay to see them!" - Bimet

Eligos nearly buy out the plushies in the souvenir shop. Can't balme him, tho, they're usually super cute (and expensive x.x).

Do you feel guilty for dragging everyone around just to see your favorite animals? Valerfor is more than happy to be dragged around! Just give him enough time to read the info plaque so the two of you can have an interesting convo later.

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Oh boy is it hard to get Leviathan to come with you. And honestly, I wouldn't recommend at all. The people make him anxious and the fact that the animals get all of your attention instead of him? How he wishes he could hang them all.

Foras is probably the best Hades noble to visit with. He's eager to see all the animals the place has to offer. Also doesn't mind being dragged around.

Scheduling tip: make sure the day is overcast. If it's rainy, Barbatos will refuse to go anywhere. If it's sunny, there's no way you can keep his clothes on and with all the kids around... yikes.

Glasyalabolas will hang around the predators and vultures. If he's not there, he's probably about, scaring unattended children.

A Zoo is an amazing place to release Orias back into the wilderness. Just let him loose to disappear amongst all the other children at the playground. There's a chance that some unfortunate parent will mistake him for their own kid and take him home.

༺☆༻

Beelzebub is excited to try out all the food at the food court/restaurant within the Zoo. If there's a queue, he'll just walk up to the front. In such case is handy to have Satan with you to kick everyone out of the way.

Our poor Bael tries to coordinate the whole trip with you. The whole time he's holding an itinerary with time spans that you can spend on certain sections so you can catch as much commented feedings as possible.

Stolas has you to stop at every stall with snacks. So what, Sitri has a whole bag of them? Those he can have anytime, but these are only available at the Zoo (they're not)

The only one who's allowed to tour the Zoo on his own, separate from the group is Naberius, because nobody's willing to stop at every enclosure so he can read the plaques and commit them to memory. The only ones he avoids are canines bc they count as his family or smth and he hates to see them caged.

Oh lord the amount of times you've accidentally left Amon behind because he fell asleep while sitting somewhere in shade on a bench. Only once Beel returns from his food tasting will Amon stick with the group, so he can spend time by his side.

༺☆༻

Similar to Glasyalabolas, Ronove likes to hang around vultures and animals known to scare people. If there's a night exhibition, he'd also enjoy that. Partially because when people get startled when they enter a room and see him just silently standing there.

Phenix is kinda a hard one. Obviously, in their state it's difficult to go out anywhere in the human world. They agree, so they're content wiht just seeing Paimon's photos.

Another demon, who better be left at home is Dantalian. Sure, he can pass as a human, but you'd have to have him on a leash or keep an eye on him constantly. The moment he's out of your sight, he'll just try to get into an enclosure of some dangerous animal.

༺☆༻

Taking out Belphegor could be actually funny. Get him a wheelchair and take turns witht he rest of your group pushing him around. Just make sure to not leave him anywhere, just like Amon.

Beleth loves the house of felines. He's the exact opposite of Naberius. He's aware how endangered some large cat breeds are and he's happy to see some of his nearly extinct relatives safely protected.

Our floor gremlin Gusion has the answer to every question you might have about an animal. How? He's literally looking at the plaque rn. (*tired side-eye*)

A trip? Bathin very much cuncurs. Actually, why even go to a local Zoo when you can go to the one at the other side of the country? But don't get surprised if he gets a bit too excited iykwim.

Andrealphus spends most of the time in an area dedicated to bees and showcasing beekeeping. (my zoo has it and it's super adorable) Most of the animal enclosures have a stench to them and the pollinating flowers are so soothing to him. Also there's something about the constant buzzing that helps calm his mind.

As long as Belphegor doesn't go, Agares is happy to join you. He's taken over his country and now he would like to take over your attention? Not happening. It's either him or Belphie.

And as a loyal servant, Vassago refuses to go anywhere if his king is not going either. If you end up going with these two, however, I would avoid commented feeding since they could technicaly count as a speech.

༺☆༻

Being there since the begining, Lucifer's seen all the animals on earth as they were made by God, so he doesn't really see a reason to go to a Zoo, but eventually agrees to go when the others keep talking about it.

Morax is the best demon to take with you. All animals tend to naturally flock to him and so whenever you approach an enclosure, the animal will walk as close to him as it can, giving you the best view and if it's safe to, you can even pet it.

Big cat lover no.2 AKA Marbas! Will wait unti it's the cats' feeding time and then just watch as they tear their meal apart (it's usually a whole dead rabbit from what I've seen).

Buer would much more preffer a quiet getaway to maybe do some yoga or meditation, but nobody really asks him. As long as it makes you happy, he's happy to tag along. You'll probably find him later on with Adrealphus in the bee field.

Ooh, Gamigin loves snakes! They remind him of dragons (notice how he doesn't think they're related). "Wow, look at that one! I was that size when I was about 1000 years old!"

༺☆༻

Gabriel will most definitely decline your invitation to come along from the get go, so here's what you do: instead of a trip to a Zoo, you tell him that you're going a place where humans celebrate all the different types of God's creations. If he actually endures the whole schebang is a whole different question, though.

Been there, seen the animals before. Michael isn't interested in going anywhere where humans congregate. Though, it would make wiping them out easier.

Raphael is actually happy to go along with you. The whole experience is like reading a book witht he author's commentary. "Oh, that one was my idea. Can you tell?", "Yeah, I was telling Michael that it was a bad idea, but he wouldn't listen.", "Ahah, that one is scary to you? Gabriel made that one!"

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thelightsandtheroses · 6 months ago

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everywhere, everything | jm x female reader [au]

Summary: In recent months, the bar your family has owned for generations has changed. Now it can't keep a bouncer beyond one shift, attracts the 'wrong' crowd, and is an albatross around you and your cousin's neck. Your cousin's latest hire, Joel Miller, seems like he might just survive the shift and as time passes, you can't help but want to know him more. AKA the Bouncer!Joel fic Word Count: 8.2k Warnings: 18+ MDNI, mentions of canon typical violence, RoadHouseBouncer!Joel AU, no outbreak, no specified age but reader has a cousin and inferred (not detailed) family deaths in the past, flirting, smut (p in v), Joel Miller is his chaotic self, mentions of death of a child (canon), many scenes set in a bar and mentions of alcohol or drinking, your standard lolabee flangst and introspection, reader mentions music, singing and playing guitar. Notes: So much appreciation for encouraging me to write this fic goes to @trulybetty for listening toand supporting my ideas and @rhoorl. Watching the new Road House movie at the same time as starting TLOU games led to this idea I couldn't let go of. Fic title isfrom the Noah Kahan song of the same name.

It’s starting to weigh on you.

You see it in your cousin more though; the weariness in her eyes as the local gangs come in and inevitably cause trouble. Both of you know where it comes from, the reasons behind it, why it’s so much worse for your roadhouse than anywhere else in the town.

Most days, you want to leave and sell up. Sometimes a fight is too much, it isn’t worth the cost, there’s too high a loss, too tiresome a battle. Everything your cousin possesses is tied up in the bar though. It’s not that simple for her and you won’t walk away from your family. You can’t.

The two of you cannot be the ones who let decades of your family’s legacy just wash away to nothing.

That was why your cousin had started with the bouncers in the first place. The two of you can only afford one, but it’s a small building, a small town.

“This one will be different,” your cousin says with a firm nod and smile that doesn’t quite meet her eyes. “I just know he will. He’s new in town, he starts tonight and he - when you meet him, you’ll see what I mean.”

You don’t say that she said the same thing about the last bouncer - what was his name? Dave, or Frankie, or something like that. You’ve stopped learning their names now - it’s pointless when they never last longer than a few days.

The bar is still quiet; tinny music coming through the speakers as you finish unloading the clean glasses from the dishwasher.

“Are you playin’ tonight?” she asks.

“Might do. If the crowd let me,” you say, smiling at your cousin gently. It’s a joke now; the bar hasn’t been safe enough in months for that.

It used to be your favourite thing about this place; the music, the ability to perform songs and transport yourself to what could have been, what could be. It might not be Nashville, or the Sofi stadium, but it’s the closest you think you’ll ever get to feeling like a real musician. And now you don’t even have that.

“Good, they will. It’s going to be a good one tonight, you’ll see.”

The new bouncer is called Joel but your cousin calls him by his surname: Miller.

He’s quiet, not like the other one. Instead of stalking around and flexing, Miller sits in the corner of the bar, perched on a stool and staring into a cup of coffee as though it would answer all his queries about the universe.

You feel bad about the coffee; you should have warned him that it’s truly awful, pointed him in the direction of the small diner ten minutes away that serves some of the best coffee in the whole state. You think your own coffee isn’t too bad either; perfected and tweaked over years to figure out the perfect combination of beans and grind to bring the best out of your worn moka pot.

“Next time, I’d go for water,” you say lightly as you approach his side of the bar. It’s still quiet for this time of the evening but the trouble doesn’t usually start until after ten anyway.

“Oh, yeah?”

“I’m not sure we can even legally call this coffee. I think there’s more caffeine in the Kahlua.”

“You have Kahlua?” Miller asks.

“It’s a very old bottle, I really wouldn’t risk it.” You try and remember the last time someone ordered a drink with it here but it’s hazy. The Bar doesn’t exactly attract people for its cocktail list anymore.

“Pity.”

“I can get you a water if you’d prefer. Or something else?”

“It’s fine.” You notice Miller has pushed the cup slightly away from him though. He eyes it with mild disgust and you feel suddenly even more worried for him. If he can’t handle the coffee, he surely won’t be able to handle the patrons.

“You’re Joe, right?”

“Joel,” he corrects instantly.

“Joel, right. Sorry.”

“Are there that many of us passin’ through, that you don’t learn the names properly now? Is that why your boss calling me Miller?” He doesn’t know who you are, that’s clear. He doesn’t know it’s your family’s legacy here too and you’re not just a bartender. This place matters to you.

“It’s only your first shift.”

Joel sighs and meets your gaze. His eyes are deep brown and you take in the slight salt and pepper to his stubble, the surprisingly comfortable looking plaid flannel he’s wearing. At the same time, you notice the stoniness in his posture, the wariness in his eyes.

He isn’t spoiling for a fight because he lives for them, not like the other bouncers your cousin has hired.

You’ve already realised that Joel Miller fights in an entirely differently way to his predecessors. You can tell his biggest battles aren’t the ones in a bar like this. Without projecting too much, you think they’re probably inside his mind. No one has haunted eyes like that without a story. You’re a bartender, you can just tell.

“What have you have been told about this gig? Do you know what you’re getting into?”

“I know this place has some troubles,” he says carefully.

“I’ll say.”

You remember when things were different in the town, in the bar. It wasn’t like this back then. It used to be for families. Your aunt once joked that your dad’s cooking could bring the entire town together. It’s been a long time since the place was known for a family meal though.

You grew up with laughter and joy inside these walls. Now, it feels like it must have happened somewhere else entirely. This bar is still where you ran in after being asked on your first date ever, where you opened your SAT results, studied while the bar was closed, had every family significant gathering or event you can remember.

This isn’t just a job for you.

“How long have you been here? No offence, but you don’t seem the type -”

“It’s my family’s bar. Your boss you mentioned, she’s my cousin. The two of us run it these days, well I mean, I only help out. It’s her bar now more than mine but it’s been our family’s place for generations. We’re what’s left.” All that’s left.

“I didn’t know. I wasn’t - I didn’t mean anything by that.”

“Of course, Miller.” His words weren’t meant with offence but he had still managed to pick at your vulnerability that you don’t truly belong and cut at your soul.

Your family never thought you’d keep up with the bar, your cousin was the clear front runner to inherit it and you supported that. You wanted to leave your hometown, that had never been a secret and your childhood bedroom had been covered in posters and postcards for exciting and different places.

Once, you dreamt of Nashville, of music venues and guitar calloused hands playing idle melodies as a tour bus drove you to your next city across a starlit sky.

Life had different plans for you thought.

“This town didn’t used to be like this,” you add, “We’ve had a lot of bad luck and - the whole town is suffering. You wouldn’t have recognised this place if you passed through even just a few years ago.”

”I’m -“

The door to the bar crashes open before Joel can finish his sentence. You notice the first of the regular troublemakers walking in and warily look around the bar. You can tell by their posture, the look on their face exactly what type of night it’s going to be.

“Looks like your work will be getting started soon, Miller. I’d drink up.”

He might just survive his first shift. That’s annoying - you have five bucks counting on him either walking out or be stretchered out like any of the bouncers by the end of the night.

You try and pay attention to your surroundings. It’s sensible in your line of work. For so many people that line between a good night and becoming the worst version of themselves is wafer thin and you’re often the first line of defence, you’re the one who has to say when someone’s not being served anymore.

Your cousin is in the back office, trying to sort out the multitude of paperwork that comes with owning a bar or business that nobody ever thinks about.

He’s calm, polite even for the most part.

He doesn’t escalate the situation, not like some of the bouncers who have spent a shift here recently. Mostly he sits and observes. His calmness is almost disconcerting and contrasts sharply with the danger in his posture, the readiness to move he’s concealing.

There hasn’t been too much trouble so far tonight; a mild fight which was easily taken outside but you can feel the tension in the air.

“Can I get ‘nother whiskey?” Robert slurs. He’s a regular to the bar now and has a particular penchant for not being able to handle his alcohol, being very resentful at being cut off, and worse of all never has enough money to cover his bill or damages.

“I think you’re done for tonight,” you say lightly.

“Nah, I say when I’m done.”

“Not according to the liquor licence,” you snark back.

“Look, just pour me -”

“You’re done.”

“You’re such a fucking bitch.” Robert slams his fist down on the bar.

“I think it’s time to go,” Joel says politely, suddenly standing next to Robert in the bar. You’re not sure if he’ll last as a bouncer here but you’ll give him points for stealthiness. You hadn’t even heard him approaching.

“I think -“ Robert starts before pulling a sloppy punch. Joel easily dodges it, raising his eyebrow incredulously at Robert.

“C’mon, now, it’s time to go.”

He places a hand on Robert’s shoulder and guides him out. You’re struck that he didn’t escalate the situation - that was the last bouncer’s mistake. What he hadn’t counted on was what Robert is a mean drunk and often gets a second wind of energy.

Joel walks back up to you at the bar. “The way people talk about this place. That wasn’t so -“

“That, Miller, that was nothing.”

You watch as another troublemaker, Owen, walks in, all biker vest and swagger. It’s never a good night when he’s here. Usually his presence signals a full moon style night of fights, shouting and misery. He hasn’t been in for weeks to your joy; you’d heard a rumour he was in jail. Not any more though.

“Miller you see now the trouble’s really going to start. That wasn’t even your warmup.”

Sunlight streams through the window as you finish wiping over the table. It’s your favourite time of day in the bar. Your cousin is catching up on admin, sleep and supplier deliveries, the bar is empty and it’s just you, the stereo and sunlight.

You can’t help but lose yourself in the music just for a moment. You love this song, the beat, the lyrics, the way it ebbs and flows in all the right places. Music is magic.

You’re not in a rundown bar, not weighed down by obligation and memories and self-doubt. You’re not here, you’re somewhere else. In a city, in a crowd, on a stage or even just dancing around somewhere else. You’re lighter and freer and desperate for the song to continue just a little more as you spin around, humming along with the lyrics.

You hear the door open and turn around quickly. You heard about the diner getting robbed a couple of weeks ago. You should have locked the door.

Miller’s there, some light discolouration to his jaw from the one punch he didn’t dodge, but otherwise intact.

“You seem surprised to see me,” he says.

“You’ve cost me five bucks,” you reply simply.

He raises an eyebrow, “Didn’t think I could hack it*?*”

“The odds are the odds.”

“Well, I’m sorry about your money.”

“Yep, that five bucks was my ticket out of this town,” you joke.

“Not sure that would even cover a bus ticket,” he replies dryly.

“Maybe the coffee for on the bus?”

“Maybe.”

“So, day two,” you say awkwardly, swinging your arms around you and then immediately wondering why on earth you did that. You busy yourself by turning down the speakers.

“Yep,” Miller says casually, sitting on a bar stool.

“Have - are you hungry?” you ask, suddenly conscious that it’s lunchtime and Joel not doubt has another difficult day ahead.

“I could eat.”

”It’s nothing fancy, because the kitchen’s not open, but it is homemade - well, it was. I froze it but it’s defrosted and it’s really good. Also, frozen food still retains its nutrients well, and in the case of cake, freezing it makes it even better.”

“I see.” Miller pauses, “It’s not cake, is it? I don’t think I can eat frozen cake before a shift. ”

“No,” you argue, “it’s Tuesday, that’s what we’d do on a Wednesday! Today it’s lasagne.”

Miller smiles then. It’s a good smile. Slightly crooked and his eyes crease a little, the way you always associate someone smiling when they mean it. His deep eyes are momentarily lighter, there’s a change in him.

You want to tease more smiles out of this man, want to identify each and every changed in his face or the way his hands tap against the old bar. You want to keep him like this, bask in the glow that you’ve bought that expression to his face.

“Lasagne sounds great,” he says after a moment.

“Sure, okay, Miller. Coming right up.”

“Call me Joel. Please.”

“Okay, Joel.”

You like how his name sounds against your teeth, the way he smiles once more when you say his name.

It becomes a habit. Joel survives shift after shift and inevitably turns up to the bar early the following day when you’re there.

He’s lasted longer than fourteen bouncers now. He might just make it. He’s quiet, yes, but you’ve seen the violence in his movements when needed, the way he tries to be polite and then it’s over, then it’s a line. There’s something that compels and terrifies you about the violence he holds, its contradiction because he speaks to you so softly and how can a man be capable of both?

“You need a second bouncer,” he says one morning as you’re trying and failing to sort the back door out.

The employee room in the bar is a barely functioning space. Cliche after cliche with the cheap red IKEA futon, mismatching furniture and chairs and elderly microwave and kettle. The air conditioning has never worked in the room and now the back door is jammed too.

The place is falling apart.

“Can’t afford it,” you reply nonchalantly. “We’re doing our best.”

“I know. But then someone could try and watch at the door, stop some of these people coming in.”

“I know. But no one’s coming in because they’re there so we can’t afford a bouncer. It’s uh, a catch 22. Can’t even afford to replace the damn -” You shove your weight against the door to no avail.

“I can fix that,” Joel says softly as you kick the door one more time.

“The gangs? That’s ambitious.”

“The door.”

“Oh, it’s just the weather and it always gets stuck now. Replacing it would cost-”

“I can fix it. I uh, used to be a contractor.”

“A contractor?” Joel hasn’t talked about his past much before. You know he has a brother, he’s the oldest and that he’s from Texas. Joel carries that

“Did you have to say that with the air of a cowboy in an old movie?”

“I wasn’t aware I did,” he replies, cocking his eyebrow in a way.

“What sort of contractor were you?”

“Building, just the general type.”

“Oh, okay. So you could actually fix the door?”

“I said so, didn’t I?”

“How do you get from contractor to bouncer?”

“It’s a long story.”

“I’d expect so.”

Joel squirms awkwardly. You’ve watched him easily apprehend aggressive gang members shouting the vilest things to Joel and move them outside. You’ve seen him barely blink over ill drunks spilling their souls on his shoes. You’ve seen him so strong and resolute.

He looks at his watch which, for the first time, you notice is broken and then at the ground.

“It’s fine, Joel,” you say, “you don’t need to tell me anymore.”

He keeps coming back, night after night and things start to change. It’s small, a fixed door and then a window catch replaced, the fact the gangs start coming around less. It’s change but the quiet type of change you only discover through previously entrenched routines.

You’ve spent time cataloguing his details, each scar or line, the way he takes his coffee (black, but a two to one ratio of sugar that makes you wince a little). Joel Miller has a sweet tooth.

You’re used to Joel now, you like talking to him in quiet moments in the bar, before or after shifts as he hangs around just a little longer. You tell him about the town, about how it was growing up, he lets it slip he’s from Texas, mentions a brother, Tommy, and you want to unpeel his secrets more and more.

You proudly place the slab of cake in front of him. Rain hammers against the windows and roof, creating great echoes as it sounds like the bar will come down around you. It’s unseasonal, the rain, an omen of quiet days. Today you don’t mind.

“What’s the occasion?” Joel asks, looking at the cake curiously.

“It’s a Wednesday.” You take a bite of your own slice, savouring the flavours, the delicate balance of sponge and icing. If you can say so, it’s a pretty great cake. You really have improved over recent months and while this was experimental, you’re happy with the result.

“Ah. Say no more.”

“Also, congrats, you’ve officially been here for eight and half weeks.”

“I pass probation then?” Joel looks around dubiously, clearly concerned your cousin or others will suddenly pop out in some surprise party or sense of occasion.

“Pretty much passed that by coming back on day two, but that’s my cousin’s domain. I just pour drinks.”

“And provide frozen food to the bouncers.”

“Only the ones who come back. Besides, it’s defrosted. I can take that cake back you know.”

“No, don’t you dare.” Joel takes a large forkful of the cake. “So why the cake though, sweetheart?”

“You, Joel Miller, are officially our longest standing bouncer.” You clap lightly in mock celebration as he cocks an eyebrow in response.

“What an honour,” he replies sardonically.

”You’re welcome.”

“Do I need to make a speech?”

“I think it was the speech that bought the previous record holder down.” Clint had lasted forty-five minutes after that speech. It was a bad night - a particularly nasty gang fight.

“Hubris,” Joel says lightly.

“Exactly.”

“Not bad for a contractor turned bouncer though.”

Joel laughs. “You going to tell me that story one day?” you ask, hoping your teasing expression hides how genuine your question is.

“Maybe,” he says. “You’ve not hit my records yet.”

“That a challenge?”

He shrugs and walks towards the door to ready the bar for opening.

You hand Joel the frozen peas wrapped in an old cloth. After the commotion, your cousin’s closed the bar early. It’s hard to recover the night from a scene like that and you’re pretty sure the broken table and glass amount to some sort of safety violation at the least.

“Thanks,” Joel says gruffly.

“You could have a concussion.”

“I'm fine.”

“You’re bleeding.”

Joel looks at his cracked knuckles and raises a finger to the cut on his head, lightly touching it and observing the blood that comes away on his hand. “’m fine.”

“You hit the bar.”

“Standard night on the job.”

“You hit it with your head.”

Joel shrugs, nonchalance and mischief at once.

“How’s the idiot?” Owen had come in with the intention of causing trouble; something about the rival gang, or his girlfriend, or something that would never justify his trail of destruction. Joel had maintained his usual rules; polite, carefully moving Owen outside the bar, even as he tried to fight back. You’re not sure how it went so wrong, how instead of getting Owen outside suddenly there were more of the gang, broken tables and chaos.

It’s been weeks since a night like that. It makes it feel brand new, the hurt starker somehow.

“He needs to go to hospital,” you say, wrapping your jacket around you after you lock the bar door, keys heavy in your hand.

“Oh.”

“He’ll be fine. His friends are taking him. You probably need the hospital too, I’ll drive you.”

“’m fine.”

“You’re not. Get in the damn car, Joel.”

“I’m -”

“The car, Joel. Don’t make me start calling you Miller again.”

Joel holds his hands up and shakes his head. “Fine, I’ll go.”

“Excellent,” you say with a sweet smile.

You drive in near silence but once you’re both in the hospital waiting room, he talks. He talks more than he ever usually does.

“I didn't need to come here,” he grumbles.

“Are you on the lam?”

“What?” He asks incredulously.

“You seem reluctant to be in a hospital that takes down personal information. It’s a reasonable question.”

He sighs, pinches between his eyebrows. “No, I’m not on the damn lam. I just - I just don’t like hospitals.”

“I don’t think a lot of people do. I guess it’s an occupational habit with your work.”

“I patch myself up usually. Last time I was in one of these places, it was … I was …”

“Joel, it’s okay, you don’t have to say anything.” You reach for his bloody hand and squeeze, unsure if the blood on it is from his own split knuckles or the fight. The violence of his body contrasts so much with the man you talk to, the friend you’ve made.

“When I told you it was a long story, how I went from a contractor to this … it’s, I don’t know.”

You shift so you can face Joel and try and model your best supportive expression. Joel and you talk about everything now, but he’s guarded and this is the first time he’s volunteered this story to you.

“We can talk about it later.”

“I had a daughter,” he says so quietly that you can barely hear him. “And then I had a chance, a second chance to - but it’s been a mess. I’ve been a mess. I’ve got a lot wrong.”

So much of Joel Miller makes sense to you know and you can understand the sadness that crosses his eyes sometimes, the reluctance to talk about his past.

“Haven’t we all?” You pause. “I’m really sorry about your daughter, Joel.“

“I don’t know how to make it right now though.”

“I think,” you say gently, “all you can do is try. For what it’s worth, you’re making a difference here, you’re making a difference with me.”

“Really?” He glances up at you, suddenly years younger and as you nod a slight smile light up his face briefly.

“Why don’t you tell me about her? If you want to.”

He smiles. “I do, but not tonight, but I will.”

“Joel Miller,” a doctor calls.

“C’mon, you’re up.” You squeeze Joel’s arm before standing up.

The balance has shifted and something’s changed.

The bar changes gradually like the way spring teases itself for weeks. It’s all subtle shifts, blossoms of hope and shoots of a future you didn’t dare think of too much. The bar might survive, your cousin is smiling again.

And then there’s you and Joel. Joel, who still pops in to talk to you even on his days off. Joel, who you sit out with after the bar closes and drink beer and play guitar to the stars.

“You should play here,” he says, taking a sip of his beer, “you’re good.” “You’re better. I can’t play guitar like you.” “Nah. Just had more practice at best. Your voice is pretty, so pretty.” “Oh, I’m not so good at playing. I’m better at singing,” you say. “Four basic chords are about my limit on the guitar.” “Don’t do yourself down.” “Trust me, I’m not.” You pause. ”Joel, you could - you could play with me. If I ever played here. it’s probably stupid.” There’s something unreadable in his eyes, a soft smile on his lips. “No, I’d like that.”

You’re accustomed to his presence, his low but grounding voice, his calm demeanour throughout all chaos.

He’s told you more about his past now. About Sarah and how her loss tore him apart for years, and also about the foster daughter he took in, Ellie. He won’t tell you much about Ellie though, except they stopped talking around about the time he became a bouncer. He once asked you if you would do anything to save the life of someone you love and you said yes. He nodded and moved on. You think it’s connected, you’re not sure.

You’ve worked at a bar long enough to know when it’ll be a bad night. There’s an electricity in the air, a tension that is so tight anything could snap it. You look over at Joel to see if he’s picked up on the same energy.

He’s sitting on the stool, observing quietly, but you notice the slight furrow in his brows. He looks at you and his mouth twitches into the smallest of smiles, but there’s anxiety in his eyes.

“I heard that Owen’s gang declared war on the Rattlers,” you say in a low voice. You don’t like Owen, or his friends, but the Rattlers are worst. Owen’s gang is the typical cliched grouping of a small town that’s become lost. They drink too much, throw punches without thinking and cause trouble. They’re not evil though.

The Rattlers are.

“Didn’t hear the Rattlers came through here,” Joel says in a low voice. “I heard of their reputation at a previous gig.”

“Their uh, second in command, is that the term? Anyway, he’s had a thing with someone in town for years. On and off. Guess it’s on again.”

“They cause trouble when they’re here?”

You scoff. “This was starting to feel like -”

“It still is, it still will. Let me do my job,” Joel says firmly.

You want to trust him; you do trust him. It’s the Rattlers that worry you, the feeling in your gut that this hard sought over peace is threatened, the deep and terrifying fear that this bar can never change. Not now. Not even with Joel.

Joel smiles at you, the picture of reassurance. “Owen might not come in here. This is hardly a welcome environment for his group anymore.”

“Joel,” you say nervously, “I just … I have a feeling.”

Joel doesn’t laugh or dismiss you; he straightens up and nods.

You’re not sure how things fall apart so quickly. One moment the bar was quiet, then Owen was there and before Joel could get him to leave, the Rattlers were here too. Maybe it was planned, maybe it was what they all wanted.

“Evening, unfortunately I need to ask you all to leave tonight,” Joel says politely, standing from his barstool. “I’m afraid the business is at capacity and we have a private function on.”

“Well,” Owen begins.

“Leave.”

“Look, Miller, it’s not -”

“I’m not asking, Owen.” Joel’s voice is low, deadly, the tone he uses when polite words fall flat, when it’s time to not be nice. “That goes to all of you.”

Owen falters slightly at the sound of that, you wonder if he remembers how things went the last time Joel used that voice.

“Y’all got a function on?” one of the Rattlers asks you. He’s covered in tattoos and is wearing a leather vest with numerous patches with no other top underneath. You wonder if he based his outfit on the existing tropes, if he’s intentionally as cliched as possible or if it truly is just an unspoken truth now. His hair is slicked back into a ponytail that highlights his receding hairline and a puckered scar that runs from his brow to his nose.

“I’m afraid so, gentlemen. While we, uh appreciate the desire to visit, I’m afraid Mr Miller is correct.”

“Really?”

“Uh huh. It doesn’t look so-”

“Please,” you say quietly.

For a moment you wonder if it will work, you’re on bated breath as the Rattler steps back and moves to say something to his gang. However, that’s the very moment Owen smashes a chair on his back and hell breaks loose.

“Oh, thank you so fucking much for that,” Joel says in an irritated voice, immediately pulled into action to try and get the situation outside, away from the patrons, from you.

You step backwards, hoping the protection of the bar will be enough.

People are running out of the bar as the chaos unfolds. It’s a flood of sound,

Someone pushes Owen onto the bar, pummelling him as you try and back away. “Please stop,” you say.

Then a flash and searing heat.

That’s when you hear Joel swear, you notice his eyes have darkened, his entire demeanour has changed.

Your vision is blurred by something and you can feel a sharp pain on your face along with something sticky and hot when you touch it.

You shut your eyes, willing the events away and allowing yourself to crouch under the bar and wait for the noises to stop.

It’s fine. It’s fine.

You’re fine.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay,” a soothing voice says. “Ladies and gentlemen, I apologise but we do have to close early today.”

There’s a pause, noise around you and then something cool on your face. “I need to see the damage, okay? It’s me, it’s Joel, you’re going to be okay. I’ve got you.”

You open your eyes to see Joel crouched in front of you. He’s holding a damp cloth that is already soaked in red.

“You’ll need stitches, I’ll drive you.” Joel moves your head gently and nods. “Your eye looks okay; can you see normally?”

“Yeah. What happened?”

”Fucking - it was Owen, he grabbed a glass from the bar and instead of hitting the rattler - ”

“Got me.”

“Yeah. It’s deep but um ‘”

“I’ll live. I’m okay. Don’t need hospital.”

“Huh, you trying to prove a point here? How annoyin’ it is when someone who needs hospital won’t go?”

”It’s fine, Joel.”

“You’re hurt,” he says and he looks disappointed.

You feel a burst of shame, you should have defended yourself better.

“I’m going to call your cousin and tell her what happened and then I’m driving you to hospital. No arguments, okay?”

You try and smile weakly in acquiescence which seems to only make Joel frown more.

His hand lingers on your shoulder slightly as he hands you the seatbelt after bundling you into his truck. He moved quickly, closing the bar, making a hushed call in the corner to your cousin and then immediately guiding you out, a clean cloth placed in your hands to hold against your cut.

There’s a nodding dog ornament on the dash, something that doesn’t seem like Joel at all.

“Ellie,” he says quietly as he notices you looking at it. “Keep the pressure on that wound, okay?”

He turns out of the bar.

“Didn’t seem your sort of ornament,” you reply placidly.

“She called it Ernie, I - that kid.” Joel sighs heavily.

“You could call her,” you say, braver in the wake of your injury.

“I would. But she doesn’t want to hear from me, trust me.” He mumbles something else you can’t make out.

“You’re a good person, Joel. She -”

“I’m not.”

“You are,” you say, “trust me, I know bad men, but you aren’t one of them. Owen? The Rattlers?”

“The bar’s pretty damn low there.”

“You know the town I live in.”

Joel chuckles mirthlessly.

“I was going to play tonight,” you say quietly, “I thought it was time. That’ll teach me.”

“You could still play, maybe tomorrow though.”

“It would be harder with the blood right now.”

“Just a tad.”

“Thanks for driving me.”

“Of course.”

You wonder if he’s trying to return a favour, whether he’s the sort of person who just can’t feel indebted to someone else. Now you’ve bled on his car too, now you’re even?

He looked worried though. You think about the way he sounded too, the forced calmness when he checked on you.

You’re friends.

That’s normal, right?

“I’m sorry,” he says suddenly. “You shouldn’t have got hurt.”

“Joel, it’s … you can’t be everywhere at once. It’s not on you.”

“I should have -”

“Miller,” you say sharply, “it’s not on you. Not one bit. Do you think I can bar Owen for good now?”

Joel chuckles. “Yeah, I reckon so.

“Good, well that’s something, isn’t it? Almost makes it worth it. Do you think it will scar?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart.”

You pause. It’s vanity, you know, but the idea of this leaving a permanent scar on your face hurts worse than the injury itself.

“That’s not ideal. I-it’s stupid.” It feels so foolish to be worried about a scar when things could be so much worse, for your own vanity to say ‘well, now, you’ll never make it as a musician or star’ or to focus on your looks. It’s normal, it’s human, but it makes you feel guilty.

Joel looks at you carefully and he places a warm, solid hand on your hand that is not holding a compress to your face. “You’re so beautiful, you know that, right?” he says in a low voice. “This won’t change that. It couldn’t, okay?”

No-one calls you beautiful. There’s been half-hearted claims of your ‘hotness’ with exes, of your friends’ encouragement when you make a particular effort in your appearance, but nothing like this. Nothing that feels this sincere either.

He takes his hand away as the doctor joins you. You can feel the heat lingering like butterflies as the doctor attends to your wound.

Joel stays with you the whole time.

You hear the guitar before you can see him. Soft, melodic chords that reach a crescendo as you walk closer to the small cabin style house he’s renting. You’re not sure if it’s a complete betrayal of the trust from when you dropped him off after his hospital trip weeks ago, but you need to see him outside of the bar.

“Hey,” he says in surprise when he sees you. He places the guitar carefully down before standing up to greet you.

“I’m sorry to just turn up, I hope it’s okay.” You awkwardly clasp your hands and wring them together. “I was passing through and I thought - I thought I’d say hi.”

This is a complete lie; you are not passing through at all.

You’re wearing your favourite outfit and you sprayed an extra two spritzes of your best perfume on this morning. In fact, you have made considerable effort when you think about all of this.

“No, it’s great. I’m happy you stopped by.”

“You’re good. The guitar, it was … really good. I’ve not heard you play that before.”

“Oh, it’s just something I’ve been working on.”

“It’s really good.”

“Nah, not really.”

You frown, hands on your hips and he raises his own hands in defence.

“Can I - do you want a drink?” Joel indicates inside the cabin and you nod enthusiastically.

“That would be great, thanks Joel.”

There are three cabins in the area that a local businessman rents out. Joel’s cabin is the closest to the woods, the one that’s slightly hidden away. Inside it looks like a typical rental; the slightly shabby furniture and neutral demeanour that feels void of any character, the aged kitchen stove and units, an abundance of wood furniture.

There are touches of Joel too though. There’s a vinyl player and box of records on the coffee table, a plaid blanket over the sofa and a couple of photos on the fireplace mantle. You think they might be Sarah, maybe Ellie, but you don’t want to pry.

This changes things. It’s not the bar, neither of you are at work, or hanging out outside after a shift. This feels more personal, more intimate. This is Joel Miller, the real Joel, the one you can’t hide your feelings for now.

You do have feelings for Joel.

It’s funny, when he started you wanted to keep him at a distance because you expected him to leave like everyone else, you thought the bar was beyond help. You wondered if you were beyond your dreams. He’s helping bring you back though.

It’s his calm demeanour, the wry expressions and dry humour, his plaid shirts and the way when he smiles, which is rare but you’ve seen it, his whole face softens and lightens up. It’s electric.

You think about him all the time; reading articles you try and remember to bring up at the bar, when you hear a song he’d like. Joel’s found his way into your life and you don’t want to let him go.

He’ll leave though. The bouncers inevitably do, most people in your life do. You just don’t want that with him. You want him to stay.

“Are you okay?” Joel asks.

“Why?”

“You have that serious thought face on.”

“I have a serious thought face?”

Joel scoffs. “So, what’s up?”

“I just - I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come here.”

Joel frowns then. “Why not?”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay, c’mon I said I’d get you a drink, right?” Joel indicates the sturdy wooden table and you sit obligingly. “So I’ve got a choice of tea, well It says it’s tea anyway. Uh, some whiskey, beer, water …. I’m out of coffee.”

“That should be illegal.”

“Shouldn’t it?”

“I might just leave now.”

“Wouldn’t blame ya.”

He’s close to you now and you feel emboldened by the fact you’re here, you’re with him and he’s not pushing you away or looking like he wants to leave. Maybe, just maybe this is a great idea.

“Now I think about it though, I’m not sure that I’m thirsty after all,” you say boldly.

“Oh no?” He leans in closer, hands hovering just over your waist. “Look, you don’t want -”

“I do. I do want.”

Joel swallows. “Really?” He’s looking at you as though you’re something mythical, something intangible he could lose at any second. There’s reverence in his eyes and it’s overwhelming and beautiful at once.

You nod. “I’m not the only one here who - I’m not though, right?” There’s a hint of nervousness in your voice now, a sense that perhaps this isn’t the great idea you thought it was just seconds ago. It’s like whiplash. This is why you should just focus on music instead.

“No,” Joel says softly, “you’re not.”

His hands, hands you’ve seen both acts of violence and hold your injured face so gently, skim your body. Joel’s hands, like him, are contradictions. He steps minutely closer, a little more into your space and oh so welcome.

He smells like soap and coffee, with the faint hints of autumn you noticed around the cabin and there’s something magic in this Joel Miller. Something in every sense of him, the way he touches you, the sound of his voice, the feel of his skin and sound of his voice that instantly draws you closer, that makes heat pool in your stomach.

He kisses you and you reach for his hands, entwines them together. He stops, concern mounting over his face. “You’re injured, I should have -”

“Doesn’t hurt,” you say softly, drawing him close again.

You’re a mess of hands and lips, a clash of sensations and finally, finally this is happening you think as h guides you further into the cabin. Towards his bedroom.

He guides you past the kitchenette, down the narrow corridor to his room.

You want to drink him in, absorb every detail of his body and commit it to memory.

There’s a ragged scar on his abdomen, a light scattering of stories across his body from other bars, other jobs, other Joels.

There are other details you want to remember though, especially the look in his eyes right now, heavy with desire.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says. You’ve heard the words before in similar settings but it’s been clear to you it’s the lust, it’s the ‘right’ thing to say. You know when isn’t meant, the lack sincerity signalling a paint by the numbers dalliance at best.

Joel’s voice is fervent though. Honest. He means this.

The majority of your clothes are soon discarded, both yours and his in a combined mess on the floor.

Your hands are running through his hair as he guides you onto the bed, as his fingers hover over the edge of your underwear.

He pauses, just for a moment. You wonder if it’s recognition of the line you’re both about to cross, if it’s to give you the space to confirm that yes, you still want him, to offer an out just in case.

You reach for his face, run your hand down his stubbly cheek. You’re trying to sum up your thoughts, to bring everything you want to say together into a neat sentence.

You smile and gently say, “I want you, want this. I thought you knew.”

“I didn’t, I didn’t think you’d want me. Been driving myself crazy thinkin’ about you lately.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Why don’t you show me what you thought about?” you ask.

He smiles as his fingers finally reach beneath your underwear, carefully pulling them down and then gently gliding his finger.

You’re wet, almost embarrassingly so, you think, for just making out.

“This all for me?” He asks with a devilishly teasing tone.

You don’t immediately answer, just smirk as he teases up to your clit and traces circles around it, smiling as you finally make a groan of contentment.

He slides a finger inside you, lazily moving it within you, finding that spot that makes you moan, adding another finger.

You feel close already, but he withdraws his fingers and then, looking at you, brings them to his mouth one at a time in a move that makes your cheeks heat up.

He moves to his bedside drawer, fumbling for a box of condoms you suppose. You’re still lost in catching your breath, in replaying the last few moments, in anticipating what’s about to happen.

He kisses you before positioning himself and you ready yourself for him.

You’re entwined, adjusting yourself for the feel of him, the weight of him. Hands interlocked with his as he finally moves, as he meets your kiss once again.

He adapts quickly, noticing micro=movements or sounds and changing his rhythm to draw every one of them out, to bring you to the edge once more.

You’re both a mess of rushed breaths, a chorus of names and gasps, ebbing and flowing to tease each other apart.

He’s everything and nothing like you expected. Hoped for even.

The feeling builds in your stomach, the rush of pleasure building almost unbearably.

Finally, finally you get your release. The ripples of pleasure ride through your body as the two of you lie together, boneless, catching your breath.

You usually feel a need to say something, to fill a silence, but it’s comfortable. You roll over, daringly placing an arm over Joel’s chest and leaning close. He pulls you towards you, kissing your brow lazily

You can feel his heartbeat, the warmth of his skin.

You feel like you could stay here forever.

Instead though, you’re practical. You excuse yourself to his bathroom to clean up.

You take in your reflection; the telltale signs of your exploits feel so visible to you as you freshen up.

He’s not in bed when you return. You pull your clothes on and head back into the main room of the cabin.

Joel’s wearing his jeans and not much else, humming as he concentrates on something by the stove.

“I promised tea, didn’t I?”

“We did get sidetracked.”

“Well, that was welcome,” Joel says. His voice is so much softer than you’ve heard it in the bar. There’s a vulnerability leaking through with each moment you stay here. It’s two sided, you can feel your own edges softening, a desire to open yourself even more to the man in front of you.

“I agree.”

The kettle boils and you watch Joel making the tea, try and not lose yourself in the broadness of his shoulders.

“So …” you break off, swinging your arms nervously and then wrapping them around yourself.

Joel hands you a steaming mug. “So,” he says. His voice is calm though, relaxed and somehow that helps.

“That wasn’t exactly what I thought was - I didn’t turn up for this specifically, you know? It wasn’t intentional.” Not that intentional.

“Would you have been wearing a trench coat if it was? Seduce me properly?” There’s mischief in his eyes as you meet his gaze.

“That a fantasy or something, Joel?”

He laughs. “Maybe, maybe it is.”

“Okay then. Logging that for another day.”

“Oh really?” Joel’s smile warms his entire face, it softens each feature and it’s something you never want to stop seeing.

It feels like you’ve known him so much longer. You feel comfortable in his house, you feel comfortable around him.

“So we’re opening back up at the weekend,” you say, “Got any plans for this time off?”

“Nope. You?”

You shake your head. “How about that?”

“Hmm, that’s not right. We should do something about that. Let me take you to dinner?”

“Dinner?“

“People still do that, right?”

“Yes, but - I’d love to.”

“Great. I’ll uh, defer to your recommendation, seeing as you know this area more.” It hits you then. Joel doesn’t have roots here and the bar, except for the Rattlers, has improved. What does this town, what do you have to offer?

“Are you going to leave?” you ask suddenly, the anxious thought you’ve tried to suppress bubbling to the surface.

“Leave?”

“When the bar’s open, when there’s no trouble.”

“There’s always some trouble.”

“Don’t. You know what I mean.”

Joel sighs and takes a sip of his drink. “Usually, I would.”

“But this isn’t usual?”

He points his hand at you and adds, “I don’t make a habit of this. I don’t …. Usually, yes I go in and out of places and I don’t stay long.”

Your heart sinks. “I understand,” you lie.

“I think, I think maybe there are some reasons to stick around here though?” It’s a question, not a confirmation. It strikes you then that maybe Joel feels just as exposed as you do.

“I think there could be,” you say.

“Good. I’m glad.“

The bar looks like the Rattlers never came through here. Everything is neat, clean and in its place. There are no broken chairs or tables. It seems almost impossible for how short a time ago it was.

Joel helped, you realise, he helped your cousin bring this place back.

“Are you okay?” she asks, “I can cover the bar if you need -”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re sure.”

You pause and run your hand over the smooth, clean bar surface. You think of Joel, of the conversations over so many nights about music, about what makes you happy. “Can you still cover the bar for a bit?”

“Sure.” Your cousin pauses and hesitantly puts down the crate of soda bottles. “Is everything -”

“I want to play tonight.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah, I’ve got to stop waiting right for the right moment, right? Just do it,” you say.

“And this has nothing to do with a certain bouncer?”

“No,” you say, thinking of the scar on your face, the battles you’ve won and will win in the future. “It’s for me.”

You can feel his eyes on you. It doesn’t make you feel nervous or under a spotlight though as you carefully sit on the stool.

It’s almost as though it’s just the two of you. Another night after work under the stars and messing around with a guitar. Or outside his cabin, thick flannel wrapped around you as you both play.

The bar feels safer somehow. It’s funny considering the recent Rattlers attack. Maybe that’s why - they came in and they tried to wreck the place, you were caught in that crossfire, but you survived. The bar survived. And the locals are back, the locals you wanted back. If you shut your eyes, it almost feels like before when your family ran the place.

It’s different though, because it’s your cousins. Because even though it might not be on paper, it’s yours too. Your legacy. You don’t want to fight it anymore. You don’t want to feel cynical about this town.

You look at Joel and smile and then you start playing.

Everything Pedro tag-list: @harriedandharassed@pedrostories@hiroikegawa @pedrosaidsheispunk @pastelnap

#joel miller x reader #no outbreak!joel miller #no outbreak au #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #the last of us #tlou fic #the last of us fic #the last of us smut #joel miller smut #joel tlou #joel the last of us

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krispycreamcake · 4 months ago

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Yui Komori girlfriend hcs ♡♡

🌷- Ok so everyone usually thinks of Yui as timid or generally soft spoken

🌷- Personally I think she's just extremely patient. Obviously the anime does her no justice, but I think she enjoys giving others the room they need to talk

🌷- As a girlfriend, my immediate thoughts are empathetic, caring, thoughtful, etc. I'm sure everyone can agree

🌷- But other than her kind nature, what kind of girlfriend would Yui actually be?

🌷- I imagine her to be someone who sends pictures of stray cats with a wall of text describing their every move and whether the cat likes her or not

🌷- She also seems to be the type of person to enjoy late night visits/calls when she's feeling overwhelmed or maybe just bored

🌷- I picture her to enjoy scrapbooking and insists on walking with her camera everywhere you two go so she can take pictures

🌷- She'd be the type of person to order food at a restaurant after insisting she doesn't want the same dish you got, but then proceeds to steal half your meal

🌷- I feel like she's very financially aware? That's an odd one but I imagine her to call you while you're busy to tell you how the price of milk has raised while shopping and have a half hour long discussion on the cost of milk brands

🌷- She's always the one to get rid of the creepy crawlies, as a matter of fact she insists on not killing it and allowing her to take it outside instead

🌷- She appreciates romantic gestures but might make a joke if it's super corny, like standing outside her window with a stereo, even if it was for shits and giggles

🌷- Has a playlist on your YouTube account for cooking recipes and could not care less when you tell her she has her own phone

🌷- Speaking of phone, she has an Android. SUE ME.

🌷- Likes to take candid photos to make stickers that you both embarrass each other with

🌷- Likes matching profile pictures because then her bio gets to be "matching with ___!"

🌷- Date nights aren't something she expects from you, but eventually notices the pattern and takes a mental note that you both go out for ice cream on Saturday nights

🌷- You both share a charger. Whether it was yours or hers that got lost in the void or dismantled beyond repair by some supernatural force, you both now share a single, barely working charger

🌷- Speaking of sharing, you both each have some kind of clothes from each other that you've adopted as your own. It literally doesn't matter if it's underwear or t-shirts, it's both yours now and no one can expect to be getting them back

🌷- Begs you to make tanghulu with her ever since it became trendy and has a plethora of videos in her camera roll dedicated to you guys just eating food

🌷- She likes physical touch. Your hand could be on her lap or vice versa, or just simply laying next to each other while waiting for a commercial to pass by, she enjoys feeling your body warmth

🌷- You guys almost always have sleepovers like middle school girls where you stay up the entire night talking about dumb topics or giggling at stupid jokes, high off of the positive atmosphere

🌷- Rented a Vespa one time and had you sit in the tiny little passenger seat

🌷- She loves making meals and buying gifts for you, literally her favourite thing to do is watch your reaction at all the hard work she put into making you have a better day

🌷- Promise rings obviously

🌷- Hmm maybe matching necklaces too

🌷- You tried making flan and both had to sit there and stomach what could only be described as resident evil food

🌷- Loves you so much that if she could take the moon and wrap it in a cute bow and put it under the Christmas tree, she really would

#diabolik lovers #diabolik lovers fandom #diabolik boys #yui komori #diabolik lovers yui #dialovers fandom #dialovers #diabolik lovers x you #diabolik lovers x reader #headcanon #anime x reader #diabolik lovers laito #ayato sakamaki #laito sakamaki #diabolik lovers subaru #diabolik lovers shu #fanfic

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mellywritesstuff · 11 months ago

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hey melly!! hope you’re doing well, can I request the male harbingers (expect that one dude 😭 and seperate) w a really weak reader (like she can’t fight for shi..) and they are always worried about her and are quite protective ..

hope this is ok .. feel free not to do this request if you’re uncomfortable!!

~mari :)

(Male) Fatui Harbingers x (weak)Fem!reader

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Character(s): Pantalone, Dottore, Tartaglia/Childe, Scaramouche

A/N: didn’t know if you wanted scara or not so I included him anyway! I haven’t written in awhile, note to however has sent a request: I’m so SRRY I’ve haven’t written them yet they’re all in my drafts just been busy!!

Warnings: not proofread, 1 suggestive section, Cussing.

Genre(s): crack, fluff

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Pantalone

Questions life decisions. He’s constantly stressed whenever you step outside (grass is overrated) insists on going with you everywhere. For protection.

If you won’t let him go with you he’ll either force you to take a fatui agent (as a bodyguard) or just suffer in silence while you’re gone.

He’s constantly worried.

“What if she comes back hurt?”

“What if she gets kidnapped?”

Wishes he could just lock you in his basement

He worries even more since he’s a fatui harbinger. People are out to get him, and especially you. Would NEVER let you near his fellow harbingers (Dottore) for fear that they might take advantage of your weakness and snap you in half.

And they’re hot

Starts to panics when he can’t find you when in reality you’ve been 2 ft away from him, hiding. To mess with him.

He loves you and all, but can you do anything else but to put yourself in danger? Please? (He’s so tired)

Dottore

For the love of god, stop moving, just stay with him in his lab, it only slightly reeks of death and chemicals.

An average day will just go by like:

“Dottore! Dottore! Look what I found”

“What the? Y/N put that down! It’s dangerous (it’s a rock)”

So once he dodges your rock, and you disappear he starts to panic.

“What the? Where’d you go?”

He’ll start frantically searching for you, you were right behind him.

EXTREMELY protective of you. Won’t hesitate to add another skeleton to his collection to anyone he deems a threat.

Luckily he’ll (force) a fatui agent to go with you everywhere. Or he’ll spy on you from a bush because he trusts no one, and really loves you.

Why would you want to go outside anyway? Wouldn’t you rather get railed by Dottore?

Tar-tar-Tartaglia

Literally goes “L bozo” and tackles you.

In all seriousness he’ll teach to fight if you want! Probably not a good idea since he’ll forget your fighting skills are the equivalent of a sheet of paper, then break every bone in your body

He trusts you enough. But since he’s constantly away on missions he worries you’ll get hurt and can’t stand to be away from you.

Will purposefully challenge you to arm wrestle just to throw you off the table.

Sees you as a tiny little duck, and protects you at all costs while simultaneously bullying you.

Will go, “hey wanna go Inazuma with me? Oh wait you can’t fight….later bozo” (he’s so mean)

One day you’ll beat his ass up for all that teasing.

Scaramouche

Another one that goes ‘L bozo’ in you form of “Skill issue”

Constantly on your back for getting yourself in dangerous situations when you follow him around.

“Are you an idiot?”

“Don’t do anything stupid…”

You’ve heard it too much, he may be a little emo boy but he just wants to keep you safe.

Wishes he could go everywhere with you, in a panicked state when you’re god (he doesn’t show it though)

Won’t teach you to fight, thinks you’re an unworthy opponent (ouch)

Sometimes he wants to cuddle and protect you and sometimes he wants to throw you off a cliff in frustration.

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Hope you enjoyed! Melly out <3

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin requests #genshin fluff #genshin x y/n #genshin harbingers #harbingers x reader #pantalone x reader #dottore x reader #childe x reader #scaramouche x reader

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isuckatwritingsobenice · 4 months ago

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Girl with One Eye 𓁹

Synopsis: In a town shrouded in whispers and shadows, Alastor’s love is both a curse and a sanctuary. Obsessed with the innocent girl he claims as his own, his affection is a dangerous blend of possessiveness and madness. She, a once free spirit, finds herself ensnared in his dark embrace, her world shrinking as his control tightens.

Warnings: Yandere Alastor!!, obsessive tendencies, stalking, mental abuse, emotional abuse(?), depression tendencies, mentions of murder, mentions of psychotic tendencies, stockholm syndrome

A/N: Hello Hello, i’m crawling out of my seasonal depression to write this because it was nagging at me. i’m still proofreading two chapters for infernal shadows, but the taglist is so long i might just have to make separate posts for that lol, but thank you all so much for the support on the story, i genuinely love that you guys are still reading it even if it is months old! Anyways, I hope you enjoy this!

Listen to: Girl with one eye by Florence + the Machine while reading !!

Masterlist!! // Navigation!!

She was his perfect picture of innocence, her laughter like the soft tinkling of bells in the silent night. But Alastor, with his devilish grin and eyes that held a thousand secrets, saw something else in her. To him, she was a treasure, a prize to be kept and guarded, even if it meant locking her away from the world.

He watched her from the shadows, his obsession growing with each passing day. The world was a dangerous place, he convinced himself, that only he could protect her. His love was a consuming forest fire, burning away any rational thought, leaving only the primal need to possess.

She tried to resist at first, her defiance a spark in the darkness. But Alastor's patience was infinite, his methods meticulous. He knew how to break her, to bend her will to his. The nights were long, filled with whispered promises and threats, the lines between love and madness blurring until they were indistinguishable.

Her eyes, once bright with hope and dreams, now held a haunted look. She was his, utterly and completely, but at what cost? Alastor's love was a cage, beautiful and gilded, but a cage nonetheless. She sang sweet songs to herself, a desperate attempt to remember who she once was, but the melody always carried a note of sorrow.

She was left with nothing but her memories, fragments of a life she could no longer touch. Alastor's presence was a constant reminder of her captivity, his love a dark shadow that loomed over her every moment. She was seeing only the world he allowed her to see, trapped in a love that was as destructive as it was consuming.

Alastor's love for her was like a poison, seeping into every crevice of her life. He showered her with gifts, each one a symbol of his twisted devotion. Flowers that seemed to bloom only in his presence, jewelry that sparkled like the madness in his eyes, and clothes that he chose, wrapping her in his dark affections. His love was suffocating, a constant presence that left her breathless and on edge.

He spoke to her in a voice as smooth as velvet, each word laced with a hidden menace.

"You are mine,"

he would say, his fingers tracing the curve of her face with a possessiveness that sent shivers down her spine.

"No one else will ever have you. I will protect you from this cruel world."

His protection felt more like imprisonment, the walls of her life closing in around her.

Everywhere she turned, there he was, a dark figure watching, waiting. He knew her every move, her every thought, as if her mind was an open book for him to read. His obsession knew no bounds. He took pleasure in her fear, in the way her eyes darted nervously when she sensed him near her. It was a game to him, a dance of predator and prey, and he reveled in the control he held over her.

He would whisper sweet nothings into her ear, his breath hot against her skin.

"I love you more than life itself,"

he would croon, but his love was a twisted, distorted thing. It wasn't love; it was ownership, a claim that he had staked on her soul. He would caress her hair, his touch a mix of gentleness and danger, a reminder that her safety, her life, was entirely in his hands.

She became a prisoner in her own home, the locks and chains of his love binding her tighter with each passing day. He forbade her from seeing friends, from leaving the house without his permission. His jealousy was a living thing, almost its own being, coiled and ready to strike at any perceived threat to his dominion over her.

"They don't understand you like I do,"

he would say, his eyes dark with intensity.

"They can't love you the way I can."

The more she tried to pull away, the tighter his grip became. He would punish her disobedience with a cold, calculating precision, a reminder of who held the power. Yet, in his own twisted way, he believed he was doing it all for her, that his suffocating presence was a testament to his love. He couldn't see the damage he was causing, the way he was breaking her piece by piece.

Alastor's love was a dark fairy tale, a story of obsession and control. To him, she was the princess locked in the tower, and he the self-appointed guardian. But in truth, he was the dragon, and his love was the fire that consumed her. And so, she remained, a prisoner of his affection, the girl with one eye, seeing only the twisted love that bound her to him, forever trapped in Alastor's dark embrace.

One night, a suitor from her past made the mistake of trying to rekindle what had never truly been there. His advances were unwanted, his persistence unsettling. He cornered her in a dark alley, his words dripping with entitlement and anger when she rebuffed him. Fear and desperation gripped her as she struggled to push him away, his hands rough and invasive.

In that moment, her thoughts turned to Alastor. The man who had taken everything from her, yet the only one she could think to rely on. She knew what he was capable of, the lengths he would go to for her. Despite everything, a part of her found comfort in his possessiveness, a twisted sense of security in his dangerous love.

She fled to Alastor, tears streaming down her face, her body trembling with a mix of fear and anger. He held her close, his touch both soothing and ominous. "Who did this to you?" he demanded, his voice menacing. His hands didn’t shake holding her though, he fought his nerves to keep his composure. There were bruises and burn marks adorning her skin, and it bothered him to no end how the one time he did take his eyes off her, she was hurt.

She looked into his eyes, seeing the darkness within them, and for the first time, she didn't flinch. "I can’t say, but, Alastor I-“," she whispered, her voice shaking. "I want you to get rid of him… please"

A slow, sinister smile spread across Alastor's face. " Of course my dear" he said, his tone filled with a chilling certainty. He left her then, disappearing into the night like a specter of vengeance.

The next day, the news spread quickly. The suitor was found, a lifeless man, his body marked by the brutal handiwork of Alastor's wrath. The town whispered of the horrors inflicted upon him, the message clear to all: she was not to be touched.

As she read the reports, a twisted sense of satisfaction washed over her. She knew what she had done, what it meant. By asking Alastor to get rid of the suitor, she had accepted his dark love, embraced it in her own way. The fear was still there, but it was accompanied by a strange, sickening warmth.

Alastor returned, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous pride. He took her hand, pressing it to his lips. "You look ravishing dear" he said softly, his voice a blend of possessiveness and affection. " Thank you for being so patient."

She nodded, the weight of his words sinking into her soul. In his arms, she felt a perverse sense of safety, a dark comfort that she couldn't deny. She had become a part of his world, her own love twisted and corrupted by his influence.

In the end, she was the girl with one eye, not only seeing the world through the lens of his love but also accepting it, finding a dark solace in the madness they shared. Her heart was bound to his, a willing prisoner in the gilded cage of his obsession.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin demon #alastor #hazbin hotel #isuckatwritingsobenice #yandere headcanons #yandere x reader #yandere alastor x reader #yandere alastor

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theastrical · 5 months ago

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your wedding with the genshin men

kaeya, diluc, childe x bride!reader

ps: i’m sorry it’s only three characters, i’ve been getting a burnt out these past few days, so the content might be kind of a flop hhh…:(

kaeya, our dream wedding

He had prepared since a very long time about this day; especially ever since you both have started to get serious about this relationship you have with him. He has been hinting it down, asking you questions that lead him to know your dream wedding. He doesn’t want anybody to know aside from his best man, which is diluc.

And finally when the time came for him to explain the wedding and how much have he taken care of the whole thing, you were amazed, in fact, you cried, because all have been taken care of and not by the preparation, not that it impresses you as much as how how much he knows you, how much he prioritise your dream in this wedding of yours instead of his. “I thought it’ll be nice to know my fiance’s dream…after all, your dream is mine as well.”

Weeks before the wedding, when you do your fitting and have prepared your own specials for the wedding, kaeya asked not to spoilt him any more of your preparation for him; so you did. You made your own vow, you prepared a flower…an eternal flower where it’s protected by glass and it can last forever, and your wedding dress-which has been designed to have kaeya’s favorite flower, the calla lily.

But there’s one more thing you have made a secret of, it’s a small gift from you that’s more to what he had imagined, you had asked an illustrator to come inside the wedding and draw crepus; his late father, to attend his wedding beside him and diluc as his best man in the final picture of the wedding. To commemorate what crepus can’t see; his two sons growing up.

The day you walked in the aisle, he can only open his mouth; spilling out the word “mine” quietly. He held your hand, like a guard trying to protect it, before he kisses your palm, and greet you in his thousand of smiles. He had made a vow, super simple and short but it makes you tear up, cause kaeya, never said words that impacted you more than today and so did you when you spilled out your vows to him.

The wedding ring was made to complete each other when it’s used, yours are the sun and his are the moon. The audience consist of people that are close to you, hence it wasn’t that awkward for both of you to even have the first kiss as a husband and wife, because…it felt too good to be true, to finally have him as the one for your entire life.

Although, kaeya finally broke down when..you asked the illustrator to show the painting to him. It felt like, crepus is there. His only father figure is there to be with him in his happiest moment. He cried like a baby, while seeking a comfort on you. He kisses your cheeks nose and everywhere, telling you in a whisper…”you don’t know how much all of these meant to me, i didn’t regret any of this at all…please never stray away from me.”

Diluc; royalty wedding

He had made it clear before that he will prepare a royal wedding, something that the royals can only partake. You were baffled obviously, you know how much it’ll cost and you can’t never contribute even a slightest bit cause hey, the thing he called wedding is basically the sentence of “how to spend all of your life savings in one night.”

So you talked it out with diluc, you have thought it’ll be okay if it’s going to be a simple wedding as long as the money is enough but diluc immediately banished that thought with a simple sentence of “you won’t put your money into it and that’s final. Just let me be the one to pay, you can prepare everything you want, as long as both of us can have our own time inside the wedding. After all my dear, what’s the use of these money if i can’t please you hmm?” the guilt is there inside you but you just nodded. After all, if he had put the mind inside it. You know there’s no way out.

So you did, you prepared your all time wishlist, ready to spend out his unlimited wallet like there’s no other day than your wedding. He chuckled when he saw the bill for your every needs, he thought it was funny that even after everything, you only waste what you thought were expensive for you instead for him. So he bought you the much more expensive food for the wedding to make your spending balance with his, because it’ll be unequal if both side don’t have the pleasure on preparing this wedding.

Yes diluc is showing his love thru his materialistic nature, but that’s just how he is, because he trust you enough to show what he have more than his demeanor that everybody judge to be cold and rude. Because you’ve seen his everything, his emotional side especially, and he wanted to pay you back for being his everything (his daily listener and his free pats and affection machine) by enjoying the perfect wedding and soon to be life he can afford with his money.

So when the day came, you were not just in shock, you were so baffled you continue to asked him “we’re not in the wrong place right?” Which he just answered with “how come we’re in the wrong place silly…there’s your name and mine in the sign hehe..” after all he has been keeping the location secret, he just wants you to come and be his forever at this point.

That same day is the only time you see him smile like a sun, he definitely should smile more and you hope that the sight of your dress can turn him into a sunshine. You were preparing your dress and makeup, your bridesmaid as well, all of you are having fun by yourself until it’s time.

you suddenly feel nervous, your heart felt like it just fell down…and the way your stomach churn just before you walk down the aisle, oh god, you wanted to puke-yet in the same time you step your heels onto the floor, diluc immediately look at you, his face is cold, it made you 100 more times groggy.

But as soon as you hold his hands and he held yours, he whispered to you…”don’t make me fall in love with you more now..” shit, diluc, don’t make me blush even more!!! He said his vows, which was helped by kaeya cause he wants to make it…more informal, to which it made you teared up because with the help of kaeya and his willingness, it feel like he finally talked his honest feelings…

and When it’s time for your first kiss as a wife and a husband, he held your waist, leaning your body down and kisses you passionately as he look at your eyes, what a love fool he is to even kiss you like there’s no other day. Oh and surprise surprise, after the whole wedding ended, he showed you his long time gift that he hasn’t been able to expose, a small house in the mountainside-an escapism for you both to have your best life together. “let’s use that tomorrow yea? i’ve packed your things and mine, let’s have a peaceful honeymoon where no one can’t disturb us~…”

Childe; the traditional wedding

You guys will have the wedding of the century in his hometown (presumably by childe’s family cause his hometown rarely have weddings and childe is known across the town). You didn’t deny that request though, after all you have visited childe’s hometown and it certainly is beautiful even when the place is extremely cold.

Because the wedding is far away from your family and friends, he decided to pay for their tickets, after all, marrying you means marrying your entire life, at least to a traditional man like him.

Months before the wedding, he had talked to you about the wedding and how he needed to at least have your approval in these certain things, cause he doesn’t want to disappoint his wife, the wedding is basically his test to become your perfect husband. The wedding he planned was a simple traditional wedding, speaking each vows and family gathering, that’s all. It’s not exactly what the modern “wedding of the century” is but to his family, seeing childe getting married is already a gem by itself.

You both have agreed to spoilt each other privately in the honeymoon instead, because the wedding will be filled with his huge family members and friends you barely know. so with a short and simple event to be held, you guys have decided to exchange each other’s precious item; and both of you have chosen the wedding ring. Instead of couple wedding ring, you guys chose each ring that represent both of you the best, so when it was exchanged, then you guys would have a part of each other in hand.

In the aisle where you walked, he just stared at you, mesmerized by you-his eyes slowly tearing up in response; because his heart was struck by a realization, to met someone like you, who understands him the most and make this wedding more than the word special to him…is enough. You’re beautiful, too beautiful in truth, especially for somebody like him.

When you were beside him, he chuckles and hide his tears, yet your hands immediately brush those tears with a comforting smile, he replies with a grunt of “thank you, wifey..” ,

you both exchange vows, he ended his vows with a quote from Shakespeare that he read about in his first library date with you..”life is too short to love you in one, i promise to look for you in the next life”. He hugged you instead of kissing you at first, because he was already too emotional when he said his vows.

Then afterwards you guys exchanged the ring, his was a blue sapphire, the same color as his eyes, yours were white, bland indeed, but white is a base-a color which everybody need, and you wanted him to know, that you’re always here for him. When you both exchanged the rings, he laughed, he was too happy to have a piece of you in him. He even make a play with his wingman by acting like they’re polishing it and make sure it’s all pretty. You were laughing your ass off because childe look so smitten by this point.

And when the priest say it was time to kiss each other as a wife and a husband. He immediately carry you in his arms and kisses your lips…before he slips to your cheeks and neck. He carries you to his arm and snuggles to your neck, walking thru the doors of the wedding venue to the private hall to continue the family gathering…which is basically him feeding you food and the guests intervening onto childe’s act of service by talking to you both almost every single second. “now just eat the food okay? I’ll handle those nosy guest..” he pats you before he feeds you again and again, as he giggles…for seeing how cute you are like this, teary eyed from the wedding ceremony and hungry.

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youryurigoddess · 20 days ago

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Aziraphale, Raphael, and other angelic names you should probably know

Yes, I’m digging out my oldest piece of Good Omens meta. If you’re one of the very few people who might remember it from my main blog or had followed me on Twitter before it was shared there last year, you should already get the gist of what’s going to come next. For the rest of you, this might serve as a nice warning of how true brainrot begins.

We will start at the very beginning: the name-giving. Since God has created the world with one word, in the Bible and related Jewish tradition names of things are considered of great importance. As the life-givers, they imbue meaning and power to those who bear them, and often lead them towards a certain predetermined path. The concept of true names in general is a global phenomenon, with traces of this belief to be found everywhere from Plato's Theory of Forms through Grimm’s fairytales and beyond, not only in religious, but also philosophical and anthropological context. Considering the vast number of options to choose from, coining a new name instead of just repeating someone else’s is certainly a choice.

Unsurprisingly, the one who came up with the name Aziraphale was Terry Pratchett, and according to an interview it was originally pronounced Aziraphael:

“It should be Azz-ear-raf-AE-el, but we got into the habit of pronouncing it Azz-ear-raf-ail, so I guess that’s the right way now.”

Don’t worry, we’ll get there in a moment. The second thing you need to remember from this interview is Terry’s answer to the question about the name’s origin:

“It was made up but… er… from real ingredients. [The name] Aziraphale could be shoved in a list of ‘real’ angels and would fit right in…”

Conveniently, I’ve already explained who he was and why he was so important in Judaism in one meta discussion on Tumblr, so I’ll be lazy and copy-paste my thoughts and expand them to add some details from other Abrahamic religions.

Before the Beginning, or the Angel of Love

Long story short, Libbiel was one of the archangels working with God on the creation of humans. The idea was opposed by some of them, especially the Angel of Truth, who was promptly cast down from Heaven to Earth (but promised to spring back out of the Earth eventually, don’t worry).

Unlike Michael and Gabriel, Libbiel (“God is my heart”) warned his angelic troops to accept the Ineffable Plan in advance and saved them from the Fall, which granted him God’s recognition and a new name, Raphael, the Rescuer, appointing him as the Angel of Healing (“God has healed”).

This seems to check out within the Good Omens universe: Aziraphale was involved in the Earth creation project before the rollout and had enough access to the human plans to see them with his own eyes and share this knowledge with the angel that eventually became Crowley.

He also appeared extremely anxious at the very mention of Crowley’s obligation to dissent and wanted to save him from any negative consequences even at the cost of interrupting the conversation he’s been enjoying so much.

We’ve noticed some peculiar reactions of Aziraphale to any mentions or acts of love, right? They usually involve reaching out to Crowley and might either suggest his feelings toward him or how physically overwhelmed he is with the very concept of love (or both, actually).

Interestingly, one of the official titles of archangel Raphael is Angel of Love. In Christianity he is considered a patron saint of happy meetings, matchmaking and marriage, and his healing powers involve especially eyes and… heart, in the context of both mental health and human love.

Raphael also has a canonical (at least in Catholicism) episode of playing a human matchmaker on God’s behalf in the Book of Tobit, in which he appears on Earth under the disguise of a man named Azariah. Aziraphale seems now like an obvious portmanteau for Azariah, Raphael’s alias used while disguising himself as a human, and Raphael, the name given to him by God as a commendation. An archangel embracing some humanity of his own volition.

Raphael’s color is sometimes mentioned as light blue, exactly like the light Aziraphale emits in the S2 opening sequence, and his symbol is a serpent (the ancient Caduceus, but I feel like at this point we can call him Crowley).

The angelic couple, or Zophiel and Barachiel

Remember that bit of Terry’s interview about real ingredients? Raphael’s backstory already seems complicated enough, but what if Aziraphale had not one, but two angelic prototypes? I happen to know one more angel — a cherub said to possess great feminine energy — whose story rings some alarm bells.

This is Jophiel (“The Beauty of God”) or Zophiel (“My Rock is God”, “Widom of God”, “God’s Rage”), believed to be a companion to the angel Metatron, regent of the Principalities and leader of the Cherubim, a heavenly protector — one of the child amulet angels.

In Jewish tradition Zophiel takes on the role of the guardian of the Torah as well as other books and knowledge itself, based on the fact that he was the one to guard the Tree of Knowledge and, armed with a flaming sword, drive Adam and Eve out of Eden. He also watched over Noah and his family during the Flood and was serving as an assistant to King Solomon when he spoke on Wisdom and wrote the books of Proverbs, Wisdom, and Ecclesiastes. In the Anglican tradition he is recognized as an archangel and typically depicted with a fiery sword in hand. The color belonging to Zophiel is yellow.

Lynn Fischer in “Angels of Love and Light: The Great Archangels & Their Divine Complements, the Archeiai” (November 1996) describes Zophiel as one who

“stirs the feelings through radiation of illumination and into aspiration … help in absorbing information and studying for and passing tests; dissolution of ignorance, pride, and narrow-mindedness; and exposure of wrongdoing in governments and corporations. Jophiel helps in fighting pollution, cleaning up our planet, and brings to [hu]mankind the gift of beauty. He also provides inspiration for artistic and intellectual thought providing help with artistic projects and to see the beautiful things around us.”

While this angel is mentioned in other works of fiction, Zophiel makes his most notable appearance in John Milton’s epic poem, Paradise Lost, as the warrior “cherubim with the swiftest wings” in the battle of Heaven, where he was believed to assist Michael as the standard bearer. He’s presented as a spy returning from a reconnaissance mission to the rebel camp, much in the way Aziraphale had infiltrated Hell and fooled its demons in the wake of Armageddon’t.

As Zaapiel derived from Za’ap (Hebrew) meaning rage, anger or storm, he is also recognised as the angel of storms and, under the variant Zafiel, the angel of rain. This might be the reason why Zophiel is traditionally associated with the archangel of lightning and thunder, Barachiel (“God’s Blessings” or “Lightning of God”, especially when transcribed as Barakiel or Baraqiel) — to the point of being mentioned as his partner or consort.

Barachiel is the angel of lightning, but also — as the name suggests — blessings. In Catholic iconography he is usually depicted with a staff, a basket of bread, or a rose, each petal of which is representing a blessing from God, tossed out as the angel pleases to bless people. He is the chief of guardian angels, but in particular watches over young children, and sometimes takes on the task of delivering the blessing of offspring to prospective parents.

Like Zophiel is believed to have taught humans languages and wisdom found in books, Barachiel is commonly revered as the angel who taught them astrology, the wisdom of the stars.

Nothing lasts forever

Raphaelic legends aren’t all fun and games, but also mention the less marketed aspect of being an archangel: signaling the Day of Judgment. In Christianity, this is usually assigned as another one of Gabriel’s jobs, but he’s on the run right now, isn’t he? Well, good news! In Islam, Raphael is called Israfil or Israfel and believed to be the angel who blows the trumpet to signal Qiyamah, a counterpart of the Christian Second Coming, instead. The fact that Aziraphale has taken over Gabriel’s position in Heaven might be much less coincidental than some think.

And it’s important to remember that this power is not only destructive — while the first blow will kill all creatures and creations, the second one will revive them and prepare for the Last Judgment (yes, the very same one that in Christian belief will be administered by Jesus with the help of Book of Life). Very much in line of what Adam, the Antichrist, has done with the help of a certain shoulder angel and shoulder demon.

This is exactly the sentiment found in the poem “Israfel” by Edgar Allen Poe. In a material world nothing is meant to last forever, which is a curse and a blessing. A curse because it means death and destruction; miracles may sustain a certain bookshop in its current form through millennia, but as a tombstone to the life they led instead of a home it once used to be. A blessing, because it also means change and a new beginning — as long as there’s enough life force to replace whatever is lost in the process.

Nothing on Earth lasts forever, but we should use it for inspiration, savor momentary bliss, and hold it in our hearts. Only Heaven and the passions of its angels (fallen or not) are truly eternal.

And we can expect at least two of them to keep loving each other beyond the human concept of time, perhaps in a nice cottage on the South Downs.

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