#it was really going to happen until the last minute

[wonderjanga]

Marvel being Self-Destructive

Marvel is self-destructive. Or, Billy is self-destructive and it translates to Marvel.

Marvel and Batman: *have a monitor duty together*

Marvel: *watching the monitors while absentmindedly biting the skin off his fingers*

Batman: “Robin.” *dad tone*

Marvel: *confused, looks over to him* “Huh?”

Batman: *pauses cause he just realized he said Robin. He clears his throat* “Captain, don’t do that. Your fingers could get infected.”

Marvel: “Oh uh… sorry.” *stops biting his fingers* “…Why’d you say, Robin?”

Batman: *wondering if he should tell him or not* “Robin also bites the skin on his fingers. I tell him to stop.”

Solomon: “His body language reflects embarrassment.”

Marvel: “Really? Wow.” *hand absentmindedly starts moving back to his mouth so he can start biting the skin*

Batman: *smacks his hand away*

Marvel: *confuzzled*

This happens multiple more times throughout their shift together. The much smaller Batman kept swatting Marvel’s hand away. That is until about half way through the shift, Bruce just started treating this the same way he would treat it if Marvel was Damian.

Marvel: *hand moving back to bite the skin*

Batman: *doesn’t even look at him* “Marvel.” *dad tone*

Marvel: *puts hand back down, embarrassed he’s almost done it the fiftieth time*

Just to preface, this isn’t as bad as it sounds. It’s more of a mild Dermatophagia. Which I have. So now Billy and Damian have it because I say so. Speaking of Damian…

Marvel: *dislocates the entire right side of his body just so he can reach under the couch and grab a remote without lifting the couch*

Robin!Damian: *appears from somewhere* “Teach me your ways.”

Marvel: *screams*

A couple minutes later…

Marvel: “Alright so first, you start with your thumb.” *grabs his own thumb and just dislocates it*

Robin!Damian: *copies him*

Marvel: “Then your grab your-” *starts listing things and in what order to dislocate them*

Robin!Damian: *still copying them*

Raven: *on standby just in case either of them break something*

Other Titans: *horrification*

Nightwing: “Robin! Time to go see- OH MY GOD?!”

Marvel: *entire right side back to being dislocated*

Robin!Damian: *finishes up dislocating his own right side*

Other Titans: *looking between Nightwing and Marvel*

Another couple minutes later…

Nightwing: *just finished the second to last step for dislocating his entire right side*

Other Titans: *watching*

Robin!Damian: *also watching, his side is still dislocated*

Marvel: “Right, now, repeat after me.” *He dislocates a certain joint*

Nightwing: *repeats it but a loud crack just echoes throughout the tower*

Marvel: “Did you- Did you just break something?” *extremely appalled*

Nightwing: *nods head, all calm* “I think I did. Yes.”

Raven ended up having to heal him after that. Batman also batglared him for the rest of the week. Billy felt so bad. Nightwing didn’t seem too mad though, so he was thankful for that.

[buckevantommy]

Everyone's always telling Buck what he should do. Okay, sometimes he did ask for their advice, but every piece of advice he's followed through on lately has ended badly and everything they tell him to do he doesn't actually want to do.

He should want to do something if it's supposed to make him feel better, if it's supposed to be better for him, right?

Josh told him to bulldoze ahead and tell Tommy what he wanted. Tommy told him to re-enact his Buck 1.0 days and spend time with some indeterminate amount of people until he finds someone forever. Maddie and Chim told him to start dating again and also wait for the universe to bring him someone special; another someone. Hen and Eddie told him not to contact Tommy.

He doesn't want to do any of that! He wants to talk to Tommy, to see him, to get Tommy to talk to him instead of giving up on them and running away because he's scared. He wants to tell Tommy he loves him. He wants Tommy to know first and last aren't mutually exclusive. He wants to yell at Tommy, and kiss him, and hold him. He wants Tommy to apologise for breaking his heart and for being a dumbass. He wants Tommy to believe him when he says he won't do the same; well, he might be a dumbass sometimes - but he would never break Tommy’s heart. He wants to apologise for jumping ahead but also not have to apologise for wanting a life with Tommy or for being too much.

Since that first night Tommy kissed him, he's felt reborn. Not in some starry-eyed way that Tommy seems to think is fake and won't last, but in the way that he's shed the skin of past Buck upgrades and finally grown into his body, become comfortable in who he is instead of trying to fit a facade that other people would accept. Always too big, too much, not enough, never content to just sit in his self and be without his worries and insecurities moulding him into something else, something with a better chance of getting people to like him, love him, stay with him. 

He’s never felt more himself or more at ease in a relationship that meant something to him than he did with Tommy. Never felt more wholly seen - the good, the bad, and the too-much and not enough - by his partner and adored anyway, wanted anyway.

Halfway through making swiss meringue buttercream instead of breakfast, he realises he's thinking about Tommy. His coping skill, as Bobby called it, has stopped working.

There's butter and sugar in the creases of his hands and nailbeds even after he hurriedly wipes them with the dishcloth over his shoulder. He can see it as he scoops up his phone from the charger and thumbs over to his message thread with Tommy, leaving greasy crumby residue on the screen.

i saw you bubbling

After it happened, after the Chief distracted everyone enough for him to grab his phone and retreat somewhere he wouldn't be disturbed, he'd stared at the space where the unsent message had appeared for twenty minutes waiting for the type bubble to reappear. Waiting for Tommy to hit send on whatever he'd backtyped.

Buck's mind had spiralled with all the possibilities and while it spiralled and he stared and waited he never got around to actually calling or texting Tommy himself. And then the bell rang.

He has time, now. He has things he wants to say.

you were going to tell me something an maybe i wont like what it was but just knowing you almost reached out is kinda driving me crazy bc i have a fridge full of baked goods bc everytime i think about calling you i bake and now i havnt cooked a proper meal in my own place in over a week bc i dont have room in my damn fridge to store anything besides chocholate chip bananan bread and baked alaskas

He wants to say: and it's all your fault! but that's not the whole truth. Buck played his part in this, set the wheels in motion that drove Tommy away from him. But how the hell was he supposed to know that? And Tommy should've known by now he doesn't really do 'slow'.

i'm not sorry for being too much bc i shouldnt haveto apologize for being myself

Screw it. Can't get any worse, right? Tommy's getting all of him whether he likes it or not.

i dont see you as some queer life coach or someone to fill space until someon else comes along

thats not who i am

i thought you knew me better than that but whatevr ig

i wanted to live with you bc i want a life with you bc i love you

i love you

i shouldve said that first

Send after send, typing like a man possessed, he gets out everything that's been pent up inside him since the shock wore off a week ago.

His chest is heaving as the adrenaline rushes through his veins. And his eyes sting. He has to blink away tears as he reads over the last message.

He never told Tommy. Tommy doesn't know. Maybe Buck wasn't sure that night Josh asked him, but he knows it now.

i wanted you to be my last

He still does.

i wanna hate you for giving up on us

but i cant seem to hate you

This whole thing would hurt a lot less if he could just hate Tommy for what he did. It would hurt a lot less if they could find a way through this mess, together, and come out the other side stronger because they know each other better and know they want to fight for what they have.

Real love is worth fighting for. Red taught him that. Real love isn’t found, it’s made. Old gay Thomas taught him that.

Well, Buck found Tommy. Or, the universe did. And he’s going to fight, dammit, because he wants to build a future with Tommy. 

His vision has blurred with hot tears. Movement on his screen catches his attention from where his gaze had drifted over to the couch where Tommy had stayed to take care of him through his Billy Boils saga.

Tommy is bubbling him.

Buck’s heart lurches in his chest. His breath catches.

can we talk?

There’s a huff of something like manic laughter as he swipes at his snotty nose.

that’s what i typed

Hope blooms in his chest, sudden and bright and painful in the best way.  

can we?

I think I owe it to you to yell at me in person

There’s a long moment where Buck tries to return his breathing to normal but its bated as he watches three little dots appear, then disappear. 

Then reappear. 

Then disappear.

Then:

I don’t want to give up on us either

Buck’s tears are still making his vision watery, but now they’re tears of joy. He did what he wanted to do - he reached out. And Tommy heard him.

He should take his own advice more often.

[capseycartwright]

you're my sun, my moon, my guiding star

“Fine, let’s have it your way then,” Eddie slammed his phone down on the kitchen table. “You set me up a dating profile then – Hinge, Grindr, whatever you fucking want, Buck. Set me up a dating profile, and you pick which random man I need to sleep with to make it so you feel okay about wanting me.” 

in which evan buckley gets dumped, gets drunk with his best friend, realises he's in love with said best friend, and lets his abandonment issues get the best of him. because your first is never your last, right? so buck can't be eddie's first: he needs to be his last.

ao3 link

Buck was driving himself to Eddie’s before he could really even think about it, the autopilot of his brain engaging and getting him behind the wheel, and on the road to his best friend’s house without needing much thought at all. Eddie was who he needed, in that moment – not Maddie, and her sage advice, not Hen, who’d be clever, and logical about it all. No, he needed Eddie. Eddie, who inexplicably opened the front door in his underwear and a pink shirt. Eddie, who let them sit in silence, a playlist churning out eighties rock for a full twenty-three minutes (Buck checked) before Eddie said anything at all. 

“So,” Eddie set his empty drink down, gesturing to Buck for a second. Buck twisted the cap off before he handed it over, adding to the pile on the coffee table. “What happened? You said that you and Tommy were going to the movies tonight.” 

Buck groaned, the sound loud in the quiet of Eddie’s house. “I was supposed to be,” he slumped back onto the couch. “But then he dumped me.” 

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “He dumped you?”

“He dumped me,” Buck confirmed. “Because I am a deeply unlovable individual who is going to die alone.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “I think you might be being dramatic there.”

“I’m not!” Buck protested. “Eddie, everyone I date dumps me – or leaves me. That apparently doesn’t even change when I’m dating a man. It’s not – I thought it would be different, with Tommy.” 

“Because he’s a man?” Eddie’s confusion wasn’t judgemental – no, Eddie never judged him, Buck was sure of that much. It was sincere confusion, his best friend wanting to understand where Buck was coming from.

“Yeah? No? I mean – maybe,” Buck huffed. He wasn’t entirely sure how to articulate himself. “I guess – I guess I just thought that now I know who I am, that I’m like – consciously aware I’m bisexual – it might be different. That maybe it didn’t work out before because there was this part of me that I didn’t know, or understand, and that had affected my relationships because I wasn’t bringing my like, whole self to the table. But if it didn’t work with Tommy, then that’s not why. Right? Then the problem is me.” 

Eddie’s expression softened. “I don’t think the problem is you, Buck.”

“It has to me! I’m the only common denominator here.”

Buck wanted to cry. He wanted to lie down on Eddie’s couch and cry until he had nothing left – and it wasn’t about Tommy, really, because Buck had liked Tommy, but the end of their relationship wasn’t what was making him feel so devastated. It was the idea of Tommy, more than anything else – what Tommy represented. A happily ever after that Buck was falling short of all over again. 

“What did Tommy say, exactly? Maybe – maybe you’re spiralling, and he gave you a good reason that you’re not seeing.” 

“He – I asked him to move in with me.” 

“Buck.”

Eddie sounded long-suffering. Buck had earned that. He knew that much. “I know,” he knew it had been the wrong move. The words were barely out of his mouth, and Buck knew it had been the wrong move – but that was sort of his thing, to cling desperately to relationships that didn’t work because he was so terrified of being alone. “I just – I felt comfortable with him, and the whole Abby thing was weird.”

“Really weird,” Eddie agreed, wincing. 

“But not the kind of weird I couldn’t get past. Right? He came over tonight, and I told him – why be apart when we could be together. Then, he said he couldn’t move in with me, because if he did, I would only break his heart,” Buck sighed. He wouldn’t intend to. That’s what Tommy had said – but who ever planned to break someone’s heart? No one was that cruel. Maybe they were – but Buck wasn’t. He’d never wanted to break anyone’s heart, even if that had been the end result sometimes. 

Eddie was quiet for a second. “Did he say why he thought you’d break his heart?”

Buck’s beer burned his throat as he took another gulp, the sour taste lingering. “He said that he was my first, but he wasn’t my last.” 

read the rest on ao3

[ayrtonswnna]

hello there!

Can I request a Franco x reader? But where Ayrton Senna is alive in this universe and the reader is Senna? If not, then fine. It's up to you. Thanks in advance 😊😊

ʚɞ a/n: that is my moment!!!!!!!! i often imagine how would it be to have ayrton in contemporary scenarios it's unhealthy lol. i really think he'd be full of jokes and a fun guy just like he was off track. thanks for the request, it was a real nice one to write! (and if anyone has any senna request, i'll be more tham happy to take it! (i'm even willing to write stuff with senna himself))

ʚïɞ "you got me good" FC43

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀↳ masterlist ↳ drop a request! ↳ more franco fluff!

✧₊⁺ franco colapinto x cecília senna (senna!female oc)

✧₊⁺ word count: 1,6k⠀⠀⠀⠀✧₊⁺, gender: crack, fluff.

✧₊⁺ summary: franco and cecília kept a secret relationship and when they decide to come clean, her father was ahead of it and he's a total menace.

✧₊⁺ warnings: alternative universe where that may 1th 1994 didn't happen and ayrton grew old like he deserved to, my hyper focus on that man shown in references, a bit of portuguese properly translated, kinda short and poorly contextualized, curse words, franco is a baby, just soft and light content for the win.

"What do you mean he doesn't know about it?"

Franco took a deep breath, massaging his own scalp as his friend and co-worker continued talking, a mix of excitement and judgment in his words.

"You are not making this any better," he mouthed.

"You are dating his daughter! You are da-ting. The man's daughter. Like... The man's daughter. The hell haven't you met her family!?"

"I am scared, okay!? If I get rejected by her family... It's not just my girlfriend's family. It's simply Senna himself! Should I what!? Drop the job? Hide in a cave?"

Alex laughed, the words and the tone easing the tension. The guy was worried to death and things might be simpler than he thought. Everyone knew Senna was a fun person.

Dating Cecília Senna felt almost like marrying into royalty. It's a good feeling, though. Bagging Cecília Senna could easily be added to one of Franco's big achievements — and he's a former F2 driver called in last minute to fill a Formula One seat — and he's doing great.

But still, it's Cecília Senna, the only child of a legend, someone he looked up to growing up, someone he saw in the paddock many times before ending up in his daughter's sheets.

"Hello, everyone!"

God, his heart might have dropped to the floor just now. The retired driver walked into the garage happily, with his daughter attached to his arm and waving familiarly.

Everyone gathered around them immediately, though Cecília's eyes instantly met Franco's. She knew he was scared and had made fun of him until she couldn't anymore, teasing him in every way she could.

"I've heard the news on the Argentinian! You guys are lucky you got away easily!"

Alright, it's time to pray. What news? That he's fucking his daughter? That they meet every week? That she wanted a Williams' box pass so badly just because of him? Or... That they hid it from everyone just to gain a bit more time?

"We got quality, mate! That's it." Vowels took his cue to fill in the blank, the people dispersing and going back to their work. "Found the kid sparring and made him a beast."

"Yeah, of course," the Brazilian laughed. "What's up, buddy! Feeling the pressure?"

Franco mentally cursed Cecília for raising her eyebrows and doubling the meaning of the question, but he managed to stand up and dry his sweaty hands on his pants.

"I try not to, honestly. Not... think about it a lot," he said, feeling he could have worded the sentence a bit better as they shook hands.

"That's the spirit! I heard a lot about you, little man. Do you know my daughter? Cecília?"

Tricky question. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Tricky question.

If he had heard about it, then he knew about them. Franco could say "yes" and end up with a lecture, or say "no" and be caught in a lie.

"You guys think you are smart, huh? Fooling around, hiding from cameras..."

Oh, it's over. It's over for him. The "drop the job and hide in a cave" plan was almost running in his veins right now. Maybe he should Sebastian Vettel his way around, retire early, and move to a countryside home in Switzerland. Yes, that's a good plan.

"Pai... Para com isso." Cecília shoved her dad's side, rolling her eyes. (Dad... Stop that.)

"What? You guys thought you got away with it?"

"Pai! Ele tá ficando sem graça!" she insisted. (Dad! He's getting uncomfortable!)

Franco thought of speaking up, but the nerves were all up and maybe he should let it be.

"Yeah! He should!" Ayrton still had a serious look on his face, making Franco shiver.

"Pai, sério." (Dad, I'm serious.)

"Sir, I know it—"

"Come on, Franquinho! I'm fooling around, take that scared look off your face!" In a matter of seconds, Ayrton's grin turned into a playful smile, and his arm was hooked over Franco's shoulder, messing up his hair and leaving him even more confused. "Did I scare you? You should have seen your eyes!"

Franco laughed, still a bit dulled. That was a big one.

"You're a bastard," Cecília rolled her eyes once again, aware of the father she had.

The man was a natural jokester, full of little jokes and loved making uncomfortable scenarios in the name of fun. He was a handful.

"And you guys should have told me about this before! You lost it all, Franquinho. Angra, the travels... You need to be introduced to the family!"

He had heard about Angra; the beach house Cecília went to every now and then, how much she and her father loved the place. He even saw an old interview where Ayrton said that his retirement plans included being "Angra's nature inspector."

"Yeah- Yeah, sim." Franco risked some Portuguese, patting Ayrton on the back before they both stepped apart. "Sorry for... for taking too long to meet you, I was- Damn, you got me good."

"I could see!" Senna didn't waste a single laugh. "Don't worry, little boy. You're a good investment. And Cecília is pretty happy, so... you got my support."

"I'm even happier to hear it." Franco chuckled. "Thank you, very much. Your daughter also makes me really happy."

"Of course! Her bad jokes make everyone laugh." Ayrton kept the teasing going. "Now you better show me some racing! I've been in your place and to keep the daughter you need to be as good as dad!"

"You should have seen your face, baby!"

Franco glanced at his girlfriend as he turned his head, their first alone time since the morning's humiliation session.

"I don't wanna talk about it," he mouthed, shirt off and focus switching. "That was traumatizing."

"I told you he's a clown." Her shoulders went up a bit. "But he wasn't lying at the end! He likes you!"

"I got that part. Now I know where you got that dark humor from." The blue-eyed boy stood in the middle of his room, hands on his waist as he let his girlfriend use her eyes.

"What can I say? I am my father's daughter." She smiled mischievously. "He wants you to spend some time, though. Before Vegas, maybe?"

"I could've Max Verstappen my way around and have stayed for the week... But we waited until your dad could scare me to death in the middle of the box so... Yeah, it can be next week." He started simple, voice steady.

But then Cecília approached and her hands liked to touch. All over his torso while she traced a good way for his hair.

"You ain't seen nothing yet." The smile was still on her face, lips coming closer and closer to his. "But I am really happy, you know? Now we can just be and enjoy some time... I can take you to Angra, and I don't need to hide in your driver's room. I was done with pretending I was investing in Williams just so I had a reason to watch the races here."

"Told you about it... You could afford my seat."

Another joke. Ever since he got into F1 as an emergency call, she did say she only had to call her dad and his 2025 seat would be secured.

"You're gonna get it because you deserve it, I am not affording that." She flashed her eyelashes, rimming a single syllable as his hands also started to travel.

Inside her expensive shirt, up and down her back in good pressure before they found room at her waist.

"You know what else I deserve?"

"You freak! Go shower and I'll be waiting for you outside. My dad is around!"

It took them no time. Within weeks, Ayrton and Franco became partners in crime, and suddenly, Cecília was having a taste of her own medicine.

"Turn it off! Now!" Ayrton whispered in a screaming tone, the last signal Franco needed before turning off the power for the whole house.

Cecília had just come back from the beach and Franco finally knew the Angra house. It was dark, and the prank was not very well planned.

"Porra." (Shit.) they heard the Brazilian swearing. "Que inferno, de novo? PAAAAI?" (What the hell, again? DAAAAD?)

He knew some words in Portuguese and it only made it funnier. Him and his father-in-law were hiding in the small laundry room as Cecília searched for them.

"Ready, kid?"

"No, but I'll do it anyways."

"Good kid. You're a great one." The old man, as a new custom, messed with the Argentinian's hair, before opening the door and waiting for him to leave.

"Eu juro, se vocês estiverem armando pra cima de mim eu— Ah— FRANCO! NO!" (I swear, if you guys are planning something against me I—)

He's fast even with his limited knowledge about the furniture in the house, walking in the dark before he could lift her and throw her over his shoulder.

It's the fourth time she's thrown in the pool and she just knows it's her father opening the glass door for the exterior area before she's sinking in cold water.

"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU ALL!" Cecília screamed. "I JUST WASHED MY HAIR! OH MY GOD! PUTTING YOU TWO TOGETHER WAS THE WORST THING I EVER DID!"

"Não reclama, princesinha..." (Don't you complain, little princess...) her father played, now standing besides her boyfriend. "Bate aqui, you passed the test. Welcome to the family." (High five,)

"I hate you guys. Eu odeio vocês, los odio. Whatever. Don't ever talk to me again." Cecília stomped her way out of the pool, walking straight past them.

"Don't get mad, baby... It's just a joke!"

"Well, boy... It's your girlfriend. Go ease her nerves. You're called Colapinto for a reason."

ʚïɞ ayrtonswnna, 2024. check my masterlist or drop a request (: reblogs and feedback are always welcome (:

[onelinerbust]

"I'm going back to my parents with the kids until New Year," Mary said with a resigned sigh, their toddler in her back while the 5 years old Ava gripping her hand

"Are you for real? Babe, the fuck? Why are you so dramatic?" Wes said mid-workout, both of his hands still gripping the dumbbells as if the pump should never stop, even when his marriage is in the brink

"Dramatic? You voted against my body! Against my rights! Against Ava's future! Why do you have to be so selfish?"

"Well, it's not like if I vote differently, the election suddenly went the other direction. Like.....seriously, calm down. You don't see the other wives walk away from their home,"

"This will be the last thing I said to you as your wife so you better listen to this carefully. Imagine not having a say about your own organ, let alone your own body in its totality. You voted for that. And I wish.......there's some kind...of wa-- way that will make you understand t--t--the feeling of losing autonomy....over your own----

*blackout*

Wes immediately realized that something is totally wrong as he witnessed his own self standing over him, building up sweat like crazy as the impostor finished his set. Then, it hits him, he's wearing his wife's clothing.

"Fuck yeah babe, finally, you're awake! Got the kids back inside and decided to do my workout while waiting for you to wake up. How do you feel?"

Wes is in complete disbelief. What on the Twilight Zone is happening here? The comically dreadful situation then quickly turned into a more tense setting as the impostor lowered his voice

"You said none of the wives are as dramatic as I am, right? Threatening to leave home and all that? Well, let's just say, this is the kind of way out the ladies managed to pull off. You're not the first one,"

Wes cannot hide his shock. Is the impostor really saying the truth? Is that why the men were quieter in the neighborhood group chat the past few days? Everything started to make sense, but still, a bodyswap? What kind of witchcraft is this?

"One last thing though. You probably wondered why then the men just accepted their fate and not running around for help. Well, let's just say that once this thick meat plough your new-found hole, you are going to be practically moldable to my whim. I'm definitely going to make you one hell of an obedient stay-at-home-mom devoted to make her husband and family happy, including aligning yourself to all your husband's belief. You will never vote against my wishes, ever again. But let me lift till failure first before I fuck you silly. Enjoy your last few minutes of freedom, babe,"

I think this is my longest story ever. The pictures really triggered something in my mind. Hope you all can enjoy it

[nadvs]

hard to ignore (two-shot) (part two)

pairing singledad! zach maclaren x nanny! female reader

summary when you’re offered a job as a nanny, you can tell right away that you’ll grow fond of the little girl you’re taking care of. things are easy to manage until you realize you’re falling for her dad.

content warning parental abandonment

» part one

» masterlist

Zach gets you and his daughter box seats for his next home game.

It happens to be on your first day back at work after his family leaves and he jokes that sooner is better than later, not only because his team might get knocked out of the playoffs, but also because Ella could change her mind about wanting to come.

The private space overlooking the stadium is small, only a handful of other people there, as the late afternoon sun shines over the rich green field.

You learned that Zach is a major league soccer player minutes into meeting him. You knew he had an unusual life and a certain level of notoriety as a professional athlete. But seeing the crowds filling the seats below you makes it real to you.

The music and the announcer’s voice boom through the stadium, fireworks going off as players rush the field. All this craziness doesn’t match the man you know. Zach is kind and humble and beneath his silly sense of humor, he has a gentleness to him that you’d never expect from someone whose last name is sprawled over fans’ jerseys, who’s getting cheered for so loudly that it’s deafening.

Ella excitedly claps when her father appears on the stadium screen, his face hard as he jogs under the bright lights. You gaze ahead in awe, unable to believe that this is the world he lives in when he’s not at the house, running around with his daughter, thanking you for everything you do.

After the game ends in a draw, you take Ella home in time for dinner. As you drive, wipers cleaning away the drizzle that just started to fall, she excitedly rambles about the experience from the backseat. You smile to yourself, glad that she enjoyed herself and proud that you’re the reason she went.

As usual, Ella slips out of her chair with a mouthful of food when she hears the front door open halfway into dinner. You watch her dart out of the dining room, listening to the huff Zach lets out every time his daughter roughly launches herself into his arms.

“That was so cool!” you overhear.

“Really?” he says. “You didn’t get bored?”

“Um, it was kind of too long,” she says, “but I had pictures to color.”

“Appreciate your honesty,” Zach replies with a laugh.

They round the corner to enter the dining room and when Zach’s eyes land on you, your heart does a somersault.

“Hey,” he says to you, nervous.

“Hi,” you reply. “Thanks for the fancy seats.”

“They were alright?”

“Good enough for two princesses,” you tease.

“Princess ballerinas,” Ella corrects you as she sits down again.

“Right,” you say. “Sorry. I keep forgetting that we’re princess ballerinas now.”

Zach mirrors your smile, loving the feeling of sharing a moment like this with you. You stand to clean your plate and it reminds him of what his mother said a couple of nights ago. That you look at him the same way he looks at you.

He hopes that it’s true, because he can’t take his eyes off of you. He’s a little embarrassed that you saw him in a match. He’s always loved soccer, but he never liked how much attention is on him as a major league player.

“Maybe you should wait out the rain,” Zach says to you. “It started coming down hard on my drive home.”

“Good idea,” you say, happy to spend more time with him.

The rest of dinner consists of Ella happily chattering with you and Zach. As she clears her plate, Zach’s phone buzzes on the table top. His lips purse in worry at the notification, and then he shows you the severe thunderstorm warning message on his screen.

“That looks bad,” you say. “How long is it supposed to go on for?”

“It says into the early morning,” Zach answers. “Do you want to crash here?”

“I’m sure I could make it home,” you say. “I’ll just drive slowly.”

Zach’s lips part, and then he closes his mouth, simply nodding.

“What?” you chuckle. His eyes dart away.

“Just worried about you,” he admits. You huff an endeared laugh.

“Fine. I’ll sleep here,” you decide.

He sighs a breath of relief and says, “Thanks.”

Zach takes Ella to bed and you settle on the couch, glad you already have everything you’ll need in your overnight bag in the guest room. You eventually hear his footsteps coming down the stairs over the sounds of the television and the rain hammering down on the roof.

He sits on the other end of the couch next to you, so far that a person could easily sit between you. It’s typical Zach, never getting too close to you. The only time he’s ever touched you is when he shook your hand before your interview half a year ago.

“She fell asleep while I was explaining what offside means,” he says with an adorably puzzled expression. “Trying not to be offended.”

“I can’t believe she’s actually interested in soccer,” you say.

“Ouch.” Zach puts his hand over his heart. “Okay, I’m offended now.”

“I mean because you said she never cared before,” you laugh.

“I asked her so many times if she’d want to come to a game,” he huffs. “But you suggest it once and she’s immediately in. She always listens to you.”

“Not when I’m trying to convince her to leave the park,” you say. He chuckles. “Can you believe she’s starting kindergarten soon?”

Admittedly, Zach’s concerned about it. In less than a month, Ella will be going to school and he never was one to have much anxiety before he became a father, but all he does now is worry. He doesn’t want any teachers or kids to be harsh with his little girl. She’s already been through enough.

“She’ll be okay,” you say.

“What?”

“You have that worried look on your face,” you tell him. “She’ll love school. I’m sure of it.”

“You can read me pretty well,” he says, smiling. You shrug timidly, thinking back to how quickly he’d noticed something was bothering you on the night of Ella’s birthday.

“What?” he asks.

“It goes both ways,” you admit. “You saw right through me after the party.”

Zach’s jaw tightens, the playfulness between you replaced by a fragile air. He takes a breath before speaking. He knows he needs to have this conversation with you.

“Do you feel better about what she said?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you reply. Now that you’ve had some time to process, you’re okay. “How about you?”

“Well,” he begins, nerves tightening in his stomach, “it wasn’t easy to hear. Ella shouldn’t have to wish she had a different mom. Jade should be here for her.”

He’s never said her name. He’s never looked like this before, his eyes avoiding yours, hand trembling a bit as he scratches his jaw. You can tell this is hard for him to talk about. But he’s choosing to do it with you.

“You said ex-wife that night, but she was never my wife,” Zach admits.

“Oh. Sorry. I just assumed.”

“You don’t have to apologize. I know I haven’t told you much. When we talked that night, it reminded me of just how much you don’t know about it. I just… I hope you know that you’re… you’re so much more than Ella’s nanny. You’re our friend. And you’re obviously a mother figure to her. And it feels weird that you don’t know what happened.”

His words sink into you, every syllable having an effect on your heartbeat.

“What happened?”

“Ella was a surprise,” he tells you. “Jade and I were dating in our senior year of college when we found out she was pregnant. And then I got drafted into the league and we graduated and everything was happening so fast, but we were happy and… I stayed happy and she didn’t.”

You nibble on your bottom lip, looking at him as his eyes stay trained off of yours.

“We broke up a few months after Ella was born. But we were both sure we could handle co-parenting. She stayed at home while I worked. I could see she didn’t like it, though. She wasn’t a bad mother or anything. She just wasn’t very… affectionate with Ella.”

Your chest tightens. It’s painful to imagine Ella wanting love and not getting it.

“I don’t know. I thought she’d eventually feel how I feel about being a parent. I tried everything,” Zach says, remembering how he’d encouraged Jade to go to therapy or take time away or work while they hired help. It was like she was stuck in her unhappiness. “But then she left and… that was it.”

He finally looks at you and the tenderness in your eyes gives him a breath of fresh air. It’s what you do. Just by being you, you give him the push to stay hopeful that he and his daughter will be okay.

“We weren’t in a good place when you came. But you made things so much better,” he says. “You do an amazing job taking care of her. I really appreciate it.”

Your eyes light up, the smile on your face gentle.

“Thank you for saying that,” you say. “And thank you for telling me the full story. I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

Zach sighs now that the weight of reliving it is gone.

“I really do love her. I meant it when I said it.” At this point, you’re sure you love him, too, but you wouldn’t dare say it out loud. “And I feel lucky to get to watch her grow up. This doesn’t even feel like a job to me anymore.”

“So, what I’m hearing is, you don’t want the pay?” he says. You find relief in his joke, tossing your head back with a laugh. “Seriously, though, let me know if you need me to keep things the same while you’re part-time during the school year. I don’t mind.”

“Wait, are you offering to pay me for hours I’m not even working?” you chuckle. “Zach, no. I’m good. I have other things lined up. But thank you.”

“What? Everyone knows you should always accept free money.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you say. “How do you even have the energy to joke around right now? I just watched you run around for ninety minutes.”

Like always, Zach blushes when you bring up his job. He’s intense and focused on the pitch, but he’s different when he’s at ease at home.

“There’s a break in the middle,” he replies.

“I stand corrected,” you say. “So, how’d you get into soccer?”

Your conversation quickly and easily drifts into topics you hadn’t explored before, the storm raging outside as you learn more about him and he learns more about you. He’s still on the other end of the couch, but soon, his arm is resting against the back of it, his hand inches away from you as you sink into the soft cushions, beaming at each other as you talk.

You don’t want to stop, but eventually you can’t stifle your yawn, prompting Zach to check his watch.

“Jeez,” he says. “Ella went down three hours ago.”

“Are you serious?” You sit up. “That flew by.”

Zach knew that the more he learned about you, the more of a goner he’d be. It feels like he just went on the best date of his life and all he did was sit on his couch and talk.

There’s something between you and he hopes that it’s not just his infatuation misguiding him.

────୨ৎ────

You were right. He had nothing to worry about. Ella’s more than happy at school. It’s only a week into the year and she’s already naming all her new friends when Zach picks her up Friday afternoon.

Her first dance recital is tonight and he’s looking forward to seeing you and his family there. Ella had even mentioned that her other grandparents could come. They were elated to get the invitation.

And of course, when he arrives at the studio that evening, you’re already there, reliable and steady like you always are. You greet him and his family warmly and introduce yourself to Jade’s parents.

It feels wrong to hear you refer to yourself as Ella’s nanny. You’ve been in his life for eight months now and you’ve nestled your way into his soul so deeply that he knows you’ll stay with him forever.

He’s been grappling with this since he first realized he had feelings for you; this bothersome sense of wrong. He can’t pursue you. Technically, no matter how much it doesn’t feel like it, he is your boss. He pays you to take care of his child. If things went sideways, it could push you to leave.

Although he’s never felt this much love for a woman in his life, it’d be selfish. He can’t do it to Ella. He didn’t even want to date other women when Jade was still around simply because it could confuse his daughter.

But you’re different.

His thoughts are interrupted when you look at him, pulling him out of his haze.

“I saved us seats,” you tell him.

Zach’s sitting between you and his father when the recital starts. Eventually, Ella drifts across the middle of the floor between the other dancers.

“This is the part she’s nervous about,” you whisper to him, recalling how she’d told you that this part in the choreography makes her trip sometimes.

You watch her hop sideways, focused as the music grows faster. You’re so on edge that you don’t realize your hand slips into Zach’s, squeezing nervously. She lands her last skip and rejoins the group. You let out a sigh of relief. Then, you look down, seeing your fingers wrapped around Zach’s.

“Sorry,” you say, trying to laugh it off as you pull your hand back. “I think I’m taking a five-year-old’s dance recital a little too seriously.”

Zach can only offer a tight smile. His team’s inching closer to advancing to the championship semi-finals and the pressure has never been heavier, but even that hasn’t affected him like the tension he’s feeling right now. His whole body is on fire from your touch, and it won’t go away.

When the recital comes to an end, Zach leans closer to you to murmur over the applause surrounding you.

“You going out to dinner with us?” he asks.

“Do I have to?” you quip.

“What, you got a date or something?” He worries that the joke was too much. Too flirty.

But you laugh and say, “I haven’t had a date or something in forever. Yeah, I’ll come.” Although it’s hard to believe that a woman like you is single, he’s glad you are.

The eight of you sit in the busy restaurant, making conversation. As Zach expected, Ella insisted she sit next to you. You have endless patience for her, listening to her talk, answering her questions, letting her pick off your plate. He would move mountains for his child. He can tell you’d do the same.

Zach picks up the bill and you all say your goodbyes to Jade’s parents, who insisted they didn’t need to stay the night. Before you head out, you tell his family it was nice to see them again. He can tell you’re a little surprised when his mother pulls you in for a hug, but you kindly return it.

Connie obviously appreciates everything you’ve done for her son and granddaughter. Zach tries not to daydream too much, but he likes imagining being your boyfriend and telling you that his mom called that you’d become something one day.

When you say bye to Zach, your gazes meet like you’ve been waiting for a private moment for ages. Things changed on the night you stayed over. You went from friends to a gray area of something more, neither of you acting on it but knowing it’s there.

Only an hour after Ella falls asleep, Zach’s parents and sister turn in for the night, tired from their drive in. Zach is too wired, silently sitting in his living room, his tea not having its usual effect of soothing him.

He goes through his camera roll, wishing he could go for a drive to relax, but not wanting to leave his daughter in case she needs him. He stares at a photo his mother took of you and him and Ella earlier tonight after the recital, Ella’s hair frizzy from all the jumping around she did.

His smile is wide and so is yours and you look like more than just someone he hired to help take care of his daughter. You look like a family.

He opens your conversation and sends you the photo. It’s nearing 10 p.m. and he’s not sure if you’re already asleep, but you respond a minute later: Aw I love this. Thanks :) How’s your night going?

Zach responds: Good… but everyone’s asleep and I’m still wide awake. Yours?

You reply: Is your tea not working?

He smiles to himself and texts back: Not this time.

You text: I’m kind of wired, too.

How come?

Not sure.

He replies with a joke: Could be Ella’s fault. I saw her eat a lot of your dinner. It’s probably hunger keeping you awake.

Once again, his mind drifts to the way your palm felt against the back of his hand tonight. Then, he hears a door open upstairs. In case it’s Ella, he quietly rushes up the stairs to run into his mom, who’s leaving the bathroom.

“Sorry,” he whispers when he startles her. “I thought Ella woke up and I didn’t want her to think I was gone.”

“I’m sure she’ll be deep asleep until the morning,” Connie says. She notices he’s still in the clothes he wore to the recital. “Can’t sleep?”

“No,” he chuckles. “I’d go for a drive, but I–”

“If she wakes up, I’m here and if she needs you, I’ll call. Go. You need to take care of yourself, too.”

“I’m fine.”

“Go for a drive,” his mother insists. “She’s okay. I promise.”

Zach considers it. With work and Ella and you, his mind has been sort of chaotic. A drive, even a short one, will give him some relief.

“Thanks,” he finally says, giving his mom a grateful smile.

The streetlights plunge him in and out of darkness as he drives through town. When he got in the car, the impulse to go see you seemed ridiculous. With every minute that passes, it feels less and less silly.

Zach eventually pulls over and looks at his phone, staring at the text message he sent you ten minutes ago. How could he even ask to come over without coming on too strong or crossing a boundary?

He’s not sure if he believed in signs from the universe before, but when you text him right when he’s considering if he should text you, he takes it as his answer.

Nothing is ever her fault. But now I’m having a midnight snack lol. Are you still awake?

He replies: Yes. Just driving around. Do you want company?

He’s nervous as he waits. But then you send him your address.

Minutes later, you open your door to gentle knocks, heart skipping when you see him. At this point, being apart from Zach is starting to hurt. You lied when you texted him. You know exactly why you’re wired. It’s because he won’t leave your mind.

“Hi,” he says, a pink hue on his cheeks. “Kind of crazy that you’ve been to my house a million times, but I have no idea what your place looks like.”

“Is that why you’re here?” you ask. “You need to see it that bad?”

“I think it’s what’s keeping me awake.”

You laugh, stepping back, inviting him in. Zach’s eyes travel over your apartment, taking in every little piece that you’ve put into it. Being here is more intimate than he expected. And then you shut the door behind him, thickening the tension, both of you now sharing complete privacy in a way you never have before.

“Is that an Ella original?” he says, pointing to a drawing stuck on your fridge.

“Yup. That’s me and her and the castle we live in,” you tell him. You lead him into the kitchen as you gaze at the bright crayon marking the paper. “And that’s her horse. She was very adamant about it being her horse. But I can pet it if I ask nicely.”

He laughs and gazes at the drawing, touched that you’d keep something his daughter made up on display. Even when you’re not at the house, you want to be reminded of her.

“Where am I?” he asks in mock offense.

“I’m sure she meant to include you, but the horse took up too much space,” you explain, looking over your shoulder up at him. He’s inches away from you, towering above you. You’re so close to him that you can see the stubble growing over his jaw.

“The tutus are a nice touch,” he says, pointing to the pink skirts drawn on both of you. You laugh and turn to face him all the way. You clear your throat, smitten that he’s really here.

“She was great tonight, huh?” you ask.

“She was.” Zach’s smile is bright, the same way it always is whenever he talks about her. “And she wanted all the grandparents there.”

“I think that’s progress.”

“Me, too.” He exhales. “It was an almost perfect night.”

“Almost?”

“My hand still hurts,” he mumbles, face pinching as he looks down at his hand.

“Listen…” you say with a bashful smile. “I’m sorry, okay? I was stressed.” Zach laughs and it takes everything in him not to hug you. “Was it really that bad?”

“So bad,” he teases, flexing his hand. “You’re too reckless.”

“Reckless? Is that what you think of me?”

Zach cocks his head, staring down at you with a look that burns through you, and soberly says, “No. It’s not.”

His gaze drifts over your face, taking you in slowly. You think back to the first time you saw those eyes, sad and distant. Comparing the way he looked that morning to how he’s gazing at you right now is like comparing black and white.

The light atmosphere has quickly been replaced by a somberness hanging over both of you. Your heart is thumping against your chest. Hard.

“What, then?” you ask.

How can he even find the words to describe how you make him feel? You fit perfectly in every way. You settled into his life like there was always a place waiting just for you. Even tonight, when you grabbed his hand for only a moment, it felt like he was born to be touched by you.

You’ve brought light to his life. He always looked forward to coming home to his daughter, and now he looks forward to coming home to you, too. And having to continue to live like this, acting like his heart isn’t completely yours, is torture.

“I think you’re…” Zach’s tone is low, lids dropping as he looks at your lips before he speaks again. “Perfect.”

Your breath catches. You’ve been able to keep yourself away from him for what feels like ages. You’re not sure you’ll have the strength for much longer. This is the moment where everything can change. You know you both feel it.

“Should I not be here?” he says quietly.

It’s his way of making sure you’re okay. That you want him to be here as badly as he wants to be here. That even though maybe this shouldn’t be happening, you have faith that it will only bring you both joy, and you don’t need to consider the risks because you’ll never have to face them.

He looks so painfully unsure that you long to comfort him. Your hand finds his and he laces his warm fingers between yours the instant he feels you. He exhales slowly, never having felt so vulnerable before.

Too much is on the line. He’s only thinking of himself right now. He shouldn’t have come here, he shouldn’t have given in, he shouldn’t have–

“Stay,” you whisper. Your simple word untangles the knot in his chest. You step closer to seal the distance that remains between you. His eyes finally drift back up to find yours.

“I can’t help how I feel about you,” Zach murmurs. “I don’t want to mess up how good things are, but I just…”

He trails off into silence, sighing shakily.

“I know,” you say. “Me, too.”

“Tell me to leave,” he says with a note of pity. You breathe a sad chuckle.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I want you here.”

Zach’s grip on your hand tightens, his heart feeling like it’s just been put together after being fractured for years. His lips part and while he doesn’t know how to say how much your words mean to him, he knows how to show it.

He leans closer, cupping your face, capturing your lips with a soft and impatient kiss. You dissolve into bliss, eyelids fluttering closed as his hot mouth presses against yours, head swimming, body buzzing.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer, eyelashes overlapping as you kiss deeply, hungrily tasting each other in adoration. His arms circle around you and surround you in warmth.

He lets out a short, almost silent moan against your lips, relieved and assured and grateful that you want him this badly, too. Everything about this feels right. He’s where he’s supposed to be, standing here, kissing you, baring his soul.

You’re breathless when you eventually pull away, eyes slowly opening as he tilts to plant a lazy kiss on your forehead, thumbs stroking your cheeks.

“I kept telling myself that I can’t like you,” he says against your skin. “Do you have any idea how impossible that is?”

You exhale a contented sigh, afraid that you did actually doze off and that this is all just a dream.

“I think I do,” you reply.

Zach’s laugh is breathy, leaning back just enough to look at you. He’s in awe, his lips tender from pressing against yours, his knees weak as he holds your face in his hands. Now that he doesn’t have to hide it or force himself not to stare, he lets himself drown in your eyes.

He brushes his lips against yours again and you smile under the kiss, placing your palm over his hand.

“Is this the hand I hurt?” you tease, gently squeezing.

“Ow,” he playfully winces, making you laugh. You nuzzle your cheek against his palm and smile up at him.

“You sure you like me?” you say. He’s sure he loves you, but it’s too much, too soon to say at this moment. “You know you can’t afford any injuries right now.”

“Worth it,” Zach plays along.

“I keep wanting to ask you about work,” you say. He hasn’t spoken much about playoffs, but you did a little research on his team’s standings. “How has it been? Are you stressed?”

“Pressure’s on, but I’m fine,” he says simply. Your words won’t find you at first. It’s sort of unbelievable how he doesn’t ever flaunt his success, not even a little bit.

“That’s it?” you laugh.

“What?”

“Your team could go to the finals and you’re just fine?” you say.

“How’d you know that?” he says, his heart warming.

“Had to look it up. Not like you’ll tell me,” you quip, pulling away, his hands falling off of you. Zach chuckles, following you into your living room.

“Are we fighting already?” he asks.

“We won’t be if you tell me why you get all cute and shy whenever you talk about your job,” you say, settling on the couch.

He sits to face you, his knee bumping yours. You love that he’s as close as you want him to be, instead of keeping a distance like before. He finds your hands, holding them in his.

“Just a second,” Zach mumbles. “I need to process that you called me cute.”

You giggle, leaning forward to nuzzle against his chest.

“I’m serious,” you say, your voice muffled by his shirt. “We talk about my job all the time.”

“Oh, come on. Because we have to. That’s the whole deal.”

“Is it?”

Zach sighs, kissing the top of your head, loving the way your body slightly shakes with your laughter. You sit up again, looking down as you interlace your fingers with his, playing with his hands as you wait for him to speak.

“I love soccer,” he says, “but I never expected I’d be good enough to go pro. And somehow, I did and all the attention that comes with it is just… it’s not me. I’ve never been the loudest guy in the room. Never wanted to be.”

You nod. You could tell soon after meeting him that while he’s confident and loves to joke around, he’s not one to demand the spotlight.

“And now the more attention I get,” he continues, “the more people might want to know about me and I’d rather keep Ella safe and give her a normal life.”

He scratches his cheek, uncertainty flashing on his face.

“And… I’m not exactly proud that I’m not working a normal job. I’m always thinking that maybe it’d be better for Ella if I had a nine to five, but the pay is great and I can’t play forever, so I just want to save up as much as I can for her. Then I’ll find something more steady.”

You're sure you’ve never met a person this humble. It’s nice to know what goes on in his head after having wondered for so long.

“Will you still even need a nanny then?” you ask lightheartedly. Zach purses his lips as he nods.

“I will if she’s you.” You smile as he pulls you in, holding you as your cheek rests against his shoulder.

“I don’t think there’s anything that you shouldn’t be proud of,” you tell him. “You’re an amazing father.”

“You don’t know how nice it is to hear you say that,” he admits. The worries that he’s being selfish have been gnawing at him for a long time. He’s always concerned he’s making the wrong choices for his daughter.

“I think it every time I see you with her. I know you said she was a surprise, but you treat her like being her dad is all you’ve ever wanted.”

Zach leans to kiss your forehead over and over again, palm gently pressed on your cheek, like he’s making up for all the times he wanted to kiss you but couldn’t. You start to giggle under all the kisses, hugging him tighter.

“Speaking of,” you say, “I’m sure you’re thinking it, too, but we should keep acting like we’re just friends when we’re around our boss.”

He breathes a chuckle, nodding as he looks down at you lovingly.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “We’ll take it slow. She’ll be so happy when we tell her.”

“You think so?” you say, your heart blooming from the certainty in his words, from the way he unabashedly intends on being with you and telling his daughter.

“She’s always asking me if I like you.” Truthfully, Ella asks if he loves you, but again, he doesn’t want to use that word until he’s sure you’re comfortable with it.

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah,” he says. “She actually asks if I like you yet. It’s like she knows it’s inevitable.”

You realize that the way you’re wrapped up in each other does feel like it was always inevitable. You know that your heart would never have been able to resist him. You’re glad he feels the same way about you.

────୨ৎ────

A week after the night in your apartment is the semi-final. You’re sitting in the living room playing with Ella with the game on in the background. She’s partly interested, whereas you can’t ignore the ball of nerves sitting deep in your stomach.

Zach’s been opening up more about his job when you get time alone, admitting that the pressure can give him tunnel-vision sometimes. You’ve taken on the workload as much as you can so that he’s not too stressed.

You’ve kept things the same when you’re around Ella and you’ve already determined that if she asks why you’re so invested in what’s on tv, you’ll simply say you grew an interest in soccer after the home game you both attended. But she’s too busy playing with clay to care.

The first half ends with no goals scored. You set up an afternoon snack for Ella, letting her help, your mind elsewhere as you imagine Zach in the locker room, wondering what his coach is telling him and what he’s thinking about at this moment.

Five minutes after half-time, the opponents score. Your heart sinks. Twenty minutes later, Zach scores. You have to stifle how loudly you want to cheer.

Then, the game goes to penalty shoot-outs. Zach had told you how much he hates when a game comes down to that. It’s a nail-biting few minutes, but Zach’s team wins, securing their spot in the finals. In his next game, his team could take the cup.

Right before dinner, you and Ella change into the jerseys you’d secretly bought a few days ago. Zach already told you that even if his team wants to celebrate a win together, he’d prefer to see you two, so you know he’s coming straight home.

He steps through the front door to see you in his team’s jerseys, rushing to give him a hug. Your arms are around his shoulders while Ella’s are around his hips, both of you excitedly cheering. Zach’s heart has never felt so full.

“So, I take it you watched it?” he mumbles into your hair, reveling in the familiar aroma of your shampoo. It takes everything in you not to kiss him when you pull back.

“You did amazing,” you tell him.

“Daddy, do cats ever come to your games?” Ella asks.

Zach looks at you, puzzled.

“There was a commercial with clips of animals crashing soccer games,” you explain, laughing. “It’s a valid question.”

“I haven’t seen any,” he tells her, kneeling to meet her eyeline. “But I hope we get one so I can tell you all about it.”

“Could we keep it?” she asks.

“If a cat comes onto our field and it doesn’t have an owner, sure, we can keep it,” he says. She jumps excitedly, then runs off to play. Zach stands up again, grinning at you.

“Don’t let her watch any more matches,” he says. “If a cat shows up, I’m done for.” You laugh, crossing your arms simply to keep yourself from touching him.

“Congratulations,” you say. “I know you don’t like the attention, but you deserve it.”

“Thanks.” He looks down at your jersey. “It looks great on you.”

“Yeah?” you ask, turning to show him the back. It’s his last name and number. He almost can’t believe this is really happening, that he met someone like you who cares about him this much.

“Better on you, I think,” you say.

“Impossible.”

You face him and he gazes at your lips in the way you know means he wants to kiss you. In the few private moments you’ve had since you confessed your feelings for each other, you’ve shared warm hugs and sweet kisses. You can’t wait until you don’t have to hide your love for him anymore.

“Dinner in twenty,” you tell him. “I bet you worked up an appetite.”

Zach’s legs are heavy as he trudges up the stairs, partly from fatigue, but mostly because the last thing his body wants to do is be away from you.

────୨ৎ────

Zach’s family drives in to watch the championship game at the house. You weren’t all that nervous around them before, but now that you and Zach are privately dating, you’re eager to impress them.

He had mentioned to you that he hadn’t told them about you yet, but he’s hoping to the next time he sees them. He also told you how his mom had a suspicion about you two, which makes you hope you’re not too obvious.

It’s only been a couple of weeks since you decided to date, but every moment you get alone with Zach isn’t long enough. You knew he was kind-hearted, but now that he’s not holding back, he showers you with affection and compliments, reminding you of how much he appreciates you every day.

Just like it is with Zach, it’s easy with his family. You talk and snack and take turns playing with Ella while you watch the game. The game starts off as promising, but unfortunately, the final ends with a loss for his team.

“He did tell me they were kind of the underdogs,” you say to his family sadly, watching the screen. “I still think it’s great that he got this far.”

The stadium he’s playing in is hours away and he won’t be getting home until after midnight. You spend the rest of the evening with Zach’s family, wishing you could see him and give him a comforting hug.

When Zach gets to the locker room, dejected and disappointed, he checks his phone to see a text from you. I know it’s not how you wanted the season to end, but you played an amazing game. We’re all so proud of you, no matter what.

It’s ten minutes past midnight when you hear the front door open. You’ve been sitting in the kitchen, staying awake on your phone after everyone turned in for the night. You turn on the kettle you already filled with water and find Zach in the dim hallway, meeting his eyes with sympathy.

“You’re here,” he mumbles in surprise. You only close the distance, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and squeezing him tightly.

“Wanted to see you,” you whisper. “Are you okay?”

“I’ve had better days,” he admits, kissing your neck. “This feels good, though.”

“I’m making you some tea if you want it,” you tell him, “but if you’d rather go to bed, I get it.”

“Tea sounds good.” He pulls back, stroking your cheek. “You’re really proud of me? Even though I’m a total loser?”

You half-chuckle, nudging him.

“Never call yourself that again,” you say.

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll stop ‘accidentally’ making too much food,” you joke, earning a chuckle from him.

You settle in the kitchen, reminded of the first time you sat together like this all those months ago to plan Ella’s birthday party. Now she’s halfway to six years old, growing faster than you could have ever anticipated.

After you put the steaming mug of tea in front of him, Zach puts his hand over yours, squeezing.

“I tried to be positive but I saw it coming,” he admits to you. “They were the stronger team. We’ll just train harder and hopefully get them next year.”

“And I’ll be with you every step of the way,” you say. “Just don’t beat yourself up over this, okay? You’re not a loser.”

“Baby…” Zach breathes a chuckle. “Being with you makes me feel like I’m always winning. It sucks to get this far and to put so much work in just to lose, but knowing you and Ella are waiting for me at home… That's what my life is really about.”

You stare at him, awestruck, heart beating so hard that you can hear it in your ears.

“I love you,” he says. “I’m sorry if it’s too soon to say, but I’ve loved you for a long time.”

You bite your lip, giving into the urge to lean closer and kiss him. When you pull back, palm resting on his cheek, you smile.

“I love you, too,” you say. “It’s not too soon.”

“Phew. I was more nervous about telling you than I was about the game,” he says. You laugh, pinching his cheek.

“Stop being so cute,” you whisper.

“I can’t help it,” he quips. “I didn’t forget how you said you haven’t been on a date in forever. What do you think about tomorrow night? Ella will stay with my family and you and I can go out for dinner.”

“That sounds perfect,” you tell him. You chat a little longer before you head home.

When Zach tells his mother he’s taking you out for dinner the next morning, she’s overjoyed to hear that you’re an item now and throws in a few ‘I told you so’s. When the evening rolls around, he tells Ella he’s running some errands and instead drives to pick you up from your place.

Sitting across from you at a restaurant on a real date feels like a dream. He holds your hand on the table and nudges your knee with his every so often, unable to keep his hands off of you like usual. It’s like talking with a best friend, the conversation flowing so naturally that he refuses to believe he’s only known you for just shy of a year.

When he drives you home after dinner, you lose track of time kissing him goodnight.

────୨ৎ────

You and Zach had discussed that today would be the day. Now that you’ve been together for over eight months, he’s ready to tell Ella.

It’s a Saturday and Zach’s making lunch while you and Ella set the table. Long gone are the days of spending just a few minutes together, one of you arriving at the house while the other one gets ready to leave. The three of you are almost always a unit now, settled into a routine.

After lunch, you leave as planned so he can talk to her one-on-one. Zach finds Ella drawing on her bedroom floor after he says his goodbyes to you and knocks on her door.

“What are you drawing?” he asks.

She holds up the paper, three figures under the shining sun. When he asks if that’s you, him, and her, she happily nods.

Zach settles on the floor, watching the way she colors in the yellow sun, her legs kicking in the air. He’s seen a change in his child. There’s no doubt about it.

While she was always a happy kid, she’s grown to be much more expressive and affectionate since you stepped into their lives. You bring out the best in her. The best in him, too.

He tries to force down the tears that come up every time he looks at his daughter and thinks about what happened a year ago. She’s too small to have to know the pain of abandonment and betrayal. He pushes away the thought.

“I wanted to ask you something,” Zach says, clearing his throat.

“Do you want another bracelet?” she says.

Zach smirks, looking down at the beaded bracelet on his wrist that she made for him a few days ago. She made you a matching one that you always wear, too.

“Yeah, if you’re not too busy,” he says. “But that’s not it.”

He says it exactly as he rehearsed, telling her how happy you make him and asking if she’s okay with you being his girlfriend. When she grins up at him and asks if that means that you can move in with them, he chuckles, tears pricking his eyes.

Zach always felt like he needed to make up for the love Ella’s mother wasn’t giving her. Now, there’s nothing to make up for, nothing missing. He wishes the circumstances had been different, but he knows he’s lucky that he met you.

He was sure soon after he got to know you that his daughter would grow to love you. Deep down, he was sure that he would grow to love you, too.

────୨ৎ────

It’s past nine p.m. when Zach gets home from training. Now that he’s in the midst of playoffs again, he doesn’t get as much time at home anymore, but he takes it in stride.

When he can’t find you on the main floor, he tiptoes upstairs in case you’ve fallen asleep putting Ella to bed. Sure enough, she’s snuggled up next to you, both of you snoozing.

It’s been a month since he told her about your relationship and somehow, she’s grown to love you even more now that she knows you love her dad. Zach wonders if Ella can see how much happier he is these days. He tried to hide how empty he felt before, but maybe she caught on.

He’d rather not know. He’s rather not think about the past at all, really. Because right now, as he gazes into his daughter’s bedroom to see you hugging each other in your sleep, he knows he’s looking at his future.

(the end)

if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘

[bullet-prooflove]

Hello! Okay so this is my first ask!

Could you please do number 30 "If I told you that I didn't need you, well that would be a lie" from the pocket full of hope prompt list you recently posted for Stuart Scola and Sasha please?

Tagging: @kmc1989 @trublu2u @noxytopy @district447 @stelacole @abby-splace

Companion piece to:

Every Inch Of You (NSFW) - You and Stuart spend the night together after two years apart.

Escapee - You and Stuart are reunited when a face from your past escapes from prison.

Safehouse - You and Stuart discuss moving forward now you're back in NY.

The Life You Could Have - You get a glimpse into the life you could have with Stuart.

You’ve been in the safe house for three days before you start to get restless. Stuart can see it in the way you pace the living room, tidying Jack’s toys, stacking the books in a neat alphabetised order.

This happens sometimes when you can’t go for a run or hit the boxing gym, that relentless energy you have, it starts to build and build inside you. It makes you impulsive, reckless.

“You’re going to leave aren’t you?” He asks you that night after he’s tucked Jack into bed. You’re drying the dishes on the draining board, putting each one back in its rightful place. Outwardly you’re the epitome of calm, but he knows you, knows your brain is going a mile a minute.

“It’s the only way to end it.” You tell him, folding the towel before you sigh placing your hands upon the surface of the counter. “I’m not sure how much longer I can stand being cooped up like this, it feels like I’m trapped in my own skin.”

It’s the ADHD, you’ve never received an official diagnosis but Stuart sees it in you, he always has. He mentioned it a couple of years ago back before you got married and you conceded he was probably right. You hate the idea of being shoved into a neat little box so you handle it on your own and it works mostly…

Until you end up a position like this, trapped in a house without the usual mechanisms you use to cope.

“Sasha.” He says softly, his hands coming to rest on your shoulders, trying to sooth you. “You just gotta hold out a little longer-”

“That’s not really how it works with me.” You remind him.

You may have been apart for a few years but he hasn’t forgotten the other way you deal with his feelings. His fingers thread in yours and he guides you to his bedroom, closing the door behind him so Jack doesn’t hear the noise. The way you fuck him that night, it’s wild, untamed. He’s forgotten that it can be like this with you, he’s forgotten how he can be when he’s with you. It’s bite marks and scratches, bruises that’ll last for days and finally it’s ecstasy, the most intense euphoria he’s had in a very long time.

When he wakes up the next morning it’s to an odd sense of unease. He runs his hand over the sheets to find your side of the bed empty and a cloying, ominous silence seeping through the house.

It’s then he sees the note propped up on the nightstand and his heart sinks because he realises the truth now, that last night wasn’t really about burning off that excess energy, it was really about saying goodbye.

Stuart? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[pizzabox-box]

I needed to force myself not to write this until you posted the next DMW part lol, I love this story but I feel like it's going too fast

Blind Man's Bluff, Part Four

Theirs was the last car left in the drive-in theater. The movie was turning out extremely well, and they were on the final three scenes. Doise had thought WAR would be the most stressful scene to film, but oh boy, had Pizzascare given him anxiety. At least they were at the home stretch now.

He stared blankly at the laptop he had on the dashboard. Since Fake Peppino was out of the picture, or at least hadn't shown his face since his restaurant burned down, Doise had to put some serious thought into how this boss rush was going to play out. He sighed and looked over at Noisette. She had fallen asleep in the passenger seat about fifteen minutes before the film as it stood had ended. He knew Noise was lurking somewhere nearby, watching her like a hawk, but he hadn't felt Peddito anywhere all day. That made him nervous.

He noticed the light of the full moon dim and immediately went on edge. He barely had time to spin around before he heard a door creak open and saw a tall, skinny figure backflip onto the car. Oh boy. It was the beanpole. This might actually be trouble.

Doise shot an accusing finger at Pizzahead. "Look pal, I'm not in the mood for your games! Now get your dirty boots off my paint job before I get not so friendly with you!" The mascot giggled. "Ooh, aren't you a feisty one! It's nice to not know what to expect from someone for once. Well, you can relax now, buddy!" Doise decidedly did not relax. "What do you mean?" Pizzahead laughed and pulled out a remote control. "Well, let's see!"

Gesturing to the screen, he rewinded to the fight between the two gremlins. Doise immediately tensed up, and Pizzahead put his arm around him in a gesture of familiarity he had no right to have. "When my cameras showed me what you did to that freak's pizzeria, I admit you caught my interest! For once, I had to really do some pretty significant research to figure out what was happening." With a click of a button, the camera zoomed in on the combatants' faces as they grappled. He paused on the very frame one man got yanked backwards by a barely perceptible pink smudge, so barely present that even on film, its existence was easy to question. The dust-covered, bloody man's eyes practically glowed a vibrant red, and his expression was filled with a bewildered, abstract terror. Pizzahead whispered in the terrified Doise's ear: "You're not quite mortal, are ya?"

Doise looked into his eyes. "So now what? Are you going to tell everyone who I really am? Let me get mauled by the mob?" Pizzahead shrugged and waved one hand in a dismissive manner. "Why would I? The show's only just getting good!" He grinned wickedly and looked at Noisette, still fast asleep and dreaming sweetly. "In fact, it would be a lot more exciting if you weren't constantly chained to this doll's side, don't you think?"

Noise and Noisette twirled beautifully across the dance floor. She giggled happily as he dipped her. He danced with a passion she had never known, which was impressive given the feats they had preformed at their wedding. He stared at her with the deepest love a man could ever feel, though Noisette thought she could see a trace of sorrow in his eyes as he danced and sang.

You can dance every dance for the one who gives you the eye, let him hold you tight, you can smile every smile for the one who holds your hand in the pale moonlight, just don't forget who's taking you home, and in whose arms you're gonna be, so darling, save the last dance for me!

With that, he swooped her up and kissed her with a deep passion. As she closed her eyes and leaned into the kiss, she thought she could hear the priest's voice leading the ceremony: "...in sickness and in health, until death do you part?" They came up for air, and Noise gently caressed the side of her face. "Hazel, my love, my life, I won't ever stop loving you, even after my heart stops and turns cold as stone," he told her, staring in her eyes with a love that couldn't be described, though it was tainted by heartbreak.

Noisette was suddenly filled with a sense of extreme dread. Something wasn't right. She clung close to her husband, chilled by a fear she couldn't explain. Without warning, he shoved her backwards, knocking her on her back. She sat up, incredulous - just in time to see Noise get splashed with a strange substance from overhead. It had the consistency of thin mud, and looked like blood mixed with a blue-gray plaster. Noise fell to his hands and knees, inexplicably weakened.

Noisette reached out to him - then scampered backwards as she saw the clay start wrapping itself around him, swiftly enveloping him in the otherworldly slime. He struggled against it, seemingly trying to escape, but his eyes were filled with a knowing despair. He had known this was going to happen. He stared at her mournfully.

Noisette started forward again, determined that time. "Theo!" she called, stepping forward. Noise put a hand up. "Hazel, stop. I need you to listen to me carefully," he said. She stopped. He had never sounded this serious before. "Don't get close to me. Be wary of anything I do for you. I will love you for eternity, but you can't trust me anymore. It's way too dangerous for you to be near me. And whatever happens." He almost looked like a statue now. His mouth was covered by the clay, but his scarlet eyes stared into her soul, grieving as if he was the widow rather than the deceased. His voice seemed to come from her heart.

"I'm. Not. Me."

The blue-gray figure rose to its feet and approached her, blood red cape fluttering despite the absence of wind. Blue and pink lights flashed furiously around her before fading into yellow and orange, the screaming void behind the mask seemed to be calling her name, drawing her in to her destruction -

She awoke with a scream, looking around her at the unfamiliar surroundings. A hand gently grabbed her own, and a voice attempted to soothe her. "Hey, hey, hey, what happened? Are you ok?" She turned and saw Noise in the driver's seat beside her. That's right, they were at the drive-in theater. So had it all been a dream? She sobbed her sorrows into her husband's chest as he rubbed her back. He reassured her it was all going to be ok.

Later that night, she rolled over to look at him, fast asleep in the bed beside her. She fidgeted with the new necklace he had given her, making her promise never to take it off. She felt horrible about it, but something about Noise was making her feel like something was wrong. She tried to push those thoughts aside. You mustn't think things like that! He's been so devoted to you, and anyway, it was just a dream, right?

"I'm. Not. Me."

...right?

previous part

Another part already??? 👀👀👀👀

The dream sequence was genuiely heartbreaking :( You nailed Pizzahead's character very well! Wonder what he's planning , also the necklace seems deeply suspicious .

Either way, I'm excited to see where this will go 👀 keep cooking!

Once again, thank you so much for continuing this series :D

[sandersea]

Kevin, who is apparently not gone but is, you know, a golden retriever, wriggles his entire body practically into Neil’s lap and lets out a series of joyous barks; Andrew’s left ear translates the noise into an exuberant You wish you were rid of me that easily, you son of a bitch that is just affectionate enough to have him feeling almost teary over their quasi-reunion, despite the fact that he still has no fucking clue what the fuck is going on. “Hey, so,” and the headache has mellowed into a full-body ache, but at least he can think just hard enough to realize that nothing happening makes any sense to him. “What the fuck.” It’s another few minutes of wiggling and almost crying and stoic man-dog hugging later before either of them pull away from their shared world of seventeen inches of dirty pavement to answer him. “This is Kevin Day,” Neil tells him like it means something, “and up until last week, he was the True King of the Fourth Dominion.” What the fuck, he thinks. “What the fuck,” he also says, because certain things are just deserving of a few extra what-the-fucks, and this is definitely one of them. There was not a single part of that sentence that made sense, not really; he might only have half of a high school education, but he’s not an idiot. He knows what each and every word in that sentence means individually, and a little bit in their smaller pairs, but strung together like that? In that order? What the fuck. Kevin’s ears perk up as his tail drops low, a very doggy expression of distress, and he lays on the ground and rests his head slowly and sadly on his front paws. “It’s a very long story,” he says very, very sadly, and not surprisingly that is the least of Andrew’s worries right now. “True king,” he repeats, because okay. “Of the Fourth Dominion.” In the world of suspended disbelief where all of this is actually happening and not, like, some late in the game aftereffects of a series of concussions in early childhood, Andrew accepts this at face value. There are at least four dominions out there, one of which has a dog for a king, and somehow no one on earth has ever heard of or questioned this. Even his suspension of belief requires a suspension of disbelief. It’s a five what the fuck sort of story. “Yeah, I feel like there might be more to this story.” There is. And they tell him.

okay so what if i wrote another insane aftg au

[as-a-creww]

I’m so mad I’m shaking. WE WERE SO CLOSE! Our clownery wasn’t unfounded. We really were getting an announcement. And they just let it fucking drop.

https://x.com/thecozypirate/status/1745641563403771912?s=46&t=hlyEMD5zVK_HL1eoyYeONA

[softquietsteadylove]

Hiii darling, how are you?

I had a promt idea and i wanted to share it with you.

What about thenamesh being broken up 😈.

Like i know thats basically imposible because they can not be apart from each other for a long time ( but relationships are hard you know).

So they haven't seen each other in a very long time, and they completely over one another, they even dated other people, but both are currently single.

They are completely over each other, Gilgamesh is NOT constantly thinking about Thena's beautiful sunshine hair, or how smarth she was or her gorgeous long legs he could stare at all day long of course not, and is not like Thena everyday thinks about how charming Gilgamesh was, or how he could make her feel better just saying something dumb or how she got distracted just by looking at those big and strong arms of his, not at all they are soo over each other and they don't even wanna meet again.

But when they do see each other again it goes like this:

- Thena and Gil walking directly to each other whitout realising.

They make eyecontact and fully stop

They stare at each other intensely

Gil : Thena hello ! - dumb smile

Thena : Hello - small blush

The tension in the air can be cut with a butter knife

"Mamma mia" by ABBA starst playing in the background

And thats about it 😊, sorry for any mistakes english is not my first language, and thank you for sharing your works with us they are so beautiful, i love them all, they make my days better 🩷🤍.

"Come on, Gil, don't get all emo on us now!"

But he'd had enough--more than enough. He had only agreed to a night out with the boys because he had dodged them ten times for every one, and tonight was the eleventh hour. Even with all that, it wasn't enough to keep him in the pub with pounding music and the stink of smoke.

Thena hated the smell of smoke.

His friends would tell him not to think that way. For all the times he had sworn to them that he was over her, here he was thinking of her again?

But of course he was! Thinking about Thena was as natural to him as breathing, and the breakup had done nothing to change that. It still felt almost surreal sometimes, as if the last year and a half of his life was still in the haze of post-breakup blues. All the months spent moping around his apartment, the weeks after of being set up with blank face after blank face. He had even maintained a relationship eventually, only to have called her 'Thena' one time (entirely by accident).

He had omitted that part of the story to his friends when they asked 'what happened to what's-her-name?'.

Gil had tried the dating thing, but it was becoming clearer and clearer that it wasn't working for him. If it wasn't Thena, it wasn't for him. And that didn't bode well, considering they had parted ways with the stark promise that there would be no getting back together.

No regrets, they had said. He was going to put the hours into the kitchen that he needed to as the new head chef of a long established restaurant. Thena was going to focus her razor sharp intellect into pursuing her PHD while working at the museum. He had once called her the 'rock star' of the historical world. She hadn't appreciated it at the time.

For their shared declaration of no regrets, there were plenty. He had lamented to his friends how he hadn't expressed enough interest in Thena's work. He didn't watch the historical programs she liked to watch in bed; he fell asleep to them. Although in his defense, Thena never could get through a boxing match without checking a work email or swearing she was paying attention while she read something on her phone.

Thena was on the other side of town, in Sersi's old flat after she and Dane had decided to finally move in together. She had always done best with her own space, after all. Yet another regret; their half-assed compromise - which made neither of them happy - on how to use the second bedroom. Gil wanted a home gym and Thena wanted a home office. It ended up housing his exercise equipment cramped in with all the books she couldn't fit onto the living room shelves.

It was the truest compromise, in the sense that they were both left frustrated and unsatisfied by the results.

Really, it was them making old fights into new ones. He knew she liked having her own space. Anyone would, after growing up with an annoying twin brother like Ikaris their whole life, he could admit. But he hadn't really appreciated her bringing up that he was an only child as a reason for him not sympathising with her more.

It was little things, really. Little things that had just...piled up on them. Him kicking his shoes off hastily, forgetting that Thena had grown up in a preparatory school and liked everything arranged neatly. Her leaving her teabags piled up in the garbage instead of in the organic waste container he kept in the fridge, specifically because the kitchen was his domain and he didn't like unwanted smells hovering around.

Little things piling up; it was for the best, they had agreed.

And now, a year and a half later, here he was, outside a pub, in the snow. He checked his phone; the night was young, but his friends were enough pints in that maybe they wouldn't notice if he decided to just...leave. If they asked, he could say it was way later, they just weren't remembering it right.

He walked slowly, still staring at his phone. It was the blank, default phone background. He hadn't settled on a new one after needing to take down the picture of him and Thena on their trip to Australia. It wasn't any more pathetic than the rest of his life.

"Sorry," a soft voice uttered, scuffling feet in snow filling the air as they narrowly avoided one another.

Her eyes rose to meet his, still a sparkling green that contrasted the hair that was the colour of pure sunshine. She was dressed in all white, as she always was. He had always said it was her colour. "Hey."

The one word was like the cavalry call. Memories flowed through him. Some of the bad times. But the happy ones far, far outweighed them. There were so many happy ones it was a wonder they had ever decided they weren't worth the bad.

Thena was still the most beautiful woman Gil had ever seen. Her edges were so sharp, and yet she still possessed a softness--a fragility to her delicate frame. It was hard to tell under her long white coat if she looked different, but he remembered those long legs entwined with his in the hammock on their balcony. Her lips were still full and succulent like a berry.

"Hey." He smiled, and she smiled as well. There was a lightness to it that hadn't been there when she had left her key with him and closed the door behind her. "How are you?"

"Good," she answered plainly, as she always had. Her eyes darted down to the ground and she tucked some hair behind her ear, still a clear tell of when she was nervous. His heart skipped a beat as he caught a blush in her cheeks. "And you?"

"Yeah," he answered, not that it was much of an answer. He had yet to stop smiling, but she was still smiling too. "Restaurant's doing well--same old."

Thena nodded, some of her hair tumbling from her scarf wound loosely around her. "I read a review of it. Your praises were sung most eloquently."

She had such a poetry to her language. Some found it odd, but Gil had always admired her more elegant word choice in comparison to his easy and casual phrases. He had tried writing poetry, but he was no match for her simply describing how her day was.

"Yeah?" he grinned. The idea of her checking a review of his work was more than he could have hoped for. It felt like hearing that she had asked if he was seeing anyone.

"I'm not surprised," she stated more than confessed. "You have always been an excellent chef. I wouldn't have needed some culinary reporter to tell me that."

Emboldened by her olive branch, Gil stepped closer. "And how's the doctorate?"

Her pleased smile returned, her scarf even picking up in the wind and brushing the front of his army green jacket. She used to always put her hand on his chest for no good reason, whenever she wanted. "I'll be submitting by the end of this year. Nothing is signed yet, but I'm told things look promising."

His grin stretched wider. The word 'rock star' was on his tongue again but he inhaled, drawing up his shouldering instead of wrapping his arms around her and picking her up off the ground. "Hey, that's great! I mean, I knew you'd get it. You're way too good not to."

Thena's eyes drifted downward again. Her smile turned shaky and her hands went to the buttons of her coat. She swayed on the spot, as if unsure of which direction to lean. "Thanks, Gil."

The snow filled in the silence between them, Mamma Mia positively blaring from inside the pub. The flashing, coloured lights inside proved stronger than the tint of the windows, reflecting on the snow already fallen.

Thena broke the silence first. "I'm surprised you're out this late."

Once, that might have been a barb about how he always had to sleep early to get into the restaurant early (especially on nights when she had a work social at the museum). But that was years ago, and now it was a casual - if nervous - question asked in a playful tone.

Gil smiled. "Well, usually I wouldn't. But the guys have really started giving me a hard time about-"

He clamped his mouth shut, suddenly terrified of uttering the truth of his dismal life since her exit. Surely it was pathetic of him to tell his ex-girlfriend about how all he did was lie around watching the same five shows and living almost completely off of leftovers from work.

But Thena laughed. It was gentle, and light, and he still found it really cute. "So, you came out tonight just to appease them?"

Her laughter drew out his as well. His shoulders lowered and his hands shuffled around in his pockets. "Guess so."

Thena looked towards the dark glass of the windows. It took her a few minutes to build up to what she had to say. But rather than eagerly rush her, he waited, happy to admire her. "I have become even less social than before, if you can believe it."

"Wow," he commented outright, earning the mildest form of her glare possible. He chuckled, though. "I can't believe it."

She could have left it there if she wanted. But she kept holding her scarf at the ends, braving on. "It seems I've been a bit reclusive since..."

It was Thena to bridge the unspoken gap, utter those completely forbidden words. But in that way, it was also her extending her hand, asking him to take it.

Gil turned soft, as he always did with her. His voice lowered to nearly a whisper, like it would after she'd had a night terror and needed comforting. "I guess I have too."

She had closed the distance as much as she could. She needed more from him, going quiet again and staring into his chest.

Gil eagerly met her halfway, pulling his hands from his pockets and crushing her against him. It was just a hug, something friends could do (if she decided she would regret this, too). "I missed you."

But she slid her arms around him. She buried her nose in his jacket and he leaned over her, practically engulfing her in his arms. She inhaled, drinking in the scent of him.

"Sorry, I probably smell like fryer oil," he excused. She had always hated that smell.

She shook her head, still buried in him. "I missed it."

How was he not supposed to fall in love with her all over again?

"Hey," he said gently, only encouraging her to pull away enough to look at him. He brushed some hair from the crown of her head. "Would you wanna grab something? We could get a decaf...something--you still don't drink, right?"

Thena beamed as if he had asked her something so much more than just terrible coffee. But small things - like remembering that she didn't really enjoy drinking - always meant the most to her. "I'd love to."

Just hearing the word from her lips made his heart leap in joy. It remembered hearing that word so often from her. It wanted to hear it again.

"So, uh," Gil began, leading her away from the pub with her hand in his. Maybe it was too much to hold hands with someone he had just asked out, but Thena's hand held onto his just as firmly. "That 24 hour place is still open. I heard they have daily specials now."

"Sounds lovely." She hadn't become a conversationalist. But she held onto his hand, letting him go on about the pastries in the window and how it was under new ownership. He didn't mention how he couldn't even look at the place for the first two months after their breakup.

Gil looked at her but didn't stop walking as she leaned against him. "You okay? We don't have to go out, if you're tired. You can just come over and I can make you some tea."

She buried her face in his sleeve. "You think I'm the type to go home with you on the first night we've met?"

He paused for a second before letting out a laugh that would wake anyone out of a dead sleep. "Are you flirting with me?"

"You seem much more the flirtatious type."

Thena was happy to play coy about it, but he knew she was flirting because she was terrible at it when they'd first started dating. "Maybe I am."

"You could take a girl to dinner, first." It was light, witty banter, her favourite kind. She was relaxing more and more.

"How's tomorrow?"

He waited for her response, only able to look at the top of her head with her leaning on him. But it made him think of the beach in Australia when he had first told her he loved her. He had thought it plenty of times before, but that was the first time he had spoken the words. Maybe he would get the chance to say them again.

Thena adjusted their arms, linking them at the elbows, still revealing nothing of her expression as she said, "it's a date."

[freakinator]

its been 7 hours in the poll so far and i saw the who ppl want to win coming but i wasnt expecting the who they think will win ngl, like i was expecting it to be a little more even but nope lol

[sskk-manifesto]

Atsushi's back in the game!!! ۶( ˆ o ˆ )

[jaythelay]

Fact: Unless you force yourself, ya ain't reaching the half-way point of SR3.

Deadass half the game is turret sections and incredibly railroaded missions. There's just nothing replayable about that game in any regard for most players. Anyone saying otherwise is actually lying through failed or anecdotal co-op memories.

Unless you're into the story they treated as skippable more than viewable, the gameplay is as thin as it gets, and should be an example for everyone on what standards your games should actually have in place of attempted but utterly failed "coolness."

Seriously I know I went off about them not continuing the gangster stuff, but that's genuinely not even a minor concern to me. As I said, I'd prefer them to do their own thing, and guess what SR3 fans did not show up to support at allllllll? Exactly that game, what was that title again....guardian...drivers...? Idunno, It wasn't for SR2 fans so I didn't see anything on it. It failed!

Because their audience, dedicated fanbase, was not the continual stream of 15yos from the mid 2010s. But SR2 fans.

All they're into is the conceptual ideas of SR3/4, the wackyness, but genuinely not much else. Once the jiggling keys effect wears off, and your friend gets equally as bored, ya close, uninstall, and move on.

Seriously try it without the objective to prove me wrong. Some of you will enjoy it and that's valid and fine, but most of you genuinely will not last past the 8th turret section after yet another turret section after another turret section after a railroaded section, after a turrent section.

Watch how often you do not touch wasd or your left joystick, it's actually embarrassing "creative" work that we moved on from in the PS2 era. Sure, SR2 had moments like this, just not Back to Back to Back to Back to Back to Back.

Anyways, just saying SR2 fans were their actual customer base that entire time and instead? They went out of business because, oh, oh wow the proto-fortnite crowd has a low attention span and care for the series? Who'da guessed dwindling all support from your dedicated fanbase for the ficklest of fickle crowds would end up becoming your downfall?

They weren't struggling when it was SR1/2, but they've been on the ropes since SR4 and continually going back to the same, very dry well, eventually killed them. Had the reboot been made seriously, competantly, and creatively, they'd still be around today. Instead, cheaply it was made and pricey was it's tag.

They made it cheaper and cheaper feeling until the gameplay felt like an alpha title and made the characters frustratingly what old people think young people are like, wrote a story nobody would bother writing without a gun to their head, and then did nothing to address anything as the jiggling keys fanbase went back to fortnite and SR2 fans were completely pissed off.

Imagine rebooting your series to be entirely for the crowd that moves on near instantly. That pushed SR2 fans away and absolutely losing their dedicated fans is what ended up costing them existence in the public eye.

Genuinely, you can't debate that the SR3 formula straight out of a budget PS2 title, that they kept since the 2010s, and pissing off their actual audience with the reboot, was what put them out of business. It's undebatable they chose the most frivilous of audiences over their actual audience.

Good riddance to the dumbest business known to man. RIP Saint's Row as it truly was, thank fuck Saint's Row is dead in it's current form. Next time, do the obviously smart thing, and make a product people actually want to play for more than an hour.

[anotherpapercut]

personal vent post/diary entry incoming:

I've struggled on and off over the years with varying degrees of agoraphobia and in the past like year or so I've made massive strides and got to the point where I was able to regularly attend social or otherwise crowded events. since breaking my foot I've gone backwards so much. I'm like terrified to leave my apartment even for work and have missed a lot of it. I've only tried hanging out in public places a handful of times and haven't gone to a single show since I got hurt over a month ago. it's extremely fucking frustrating having so much progress completely lost in a fucking instant

[eggmeralda]

I need a massive sudden hyperfixation shock to happen again