#new thing that was being constructed downtown

[miss-floral-thief]

Shame we can’t teleport be nice if there were cheap clothes downtown this time of the year

[sadhours]

blue sunday

chapter one

billy hargrove x female!oc (daisy way)

masterlist

cw: 18+, minors dni, smut, established relationship (kind of?), references to prostitution, manipulation, alcohol use, daddy kink, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected p in v

summary: billy and daisy made a real stupid decision, got hitched on a wild and drunken night but the longer they spend time together, the less Billy’s regretting the decision. but are they really meant to be?

NEVADA • JULY 1991

The Starlite Motel is near downtown. It has a big neon sign, a facade of glitz and glamour masking the true gritty form. Billy’s stayed here before. When he first landed in this bizarro Nevada town. It was the only room he could afford at the time. His skin kind of crawls as he drives up into the parking lot. The place is known for housing criminals, junkies and prostitutes. And apparently, Billy’s brand new wife.

He glances down at the passenger seat, eyeing the monstrous stack of paperwork. Annulment papers. The right decision, based on where she’s staying. Even if she is devastatingly gorgeous, or at least Billy remembered her being that way. The night was fuzzy, he can’t even remember the wedding he was so trashed. When he woke up in the casino hotel room, he was still fucking hammered. But there was a girl next to him in bed, with a cheap veil clipped in her bleached hair. Champagne bottles strewn across the room and as he was emptying his stomach out in the toilet, the girl woke up. Held a paper up to his face and said, “Hiya, husband, how ya feeling?”

To which Billy kept puking. The paper was a marriage certificate. Damned this fucking town and their lack of last calls and abundance of twenty-four hour wedding chappels. It’s designed for bad decisions. Kind of the whole reason Billy was even drawn to this place. He’d meant to make it back to California, but ran out of money here. And by the time he’d earned enough money to leave, he didn’t want to. Found himself a steady, decent paying job in construction and next thing Billy knew, he was buying his own fucking house. Well, single-wide trailer that was falling apart but fuck it, Billy was a homeowner. If only Neil could fucking see him now. Er, maybe not him right now… sitting outside a cheap motel where his wife lives and uh, presumably works. Damnit, it’s time to undo this drunken mistake.

Billy grips the papers and walks up to the door labeled 12. He knocks twice and hangs back. It’s hot out, only ten AM but the desert heat beats down on him. Must already be 75 degrees. There’s still no answer, he can’t hear noise behind the door– all he can hear is the group of men his age gathered at the end of the ‘hallway’, talking quietly. Billy knocks again, firmer this time and tries to peek through the window but the blinds are closed. Tells himself he’ll give her five more fucking minutes to answer the door.

While he waits, he lights up a smoke. Folds the annulment papers and tucks them in the back pocket of his worn Levi’s. Those five minutes pass and he turns on his feet to leave but as he’s stalking back to his car, he sees her. She’s wearing a cheetah print bikini top, a short denim skirt and red flip flops. The top does little to cover her huge tits, with every step they jiggle and Billy’s only a man, so he’s staring. Figures the dudes twenty feet down are also staring at her. Her blonde hair is tied up haphazardly in a bun, strands of it falling around her neck and face. Then Billy sees the cigarette between her lips, a can of beer in her hand and the rest of the six pack in the other. It’s ten in the morning and she’s drinking a beer. Billy can’t help but get this odd feeling he’s looking into some weird gender bending mirror.

“Is that my husband?” she calls when she’s a couple feet away, a smile spreading against her plush lips. Fuck, she’s gorgeous and he’s kind of bummed they had to meet in the way they did. There’s no way in hell he can stay married to a stranger, no matter how foxy she is.

“Not for long,” Billy tells her around his cigarette.

Daisy rolls her eyes as she makes it to the door, handing him her beer before rustling through the small pink purse on her shoulder. She retrieves a set of keys and too many keychains. Unlocks the door and kicks it open, snatching her beer back and heads inside. Billy follows her, taken back by the stench of her motel room. It’s not totally foul, but definitely not pleasant. Can’t be totally Daisy’s fault, this establishment isn’t exactly well taken care of. But it reeks of cigarettes, stale food and something sickly sweet— kind of like green apple and cotton candy. Billy thinks it’s Daisy’s perfume.

“Want a beer?” she asks, ripping one out of the plastic and handing it over before Billy answers. So he takes it but he pulls the annulment papers out as he does so. Hands them to her.

She drops her purse, pushes her sunglasses up to rest on the top of her head and looks at the papers. Almost looks disappointed. But how could she be? They don’t even know each other. She sets them on her unmade bed, on the pillows and sits down next to them.

“So, yeah, you sign those and it’s like it never happened,” Billy says.

Daisy nods slowly, brings her beer to her lips and gulps down the rest of it. Sets the empty can on her nightstand and then reaches for a second before tossing the butt of her smoke in the empty can.

“We must’ve had a good night,” she shrugs. “I know we had a good morning, ya know, after you hurled in the toilet for an hour.”

Yeah… Billy remembers that, at least. The sex that morning was good— great even. And he can’t be shocked it happened because standing here, across from Daisy, he feels this strange magnetism between them. He wants to touch her.

“It was fun,” he replies, soft because he doesn’t exactly wanna admit that to her.

Daisy pouts her lips, leans forward and her biceps are pressing her tits together. Like she’s trying to tempt him. Unfortunately, it’s working. His eyes immediately drop to the curve of her breasts.

“So, why are you so quick to divorce me, Billy? You don’t think I’m pretty?” Daisy asks, her voice all exaggerated sadness and he has to snort.

“It’s not a divorce. And you’re plenty pretty, I think you’re fucking aware of that,” he offers, “But I don’t know you, and I should probably know the person I’m marrying, yeah?”

She giggles, reaches up and pulls her hair out of the messy updo. Wavy blonde falling seductively around her shoulders. Damn, she’s good.

“You can get to know me.”

“You’re okay with being shacked up with a stranger?” Billy asks, tilting his head.

Well, he thinks maybe that’s literally her job, but it feels rude to ask or tell her he assumes so.

Daisy blinks, all innocent and pretty at him when she says, “I might’ve hit the jackpot with a hunk like you. Sue me for not being eager to let you go.”

“I absolutely could,” he counters, but he’s smirking. He’s kidding. Kind of. “You think I’m a hunk?”

“I’d fuck you right now,” Daisy confesses, “and I really, really want to.”

They stare at each other, tension so heavy Billy can feel it in his chest. This is pure instinct right now. He puts his beer down, discards his smoke in Daisy’s makeshift ashtray and she’s putting her drink down too. Then he lunges at her, genuinely feels like he can’t help himself. Daisy falls back easily, arms around his neck while he intrudes her mouth with his tongue. She tastes like beer and Marlboros. Daisy moans into him, fingers tangling in the bottom of his mullet and she pulls, her hips canting up. He’s humping back like he’s a horny teenager again. Grabs hold of her jaw as he licks filthy into her mouth. It’s heady. Both of them are filled with adrenaline and desire.

In the back of his head, he thinks people pay for this. Well, maybe not this. Billy always heard that hookers don’t kiss. Either way, he pushes the thought away and actually lets himself indulge in the thought that this is his wife. And really, Billy’s always wanted a wife. Just hadn’t met anyone worth it. Maybe she is…

Daisy’s hands are pulling his shirt up and off of him. Billy takes the opportunity to get his mouth on her neck, sucking and licking and biting. She’s loud, moans unabashedly while she scratches down his back. Billy leaves marks, she’s his wife for fucks sake. He bites around the string of her bikini and pulls, undoes it with his teeth and her heavy breasts fall out of it. His mouth is on them in an instant, giving them the same treatment he gave her neck. He loves the way her skin tastes, sweet and salty. Makes his dick pulse. So he’s grinding down on her, searching for any semblance of friction.

“Billy…” she cries out once he reaches her nipple, licking broadly against it before sucking it between his lips. “Fuck, that feels so good.”

He hums around her, smiling at the corners of his lips. He likes making her react like this, it gets him off. She is the hottest woman he’s ever seen, doesn’t even compare to the hundreds of centerfolds he’s seen. It’s getting to him, every time he looks up at her he thinks about it.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he says before thinking more about it.

Daisy giggles, and it makes her even prettier. Then she says, “Thank you, daddy.”

And wow. Billy’s never been called that before. He pauses because he’s pretty shocked by the effect that’s having on his dick. He grabs her jaw, looking down at her a little crazed and he’s thrusting gently against her. Daisy’s eyes widen, mouth a little slack and she just kind of melts. Billy likes that, so he holds her a little tighter and barely shakes her head.

“Yeah? Am I your daddy?”

Daisy whines, wiggles against the bed as she gasps out, “Yes!”

Billy has to bite his lip to stifle his smile, he can’t let on how much he likes being called that. Also, he’s pretty sure the whole daddy thing is being dominant. Smiling at that would show her a weakness, he thinks. So he lowers her hand to around her neck, “You gonna suck daddy’s cock?”

“If he’ll let me,” Daisy replies, all wide eyes and pouty lips. Billy’s cock twitches again.

He laughs at her, shakes his head and climbs off of her. As he stands, he starts undoing his jeans and kicks his boots off. Daisy sits up, putting her hair back up in the messy bun as she awaits for Billy to pull his cock out. When he does, Daisy hums and smiles, “Better than I remember.”

“Shut up,” he rolls his eyes, grabbing her by the bun and guides her towards his cock. They both have the biggest smiles. It’s odd, the way Billy feels like this is easy and even comfortable or familiar. Honestly, it kind of scares him. But then Daisy’s licking up the side of his cock. His eyes roll back and he moans. Totally distracted from his nerves.

Her lips wrap around the head of his cock and she moans, blinking up at him before sucking. He grits his teeth, using his grip on his hair to guide his cock further into her mouth. Daisy’s stunning and she looks even better with something in her mouth. Can’t take his eyes off her, chin pressed to his chest as moans flow from his lips. She’s messy with it too, drooling around his cock and using her hand to stroke where he isn’t in her mouth. The eye contact is bizarre. Billy can’t recall another time he had a girl looking up at him like this. He likes it, feels like he’s got his own personal little porn star.

Then she takes him all the way, nose pressed against curly blonde hair and bobs her head. He wants to watch, but he can’t. His eyes squeeze shut as he growls low. Daisy even moans around him and Billy’s hips jerk forward, shoving deeper down her throat and fuck, she takes it like a champ. He has to pull out so he doesn’t cum. She squeezes the base of him, like she knows he’s close. Licks her lips as he peers up at him. And for the first time, he notices she’s got her skirt hiked up, panties pushed to the side as she rubs her pussy.

“You taste so good, daddy,” she tells him, “makes me so wet.”

“Let me see,” Billy goads her.

Daisy leans back, spreads her legs as she drags her fingers up and down her glistening folds. She spreads her lips, really showing off for him before sinking two fingers into her cunt. He gets on his knees, pulls her to the edge of the bed and pulls her panties off. Billy pushes her skirt up higher and she’s holding her legs up for him. He dives in, licking against her pussy. Billy groans at the taste, sweet and just a little tangy. Daisy moans, spreading her legs even further as he devours her. And fuck, she sounds so pretty. He eats her out like a starving man. More hungry than he’s ever been. The attraction here is fucking otherworldly. Billy cannot remember feeling so aroused by another woman. He feels a little insane from it, putting everything he has into licking her out. Nose bumping into her clit as he circles his tongue around her hole. Daisy’s not holding back, body shaking against the sheets as she wails. He can feel her wetness coating his cheeks and chin, she’s practically pouring out.

“Fuck,” she gasps, “Oh, my god, Billy!”

He moves his lips back up to her clit, slipping two fingers inside her pulsing cunt. Licking her clit rapidly, sliding his fingers in and out and he can feel her squeezing his digits. Keeps working until her legs snap shut, locking him in as she wails and seizes against the bed. He can feel her cumming, even wetter than she was and her walls tighten around his fingers. He keeps licking her until she’s pushing him away.

Daisy sits up, grabs Billy by the hair and pulls him into a kiss. No doubt tasting herself. There’s such an intense chemistry, it makes his head spin. And Daisy’s spinning him around. Pushing him on his back and straddling him, she kisses him harshly and reaches between their bodies. Grabs a hold of his cock and guides it towards her pussy, sinking down on it while they both moan out in pleasure. Billy knows they should use protection, that this is a dumb idea but it’s just too good to stop. And really, he can’t recall the night they married but he doubts they used it then and he knows they didn’t the morning after.

If anything, she’s a performer, bouncing on his cock. Her tits are moving with the motion. Billy doesn’t even know where to look, every inch of her body is fucking heavenly. She pulls her hair out of the hair tie, blonde tendrils falling to frame her face yet again. Daisy presses her palm to his chest, face all contorted in ecstasy as he fucks herself on his dick. His hands find her hips, trying to help her but it’s fruitless. Daisy’s a pro, she doesn’t need Billy to help. But he thinks it’s encouraging enough. His legs tense up, feeling alarmingly close because of how gorgeous she looks and how amazing it feels inside her.

Daisy grabs the annulment papers next to Billy’s head, holds them in her hands as she rides him.

“I want this cock forever, daddy,” she confesses and rips the papers in half. He should be pissed, he should be furious. But he cums. No warning. Just shoots inside her.

She cries out from the feeling, speeds up her movements even. The annulment papers lay on Billy’s torso as she rides him through his orgasm.

Billy doesn’t try to get the annulment papers again and Daisy moves into his trailer three days later.

[baronessvonglitter]

Cherry, Cherry 🍒 Chapter 19 🍒

"Hungry Heart"

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: 6,022

Summary: Going to Jackson for a wedding seems like just a friend doing a favor for a friend, but old acquaintances and new attitudes don't always make for a great combination.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, age gap (reader is 39, Joel is 56), takes place June - December 2023, mention of eating food/drinking alcohol, mention of divorce, language, No Smut, mention of infidelity, post-divorce strife, Ellie is kind of a delinquent (will be discussed in next chapter), brief glimpse of lumberjack!Joel, forced proximity, mutual pining (mostly on Joel's side), Joel tries to be an authority figure and Ellie ain't having it

Author's Note: thank you to everyone who's stuck around to read this and been very patient with me! my birthday was last week so there was a lot going on, otherwise I would have had this out earlier. So.. we've got these two together again, but the reunion isn't exactly a happy one..

Series Masterlist

June 2023 San Francisco, CA

It's not until you're seated in a booth at the trendy new sushi bar downtown that you begin to doubt your agreement to meet Sarah while she's in town for a work conference. You'd said yes initially, then waffled about it in the coming weeks, and now you're drinking sake to fortify yourself. Your therapist told you it's a bad idea to mix alcohol with reacquaintances, but you're already refilling the ochoko when you look up for a moment and spy Sarah approaching you through the crowded restaurant.

You've never thought about what she might look like. A part of you imagined that you'd be sitting down to dinner with the same kid from twenty years ago. But Sarah has grown up, in her thirties, a successful attorney. And, from what you gathered by spying on Joel's Facebook account years ago, she's also a mother.

"Thank you for meeting me," she says, embracing you the way women always embrace each other, something you never got used to because of you lack of female friends. She smells like expensive perfume, the kind you spray on yourself at Sephora just for fun, and is dressed in a white maxi dress with blue floral print. She looks amazing, and you silently berate yourself for wearing black distressed jeans, a Rolling Stones tee and your lucky red Converse.

"You're all grown up," you remark, a hint of sadness in your tone.

"You look beautiful," she says in return. "You don't even look like twenty years have passed."

Little does she know you spent forty dollars on a concealer to hide your undereye circles, and were talked into spending another twenty on something called a lip oil that makes your lips sticky and tastes like cheap pineapple, which you wiped away on the restaurant napkin as soon as you sat down.

Settling down to small talk, you neglect to look at your menus, annoying the waitress who stops by to take your order three times and ultimately just comes by to refill your drinks.

Sarah lives out east in Boulder, Colorado, practicing law alongside her fiance Theo. They have a son together, ten year old Finn.

"Theo proposed when I got pregnant," Sarah says. "But I wanted us to build a foundation first, construct our little family. And when the time was right, I proposed to him."

She shows off pictures of Finn, sharing the funny and cute anecdotes that parents do, and when she asks about Ellie you do the same: Ellie in the hospital, just hours old, wearing a tiny knitted pink and blue hat as she glowered at the camera; Ellie at four, playing T-ball, one of just two girls on an all-boys team; Ellie at ten winning the school spelling bee.

Being an Army wife gave you the opportunity to see the world, experience things you otherwise wouldn't. Japan, Germany, Italy.. you were happy that Ellie got to experience them too.

But even that couldn't save your marriage to Justin.

There were infidelities on both sides, and when you found out about his, it was almost a relief to discover he was not Nice Justin, just a man who had affairs. In the midst of your own liaisons, you felt vindicated, though the fun wore off easier than it had in your youth.

Filing for divorce was only difficult considering Ellie. Justin didn't fight it, handing over full custody. It was the only part of the process that broke your heart. Now you were just repeating a history of broken families. Once the divorce was finalized it was like throwing up after being nauseous for so long, just good to get it out of your system.

("I kept my married name, just to piss off the new wife," you tell Sarah, who snickers in response. "That's understandable.")

Settling in San Francisco where you like the neighborhood and the schools, life seems easier.

"Ninth grade history," you answer when Sarah asks what you teach. "I introduce Romeo & Juliet to kids who are the same age as those characters."

And now, with the niceties out of the way, there's nothing left to talk about but the past.

You've been dreading it.

"I never apologized for what I did," she says.

You nod, inviting her to continue.

"You probably know this by now, but I was the one who called your mom."

Of course you knew it all along, but hearing it is a different thing.

She got her number from your phone when you weren't around. And, unable to get the picture of you and her dad out of her mind, she dialed it one day and explained to your mom what she saw.

"Why?" you ask.

She averts her eyes a brief moment. "Deep down I always knew there was something going on with you and my dad.. the day of my party when I walked in on you, it was a rude awakening. It's one thing to know something is going on, and another thing to witness it. And later, when you left, I realized I'd taken it too far."

Sarah goes quiet and so do you, despite the chatter in the busy restaurant.

You ask, "Did Joel ever find out it was you?"

She nods. "I told him later.. after he started seeing that awful girl you were friends with."

That part of your life, the bubble of jealousy and despair in which you made your home, seems so long ago. "Hailey," you remind her.

"Yeah.. she didn't last very long. Dad broke things off when he caught her stealing from him.. and when that happened I realized he was just better off with you. But.. by then it was too late."

By then you were already apart. The damage had been done.

"Was he angry at you for what you did?"

Sarah shrugs. "It was a silent kind of angry. You know how he is. We avoided each other for weeks until it became impossible. And by then.. you were gone."

You take a moment to reflect on your memories of Joel. "How is he?"

She smiles, as if she knew or even hoped you'd ask about him. "He's good. He's in Jackson now. Wyoming. Tommy's there with his new wife.."

You shift uncomfortably in your seat. "And, uh.. your stepmom?"

She looks blank for a moment. "You mean Tess? No, they divorced a few years ago. She was nice, it just didn't work out."

You don't know whether to feel sorrow or relief at this fact, but for once you decide to be petty and let the relief take over, hoping he went through a fraction of the pain you endured.

Sarah toys with her salmon roll. "I'm sorry," she says, nodding to herself as if giving herself strength to do it. She looks you in the eye and you catch a glimpse of the girl she used to be. "I'm sorry. For starting everything."

So many times you've imagined what it would be like if you hadn't been found out by anyone else. Would you still have stayed in Austin? Would you and Joel have had more time together?

"It's in the past, right?" You manage a smile, happy that this is out in the open. A part of you feels like a weight is lifted. Things may not have happened the way you wanted, but now you can reconcile the things you can't control anymore.

"This is probably the wrong time to say this," Sarah continues, "but I'd like to invite you and Ellie to my wedding this December, in Jackson. You won't have to worry about airfare or hotels. Theo and I will cover your ticket and.. well, everyone's staying at my dad's. He has a huge house in town, enough for close family. I'd really love it if you would come."

"Justin, you're really fucking me over, do you know that?" you try to speak as quietly as you can into the phone while laying out outfits for the Jackson trip. "Ellie's going to be brokenhearted. You told her you'd have her the entire two weeks."

On the other line Justin sighs, the new, younger Mrs. Williams can be heard in the background. "I promised Svetlana first. We really need this time together," he whispers as well, likely not trying to instigate another argument with his wife.

You have some choice words for Svetlana, but are interrupted when Ellie quietly walks into the room, well aware that the discussion is about her. "I'll call you back."

"Let me guess.." Ellie sits on the edge of the bed. "I'm not going with Dad for Christmas.."

There's no point in lying to her. She's a sharp kid. "I'm sorry you had to hear that, kiddo. He and your stepmother are taking an extended honeymoon in Malta," you tell her gently.

"You mean Slutlana?"

"What? Ellie, that's rude. Don't say that." You pause. "Don't say that to her face, at least."

She's quiet, and at times like this you regret that she's essentially living the life you lived at fourteen, always wondering when Dad would come back, if he even wanted to spend time with his own child.

"So.. I'm going with you?"

You nod. "Thank god your probation is over. It'd be nice if you paid Marlene a visit, or at least called her," I said, speaking of the parole officer assigned to Ellie after a particular incident. "We should send her some Tiff's Treats or something, she deserves a gift after putting up with your delinquent self." You playfully toss a tee shirt at her.

"Can I say bye to Riley?" she asks, hope evident in her eyes.

"No," you're adamant on this one thing, as lax as you were before the trespassing situation.

"Mom, my probation's over. I'm not gonna get in trouble just for talking to her."

"I don't care. I'm not going by the judge's rules, I'm going by mine." You pause. "You'll just have to come with me to Wyoming."

Sarah had gone to the trouble of sending a beautifully embossed wedding invitation, done in traditional cream and gold, with photos of the two of them as children, as teens, and one gorgeously done couples photo. Theo's cute, and Sarah seems happy with him.

"Boring," Ellie says in response to the wedding festivities. "Why would anyone want to get married?"

You decide not to give her a response. At her age you didn't understand the fuss about weddings either.

Forgoing Sarah's offer of paying for your flight, you rent a Chevrolet Suburban for the drive over.

"You do realize we'll be driving for over fourteen hours, right?" Ellie says, helping you put the suitcases and bags in the roomy luggage hold.

"Yep. I checked it out on Google Maps."

"What happens if you get tired?"

"We'll drive during the day and find a rest stop or a motel at night," you shrug.

"You know.. I could take over the drive sometimes," she offers.

"Okay, kiddo. Why not?"

She brightens. "Really?"

"Absolutely fucking not." With a smile you open the passenger door and she hops in, grumbling,

Only so much music can suffice a long ride, and somewhere outside of Reno, Ellie busts out a dog-eared copy of a book Justin had given her as a gag won the spelling bee.

"Oh no, Ellie, for god's sake, not the puns," you whine dramatically.

"Yes, the puns," she grins. "How else am I supposed to spend my time on this boring-ass road trip?"

"Brace yourself. We've only been on the road less than four hours."

She groans, slumping forward in her seat, revived shortly when she decides to recite every single pun in that damn book, and when you give her that Mom look, she simply grins and tells you, "That's what you get for turning down a plane ticket."

Three days later you arrive. Jackson Hole is picturesque, especially in winter, as it it was just made to be the snowy backdrop on a postcard or a highlight on Instagram.

You turn down the main thoroughfare of the town, a light dusting of snow already falling from the heavens as you peer out the window, frowning in concentration as you try to familiarize yourself with the location. Ellie's buzzing in your ear like a mosquito, singing along to something on the radio. You turn the volume down. "Quiet down, I can't see."

She nearly bursts at the seam with withheld laughter. "You want me to quiet down... because you can't see?" she teases.

"Ellie!" you groan. "We're already late for lunch with the family."

Promising yourself you'll settle in a hotel after what you hope will be a painless reunification with Sarah and the rest of the Millers, you find your destination and drive up a perfectly paved driveway. Joel's house, a craftsman-style facade done in red brick and accented with carved gable peaks, looks exactly like a house Joel would own.

Parking close enough on the curved driveway without blocking in any other cars, you take a moment to rest, stretching your neck and shoulders.

"Should've let me drive," Ellie says from her seat as you both start to disembark.

There's a smart remark on your lips but when you turn to her you're distracted by a figure at the side of the house.

Someone's chopping wood, splitting logs with precision, though not necessarily speed. He's wearing just a white tee shirt, jeans, boots. You let your eyes linger on his physique. Who is that? you wonder.

As if he can hear your thoughts or sense your presence, the figure turns and wipes the sweat off his brow.

You know him in an instant.

Joel.

Your heart feels like it's going into arrhythmia.

"Come on, Ellie," you hurry her up the walk and to the front steps.

"The bags--"

"Fuck the bags." You press the doorbell nervously, willing Sarah or anyone to open quickly.

"You made it!" Sarah practically mauls you as she greets you, giving both you and Ellie a hug.

You're swept inside where it's nice and cozy, the air scented with pine and gingerbread. Christmas garlands are strung over every doorway, along the staircase railing, the windows, and the fireplace.

"Was my dad out there? I told him he needs to start getting ready. I don't want him coming to the luncheon all sweaty," Sarah says.

"What? No. I didn't see anything.. anyone," you stutter.

"I'm happy you're here, because we're actually going to have lunch at the Tipsy Bison instead. It's Tommy's bar, you probably passed it on the way up here."

"Oh, uh.." you're distracted by Ellie precariously sloshing a winter themed snow globe, the thought of Joel is still spinning around in your sleep-deprived brain, and Sarah is still talking to you like you don't look completely zoned out and anxious.

To make things worse, Joel comes in, carrying most of yours and Ellie's luggage. His white tee sticks to his sweaty skin, his face pink with exertion and dewy with sweat, his hair dark with more gray now than ever, and on his beard too. His eyes, those dark depths you've lost yourself in so many times, peer into yours, and for a moment you forget to breathe.

"You left the trunk open," he murmurs, as if it's a quiet admonition, a secret he doesn't want to tell.

"Oh.. thank you. You didn't have to do that." Your nervous glance at him gives your blushing away because you see his face redden as well.

"Dad, can you believe she has a kid now?" Sarah says excitedly.

There's a jolt of fear when you realize father and daughter are going to be in the same room, and neither of them knows it.

"Uh, Ellie, this is Joel Miller. He's, uh, Sarah's dad, and I used to babysit Sarah.. a long time ago.." Being put on the spot, you falter your words.

"Put 'er there, Joel," Ellie says, holding out her hand for him to shake, which Joel does, the start of a tiny smirk on his lips.

"We all lived in Austin together, with your Aunt Sofia. I mean, we didn't live together but we were neighbors," you babble, feeling even more blush creep up your neck. "Way before you were born, kiddo."

Meanwhile Sarah's eyes dart from Ellie to Joel to you, and back again, slower each time, as if she's piecing the puzzle together. Her eyes linger on Ellie, her expression unreadable before settling on you. You quickly glance away.

"Let me take that from you," you motion to the luggage Joel's carrying.

"Nah, I got it. I'll show ya to y'all's rooms." He hefts the suitcases and bags like they're nothing and heads upstairs. You have no choice but to follow him, sneaking a little glance at how his great his ass looks in his jeans.

"Nice place you got here, Joel," Ellie remarks, eyes skyward, surveying the landing at the top of the stairs.

"Thank you," he says quietly. "Do you always address your elders by their given names?"

"Ellie," you whisper harshly. "Mind your manners."

"Damn, sorry," she mutters back.

"Sorry, Joel. She's--"

"Hey, why do you get to call him Joel?"

"Because I'm an adult," you say under your breath.

"He's older than you. Like, a lot. Like, Grandpa Bob's age."

"Stop it," you say through clenched teeth as Joel clears his throat.

"I can put y'all next door to each other--"

"I call this one!" Ellie claims the first door on the left, grabbing her bags and leaving Joel to lead you a little further down the hall.

"'M afraid this one is right across the hall from mine," he mumbles, leading you inside the comfortably decorated bedroom to set your things down.

"Thank you," you murmur, heart thrumming in your chest. This is the first time you've been alone with him in fifteen years. "You.. have a really beautiful home here, Joel."

He looks around, eyes darting anywhere but yours. "Thank you, that means a lot. Built it myself-- well, with Tommy's help."

"Really?" It's hard to pretend you're not impressed. "Must've been a lot of hard work."

"Yeah, it was. But she's sturdy." Joel gives a sturdy pat to the wall, and you can't help looking at his hand, the way his thick fingers splay out against the dark green wallpaper. Those are fingers that used to find their way inside you, curving just so in order for you to come quickly while his lips and tongue worked in tandem to--

Ellie's voice comes from the other room. "Wow! You guys have cable? Do you have HBO?"

"No Euphoria!" you shout back, scoffing when she quiets again.

There are too many questions on the tip of your tongue, too many things you want to say but not when you're so nervous that your hands are shaking. Staying quiet is easier. More awkward, but easier.

The room fills with unspoken words and missed chances as the two of you shift uneasily, not knowing where to start, not knowing if you should start.

"Didn't know ya had a daughter," he grumbles. "Not 'til Sarah told me."

"Yeah. Ellie's.. precocious."

A ghost of a smile graces Joel's lips as he looks at you and for a moment in time you feel eighteen again.

"How old is she?" he asks.

"She turned fourteen this past spring." God, please don't let him do the math, please don't let him do the math.

Instead he gives a low whistle, wears a teasing smile. "You look good for bein' the mom of a teenager. You still look beauti-- still look the same," he finishes.

You're thirty nine now and in possession of all the complexities that come with your age. There's more gray in your hair than you care to admit (which Ellie tells you not to dye because it "looks cool"), and there are a few more pounds on your person and a few more lines on your face than you're happy with, but his compliment warms you nonetheless.

"You look.. good.. too." Jesus, how did this man age like fine wine? If anything, the past two decades only served to make him hotter. It's unfair.

He takes a step forward, his face determined, lips pursed like he's still calculating his decision. "I.. I wanted to say--"

This time Sarah comes up, dressed for the cold, putting on her gray gloves. "Dad, get in the shower already," she scolds him. "I'm taking her and Ellie to the Tipsy Bison. We'll see you there."

Joel's eyes set on you. "I don't mind takin' them."

You open your mouth to speak, even though you have no idea how to respond. "Honestly, I'll drive me and my daughter. And we can get a room in town."

"No way, Jose." Sarah loops your arm through hers. "You're staying with us and that's final. So, will you let me drive you, or do you want to wait for my dad?"

Waiting for Joel.. it seems you've spent the majority of your youth waiting for him.

"Can we go with Sarah?" Ellie asks, solving the problem for you.

In truth you would have liked a moment to rest, to sleep, to puzzle over the strangeness of the day so far. You're almost a thousand miles from the home you've made after your divorce, under the same roof as the man who changed your life in ways good and bad, harboring a secret from him and his family. Not to mention Ellie's ignorance of her origins.

Sarah herds you and Ellie into the Tipsy Bison, a spacious bar establishment on Main Street, part of the scenery you must have driven by without noticing upon driving into town. Inside is the typical decor you'd expect: neon lights advertising every brand of beer and alcohol you can imagine, taxidermy mounts of bears, bucks, and elk. Pool tables are at the far left, dartboards to the right, a couple of foosball tables as well. There's a stage beyond the pool tables, ready for a band or DJ, a makeshift dance floor in front of it, and colored lights remain still overhead, their brightness dulled and stilled by the daytime.

There's a homey, cozy feeling as you glance around. The bar spreads along the far side beyond a range of tables and booths, boasting a wide variety of booze. Working behind the bar is a face you haven't seen in awhile: Tommy.

He comes out to greet you, his smile and bright and joyful as you've always known him to be, and part of you feels guilty that the last time you were together you'd been drunk, making out next to his truck, after meeting in a bar just like this one.

"Hey you!" He envelops you in a tight hug, and you start to feel better. Bygones are certainly bygones in his case.

"Tommy, it's good to see you again," you smile, pulling away to get a good look at him. "You've hardly aged. What's with you Millers, are you all vampires or something?" You cast a playful look at Sarah, who's bringing her fiance and her son to meet you.

Tommy shrugs, a playful grin on his lips. "You're more than welcome to join our Legion of the Undead," he jokes.

You're introduced to Theo, Sarah's husband-to-be, who's on the quiet side, a contradiction to Sarah who's chattering away about him, and Finn, who's an exact replica of his dad, eyeing you and Ellie with a shy smile.

Ellie manages to find a friend in him as you and the others get to catching up. You're introduced to Maria, Tommy's wife, the roundness of her baby bump just barely showing. She oversees the caterers as they start setting up for lunch. Tommy and Sarah talk about you like you're a part of the family instead of someone who knew them for a summer and changed things forever, even in some small way.

"Sarah tells me this is your place now," you speak to Tommy, who's behind the bar and pouring you a drink.

"Sure is," he says, sliding the drink across the bar to you. "Don't know anyone who orders a gin and tonic in the middle of winter," he says, teasing you.

"I'm eccentric," you smirk, taking a sip of the crisp, slightly bitter drink.

"Should be you behind this bar, Cherry," he winks.

"Oh god, no one's called me that in forever," you groan, doing a quick check on Ellie to find her attempting to play pool with Finn.

"How's business?" you ask him.

"Good, good," he nods. "Just glad to be settin' down some roots, buildin' somethin' for when the baby comes."

"Congratulations," you smile. "You and Maria seem like a good fit."

"Well.. y'know.. can't fuck around forever," he chuckles, then he spots someone at the entrance.

"Hey, brother!" Tommy raises his hand in greeting and you stay still, wishing you could sink down into the ground or better yet, become invisible completely.

The old-fashioned jukebox ends a Fleetwood Mac song and drifts into "Hungry Heart" by Bruce Springsteen starts, the catchy, melancholic combo of piano, drums, bass, guitar and saxophone wafting throughout the bar. You keep your eyes on your drink, willing for all of this to be just a dream, some intrusive thought you've put incredible detail into, prolonging your grief over lost love.

But there he is, a barstool between you, giving you your space while ready to jump up at a moment's notice if you want him closer. Your casual glance gives you away when you stare too long at him, clad in a green flannel shirt, his gray tee peeking beneath. You could swear it's the same flannel shirt you wore at the cabin, in the days when you were younger and carefree, before bad things happened to separate you.

Joel catches your look, lips twitching into a smile as his hands wrap around a glass of whiskey.

"So, what took you away from Boston?" you ask, putting your lips to your drink so you're not tempted to ask too much. It's an attempt to break the awkward silence.

"Lot of things," he mutters, staring into the amber liquid. "But mostly I followed Tommy out here."

"I was in Boston with him for awhile." Tommy shakes his head. "Hated it. I'll never set foot on the East Coast again if I can help it. I came out here, met Maria, started a family."

"And Sarah was already out here, buildin' a life. Just made sense for us all to be together again."

You look at both of them, glad the conversation isn't just between you and Joel. "The house is amazing. Joel told me you both built it."

The look of pride on their faces is endearing.

"We did, and mine too, across the street from his," Tommy adds.

"What happened to the contracting business?"

"We expanded it," Joel answers, a twinkle in his eye though his expression remains serious. "Made a nice chunk of change. Got branches in Oklahoma, Arkansas, even as far as Georgia."

That would explain the six-bedroom house, the fancy week-long wedding rituals that Sarah has joyfully swept you up in, and the catered lunches. The Millers have become quite financially well-off.

You listen to the brothers talk about some of the adventures they've been on, the good and the bad that has passed and ultimately brought them here, with you, once again.

The lunch spread is impressive: Texas style barbecue of ribs, brisket, and chicken; side dishes of beans, potato salad, grilled corn on the cob, macaroni and cheese, and mouthwatering desserts of pumpkin and pecan pies, cheesecake, banana pudding, and peach cobbler.

You haven't realized how hungry you are until you realize you have to remember to force yourself to eat slower, accidentally spilling a little barbecue sauce on your shirt. Embarrassed, you wipe it away, glancing at Ellie and finding her doing the same thing, just shoveling forkfuls of food in her mouth.

"Easy there," Joel's voice booms from across the table. "No one's gonna take it from ya," he playfully chides.

You were so absorbed in your lunch that you didn't realize he was right across from you. "Ellie," you scold her quietly. "Slow down."

"This is slow for me," she answers.

"Mind your mama," Joel says gruffly, his tone is authoritative.

She looks up at him, in annoyance and surprise. "You don't tell me what to do."

"And you don't talk back like that." Joel's voice gets a little more strict.

"Joel, stop," you intercede, your voice just as terse. The chatter around the table has dimmed but it's obvious everyone has their focus on you three.

"The kid obviously needs some fuckin' manners."

You scoff. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

His eyes lock with yours, dark and cold. "I see where she gets it from. I guess that's what happens when a dad ain't around to teach some respect."

"Fuck this," Ellie mutters, pushing back from the table and throwing down her napkin, quick to get up and leave.

Your face is flaming red with both anger and embarrassment as your gaze burns through Joel's. "There's something wrong with you. Seriously," you mutter before getting up to go after her.

Joel goes after you. Sarah goes after Joel.

"Ellie!" you call out, watching her walk off in the direction of the house.

"I'll get her," Sarah volunteers, gently touching your arm. And then you hear her speak to Joel under her breath, something like "You're ruining it," before she hurries up to catch Ellie.

It's you and Joel now.

"Babygirl," he starts, his voice low.

"Babygirl?? Fuck you!"

Joel goes pale, obviously not expecting that. "I deserve that. I deserve for you to hate me."

"Hate you? No, you deserve worse than for me to hate you! How dare you yell at Ellie like that? I never once saw you treat Sarah that way."

"She never acted like that," he huffs.

"Do us both a favor and just stay away from us for the rest of the week. I'll see about getting a motel tonight, just.. fucking leave us alone."

He mutters Christ, and reaches for you, pulls you to the side of the building. "I'm sorry, all right?"

"Yeah? Tell her that." You could easily leave. He's not restraining you, but you stay. "Is that all you have to apologize for?"

He looks guilty. "No, of course not. I've been trying to talk to you since you got here--"

"Fifteen goddamn years and I don't hear anything from you? And now you.. what, you expect me to fall into your arms like I'm a stupid fucking teenager again? Go to hell! Nothing is that simple anymore!"

You hadn't meant for all your rage to come spilling out, it was just supposed to be about Ellie, but now that you're face to face with him, you can't help wanting to rage at him. Joel backs away from you, his eyes on the ground, hands on his hips, jaw set.

"Longer than that, actually," you softly correct yourself. "San Antonio.. you fucking left me. On my birthday."

He steps forward, not ready to back down. "I went to jail for you. On my birthday."

"I didn't ask you to do that! I didn't ask for anything but for you to love me! And you stopped!"

"No, I didn't," he whispers, arms hanging at his side even though they itch to reach out for you, hold you, make it better again.

"Don't say that," you warn him, backing away. "Don't insult my intelligence, Joel. You don't know what I went through after you left me. My heart was broken for years!"

"You were just a kid. I.. I thought I was doin' right by lettin' you go."

"I wasn't better because of you breaking up with me. I got worse! So much worse!" You don't dwell a lot on the past, specifically the college years that are now mostly a blur of hookups and hangovers, but now it all comes rushing back. Joel was your safety net and he took all that away from you once you started to freefall.

"Bullshit. You got married," he says bitterly.

"I did that so I could feel normal again. I tried to save myself. But it didn't matter in the end because he didn't love me either. Though I have to say, my divorce hurt a hell of a lot less than your abandonment."

Joel starts to look his age. The lines in his face deepen with worry and regret as he absorbs your words, mulling over everything that has happened. "I'm sorry--"

"Besides, you got married too! So please don't play like you're such a saint. You hardly look the part." Your anger has warmed you, given some spice to your blood so that you don't even feel the cold anymore. You roll your sleeves to your elbows, fists curled, adrenaline pumping as you finally tell him everything that's been locked away inside your heart.

"I don't accept your apology," you grunt, adding, "And don't ever yell at our daughter like that ever again!" You storm off, wishing you'd brought your jacket but it would mean having to walk past Joel, back into the restaurant and out again, and you're already walking away. It seems one of you is always walking away from the other.

It's snowing again when you find Sarah and Ellie, further down in front of a storefront, steaming cups of hot chocolate in their hands. Both are smiling, chatting, seemingly getting along. You know you should reprimand Ellie, tell her to apologize to Joel, but how can you be a hypocrite that way when you won't even talk to him yourself? All you can think about is leaving, going straight to the motel and picking up your things at Joel's later.

Sarah talks you into staying, warning of bad weather coming in soon. She apologizes for Joel, and you apologize for airing your grievances so publicly.

"Just don't do it at the rehearsal dinner tomorrow," she smirks. "Then I'll have to leave your ass out in the snow."

That evening you and Ellie keep to your rooms. You use your phone for distraction when your attention span keeps drifting from your novel, but even technology isn't the answer. There's only so much Merge Mansion you can play, and not even True Detective can hold your attention for long. You decide to rewatch Narcos (for the plot, you tell yourself) when Ellie knocks on your door.

"What's up, kiddo?" You press pause and scoot over on the bed, offering her to get comfy next to you.

"Have you seen the news?"

You're on Do Not Disturb and haven't gotten any of your usual notifications.

"There's a blizzard coming tonight. Sarah says sometimes the main roads get snowed in and we won't be able to get out."

Oh Sarah Miller, the purveyor of bad news. "She told me something like that. How long do they expect conditions to last?" You're already checking your phone.

"Could be days, maybe even up to a week," Ellie shrugs.

"Great," you mutter. "So we're stuck here even after the wedding?" It's the day after tomorrow.

"Please don't make us go to the motel. Sarah's really cool and really nice. And I even like Theo and Finn.. even Joel isn't so bad so long as he stops talking to me like a dad."

That night, as the blizzard blows in, turning everything outside completely white, Joel tosses in his sleep in his room across the hall from yours. It's not the howling winds keeping him awake; he's lived here long enough to get used to such natural disasters.

There's something you said to him, earlier outside the bar. It was an explosive moment, with words exchanged like bullets. But in the midst of it all he took away that one sentence: don't ever yell at our daughter like that ever again.

Our daughter?

dividers by @saradika 👑

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[punkshort]

Chapter One

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader, pre-outbreak and post outbreak

AU (the only thing I kept was the outbreak, Joel, and Tommy's characters. Joel's backstory is different, and the way he finds Jackson is different. I may include Ellie one day, I just haven't planned that far)

Fic Summary: You worked for Joel and Tommy a few months before the outbreak. The outbreak happens, and you and Joel get stuck traveling the country and keeping each other safe. Neither of you spoke about the feelings you had for one another pre-outbreak, and in a post-apocalyptic world, it seems like survival should be your only focus. But feelings can't be ignored forever.

Fic tags: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Smut, Language, Canon-Typical Violence, Alcohol Use, Age Difference (Reader is 10 years younger than Joel), slow burn, mutual pining, angst, trauma, SA referencing later but I will put a big warning on those chapters

April 2003

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath, as the subway lurched forward, catching you off guard.

Today was the first day of your new job at a big-time construction company in downtown Manhattan. You had just moved to NYC a couple months ago, and this job was the first place that made you a reasonable offer. You were beginning to work through the last of your savings and getting sick of bumming it on your old college dormmate’s couch, so you eagerly accepted the position. The last thing you wanted to do was ask your parents for money – they were already so worried about you living in New York and working in Manhattan.

You thought back to when you called your mom and dad to tell them you finally got a job offer, so excited to tell them you could get your very own place if it all worked out.

“But Baby, don’t you think it’s a little dangerous working down there after what happened?” your mom had begged on the phone.

"Mom, please don’t worry, this building is nowhere near as big, this one only has 10 floors, I promise I will be ok,” you pleaded, hoping she won’t guilt trip you into moving back to the suburbs of Chicago.

You had always been a quiet, shy, studious type. Your parents always joked you would live with them til you were 40, never one to party or do anything bad. Needless to say, when you announced after graduation you wanted to move to New York, your whole family was stunned. You were pretty sure they expected you to chicken out, or move back home after a month, but you had a dream and you were determined.

Suddenly, the tinny voice over the subway speaker broke into your reverie, announcing your stop. You filed out of the packed car with loads of others who look like they were all going to similar corporate jobs. You tugged anxiously on the sleeve of your blazer as you made your way up the stairs and out onto the street. The crisp spring air that hit your face was a welcome change to the stuffy, overpacked subway car you had just left.

Lucky for you, Miller & Miller Contracting, Inc. was a mere 3 blocks from the subway. Your heels clicked loudly in your ears as you approached the building with ten minutes to spare. Relief began to wash over you a bit when you realized you planned the commute perfectly. You hated being late.

You pushed the door open into the lobby, approaching a large desk with two receptionists. Both were talking animatedly on their headsets and transferring calls. Patiently waiting for one of them to be available, you casually glanced around the lobby to avoid looking as nervous as you felt. The lobby itself was beautiful: it was completely open all the way to the top floor, with the glass elevator shaft behind the reception desk. The front of the building also was all glass, so that it afforded a beautiful view as the elevator took you up to your destination.

“Can I help you?” one of the receptionists called out. She had curly, short blonde hair, thin, and was impeccably dressed.

"Yes! I’m sorry, yes, it’s my first day in accounting. I am supposed to be meeting Heather, my name is –“ the receptionist cut you off, guessing your name before you could even finish your sentence. You confirmed who you were, and she got up to come around the desk.

"I’m taking the newbie upstairs to accounting, I’ll be right back, need anything?” she called back over her shoulder to her long haired, brunette cohort.

The slightly older receptionist shook her head in acknowledgment, still listening to whoever was on the other end of the phone call.

The receptionist who greeted you smiled and stuck out her hand.

"I’m Maggie, it’s nice to meet you. Come around to the elevator, I’ll take you up to Heather.”

She led you around the back of her desk to the elevator bank, her curly hair bobbed as her heels clicked on the dark tile floor. She began rattling off questions and information, no doubt a side effect of her job, and possibly caffeine, as you waited next to her for the elevator to arrive.

"How old are you? Are you from New York? Do you know anyone who works here? I’m always so excited when someone new joins, sorry if I’m making you nervous!  It’s a fun place to work, it really is, there’s a lot of great people here. I know your position can be a tough one, so please give it a chance, I swear it’s worth it.” She paused for a minute, realizing she might be scaring you off, as the elevator dinged and the doors opened.

“Uhhh,” you stammered, trying to absorb the last bit of information without looking concerned, and stepped into the empty car. Maggie stabbed the button for the 6th floor as you replied.

"I’m 25, it’s my first ‘real’ job out of college, I just mainly had internships before now, and they hardly paid much. I’m glad I can finally stop couch surfing. I am from a small town outside Chicago, I went to school there and I’ve always wanted to live in New York. My old college roommate already lived here, so I decided to give it a shot,” you paused for a moment as Maggie nodded along eagerly with your story. You frowned slightly.

"I’m sorry, what did you mean when you said-" Right then, the elevator doors pinged to floor 6, opening up to an empty hallway.

“OK we’re here! Follow me!” Maggie cut you off, and whisked you down the hallway, which took you to an open floorplan filled with cubes upon cubes of bustling employees. Some were chatting between their desks, others were hurriedly talking on the phone, and some mindlessly scrolling on their computers.

Maggie led you to the back wall, which consisted mostly of offices, and what looked to be conference rooms in one end. She turned left as you rushed to keep up while trying to absorb your surroundings. You nearly smacked into her when she came to an abrupt stop in front of a partially open office door. She knocked gently, smiling at the person inside.

“Good morning, Heather! I have your new hire here,” she gestured towards you and waved you over. There sat Heather, your new boss, who you had only met when you interviewed with her and HR. Her mid length dirty blonde hair was perfectly in place, bangs framing her face, just like the day you met. She was probably about 15 years older than you, but she looked like she could pass for around your age. She was very trim, wearing a form fitting black dress with strappy sandals, and her makeup looked impeccable. If it wasn’t for the old fashioned hair style, she could pass for around 30.

You stepped into Heather’s office, which you hadn’t seen when you interviewed with her a couple weeks back. It was small, but it had a decent view, which was to Heather’s back as she stood from her desk to greet you warmly by your name and thank you for being so punctual. She glanced behind you at Maggie and thanked her for showing you up, effectively dismissing her. You turned back to wave your thanks to Maggie, but she was already gone, heels echoing down the hallway back towards the elevator.

“Alright! Follow me, I will take you to the rest of the department and introduce you to everyone,” she motioned for you to follow her out of her office. Being the Controller, she had her own personal space away from the rest of the group, which you found was not too far away from her office. Heather led you back the way you came but kept going straight along the wall of offices, talking to you over her shoulder as she walked.

"I hope you made it in OK, I’m so glad the sun is out this morning! I was getting sick of all that rain, this weekend was such a drag with all the dreary weather.” You hummed your agreement and assured her you made it in just fine, not letting it be known you were overanalyzing your commute all weekend long.

Heather stopped at the corner of the floor, punched a personalized code into a keypad next to a door and opened it. You had initially thought it could be a conference room, but in fact it turned out to be a decently sized room filled with cubes, some filing cabinets, and a small safe. You glanced around at the room of about ten employees hard at work, heads mostly down or on the phone. Two girls around your age who were seated next to each other in the corner of the room quickly quieted down their chatter, and looked in your direction when you walked in. You gave a shy smile towards them as Heather addressed the department.

“Good morning gang, this is our new Accounts Receivables Specialist,” she turned towards you, announcing your name to the group. “Please make her feel welcome, if you don’t mind showing her around where the bathrooms and coffee are, I would appreciate it. I have a meeting this morning with the big guy I need to get ready for, I’m sorry I couldn’t do it myself.” She turned back to you apologetically.

"We have a great, tightknit team here, they'll show you the ropes. This is your desk,” she led you over near the corner of the room where the two girls had been chatting. “I already stocked it with some paper and pens, but we do have a supply closet on this floor if you need anything else, and Colleen is going to be your trainer.”

She motioned over to one of the two chatty girls, who bounced over with a smile and an outstretched hand. You shook it, reintroducing yourself warmly as Heather made her exit.

"Again, sorry guys, I have a meeting with Joel, and you know how he is.” She rolled her eyes, and she was met with some chuckles and a couple looks of sympathy. Heather gave you a final wave and a promise to return around lunchtime to check in, and left through the same door you came in, with it locking shut behind her.

Colleen must have been around your age, her blonde hair was pulled back into a loose bun at the nape of her neck, and she had curious, bright blue eyes. She was wearing a business casual, knee length, light pink dress that was perfect for the beautiful spring day. You felt a bit out of place in your navy blazer and matching navy dress pants, but you wanted to look your most professional on your first day.

Colleen began to explain you will be shadowing her for the morning, getting you used to the software system they used, how to look up accounts, and where important files are stored. You learned Colleen was working in Accounts Payables, opposite your job. You realized the two of you will be working closely together, and connected the dots on why Heather chose her to train you, vaguely wondering who had your position prior.

As you pulled your rolling chair up to her desk to observe, notepad and pen in hand, you coolly questioned who Joel was, and what the reaction was all about. Colleen seemed the type that liked to gossip more than work, and she excitedly settled in to explain all the office politics to you.

“OK, so, Joel and Tommy run the company, they are brothers – Miller & Miller, get it?” she began, smiling brightly at you. “Tommy is SO much nicer than Joel, he is the one who schmoozes all of the new clients and signs all the new business. Joel is, well…” she trailed off, hands flailing gently, searching for an appropriate word to describe the head of the company without scaring off a new hire. “He can be challenging to work with sometimes, but don’t worry, you won’t have to work with him one-on-one. We have monthly meetings with him as a department, it’s a lot easier to handle him as a group, most of the time.”

“How do you mean, ‘challenging’?” you pressed, leaning forward, hoping to learn more about what you were getting into, not that you had much of a choice if you wanted to continue to live in the city. “Do you mean he just asks a lot of questions, or…?” Colleen picked up where you left off.

He’s mean,” she stated bluntly, smile faltering slightly. “He has made employees cry before, and he has caused people to quit on the spot during his meetings. He’s tough, but he’s the guy who goes to the job sites and makes sure everything is running smoothly. Unfortunately, that type of personality, especially from a man, on those construction sites is exactly what they need to make sure nobody is slacking off and cutting corners. They are too scared of him to screw up!” she laughed, trying to ease any nervousness she caused you.

You leaned back in your chair, gaze drifting aimlessly around her desk as you absorb what she told you. Before you could add anything further, the other girl Colleen had been chatting with earlier piped up from the adjoining cube.

“He’s an asshole. If he ever does say anything hurtful towards you, you have to just let it roll off your shoulders. That’s why Heather is so good in her position, she has to be one-on-one with him a lot, and she can handle his shit much better than most,” the redhead, whose name you saw on the outside of her cube was Debbie, gruffly interrupted. You could tell she was the opposite of Colleen – while Colleen is bubbly and sweet, Debbie seemed tougher and had an edge, although she still seemed just as friendly as she continued to help paint the picture of the mysterious Joel Miller.

“At the end of the day, you have to keep in mind we are not out here saving lives. We are working in accounting at a construction company. He gets so heated and spouts off at the mouth like this company is saving the world," Debbie finished explaining with a huff. She rolled her green eyes, crossed her arms over her chest and glared off at a fixed point on the wall beside her.

“Debbie is right, but she is just extra emotional about it because the girl in your position before had a run in with Joel, and she quit. Cheryl was Debbie’s best friend here, so she is just a little sore over it still.” Colleen tried to explain gently, without upsetting Debbie more.

Debbie nodded in agreement, sighing, she leaned forward with her elbows resting on her knees, she dragged her eyes away from the wall to look at the two of you.

"She’s right. Cheryl didn’t deserve that from him, but she did what was best for her when she quit. It happens a lot, I just thought Cheryl was used to it. She had been here 8 years!” Debbie exclaimed, throwing up her hands with frustration. 

You gulped and began to get nervous, not really sure what to say. All you could hope was that maybe you didn’t have to have one-on-one time with Joel. You just knew you needed to keep this job, or else you were packing your bags and moving back home. Your hands started fidgeting on your lap, and you chewed your bottom lip slightly as you took in the information.

“Well, thanks for the warning, girls, I will do my best to keep my head down and stay below the radar,” you chuckled quietly, hoping to ease some of the tension and change the topic.

Debbie smiled at you, a little sadly.

"That's a good plan, but since you are in receivables, Joel may put you on the spot in some of our meetings and want to know what the payment status is on specific clients of his. Heather will typically field those questions if she knows the information beforehand, but if he catches you off guard like he did with Cheryl…” she drifted off, allowing you to connect the dots on your own. “Just keep your guard up, and go into those meetings with TONS of notes on all his clients, that is the best advice I can give you. And let Heather do all the talking.” With that, Debbie scooted her chair back to her computer to get back to work.

Your eyes probably gave away your nervousness when you turned back to Colleen. She smiled warmly at you and patted you gently on the knee. “Don’t worry about it, I promise it's not as bad as it seems. Like Debbie said, Heather fields most of Joel’s questions directly. Plus, we just had our monthly meeting with him last week. You won’t have to cross paths with him for another month.” Colleen turned back to her computer and started explaining the accounting software to you.

You were really only half listening as your panic was bubbling just below the surface, replaying Debbie’s words in your head while you tried to focus on what Colleen was teaching you. You were beginning to understand why this place offered you the job so quickly, you just hoped you could be tough enough to get through those monthly meetings.

Chapter Two

[doomtrooper77]

I've got a story to accompany this image. You can read it below. It is not a cute romantic story; it is more like my images. So, if that is not your thing, skip the story. If you do, let me know what you think of it.

Wrong Side of the Tracks

I had been in the bar for an hour already. It was one of those places off the beaten track where everyone went from what some would call the wrong side of the tracks. Mind you, this place wasn’t rundown. It just wasn’t fancy. The long wooden bar was polished, and the stools were worn but comfortable. Booths lined the wall opposite the bar. In the back of the bar were some big couches and chairs in an open area. Every seating surface was made of that old-school leather that got patina but never grew thin, never ripped. It was all cushioned just right for sitting and drinking the night away. Behind the bar was bottle after bottle of every liquor you could think of. Cases full of bottles of beer and more than a few on tap. However, don’t come in asking for some fancy new-fangled Microbrew bullshit. This wasn’t that kind of place.

Most people who came here were working-class people who came in for drinks and bar food. People who worked with their hands or on their feet all day. You had some white-collar folks sprinkled in, but mostly people who grew up in the neighborhood who managed to get a job downtown but still came back to visit friends and family in the area. That’s not to say it also didn’t have more seedier visitors. It was also a place where locals on the "wrong" side of the law congregated. Depending on the day of the week and the time, there was little you couldn’t find here if you knew the right person to ask.

You need a loan. There was a table in the back where some gentlemen of Italian persuasion sat most days. They were happy to give you some money for a hefty fee. If you needed something to bring you up or down, there was usually someone you could talk to to provide you with whatever you needed. But they couldn’t sell it in the bar. Business of that sort was not allowed in the bar; discussing it was different. If you needed someone’s leg broken, there was someone who you could talk to about that.

The bar was situated behind several warehouses and buildings in an old light industrial part of the city. You had to know where it was to find it and drive a maze of access roads and streets to find it. The bar had an address but didn’t appear on Waze or Google Maps.  The lot was big enough for everything from Harleys to big rigs.  The lot is dim, with most of the light coming from other businesses outside its perimeter.

I was on my 3rd beer when I heard the Harley outside. It was cold in the Midwest in November, but the hardcore bikers rode in the cold air. I was sitting midway down the bar when the door opened, and the crowd started parting. People quickly moved aside, even to the point where they pressed against others to get out of the way of the approaching figure. I got a glimpse of him just as he passed. I thought, “Jesus, he's gotten even bigger!”  He walked past, and you could feel his aura move with him. Predator. It was the only way to describe it. Some construction workers were drinking a few feet down, and one of the bigger guys either didn’t see him coming or had decided he was the alpha in the room. The biker didn’t change his step; his massive shoulders plowed through the big construction worker, pushing him into his buddies and spilling his beer down his shirt.

“Hey FUCK WAD, watch where you’re going!” The big construction worker said. He was big, about 6’5, and easily 280-290 solid pounds. You can tell he was used to being the big guy in the room. The area around them quieted as the biker turned around and took two steps back. I got a good look at him then. He was about 6’2, so shorter than the construction worker. However, everything else about the biker made the construction worker seem small. He had actual doorway-wide shoulders.  Arms are truly as thick as a healthy man's leg. Massive pecs encased under the leather vest. His lats push his massive arms away from his body at a freaking 45-degree angle. A neck so massive that it seemed like his huge shoulders just met his head somehow.  The part of my brain that was pretty damn good at calculating a man's size and weight told me at least 375 actual pounds.

One of the construction workers whispered “shit” as he pulled on his friend's arm. The bigger construction worker was wiping beer from his shirt and shook his friend's arm off as he looked up. Both men’s eyes met, and something happened. Guys know the feeling when you are in a situation where you quickly find out that you are not the alpha in the room. The biker took another step forward and pushed his chest into that of the construction worker. The biker tilted his head to that angle some guys do when trying to figure out how badly they will hurt someone. Not if, but how much. Everything around them quieted and stopped.

I could only see part of the construction workers' faces, but I could see the anger drain quickly away to be replaced by fear.  The Biker saw it and stepped into him more, pushing him back on his friends. Something like a wave of heat seemed to pass over me, and I could feel the raw dominance coming off that biker. It was like being on the edge of a violent storm. You can feel the air pressure change and smell the lightning as it crashes just feet away. Or it is like being on the edge of a vast forest fire, watching a fire tornado spin feet away and your skin both dry and slick with sweat simultaneously.

I felt my balls shrink up and throb at the same time.  “Sorry. Sorry.. man, I’m sorry,” the Big Construction worker was saying. No longer meeting the biker’s gaze, he said, “Sorry I bumped into ya. My fault. Sorry, sorry.”  The Biker stayed crowded in his space for another 15 seconds, stepped back, and looked at the construction workers' buddies, who all looked away. He turned to walk to the back of the bar to the area where the couches and chairs were. There was a dangerous and knowing smirk on his face.

Within seconds, the bar's sounds returned to normal, and people moved on as if nothing had happened—except for the construction workers. Those guys threw money on the bar, paid their tab, and quickly left.

However, I was now intrigued—no, make that obsessed—with the monster in the back of the bar. Over the next hour, I made my way down the bar toward the back of the room. I could see he was sitting with several other bikers and rough-looking men. I couldn’t hear what they were discussing but could see them on the sly. He filled one of the club chairs, his mass covering it completely. He wore this leather vest, black jeans, and big black harness boots. Out of the group, he talked the least.

A couple in the booth was just on the edge of the sitting area, which had a perfect view.  They left when I almost convinced myself that my little spy game had gone as far as it should. Before they could get two steps away from the booth, I slid into it. The waitress came over, and I got another beer.  I took out my phone and pretended to be scrolling on it while I was sneaking peaks at the monster. My cock was so hard in my pants that I had to squirm around a bit to give it room.  Knowing I might never see this guy again, I discreetly turned on my camera and videoed him. I kept making gestures like I was scrolling and typing, but I was filming his every twitch and flex.

I ended up drinking another two beers while getting more and more footage. The angle I had the camera meant I really couldn’t see my screen. I might have noticed when he started looking at me if I had. Only when I looked up to sneak another peek I saw two pools of steel looking at me.  Eyes so bright and grey that they seemed to glow, and they were looking at me. Not glancing but staring at me. I could feel the weight of his attention. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck” was all I could think.  As nonchalantly as possible, I slowly angled my phone away, and while pretending to be texting, I shut off the camera. It was time to go. I couldn’t dare look up at him to see if he was still looking, but I knew. I could feel it—the heat and pressure of his attention.

I had two problems. My cock was still rock hard, and I needed to piss badly. So badly, I thought that if I tried to make it to my car, I would piss myself. SHIT. I took out my wallet and threw 50 bucks and an OK tip on the table. Every second felt like my bladder was going to burst. SHIIIT. Taking a deep breath, I causually stood up with my hand in my pocket, trying to hold my boner down, and started walking across the bar to the hallway with the bathrooms. My brain screamed don’t look at him, my cock, on the other hand, throbbed under my fingers and said, come on one last look.

Glancing in his direction as I walked past the men who sat in front of him, I saw his head turn and track me. Like some goddamn tiger or something. I got to the bathroom and made it to the urinal, and let out 5 beers worth of piss. My hard cock throbbing in my hand the entire time. When I finished, my cock had gone to semi-hard. Stuffing it back in my pants, I washed my hands, took a deep breath, and told myself to walk out of the bar. Walk out of the bathroom and straight out the bar, not looking at him or anyone. Out the bar and to my car.  Go home. Go home and watch all of the videos you took of that beast. My cock twitched and started to harden again.

I opened the door, turned to go down the hallway, and ran into a wall of beef. He stood there, his massive body filling the dim hallway, waiting. I bounced off him and stumbled back two steps. I looked up at his face and those eyes. My body froze. I can’t explain it. I FROOZE. He looked at me, his head tilted as if he were deciding something. My heart was racing, and my mouth was dry. For seconds, I couldn’t say anything. Then I remembered what happened with the guy up front. I quickly said, “Sorry. Excuse me for bumping into you.”  

He started moving toward me. I backed up a step, thinking he was headed to the bathroom. But he wasn’t. He kept walking past the bathroom, and now he was against me. His massive body pushes me forward, my backward pace struggling to keep up. “Uh wait, hey, umm, excuse me.” Every nonsensical word came out of my mouth, and he kept pushing me back down the hallway. I started to fall backward, and I felt this massive hand grab my shirt and keep me upright. With no effort, he lifted me on my toes and carried me down the darkening hall. I kept mumbling until he said, “Shut up.” He didn’t yell. He gave an order and expected it to be followed.

We turned a corner and went down another short hall. There was an exit door. He pushed me through it into the night. Behind the bar, it was virtually pitch black, only lit by moonlight and his eyes. He walked us 50 feet behind a brick shed and pushed me against the wall.  His beard split into a hard grin, and he said, “Phone.”

Stunned and terrified, I said, “What?”

I have never had anyone grab me by my throat and lift me off the ground before. His massive hand clamped around my neck; his other hand went to my pants pocket and ripped out my phone.  Still holding me up with one hand, his other expertly clicks the button to turn the screen on. It was locked. He looked at me and then at the phone. I expected he would demand the lock code. Instead, he turned my head to face the phone and held it up. Even in the dim moonlight, it recognized my face and unlocked it.

The massive hand that wasn’t throttling me expertly moved over the screen. His big fingers press and swipe my screen. The screen lit up his face. Harsh, rough, brutally handsome. In a few seconds, I heard the sound of the bar playing from my speaker.  His hand tightened on my throat.  I watched his face as he scrubbed through the video. His brutal features were darkening. The aura of potential violence made the air thick.

He turned the phone so I could see the video playing, which showed him staring at me and the camera from minutes ago. He pulled me down and leaned all of his weight into me, crushing me to the shed wall. He leaned in where our faces were touching. His steel grey eye was less than an inch from my own, staring into my eye like a laser beam. His beard rubbed against mine as his mouth was next to my ear. His hot, angry breath blew across my ear and neck.  It was intimate. Fear can be intimate.

“Who the fuck are you, and why are you videoing me.” He said. His voice was deep, and his words were spoken normally, but the power behind them made me shiver.  My brain went blank. Words just tumbled from my mouth. Apologies. Explanations. Gibberish. I could see the rage ignite in his eyes as he pressed himself against me fully and repeated himself more forcefully. He asked again, and the anger and potential violence in his voice made my legs weak.

Then froze.  His eyes stayed locked to mine. His head tilted. He let go of my neck and reached down between us.  My brain may have been terrified and incapable of action; however, my cock was having the time of its life.  It could care less that this 390-pound monster was about to rip us apart. All it cared about was that 390-pound monster crushing and grinding me into the wall behind us. I felt the biker’s massive hand grab my hard cock.

The heat in his eyes was still there, in suspension.  Lifting my phone back up, I watched as he expertly tapped, swiped, and scrubbed through my phone. We stood that way for almost 3-4 minutes. I heard numerous videos I had saved to my phone from Leather sites, Raw Fuck Club, videos saved from Twitter and Pornhub. He flicked through them, and all the while, my throbbing cock was crushed by his hand.

Looking back at me, his eyes were still full of heat. “Is that it puppy? You getting some more jerk off material on your phone?” My fear is now joined with shame. SHIT. Shame giving me the power to look away.  His big hand squeezes my cock painfully, and he says, “I asked you a question, boy! You’re videoing me so you can jerk this thing off later?” His hand squeezed and pulled my cock roughly through my jeans. It throbbed and twitched with excitement.

I mumbled, “Yes.”

His face gets close to his mind, and the anger is back in his voice, “Speak up, boy! You got the balls to be filming me for your personal pleasure, be man enough to say it!”

“Yes, that is why I was filming you,” I said.

“Why me?” He said, his voice clearly expecting an answer.

I paused. Thinking of what to say.  Decided on the truth. “I’ve never seen anyone like you. As big as you are.  As tough as you are. As strong as you are.  As mean and scary.“ I stopped myself from going further.

He let go of my cock and pressed himself hard against me, crushing me more than before. “You like’em big and scary, huh?” His face was close to mind. “I’m 400 fucking pounds of the meanest and scariest motherfucker you gonna ever meet, boy.”  He pushed his mouth close to my ear and said, “I do mean and scary shit for fun. Are you sure you want that?” He fucking growled like a beast in my ear.

My cock didn’t give my brain time to think, so I quietly said, “Yes.”

He growled in my ear and crushed me even more against the wall. “Mean and scary it is.” He said.

Spinning me around, he pushed me face-first into the brick wall. He reached around, grabbed the front of my pants, and unbuckled my belt. He slid the belt off. Before I knew what was happening, he had made a loop out of it, put it around my neck, and pulled it tight. “There we go, puppy needs a leash.” He said. I was up on my toes. My skin was hot and cold. Excited and scared.

I felt his other hand grab the back of my jeans and yank. There was a ripping sound, and I tried to grab his hand to keep him from ripping my jeans. “Hey, I can take them down…” I never finished that sentence because I felt a fist hit me in the kidneys. Bright pain lanced up my side, and my legs went weak.

Pressing up against me, he said, “Understand this puppy. You’ve got three jobs right now. One, do what I say and nothing but what I say. Two, do whatever you can to make sure I enjoy using you however I want. Three, Survive. Do one and two well, and three shouldn’t be a problem. You fuck around thinking this is some date, and I can show you a whole other level of mean and scary. Do you understand me, boy?”

“ Yes, Sir.” I said.

He laughed roughly as his hand grabbed my jeans and ripped a big hole in the center. His hand reached through the hole to grab my shorts and grab one of the ass straps of my jock. He chuckled, “You’re a kinky fucker, aren’t you?”

I felt him step back and heard a zipper. He growled deeply again and pressed himself against me. I could feel his hot throbbing cock rub against my ass. He ground his hips back and forth and side to side. Fuck, it was huge. I could feel it throb and twitch as it moved across my skin. He slid it up my back and around my hips so I could feel how big it was.  I whimpered a bit in lust and fear. Leaning in, he growled, “Everything about me is big and scary.”

He slides his now hard cock between my ass cheeks, stretching the cheeks apart with-it’s size. I feel him let out a deep, growling breath as he crushes me between him and the wall.  I felt the big, veiny flesh slide up and down my hole. Yanking on the belt, he growls, “Open up.” He pushes his way in. Fuck its, huge. So damn thick. It just keeps sliding and sliding in. My breath is coming in short gasps. He chuckles as it pushes all the way in. I can feel his pubic hair and zipper teeth on my ass.  I want to yell, but the belt is pulled tight on my neck.

“That’s it, puppy. Take it. Take it all.” He says, grinding his massive body against mine. His cock throbbing deep inside me. Soon, he got a steady stroke going. His strokes are solid and deep. His powerlifting hips alternate from jackhammering into me to crushing me against the wall between him and the shed. He’s growling and breathing behind me like an animal. My legs are weak from the pounding.

I feel him loosen his grip on the belt, grab my hair, and pull my head to the side. I feel his thick beard rub across my neck. I moan as he rubs across that spot. The spot that makes me squirm when the right man finds it. He knows and licks across it. My body shakes. Then I felt his mouth bite down on that spot. Every nerve in my body cuts on and off. His hungry mouth bites and gnaws at my neck. Never breaking the skin. Holding me in place as his massive body goes into overdrive. Powerfucking me against the wall. I feel like a rhino is ramming into me. Time blurs and I don’t know if it has been 5 minutes or 15, but this monster has stamina. His pounding has never stopped.

I’ve never been used like this. I feel his stroke change, and by the 4th stroke, he explodes inside of me. Shot after shot, painting my insides. So much cum. So much I can feel it leaking around his cock and down my legs. He keeps his cock inside me until the absolute last twitch is done. When he pulls it out, I can feel more of it soaking my jeans.

I feel him step back and hear him say, “Turn around, boy.”  My legs are weak and wobbly. I feel like I have just lost a boxing match or been used like a tackling dummy.

He’s looking at me. Fuck he seems even bigger now. A huge fucking shadow in the moonlight.

I can barely see his face, but his eyes shine as he says. “You are not fucking done.” Looking down and then back up, he says. “Clean me up.” I look down, and his cock is still semi-hard and twitching. “You can get on your knees, or I can put you there. Get to work.”

Getting to my knees, I lean forward and take him in my mouth. Just like when he was fucking me against the wall, his hands were soon clamped on the side of my head, and his hips were thrusting his cock deep into my throat. The more I choke, cough, and sputter, the more he likes it. By the time he was done, I was a messy fleshlight. He dumped three more loads down my throat. His big dick was like a firehose. I was so full, weak, and used that I just lay on the ground.

I felt his boot push me over to my back. His huge shadow was standing over me. He puts his boot on my chest, bends down, and shines my phone in my face again. He turns it back around, and I watch as he flicks through it again, stopping a few times.  “You didn’t do lousy tonight, boy. You managed to survive.” Putting real pressure on his boot and my chest, he repeats my home address, work address, and that of my sister. Nothing more, his threat was implicit.  “You better start working out more because next time, tonight will look like foreplay.” Then I watched his massive hand squeeze, and he crushed my phone like it was nothing. It sparked, and smoke started coming out of the cracked sides. I watch him lean back and throw the now burning hunk of glass and metal far further than anyone should be able to. “You need a new phone, puppy.” He says as he walks off into the darkness.  In the next few minutes, I heard a Harley start up and drive away.

Sometime later, I managed to get up and find my way to the parking lot. I smile as I gingerly get in my car, thinking about the cloud backup I have turned on for pictures and video on my phone. I do need a new phone. My dick twitches in anticipation.

[thescarletnargacuga]

Oh, hello! My first ask on this site, so I don't really know how to do this. My apologies ^^". Harlequin au has literally been eating my brain for weeks now! I've been reading your writing, and it's so inspiring! I hope to reach that level of writing someday. Anyway, I wanted to ask; we've already had Pomni protecting her little bean with teeth and nails, but what about Caine? I think it would be so interesting to see Caine in action, whether to protect Pomni or Cade, or both! (And English is not my first language; sorry for any grammar error.)

A/N: all I can say is practice! And read. The writing style of other authors will inspire your own, and don't be afraid to take constructive criticism

A/N: on to the request! How about protecting Cade and Anya?

THE DRAGON'S ROAR

A HARLEQUIN AU ONESHOT

WARNING: distress, family dispute

~~~

Deep in the heart of the City of Circuits, the occupation of sentient puppets was bustling with activity. Construction, trading, and just general life was being lived in the newly repurposed city. Amongst the milling crowd were two smaller puppets, no more than five feet tall each, running and weaving through an active construction site.

Cade ran up a stack of bricks to swing from a beam of wood being hoisted by a mechanized crane. He trapezed himself over the heads of some of the workers and dropped to the other side. Landing in a ruck and roll, he kept running. "Come on, slow poke! You'll never catch me at that pace!"

A few seconds behind Cade, Anya ran around all the obstacles. Taking the long way through the construction zone, she weaves her way through the workers. "Pardon me, excuse me, very sorry. WAIT FOR ME!" She calls after her half brother.

Cade parkours his way to the top of a stack of crates and sits like he's been there for hours as his sister catches her breath when she finally catches up. "I'm telling you, Anya, you aren't taking full advantage of these new bodies. We're TEENS now! We can run faster, jump higher, and actually fight now!"

"You've had one lesson." Anya rolled her eyes and adjusted her teddy bear in her small cross body bag. She had to make sure he could see out. "That hardly makes anyone a warrior."

"Maybe not yet, but it does get you THIS!" Cade unsheathed his wooden training sword. "You don't need to cut something to make a strike hurt! Ha!" He stood on the pile of crates and swung his sword in a practiced figure eight. However, his motions made the stack away and he lost his footing.

Anya grimaced as she watched her brother fall with the crates. She checked on him when the dust cleared. "You alright?"

Cade kicked a broken half of a crate of his leg. "Yeah. I meant to do that, by the way."

"Suuuuure." Anya offered her hand to help him up.

Cade swatted away her hand and got up before his pride was further damaged. "Whatever. You need to hurry up and get training too. There's still a lot of marionettes on the loose."

"I am training. Mom is teaching me the art of artifact reading and the science of soul magic. You'd benefit from a lesson or two."

"Ugh, you know I don't do books. They're boring." Cade walked with her beyond the busier central hub of downtown. The crowds thinned the further out they wandered.

"There's power in knowledge. More than any blade." Anya lifted her skirt before she jumped over a large puddle.

"Ragatha teach you that too?" Cade idly dragged his training sword along a ruined wall.

"Of course. The world has many things to teach us. There's more to know than physical prowess-"

Cade yawned obnoxiously loud. "Uh-huh. I know. Souls. Ooooh. Magical. Mom barely uses any soul magic and she overcame every obstacle in her way. I'd argue the sword is mightier than the soul."

"But Caine-"

"Don't get me started. Dad talks a big game but all he does is teleport around like an unpredictable jackrabbit. I've never seen him do anything actually impressive."

"Cade, it's been a time of peace since before we were born. He hasn't had to use his powers. He was the first sentient puppet, he saw the human-puppet war, he saw the creation of the marionettes. That doesn't garner respect?" Anya clasped both of her hands on her bag strap.

Cade thought a bit longer before answering. "Sure...It's just, he doesn't do anything but work with the council and builds. Does that even require soul magic?"

Anya shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe. He builds things super fast. Like magic." She emphasized the last word with a smirk.

"Funny." Cade deadpanned. "Just wait until- what was that?" Cade stopped, sword held high. There was shuffling from the ruins to their right. "Who goes there!?"

A rat sprang from the debris and scurried away, causing Cade and Anya to jump. "Ha! Just a stupid rodent. Come on, let's catch it." Cade ran off after the rat.

"Wait! Cade! We shouldn't go too far out!" She called after her half brother, but he was already far ahead. Not wanting to be alone, she ran after him. "Wait for me!"

The rat race became another game of keep-up. The young puppets zig zagged through the maze-like ruins of the outskirts. The bustling and booming construction of the inner city grew faint.

The rat ran under a massive debris pile of an old mansion, shaking its pursuers. Cade hit his wooden award against the debris. "Dang it! Lost him! Oh well....ooo! Look at the size of this house!"

Anya came huffing up to Cade, "Why...do you...always...go so...fast? Where are we?"

Cade scoffed, "No idea, but check this out! It's almost as big as our house!" He climbed the partially collapsed west wing to the exposed broken staircase in the center of the mansion. "I think It would make a nice upgrade as a clubhouse, wouldn't you agree?"

Anya looked around tentatively, "I don't know... We're pretty far out from city center. I don't know if even the patrols go out this way. This is dangerous, Cade. We should head back."

"Danger? I laugh at danger! HAHAHAHA!" Cade exaggerated a defiant laugh.

Maniacal mechanical cackles echoed around them. Anya froze in place, petrified by the sudden realization that they weren't alone. Cade slid off the debris pile quickly, rushing to Anya's side. He had his sword drawn, held with both hands.

From the shadows came more laughter, broken and screeching. A tall, hunched, digitigrade figure lumbered into view. Then another. And another.

Six dog-headed, bipedal marionettes with blazing red eyes encircled the teens. The mechanical whistling and whirring from their bodies sounded like horrific cackling laughter.

Cade's soul shuddered in his chest. There were so many and they looked strong despite their rusted and withered frames. He spotted a weak support beam barely holding the second floor up over two of the marionettes. He grabbed a stone and chucked it at the beam. "RUN!"

The stone broke into the beam and brought down the second floor. The flying dust gave Cade and Anya an opening to escape between the confounded machines. Cade held Anya's hand, practically dragging her with him through narrow alleyways.

The half dozen marionettes dropped to all fours and ran after the fleeing prey. Three jumped to the roofs of rowed building and three stayed on the ground.

The mechanical barking and cackling of the marionettes made them feel only a step behind. Twisting and turning through the city, the teens met a dead end.

"Come on!" Cade climbed the broken wall and turned to help Anya up. To his horror, Anya's bag was grabbed by one of the marionettes and was dragging her back down. "No!" He threw himself at the marionette, bringing his hard wood sword down on its half broken head.

The marionette staggered and let go of Anya. She was in tears fiercely climbing away from the mechanized monster. Cade kicked away from the marionette he attacked and jumped to the other side of the wall with Anya.

They didn't even have a second to catch their breath. The marionettes clawed over the wall and snapped at the puppets. Anya grabbed her teddy out of her bag as she ran and squeezed its little hand three times.

The marionettes were closing in. Gnashing, cackling maws open wide, hungry for D.I.Es. One marionette pounced at the puppets. Cade caught it out of the corner of his eye and shoved Anya away. Its claws caught his leg and he stumbled. The young puppet was easily pinned, but he managed to keep his sword between himself and the marionette jaws. "RUN, ANYA!"

Anya crawled under an old iron cart that kept the marionettes at bay. Clawed hands reached for her as she squeezed the teddy bear's hand over and over and over. She couldn't watch Cade struggle against the marionette. She buried her face against the bear, screaming.

The clouds overhead darkened rapidly. Blue charge ran along the sky and gathered at a single point before striking the ground. In an explosion of blue light, all six marionettes jittered and shook in place. Their circuits fried and their fluid lines split open, leaking thick red fluid down their bodies.

The cackling stops. The machines fall to the ground, completely deactivated and smoking. Cade shoves off the marionette that was on top of him. Anya looked up to see Caine standing stoically amongst the carnage, not a speck of dust on his coat.

Anya runs to Caine and embraces him. "Thank you! Thank you!" She cries, black tears streaking down her cheeks.

Caine hugs her back, holding her until she was ready to let go. He looks up to see Cade wiping red fluid off his training sword. "Are you alright?"

"We're fine. We had it handled." Cade said coldly, kicking a marionette's head.

"You're not supposed to be out this far." Caine said firmly. "You're not ready to-"

"I just-!" Cade tried to start.

"You deliberately disobeyed me, and what's worse, you put Anya in danger!" Blue static rippled down Caine's body, his eyes flashing dangerously. "We are going home." He held Anya's hand and grabbed Cade's arm before blinking to the manor.

Upon arrival, Cade jerked his arm away and he marched to the training ground set up for him in the courtyard. He didn't look back.

Caine put a comforting hand on Anya's trembling shoulder. He was about to escort he inside when Ragatha came flying out the front door. "Oh my god, Anya! Baby, are you okay?? Caine rushed off in a hurry when you activated your beacon. What happened?"

Ragatha looked to Caine for answers, but he was focused on the direction of the training grounds. "Please, excuse me." Caine walked away, leaving Anya with her mother.

Cade was swinging his sword wildly at a dummy. He shouted his frustration with every swing.

"You know, enemies are typically easier to defeat when you don't announce the fact that you're attacking."

Cade swung around, pointing his sword at his father's throat. Caine didn't flinch. Cade glared at his father, breathing heavily. "Here to yell at me some more?"

"No. Your leg is still bleeding."

Cade looked down. His pant leg was torn open and there was a nasty gash down the back of his calf. Black blood seeped out slowly. "It-...it doesn't hurt. I'm fine." He grumbled and turned away to swing at the dummy some more.

"Why were you out that far, Cade?"

Cade scoffed, "Oh, now you care about why. It doesn't matter."

"You have very little combat training. Anya has none." Caine kept his tone even, but there was an underlying aura of anger. "Being out that far was reckless and stupid."

Cade swung his sword so hard, he decapitated the dummy. "You think I don't know that!? We were just having fun! Going on an adventure! As mom would say, shit happens!"

Caine bristled. "Your mother is also exceptionally experienced in reckless behavior, but she also does everything in her power to keep those around her safe. You want to put yourself in harm's way, that's one thing, but to endanger Anya like that-"

"IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!! I WOULD NEVER INTENTIONALLY ENDANGER HER!!" Cad got in Caine's face, enraged. "I WOULD HAVE FOUGHT THOSE THINGS TO THE DEATH FOR HER!! They were ambushed, we ran, you saved the day. Congra-fuck you-lations. You're the hero. Is that what you wanted to hear? An ego stroke?"

Caine and Cade stared each other down. Both silent in their rage. Until Caine swept Cade off his feet in the blink of an eye. Cade dropped his sword and Caine held Cade down with the end of his cane. Blue static pulsed through the cane and into Cade's body, mildly stunning him.

Caine's voice struggled to hide his anger. "There's a lot about this world you don't understand. Training takes time. You want adventure? You want to be the hero? Lesson one: be patient. Ambition left untempered leads to self-destruction." Caine lifted his cane and walked away. For the first time in a long time, he needed a drink.

Cade sat up, glaring after his dad. As he got up, he noticed his leg didn't ache. He looked to see the gash was gone, his leg repaired seamlessly. His face relaxed some. Silently, he picked up his sword and practiced the readied stances his mother taught him.

[dullgecko]

(About the same time as Study Goblin)

There's a folder in Aguefort's office. Inside is a picture of some lanky, bumbling half-orc with goggles and ash on his face. It's obviously an old picture from some yearbook, as there's one of those weird blue backgrounds and he's wearing a collared shirt. Behind it is a stack of papers, explaining what seems to be a master plan about taking this half-orc down, as well as ramblings about strengths and weaknesses and a photo of some weird-ass bird looking construct and something about a Time Quangle and the half-orc being the only one in Spyre who can kill the principal???

Anyway some kids sneak into the office on a dare and find it sitting on the desk. This sparks some conspiracies and plots and a few ritualistic summonings, but not much is found out until three weeks later when the Elven Oracle visits the school to do a lecture and hears the students talking about it.

*copying from your other ask*

Contributing to my last headcanon there is no mention of this half-orc being THE Gorgug Thistlespring, and nobody recognizes him because this is a FRESHMAN YEAR PHOTO. All there is is Aguefort rambling about this weird, awkward Freshman being his greatest enemy.

Adaine just laughs and explains 'oh yeah, mad wizards prophecy. if he ever goes evil only Gorgug can kill him' and points to their Artificer/Barbarian teacher (risen from the dead a few weeks ago to help with the latest teacher-gone-evil end of the world scenario and is now subbing while Arthur looks for a replacement).

This sounds too fucking weird to be true, so they take it to the cemetary to leave the mystery with the goblin statue. It's been inactive for a few weeks after the whole 'end of the world' thing and they're shocked because it still looks like its not working? Its in a different position, curled up like its sleeping with both wings cocooning it.

The kids are talking about the mystery while they're there and nearly have a heart attack because the statue actually moves while they're looking at it. It just lifts a wing and blinks out grumpily through the gap before making a 'gimme' gesture for the file. They hand it over with a really nice take away coffee on top from the fancy place downtown and it just vanishes from its hand immediatly and the statue goes back to 'sleep'.

They come back 2 days later (since they gave it coffee it works faster than the normal 3 days) and, while the statue is still a curled up ball of stone feathers, one hand is visible and holding their file with a new 2 page explination of the whole affair inside. They're baffled that Adaine seemed to be telling the truth.

[jitteryjive]

Text ID: Fitzroy and Foster ©1936 Maurice Foster, a shamus with psychogenic amnesia, strictly adheres to reality— until a chance encounter inexplicably manifests a rubberhose cartoon named Fitzroy with his likeness! The two deduce they must solve how Fitzroy (and whoever created her) came to be. End ID.

FITZROY & FOSTER MAKE THEIR GRAND DEBUT!

HERE IT IS FOLKS!!! a shiny post just for the new stand-alone OCs!!! after watching the new trailer for mouse: PI for hire, i had the realization i don’t have any B&W toon OCs… this is my solution! this is also my opportunity to write a more noir-focused story X) there is plenty more art, descriptions of the cast, and a chart under the cut!

also my apologies for the lack of full alt text; i have never done a separate art and text description before, so if anyone has any suggestions, please share :-)

while not obligated i would appreciate reblogs for my troubles!! (silly)

WHAT IS FITZROY & FOSTER?

fitzroy & foster is a great depression-era, noir inspired fiction about a private investigator (shamus) named maurice foster and a rubberhose, b&w toon that looks just like him! along with the motivation from mouse to draw a b&w toon, i wanted to dabble in genre-typical archetypes being interrupted by a character who does NOT fit in (fitzroy). also, as i’ve been experiencing a lot of PTS, i wanted to write a character who’s centered around their trauma.

(the original concept art i did up)

WHAT IS THE STORY?

burnish avenue is the dusky, downtown home of a city’s anticipated activity: construction men, working parents, a moonlit cabaret, and a shamus office on its second floor. that little studio belongs to 34 year old detective foster, a gruff investigator specializing in private cases. he lives with the psychogenic amnesia he received from his unknown past, and due to his memory issues and sensitivity, stays toughened and grounded in reality.

that is, the impossible occurs. a night returning from an investigation ends with an attack by a cartoon wolf, and foster mysteriously wakes up in his office with a cartoon character in tow! after a scuffle of confusion, she introduces himself simply as fitzroy. they both deduce they must work together (despite their flagrant differences) to figure out who created fitzroy, who that wolf was, and how toons are real.

Text ID: Who are Fitzroy and Foster? Maurice Foster is the shamus of Burnish Avenue, as many residents call him. He is gruff and reticent, and due to a secretive past, he holds contempt for, but not limited to, daydreamers, hecklers, clowns, and absurdity. Fitzroy, on the other hand? She's the complete opposite! Where he came from, why he's got Foster's face, and how she's a living, breathing cartoon is an illogical mystery. He is devil-may-care and hates stoicism; all his solutions to problems involve the highest degree of cartoonishness! These two are a match made in heaven, but they both ask the inquiry— why is Fitzroy here, and at that, who created him? End ID.

according to the locals of burnish avenue, foster appeared with the wind some years ago. to this day, the only things people know is his name, his hailing from woodlawn, new york city, and his connections to the burnish cabaret. though he’s known for taking a tough fist to enemies, he is also known for his benignity towards his clients, and is trusted by the avenue.

fitzroy is just as enigmatic. the difference between her and foster, other than being a living, breathing, toon, is his kippy personality! she loves fun, can’t stand being serious for the life of her, and is unnervingly eager to knock down a criminal’s door with some wild weapon he’s made up. he doesn’t know where she came from, either, so she makes the most of it!

fitzroy and foster are two sides of the same coin— if those two sides could staunchly disagree! they may share emotions and the remnants of memories foster has of his past. regardless, to foster, fitzroy’s an unbearably wacky impossibility, and to fitzroy, foster is a killjoy who needs loosening up.

contrarily, they cooperate as well as they can when on a case together. fitzroy comes along for the ride, and though his abrasive, comical methods of investigation may irritate foster, an extra body and friend by his side aren’t taken for granted. (for being a silly cartoon, fitzroy’s weirdly handy with dynamite and pistols.)

eventually, the two will learn to see eye to eye, being foster opens up and fitzroy’s efforts thaw him. but, until then, they butt heads and get no closer to solving the case of the living cartoons.

WHO IS JO/JOSEPHINE?

Text ID: Josephine “Jo” Simon (She/her). End ID.

Text ID: Who is Jo? Josephine "Jo" Simon is one of the satiny performance girls of the Burnish Cabaret. A singer, dancer, and show-woman, she performs every evening below Foster's private office on the second floor. Jo is a debonair dish with the great ability of making all kinds of acquaintances! However, the friend and confidante she deems her closest is Foster. Jo contacted the investigator in early 1932 to help gather enough evidence of her then husband's abuse. She, in return, helped him find an office. In present time, they chat every day, or have a dil-ya-ble if they're busy. When Jo isn't romping with Foster or performing, she's drawing away! End ID.

the hijinks within detective foster’s office aren’t the only focuses of the story. a floor below his private studio is the burnish cabaret, the source of the avenue’s musical nightlife. there, you may see 31 year old josephine simon in the ensemble— but everyone calls the performance girl jo. she is a flirtatious, humorous show-woman who has always loved the arts since her childhood.

jo was drawn to the cabaret when she moved near the avenue with her then husband. as a young child, she was adopted by french immigrants, and eventually left home in search of her identity. the cabaret, which hires and houses chinese-american women, gave her the ability to reconnect with herself. when she escaped and divorced her husband, she fully joined the cabaret, and has lived and performed there to this day.

if you’ve read this far, thank you! while this isn’t replacing crime express in any capacity, and ruth and blu are still my favorites, F&F (as i abbreviate it) is another passion project in the making. keep an eye out for more of the new little guys if you’re interested! X)

as i’ve gotten a couple questions from irl friends about F&F, i will answer the relevant ones here for convenience:

Q: are fitz/fitzroy and foster related/twins/etc?

A: no. they’re not related in any way, despite fitzroy originating from foster and what not. i only clarify this cause they’re shipped in the story and don’t want any misconceptions LOL

Q: is F&F part of the crime express universe/tooniverse?

A: no. this is a separate universe entirely! unlike crime express, which is a toon-human world, this is a world unfamiliar with toons. fitz and the other toons not featured here are outliers.

Q: who is the ‘cartoon wolf’ who attacks foster in the prologue?

A: while i don’t want to spoil the story in the introductory post, i will say that their pseudonym is the big bad wolf, and they are responsible for several denizens of the avenue acting strangely or injured, including foster. their real motivations and identity shall be kept secret for now!

if there are any other specific questions, i will GLADLY answer them. i have a ton of lore i haven’t even remotely touched upon in this post that i shall happily discuss if asked!

border credit goes to @.steddiecameraroll-graphics

[incorrect-jojolands-quotes]

Mun, give me your shot on Usagi Headcannons :crying & fire emoji: the world needs it

Of course! Here's what I got so far in terms of backstory and tidbits about him too:

Usagi's parents are Robert Alohaoe and Donna Therese Alohaoe (née Nakashima). Both are Japanese-Hawaiian descent and Usagi is their only child. Usagi had a twin sister that didn't make it to term but neither of his parents told Usagi her name or that she existed, not wanting their son to feel guilty or sad about the matter in any way.

Robert was a construction worker who was also the local construction union's president. Donna works as a receptionist for a retail tax office in Downtown Honolulu. After Robert's death, Donna quit her job due to grief and now stays at home. She's able to manage the payout for Robert's death so she and Usagi could live comfortably and more and is rather frugal too.

Growing up, the Alohaoes were a close, loving family. They were actually involved in a local church in Honolulu and Usagi's early years were him being involved in things like the children's choir and plays done in celebration of Christmas and Easter. The church itself was a nondenominational Christian church that the Alohaoes met through and got married in.

Both parents wanted Usagi to have some exposure to the arts but lacked the resources to give him professional classes or have him try out auditions for agencies, so Usagi's time in the performing arts involved him taking free community classes or attending volunteer-run events. It's there that he learned how to dance, sing, and act.

Usagi was a rather popular kid with many friends from church, despite his father worrying that being a theater/dance kid would mean kids were going to bully him. His rise to fame among the church kids was when he showed that he could do the splits during a free ballet class. He was also, at the time, strong enough to lift the girls trying to pretend to be ballerinas.

Robert's death threw more than just a wrench into things. Despite the church doing what they can to help and comfort, both Donna and Usagi lost their faith and stopped attending services like before. Usagi briefly stopped doing theater stuff and stopped seeing his friends at church. He became a loner in school that people thought was weird. He often brushes off his father's death as a means of coping with it. But, secretly, he misses his dad a lot.

Usagi himself isn't religious anymore as he started getting involved in scientific research and not agreeing with sentiments that various religions have towards marginalized groups (women, lgbtqia+, indigenous, etc.). But, when he misses his dad or really needs divine intervention, he will say a little prayer and hope it gets answered.

To satisfy his itch for performing later in life, he turned to learning Kpop choreography and making Kpop content. He has a secret social media account where he dresses up with his face and body covered and films himself doing dance covers. He would also attend Random Kpop Dance Plays anonymous as well to talk to other stans. Everyone knows him as his dance persona but no one really knew who he is under the all-black fits and surgical masks he wears.

He's massive in the forums related to BTS. Online, ARMYs knew him as an i-lovely with wacky theories about the BTS universe and his love for Suga. His biaswrecker is Jimin and he eventually bonds with Charming Man over BTS as the two start to become more friendly with each other. Usagi also runs an anonymous stan twitter account to help him keep up with Kpop news and is really involved in voting during awards season.

Since his father's death, Donna has been way more overprotective than before. Usagi himself was a sheltered kid and sometimes feels suffocated by her actions. He does understand that he is arguably the only physical reminder of Robert and her intentions are well-meaning, but it has caused him to rebel secretly. It's part of why he accepted work from Meryl Mei and experimented with drugs. He does it behind her back because he doesn't want to disappoint his mom in the end.

Usagi wishes to be a researcher of sorts after high school, but he's not sure what field to go into. He's considered being an ornithologist because he loves birds but also a pharmaceutical scientist, hydrologists, research physiologist, and, when he was younger, he thought about being a marine biologist. His passion in being a researcher led him to learn a lot of stuff online and that's why he has so much information.

His experimentation with drugs came from his initial desire to be a pharmaceutical scientist and curiosity on how chemicals can affect a body's function. He also wanted to see which drugs would enhance his academic performance the most, so he extensively researches on the drugs and how to safely use them before actually trying it on himself. It's also where he gets his extensive medical knowledge.

Donna used to be someone who wanted to make sure Usagi has a home cook meal and the family used to bond over cooking. However, since Robert's passing, Donna stopped cooking out of grief and Usagi can't bring himself to cook for similar reasons. He's mostly eaten takeout fast-food or quick meals like instant ramen since then. Donna is trying to get back into cooking meals again for Usagi's health but it's still a struggle.

Usagi doesn't know much about his dad's past but is interested in Robert's dadlore; Donna herself only knew so much. The bits and pieces of the lore Usagi knows is that Robert used to be close friends in high school with some guy name Dean. The two separated after a terrible fight but reconnected months before Robert passed away. Usagi knows it was this friend who helped his family receive the insurance payout but he doesn't know Dean's full name.

Usagi only knew Dean by the nickname Robert supposedly gave to him and the two had nicknames for each other; Robert was called "Fripp" and Dean was called "Belew". However, Usagi misheard these names and thought the nicknames were Pink and Blue.

Usagi vowed to be like Dean, someone who goes out of their way for others, and hopes to find his own Pink that he could help the way Dean did. What a coincidence that that Pink ended up being Dean's own child: Dragona.

That's all so far. I hope you enjoy it. :3

[bugsbenefit]

no spoilers here yet but just as warning in case you don't want to see any talk about the set production you can blacklist my s5 spoiler tag, i'll tag everything so no worries :) (also applies to any actual future spoilers ofc)

i just care about show production processes and i like having things in one place for organization purposes. so here's a summary of the things that came out over the past few days that are confirmed to be real because i saw some confusion and misinformation about it

1) replica elements of the Hawkins downtown area are being constructed (the tall greyish building is Melvalds so this is basically confirmed to be the ST production and a real leak) link to the source

my bet is they'll either use it for an UD version of downtown or for something that requires massive alterations to the set they can't do to the real location without digital effects. like damage to the buildings, extensive special effects like fire or explosions, and so on

2) they're building military set pieces as well source and source

very curios where those will end up going since they clearly don't belong in the downtown set area and are all on movable platforms. there'll be a military base Somewhere for sure tho

and neither of that is actually really new information, we already saw a military presence in Hawkins by the end of s4 and them rebuilding downtown was something i expected but seeing the process is still cool

also adding here so people don't get their hopes up or base too much of their s5 expectation on it; there's a picture of cut out missing posters going around that seems to be a fake leak. sucks since it's the only photo that would allow for any actual plot speculation but alas

this one

which is from behind the scenes of the ST Day event, so they're not up to date or from the current production of s5, which the og poster clarifies in the comments (link to the post here)

[midwestmade29]

*Currently doing a happy dance*

CHAPTER 1 💕

I somehow managed to break through my writer's block and put together the first part of another Christian Cage story! Let us all rejoice 😂 With this story, I'm kinda taking it in a different direction compared to my last one. This story dives a little deeper into a version of Christian that I imagined if he had taken a lot of the criticism, negativity and hate that he received during different points of his real life career, (from fans, writers, coworkers, etc.) and had a very hard time dealing/coping with it, and choosing to let it consume him. The story may start off kinda slow, but I hope you'll give it a chance! (Don't worry...there will still be spicy content in it as the story marches on 🔥)

If you are not 18+ years old, please KEEP SCROLLING. Do not interact with any parts/chapters of this story.

Due to the explicit nature, this story is NSFW or minors.

It is written from the POV of a female character and has dialogue between her and Christian Cage. As I continue writing, I may change the POV to Christian’s from time to time!

Some topics/actions/theme(s) of this story may not be suitable and/or triggering for some readers. Foul language, alcohol consumption/use, drunkenness, arguments, “sexual dirty talk.”

Word count for Chapter 1: 1,354

*As always, I would love to hear from you! Constructive criticism, suggestions,feedback,thoughts…tell me all the things!😌*

So, without further ado...here is Chapter 1 🖤

Earlier today, Christian sent me a text and told me to meet him at our favorite restaurant downtown at 9 o’clock for dinner. I was so excited to see him after being a part for 12 days due to his travel schedule for AEW, that I even went shopping to pick out some new lingerie and a dress to wear for him. I couldn’t wait to feel his arms wrapped around me and to kiss his full lips. The thought of him discovering my little secret I was hiding under my dress caused my core to heat with excitement. With one more spritz of my perfume and a quick touchup of my lipstick, I was ready to go see my guy.

I arrived at the restaurant a few minutes late due to my Uber driver getting us stuck in traffic, and thankfully the hostess sat me at our reserved table anyway. Christian hadn’t arrived yet, but the waiter greeted me and asked if there was anything he could get me while I waited. He nodded and walked away when I only ordered a glass of ice water for now. I sat in the dim lighting of the restaurant and stared out the window, watching people pass by holding their umbrellas, protecting them from the rain that had started to fall. I studied the menu from front to back, checked my phone more times than I’d like to admit for any notifications, and eventually ordered a glass of wine. Time continued to tick on, and Christian was now 40 minutes late for our date. A sense of uneasiness settled in my stomach.

I felt bad for holding up our table while other patrons continued sauntering into the restaurant. The waiter was very understanding when I tried to attribute Christian’s tardiness to a possible flight delay due to the rain, or maybe even traffic, but when the front door of the restaurant burst open, I was sadly mistaken. Judging by the look on my face, the waiter gave me a sympathetic smile and hurried away to check on his other tables. I watched Christian stumble in, drenched from the rain, about to knock over a potted plant on his way to the hostess station. My eyes grew larger the closer the hostess and Christian got to the table when I was finally able to take in the full sight of him. I stood and thanked the hostess before she walked away, and helped Christian sit in his chair before he knocked it over or missed it completely. “Hi baby. You’re looking mighty fine tonight. Did you dress up just for me?” Christian slurred. Before I could reply, the waiter came over to the table once he noticed my less than punctual guest had gotten settled. I quickly tried to shoo him away, but it was too late. “Good evening, sir. How are you this evening? May I get you something to drink, or perhaps start you two off with an appetizer?” the waiter offered, looking back and forth between Christian and I.

I slid down in my chair, staring daggers at Christian, just hoping and praying he would behave, only to have him smile back at me mischievously. “Actually, my good man, a drink sounds delightful. Whiskey, neat. No cheap shit.” “Uhm, do you think that’s a good idea?” I shot back immediately. “Judging by the swagger you displayed walking in here, it would appear that you’ve already had enough.” The waiter stood silently, unsure of what to do. He started rocking on his heels the more Christian and I stared at each other, silently arguing. Christian finally caved, downgrading his order all the way down to a water while rolling his eyes. “We’ll also have some of the house bread with the assorted spreads, please.” I added. “What’s that for?” Christian asked. I tried to reel in my frustrations before responding, but I think it still came out a little snarky. “One, you could use something to soak up whatever alcohol you have in your stomach, and two, I’m starving. I’ve been sitting here practically drooling all over the trays of food that have passed by me the last 40 minutes.” This time, Christian was the one to slide down in his chair a little. “Not happy to see me, baby?” he asked, trying to keep a straight face, but the alcohol made him break out into a small fit of giggles. He looked up at me with his piercing blue eyes and lips in a full pout before giggling again. If I wasn’t so concerned and frustrated with his current state, I would’ve joined in on his laughter because he looked adorable with his pouty lips and his smile was radiant.

“What’s going on, Christian? Is everything okay?” I asked softly. “Nothing’s wrong, baby. I had a few drinks on the plane. Maybe a couple after we landed too. Just lost track of time. What makes you think there’s something wrong?” “Because I know you, Christian. You show up 40 minutes late to our date that you put together, you haven’t drunk like this in a while and the last time you did was when you and Adam had a huge fight. I know how hard it is for you to get out of your own head sometimes. So please, don’t lie to me because I can see right through you. This is more than “just a few drinks.” “You’re killing my buzz, being so serious. I thought we were here to have a good time. Not to try and fix someone that’s unfixable.” He replied condescendingly. “Now, are you going to finish your wine, or can I have it?”

I smacked his hand away as he tried to grab my wine glass. “Spoilsport.” He groaned, crossing his arms. “If anyone is spoiling anything, it’s you Christian. You can’t say things like that and not elaborate. I just want to help; I’m not trying to fix you. It hurts my heart to hear you say such things about yourself.” “Well, the truth hurts, baby. And the truth right now is that I don’t need your help, or anyone else’s for that matter. So, let’s cut the shit and kiss and make up. I’ve missed your sexy lips while I’ve been gone. I can think of a few things I’d like you to do with them...”

Usually him talking dirty like that would ignite something deep in my core, but right now his words were just igniting my anger. “Fine, Christian! You don’t want to talk, so we won’t talk. In fact, I think I’ll leave you and your secrets to enjoy your drunken state since that seems to be what’s important to you right now. I can’t believe you were late getting here because you were drinking! I’ll see myself out.” I scolded before standing. Even with his head swimming in all the alcohol he had obviously consumed, I think he finally started to realize how quickly our conversation (and night) had taken a turn for the worse. This was hardly the first time I’d seen him like this, and definitely not the first night to go this way either. Christian remained seated as I grabbed my purse and jacket off my chair. “What about dinner?” he murmured. I couldn’t help but scoff at his question. “I’m not hungry anymore, but you go ahead and enjoy. I hear it’s one of your favorite restaurants. Goodbye, Christian.” I weaved through the sea of tables as fast as I could, trying my best to avoid bumping into anyone or knocking anything over. The cool, damp night air filled my lungs as I took a deep breath once I was outside. Reality hit me fast when I remembered it was raining, and that I had taken an Uber to get to the restaurant. My heels I was wearing were not ideal to walk in, but I had to get out of here. I stepped into the downpour trying to shield my phone from the rain so I could make a very important phone call...

If you read through the entire thing, THANK YOU!!! I appreciate it more than you know!

Chapter 2 coming soon…😘

[dailyp1anet]

BREAKING NEWS

SUPERMAN STOPS MTA RAIL FROM RUNNING OFF THE TRACKS

By Lois Lane, Senior Staff Writer

PUBLISHED: 07:33, 8th September 2021 | UPDATED: 15:18, 8th September 2021

A JOB FOR SUPERMAN! © The Daily Planet: James Olsen, Photographer.

Heroism flashes once again across the Metropolis sky in red, blue and gold. A sight we are all too familiar with, celebrations were held across the city in honor of the Man of Steel and his acts of bravery and heroism.

At 08:02 AM on Wednesday, the Metropolis Transit Authority (MTA) received a distress call from the northbound A Train with reports of a brake failure and unexplained acceleration resulting in missed stops along Reeves Avenue. With over 300 passengers onboard, panic spread as the Metrorail reached hazardous speeds and barrelled through downtown New Troy. Potential disaster loomed only a mile away: pipeline construction near the Metropolis City Hall meant an 80 foot segment of the railway track had been removed, leaving a three storey drop between the Metrorail train and the unconnected tracks.

"We were helpless!" explained Tom Wadsworth, the Metrorail operator of the MTA Northbound A Train. "There wasn't enough time for the MTA to intervene. Emergency brakes were malfunctioning. I could see the break in the tracks just ahead, I prayed for a miracle!" Thankfully for Wadsworth, Superman had been alerted to the distress calls thanks to his super-hearing, he was quick to act and ready to help. Superman blazed to the front of the train, in an impressive display of super-strength and bravery, he slowed the train down to a halt before the 80 foot break on the tracks.

"Because of Superman, I am still alive!" passenger Evie Shriner commented on the city's most famous superhero. Evie, along with many of her fellow commuters, was on her way to work when this incident occurred. Evie works as an investment banker in downtown New Troy for Metrobank. As a native Metropolitan, Evie credits Superman for not only saving her life, but also declared that "he is the best thing this city has to offer. He saved hundreds of lives this morning!"

According to MTA officials, no one was injured and the passengers were transferred to shuttle buses to continue with their commutes. Investigations continue into what caused the brakes to fail and for the Metrorail train to reach hazardous speeds, an official enquiry is being launched by the MTA CEO who has committed to a series of extra safety checks to keep our city's Metrorail safer than ever.

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[momcntum]

GENERAL DESCRIPTION

Character Name: Seonho Jones

Gender Identity & Pronouns: Cis man, he/him

Sexual Orientation: Bisexual

Age & D.O.B.: 26 years old | February 28th, 1997

Nationality: American

Ethnicity/Race: Korean

Languages: English (fluent), Korean (fluent)

Hometown: Starlight Oaks, Washington, USA

Neighborhood: Downtown

Occupation: Uber driver, construction worker, bartender at blazing comets, dock worker, gig worker

How long have they been in Starlight Oaks? Local

Positive Traits:  Buoyant, steadfast, generous, enthusiastic, humble 

Negative Traits: Restless, escapist, stubborn, self-sacrificing, conflict avoidant

Faceclaim: Cha Eunwoo

APPEARANCE INFO

Height: 183 cm / 6’0”

Eye Color: Brown

Eye Sight: Poor, most often is wearing contacts

Hair: Black in hue, often dyed but currently is natural and growing long

Tattoos: Musical notes on his right ankle with ‘keep moving forward’ written next to it, an arrow heart on his chest with birthdates of his family inside, purple and burgundy forget-me-nots on his shoulderblades, Korean idiom across his spine which translates roughly to "at the end of hardship comes happiness" (고생 끝에 낙이 온다)

Piercings: ears (double lobe, double helix, snug, conch), left eyebrow

Build: broad-shouldered, muscular, toned

Style: street casual, comfortable wear, holey jeans, hoodies, multi-colored sweaters, a singular nice pair of khaki pants, wears a lot of durable clothes because he works so much but does look more stylish for events

PERSONALITY INFO

Zodiac: Pisces ☀ Scorpio ☾  Leo ↑

MBTI: ENFP - Campaigner

Moral Alignment: Neutral Good

Temperament: Sanguine

Vice: Pride

Virtue: Charity

Element: Earth

Schemata: The Server

Habits: Gesturing when speaking, pointing, wears mismatched socks, randomly bursts into song, nicotine addiction (vapes), in general poor self-care habits

Hobbies: Listening to music, writing music, producing music, dancing, sending memes, playing musical instruments, scrapbooking, papercrafting

Likes: Music, romantic comedies, socializing, sunflower seeds, sweets, humming, smiling, cuddling, tteokbokki, adult coloring books, thunderstorms, trying new things even if he’s bad at them

Dislikes: Conflict, waking up early, traffic, most academic things, balancing a checkbook / anything financial-related, folding clothes, humidity, being overheated, wasting food, feeling like he’s not doing enough

SNAPSHOT

• A product of who and where he's come from. With the face of the man who left, the work ethic and passion for music of the man who raised him, and the resilience and compassion of the woman who built his very foundation, Seonho is a survivor. He grew up poor, sometimes destitute and homeless and at best living paycheck to paycheck, and the foot of struggle and responsibility was against his neck at a young age.

• tw: brief mentions of death and illness The oldest of six with two full-blooded siblings and three half-siblings though to him there's no real distinction. The de facto head of his household since his mother was diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer's when he was seventeen the literal head of his household since he was eighteen and his mother was sent to hospice. Emanates big brother energy.

• A happy-go-lucky guy despite his circumstances. Lover of warm hugs with honey eyes that are always crinkling under the weight of a smile. Compassionate and empathetic, sometimes to a fault. Always puts himself last. Would give someone the shirt off his back if asked.

• When he's not working, he's socializing. Rarely sleeps and works himself to the point of mental burnout. Lives off adrenaline, energy bars, red bull, and nicotine. Not very good at self-care.

• Is a little too used to the grind and as a result, his life has become a bit stagnant. He lives day to day rather than for the future. Gave up on his musician dreams of pursuing after his (step)dad passed when he was fifteen. Still writes from time to time when he's inspired. Can play pretty much any instrument, and has a soft spot for jazz (and the saxophone) since it was the genre that he was first introduced to.

FULL BIOGRAPHY

tw: mentions of homelessness, illness, abandonment and death (caused by brain aneurysm)

Seonho was born in Starlight Oaks as the eldest child to Seongmin Ryu and Mina Park who moved from Korea when Mina was pregnant with Seonho after she was disowned by her parents who disapproved of Seongmin. His biological father walked out on Seonho, his mother, and two of his younger sisters when he was five years old and Seonho has always believed that they were better off without him.

After being homeless and hopping through halfway houses after the abandonment, his mother remarried three years later and had three more children with Seonho’s stepfather, Jalen Jones, who would become the only father that Seonho acknowledged in his life. Jalen adopted the three eldest children upon his marriage to Mina and they all took on his last name.

Early on in his childhood, Seonho fell in love with music thanks to Jalen’s side-gig playing the saxophone in a jazz band. He had a talented ear for music, picking up musical instruments and mastering them with an ease, and his parents encouraged his passion as best they could, ensuring that they budgeted well enough to afford sending Seonho to his music lessons.

While performing at Pike Place Market in Seattle, he was scouted by a Korean entertainment agency at the age of thirteen. However, he was still a trainee when he flew back home and prematurely ended his contract due to his stepfather dying suddenly of a ruptured brain aneurysm as a result of overworking when Seonho was fifteen. When he returned home, Seonho ran away for a short period of time, thinking that the last thing his mother needed was another mouth to feed and not knowing how to properly cope. He lived on the streets and worked part time at a gas station where he was paid under the table with food and cigarettes, developing a nicotine addiction that he has yet to quit entirely though he now uses a vape pen.

Eventually, he returned home and as the oldest child, he assumed a great deal of responsibility in the household. While he wanted to drop out of school, his mother insisted that he stay enrolled and graduate. Seonho earned money any way that he could to help keep the household afloat, mowing lawns during the summer and working manual labor in the evenings. Sometimes, he would resort to not-so-legal methods if need be. His music became all the more dear to him, filling the gaping holes in his chest that were created from his dream continually slipping through his fingers. Listening to music became a way to escape, no matter how momentarily. He could never catch a break after that.

A year before Seonho graduated from high school, his mother was diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s. After it came to the point that his mother could no longer properly take care of them or herself, she was admitted into a longterm care facility by order of the municipality.

At that point, Seonho was eighteen and filed for guardianship of his siblings who had been sent to foster care, which he would eventually be granted after a months' long battle with the courts. He also became the conservator of his mother’s well-being. Seonho insists that he provide for his family and ensure that each of his siblings focus on their studies, graduate from school, and are afforded opportunities that he did not have. Even if that means he has to work a slew of jobs in order to make ends meet. Even if that means he has to continually make personal sacrifices and stretch himself too thin.

CONNECTIONS

Non-playable characters of note: Mina Park-Jones (mother, in a hospice), Jalen Jones (step/adoptive father, deceased), Seongmin Ryu (biological father, absent), Sam (younger gender non-conforming sibling, age 17), Hana (younger sister, age 14), and Melody (younger sister, age 13)

Others to be announced!

WANTED CONNECTIONS

Two younger sisters with the same set of biological parents that are between the ages of twenty one and twenty five, will be posting a wanted connection later

Co-workers from any of his many jobs

People who he frequently picks up via Uber

People he annoys as he can be a Lot, very talkative and often overly friendly

Friends! A best friend, a ride-or-die, acquaintances, people he grew up with, people he is a positive influence on, etc.

Perhaps an ex or two at most, could have ended on good or bad terms.

Hookups. Seonho is more of a commitment guy as a terrible romantic, but he is indulgent from time to time as he is also a very busy man and most likely these would be one night stand situations unless he is close enough to someone to have a friend-with-benefits situation (singular) to address those needs.

Open to plotting! I am up for nearly everything.

[slickshoesareyoucrazy]

Do It Anyway

We're leaving South Florida for home today, and it's 2 long days of driving. I have books to read and all but on previous trips, this is where I'd be texting you, A. Well maybe not right now because it's still before 8am on a Saturday but soon. You had 4 dogs. You were up. 😂😂😂

Anyway, I'm trying to deal with my grief in constructive ways, and the stuff I read tells me to not deny myself the things I previously enjoyed. I should do it anyway. So I'm texting you anyway. I wish you could text back. The fact that you can't royally sucks. But anyway ...

Reds are really looking good so far. I know it's mid-April and you make fun of me all the time for being a pie-eyed optimist, but dude ...for real maybe this year. 😃⚾

Looks like Kentucky is going with Mark Pope as the new head men's basketball coach. What a 180 from Calipari! 😂 I'd like to think you'd be down with this choice. He was on the 1996 championship team and he seems to be a really good, ethical man now as the coach of BYU. I can't see a bunch of 1 and dones and early NCAA exits being ok with him ever. I guess like all things, we'll see. 🏀

D's boy has his commitment announcement for football on Friday. He got 12 Division I offers! TWELVE! The Boy and I might go, but even if we can't make it, holy SHIT! As expected, D is just beside himself with gleeful pride. It's a hoot. I can't wait for high school football season now in a way. I don't want to wish time away but it will be so cool to watch D's kid play. When we go, I'll save you a seat. 🏈

On non sports related stuff, I met a friend I'd never seen in person before in Miami. She and her family were overly generous with us, which you know makes me super uncomfortable. I'm going to have to come up with a local gift basket back home to send her to just make the hum of, "This is too much and too nice and I don't deserve all this," go away. Anyway, we went to downtown Miami Beach on Thursday night so the Boy could check out the art deco architecture (because of course that's what he wanted to do in Miami 😂😂😂), and there in the middle of the historic district is Redhead Pizza and Burgers. Who names their diner that? Everyone noticed it. My friend looked at me like 😳😬😳🫢, because that made someone who never met you think about you. So she knew I was definitely thinking about you then. You really are everywhere I go now. I should just start believing that and stop being surprised when it so blatantly happens.

The sadness of missing you isn't any easier. But it is getting easier to go places and do things. In fact, I'm oddly way less anxious about so many things now. And that's probably because you're wherever I go; you're always with me. It's actually easier now to do it anyway. I still wish I was texting you at your house though. Hearing about the dogs. Hearing you bitch about Kentucky and telling me I'm too hopeful about the Reds and speculating about which school D's son is going to choose. I love that you're always here, but I still wish you were there, and that I didn't have to Do It Anyway. ❤️💔😢

[fountainpenguin]

"It lives in a world where feelings cannot be defined by words. Oh, set me free from my jealousy..."

---

New Factor It In chapter today!

Chapter 2 - “Tree Diagram”

Read on FFN || Read on AO3

---

It's WordGirl and Huggy vs. the mind-controlled Kid Math and an army of Tobey's robots downtown... Meanwhile, Victor and Victoria watch from a safe distance. Wow. Being a superhero sure seems like it would be the best...

(First 1,000 words under the cut)

Tree Diagram

.:: January 3rd - Saturday ::.

"All that is possible can be made probable once plans have been prepared."

(Ancient Hexagon proverb)

➕ ➖ ✖️ ➗

Psst! Look for the words civilian and resilient

--

Where we left off, WordGirl and Captain Huggyface were in the midst of a grueling fight against Tobey's robots and a mind-controlled Kid Math, courtesy of Mr. Big…

Even gentle snowflakes can feel like spikes of hail when you hurtle through them at Mach 4. They lash her cheeks and bite her eyelids. WordGirl plows through them anyway, one hand up to block at least one of her cheeks. It helps. A little. She's resilient either way.

She veers up from her comet-like charge and floats like a sparking star in the empty space. She plants herself in front of both Mr. Big and Tobey. Her whiplash arrival makes the former flail his arms in shock and the latter cry her name. WordGirl shakes her head, ignoring both, and floats a little closer to the man on the taller building.

"All right, Mr. Big! We can either do this the 'cheap and easy' way, or the 'hard and insurance paperwork' way. Now, stop mind controlling my friend and leave this city alone!"

Mr. Big takes one look at her and jabs a finger at the remote in his hand. Behind him, a bespectacled superhero kid bursts skyward with the husk of a giant robot lifted above his head. He's wearing cyan blue. White gloves. White boots. A yellow belt wraps around his waist, fastening with a hexagon buckle at his stomach. A single green light on that buckle blinks on and off.

The robot groans, flailing its limbs. One foot narrowly misses Tobey on the bakery's three-tiered roof. Its smacking hand almost whacks Mr. Big clean off the ambiguous building. Huggy shrieks, squeezing her neck. WordGirl chokes on a gasp, then steadies her balance in the air. There he is. And even from here, super-hearing or no super-hearing, she can hear Kid Math mutter the same mantra over and over under his breath: "Destroy competition. Construct new billboards. Destroy competition. Construct new billboards…"

"MY ROBOT!" Tobey wails, drawing his hands down his cheeks. "Number 14!"

"All right… Huggy, make a note: add Mr. Big to the list of villains we should never again leave Kid Math to handle alone. At… least not if we're across town instead of enjoying a conveniently placed picnic nearby with our binoculars in hand."

He squeals agreement, wrapping his arms and legs around her torso. Right. Back to business. WordGirl punches her hand into her open palm, thinning her eyes to slits.

"Okay, Kid Math! This chaos is way out of line. Your fractured reality is about to get simplified."

Does that even make sense? Math puns aren't her thing. She can define every word with the gossamer touch of a fairy princess, but that doesn't mean she understands the full complexities of equations and numbers the way he does. Her mind blurs after about 12. Kid Math stares back at her, all glaze-eyed and ghostly.

Then he arches his back and hurls the massive robot directly at her. "WHOA!" she yelps, and twists her flight pattern like a snake. Huggy squeezes with both arms and both legs. The robot (or what's left of it) cannonballs right past them. It plows through an empty parking lot outside a squid-themed restaurant- the one that doesn't serve seafood at all. WordGirl winces. Oops. Probably should have caught that… Tobey screams distress from the roof of the three-tiered bakery, clawing his fingers down his cheeks. Something about a partnership betrayed, and Mr. Big all but confirms this when he yells back from the neighboring rooftop, "My mistake, Theodore! I can't choose what he wants to throw!"

"Number 14…"

Kid Math twitches in the sky, his hands empty but his body still tense and looking for a fight. WordGirl keeps her eyes locked on his face. They can both fly at lightning-fast speed (well… thunder-fast), and dodging him will be a lot easier if he signals a move before he makes it. Thus far, she'd chased her wayward understudy - not that she'd ever tell him he was sort of like her understudy - from the bank to the park to the steakhouse and around through the loop again. Right from the start, it was obvious something was going on with him. His paths were too direct for him to pass as the real Kid Math, because this mind-controlled puppet version of her friend charged straight from Point A to Point B without taking thermal updrafts and wind resistance into the equation. Absolutely ineffective. Totally unlike him.

And of course, the Kid Math she'd come to know over the past four months wouldn't just be flying around destroying billboards and things either.

Or, uh… At least he isn't that destructive MOST of the time. WordGirl winces at the memory of a furious, flush-cheeked Kid Math punching a street sign hard enough to send it crashing through a window. He didn't mean to do that. He just didn't know his own strength yet.

Well, okay. As much as she hates admitting it, maybe she is being a little quick to grant him that benefit of the doubt… Even yesterday, Kid Math (in the guise of 8-year-old Rex Pemdas: the innocent, newly-enrolled 3rd-grade student of Woodview Elementary) had rambled to her on the way to the jewelry store that he had a plan to help the city "go green" before Earth Day rolled around in spring. His plan had involved "relocating" more than a handful of skyscrapers, and he'd been stubbornly reluctant to take "No" for an answer.

"Destroy competition. Construct new billboards. Destroy competition…"

Why she'd even escorted him to the jewelry store was another story altogether, and one that involved Invisi-Bill tackling his first solo crime since WordGirl had met him. The thin excuse to her brother TJ and tagalong Johnson had been "Rex wanted to check out the shiny doorknobs at the library and we need to run really fast to make sure we get there before it rains," to which TJ had rolled his eyes and snarked that Becky probably just wanted to get Rex hooked on Princess Triana novels. He and Johnson had wished their new friend good luck. They sprinted off, and Invisi-Bill had actually made it pretty far down the street before Kid Math had zeroed in on his whistling and-

A dot of green blinks in the center of her vision, snapping her focus back to the battle at hand. Aha! Something they can use. WordGirl blasts forward, arms extended, with her eyes locked on that little flashing dot. Now we're getting somewhere…

[Cnt'd on FFN / AO3 - Links at top]

[valadon]

it's my last night in seattle after my little trip and i have many feels about this city, grunge nostalgia, and the fics i wrote in the past 3 years without ever having set foot here. so, read on under the cut if you dare...

in august 2020 i got heavily back into my grunge roots as a coping mechanism for a falling-apart life (relationship, work, living situation, etc etc). i started writing a nostalgia-heavy fanfic set in 1989 seattle, creating my own little cast of original characters to play with the grunge guys i loved, from my little apartment overlooking a textiles market in a crumbling victorian building in east london, england. covid-era london couldn't have been further from grunge-era seattle, and i'd never been further northwest than san francisco years back, but somehow none of that deterred me. i read and watched everything i could about seattle, pored over google maps creating my own landscape of how it might look, feel, smell; where people might have lived, the streets they might have walked, the parks they might've visited, alongside the apocryphal venues like the vogue, central, showbox, metropolis etc - venues which, in some cases, still existed only in old photos found on pinterest. seattle became a character in my fic, "butterflies", as much as anybody else. i imagined it might smell like the rain, or pine, or cigarette smoke, or saltwater. i imagined crowded low-rise brick and timber buildings, a more intimate city than london or new york where i ended up moving and now live. i went back further into seattle's past for my second fic "shadows" and imagined a darker city, with shuttered churches and a sprawling red light district, an easy place to fall apart.

this year, nearly 3 years after i started writing about seattle, i made it here. it's been totally surreal, like deja vu or something. the little map of the city in my head came to life and yet at the same time i've been struck by the things i didn't know, the kind of things you only learn from being somewhere. it's HILLY here - the gradients are steep, and between downtown and capitol hill is a constant climb. the streets are wide and cut with alleyways, the sunlight is so bright here. the raison d'etre cafe where jeff worked is literally downstairs from the sub pop office; the vogue is around the corner from the northwest school where stone and steve turner studied, the monastery club was very close to the off ramp, the showbox is across the street from pike place (and nextdoor to a super seedy, ancient xxx theater). bainbridge island is huge, and beautiful.

i think the major impression i get is that seattle as a city feels SMALL. like, you can imagine what a small world this was back in the grunge days; people would've bumped into each other all the time, at shows and bars and cafes and just on the street. it's really sad to see that the city is beginning to buckle under all the big glassy developments, but the ghost of it is still there if you know where to look. the metropolis is a dingy little cafe now, the vogue and raison are salons, the ok hotel is apartments, the monastery site is all construction. the showbox and the central and off ramp are still recognisably music venues, though i know places like this are under threat to a degree and it breaks my grungey heart.

walking round this city with my partner the past couple days, i was always looking, at times internally SCREAMING - because here's where i had jeff and sara share pierogis, here's where stone and andy threw stones off the pier, here's where alicia and grace got off the bus to go to monastery, all these little moments from the fictional map in my head - and i have no one else to share this with but you guys, because as insane as it might be, my partner has 0 idea i've written about 500k words of seattle-set fic, and to him it's just another kind of cool city to explore. why i am so terminally ashamed of revealing my writing to anyone irl is a whole thing - my work exists only online to strangers (and tumblr friends) - but i'm working on it. i can definitely say that visiting seattle has only made me want to write about it more; it's a truly fascinating, layered place. i recommend it to anyone, and if you go, @magpiewithacamera 's incredible grunge history posts/photos are invaluable in finding the grungey layer beneath. i also took some photos, which i'll share at some point.

i dont live in london anymore, but seattle was an escape for me long before i ever came here. so: i bought a mother love bone poster at one of the underground shops in pike place market and a coaster with the view from kerry park, another location i wrote about what feels like a lifetime ago in the anxious midnight hours of a covid london night, and while i was walking down pike street, with the pine-smell and the edge of rain in the air just like i imagined they would be, i thought: when i write about this place again, i'll make sure i mention the hills.