#she's done all she can and Nothing. Nothing. and she has to live with it

[littlelamy]

can you make a series where rafe and reader broke up 3 years ago, but she comes back to Outer Banks only now she has a daughter(who looks just like Rafe) and a husband (Whom she doesn't really love) and rafe still loves her.

notes: part 1; once i have more time ill create a whole masterlist and moodboard 🤍

you should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy.

leaving the beach that day, gripping your daughter’s tiny hand like a lifeline, you told yourself it was just a coincidence. a cruel twist of fate. but deep down, you knew better.

rafe cameron never let go of things that belonged to him.

and you? you were his biggest unfinished business.

so when you see him again, it’s not a surprise. but that doesn’t mean you’re ready for it.

it’s late, your daughter is asleep in her room, and the quiet hum of the television does little to calm the storm brewing in your chest. your husband is still at work, leaving you alone with your thoughts—until a knock at the door sends a jolt through your spine.

you freeze, heart hammering.

you don’t have to open it to know who it is.

but you do anyway.

rafe stands there, leaning against the doorframe like he has every right to be here. his hair’s messier than before, shirt slightly wrinkled, like he’s been running his hands through it all night. his eyes flicker past you, scanning the house before landing back on you.

"you weren’t gonna call me, were you?" his voice is low, rough.

"rafe—"

"don’t lie to me." he steps closer, and you instinctively grip the door, as if that’ll keep him out. as if you could ever keep him out. "we need to talk."

"there’s nothing to talk about," you whisper, even though you both know that’s not true.

he scoffs, shaking his head. "you really think you can just pretend I don’t exist? That she doesn’t—"

"don’t." your voice is sharp, cutting through the air between you. you swallow hard, glancing over your shoulder, but your daughter’s still asleep. "please, rafe. not here."

his jaw clenches, and takes a long exhale through his nose. "but we’re not done."

before you can stop him, he steps inside, pushing the door shut behind him. his presence fills the space instantly, suffocating, electrifying. he smells the same—cologne and salt and something distinctly rafe. something that used to make your head spin in the best way. now it just makes you dizzy with memories you’ve spent three years trying to bury.

"so this is your life now?" he murmurs, eyes sweeping over the modest living room, the framed photos of a life he wasn’t part of. "picket fences and a husband who works late?"

your fingers tighten around your arms, nails pressing into your skin. "it’s a good life."

"bullshit." he steps closer, gaze burning into you. "you’re a good liar, but not with me. never with me."

your breath shudders, your resolve cracking. "rafe, please—"

"please what? leave? forget? pretend that kid doesn’t have my eyes?" his voice is bitter, his anger barely restrained. "because i fucking can’t."

you shake your head, but the words won’t come. because what is there to say? he’s right. she does have his eyes. and he was never meant to see her.

he sighs, running a hand through his hair, frustration rolling off him in waves. "i’m not here to ruin your life," he says, quieter now. "but i’m not walking away either. not this time."

your stomach twists. you should fight him on this, tell him to leave, slam the door in his face. but you don’t. because a part of you—the part that still remembers how it felt to love him, to be loved by him—wants to hear what he has to say.

and that scares you more than anything.

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah @alivinggirl @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @rafesbabygirlx @drewsephrry

[munsonsmixtapes]

That's My Man

rockstar!eddie x popstar!reader

Eddie defends you in an interview and you repay him in the most generous way

cw: MDNI (18+) oral (m receiving) handjob, the interviewer makes some inappropriate comments about reader

This is a request made my the always lovely @the-witty-pen-name who also came up with the title!

Eddie puts on the pair of headphones that were pervaded for him as the “on air” sign glows the bright red, signaling that the show has started. He doesn’t even know why he even agreed to this interview. The guy’s an ass and Eddie just knows that he’s inevitably going to say something inappropriate. 

He’s really only doing this because his team begged him to. Why, he doesn’t know since the majority of the band’s fanbase hates the kind of guy that Rick is. He’s everything in the book that Eddie can’t stand and now he’s gotta sit here for an hour for his segment. It can’t be too bad, can it? 

“Eddie, welcome,” Rick greets and Eddie puts on a smile even though all he really wants is to kick Rick’s ass. He’s unfortunately caught clips of the show here and there and all he does is sexualize women and talk badly about people of color and members of the LGBTQ+ community. 

“Hey, thanks,” Eddie replies, trying his best to not say something he really shouldn’t. He just sits there and waits for Rick to start the conversation. 

“So you’ve got a new album out which is “From the Upside Down.” What was the process like for creating the record?” Eddie’s genuinely caught off guard by the question considering that Rick never seems to care about that kind of thing. Maybe this won’t be as bad as he initially thought. 

“It was actually so different from what we’ve done for past albums. We actually did everything ourselves this time and that was really fun. We took some time off and wrote a bunch of songs and Gareth actually produced them so that was a really cool process to see.” 

Eddie loves talking about his music. It’s like a parent talking about their child. He’s always so proud of himself and his bandmates for what they do and he doesn’t think that’s ever going to change. They worked so hard to get where they are now and he’s nothing but grateful that this is his job. 

“That’s very interesting,” Rick nods and there’s just something about the look on his face that makes it obvious that he’s about to say some dumb shit. “So I know you’re seeing y/n l/n and can I just say, well done, man.” Yep, definitely some dumb shit. 

Eddie can’t help but roll his eyes. Normally, Eddie would love to talk about you. It’s actually his favorite thing to do. But not like this, not in the way that Rick and a lot of other men like to. Where they just sexualize you and reduce you to an object. Eddie won’t stand for that for anyone, but especially not you. 

“Well, I wouldn’t say that I’m “seeing” her,” Eddie laughs nervously. You’ve been trying to keep your relationship under wraps for the past six months but it’s so hard to do when the two of you are under a microscope. 

“Oh, so you wouldn’t categorize this as seeing her?” Rick asks as he pulls up a photo of you and Eddie kissing outside a bar. He didn’t even know that anyone had taken photos of that and now he feels gross.

“Well-” he tries to explain himself but Rick quickly cuts him off. 

“Is she a good kisser? Better yet, is she good in bed?” All of this makes Eddie want to throw up and he can’t believe that men like Rick actually have the audacity to ask questions like that. 

“I don’t feel comfortable answering that,” he answers politely even though he’s seconds away from a crash out. 

“C’mon, you can tell me. It’s just us.” It’s actually not considering it’s a live radio show and even if it wasn’t, that’s something just between you and Eddie and no one else. Especially not pigs like Rick. 

“No, I’m not sharing anything about our relationship. That’s the only thing we have that’s ours.” 

“Is she flexible? I bet she’s flexible.” He shows Eddie a photo of you doing a split on stage and his lunch is about to come up. “Oh yeah, definitely-” 

Rick doesn’t even have time to finish his sentence before Eddie snatches the tablet and slams it down on the table. He would never let any woman be talked about this way. Especially not his girlfriend. 

The anger is festering and he’s having a real hard time trying to keep his cool. Fuck that. He’s not going to be so nice anymore, not wanting anymore disgusting things to be said about you. He can’t let anything else be said about you or he’s going to do something he regrets. 

“Don’t talk about her like that,” he points at Rick, glaring at the man and the man actually looks afraid of him. Good. “I know you tend to objectify women and that shit stood today. If I ever hear you talk about anyone else this way or in a derogatory manner, you’ll have me to answer to. Now keep my wife’s name out of your mouth or we’re going to have a problem.” 

With that, out of the room. Nothing is worth sitting there and letting that man sexualize you. It makes him feel disgusting and now he feels like he needs a long shower. He’s wiping his jacket with his hands to try to literally get rid of that feeling, but he knows the only thing that will help is seeing you. He just needs someone to talk to about the whole thing. 

He’s driving to the venue where you’re performing tonight before he can stop himself. He just wants to hold you in his arms and tell you how much he loves you, hoping that you haven’t been listening to the radio even though he’s sure that you are because you always listen to his interviews. 

Eddie’s so angry about the whole thing, still letting it eat at him even though he already took care of it. He just needs to calm down and he will as soon as he sees you. That always makes him feel better. Just thinking about you is doing the trick and when he pulls up to the venue, the weight on his shoulders is lifting.

You’re sitting in your dressing room, doing your makeup when he walks in, your face lighting up when you see him in the mirror. The anger on his face seems to melt away when he sees you, his smile matching yours as he makes a beeline for you. He saw you just this morning but the time you’ve spent away was far too long. 

You get up from your chair and he’s quick to pull you into a hug, a tight one as he buries his face into your neck. This is all he’s wanted all day, especially since he stormed out of the interview. You always seem to calm the screaming that’s constantly going on in his head. Your hand moves up into his hair, scratching at his scalp as he kisses your neck, moving your hair away from it as he does so. 

You pull away far too soon for his liking before pulling him in for a kiss. He’s needy and desperate and he just wants to show you how much he loves you. Your hands are in his hair as you lick into his mouth, moaning loudly which is only making him harder. He needs your cunt so bad and is so close to taking you right there until you begin to grind against him. 

“I heard what you said on the radio,” you tell him as you kiss down his neck, unbuttoning his jeans. “Defending me like that, it was so…hot,” you whisper the last part into his ear before biting down on the lobe before kissing his neck again, giving it a rough suck, making him squirm. 

You’re backing him up against the vanity, pinning him there as you continue to suck, his hands falling from you to grip the table behind him, white knuckling it as he lets out a whine, his cock hardening even more to the point where you can now fully feel him against you. 

“Now I feel like I owe you.” He defended you and you know it’s because you’re his wife, but you know that he would do that for anyone and that’s how you know you got one of the good ones. 

“You-you don’t owe me anything, sweetheart,” he breathes. He really wants whatever you’re willing to give but only if you really want to not because you think he deserves in return for defending you.

“How about I suck you off, is that payment enough?” His eyes widen at both your question and the way you’re biting down on him. 

“Please,” he whines, needing to get some sort of relief. You give his neck one more kiss before pulling down his jeans, his underwear following as you get down onto your knees. You’re looking up at him with lustful eyes and he watches you, wondering what you’re going to do next. 

You start by spitting into your hand then grab hold of the base, slow strokes to warm him up but they progressively get more intense. He’s already leaking with precum, letting out stuttered breaths as he watches, white knuckling as a moan escapes his lips. 

You keep up the pace, moving as fast as you can as Eddie lets out moan after moan. He’s coming undone already so you know he won’t last long. And you only have a few more minutes before you have to be on stage, so you’ve gotta make it worthwhile. You’ve really gotta make this count. 

You bring your tongue to the slit, licking up the cum that’s already come out, not wanting to waste a drop then bring your lips to the base, kissing it which catches Eddie off guard. You’re now peppering it with kisses and he somehow gets even more hard as he watches you leave lipstick prints behind. It’s hot. You’re hot and he thinks this is where he likes you most, on your knees.

You then bring your mouth back to the slit, licking it again before bringing it into your mouth, sucking lightly as Eddie’s hands wind into your hair, letting out yet another whine as you bring him in deeper, sucking harder as your tongue swirls around the head. You’re taking him inch by inch and he’s so close, on the edge of an orgasm as you finally get the last bit of him inside. 

Cum leaks into your mouth as he screams your name, your eyes watering as the head hits the back of your throat, gagging as you suck him off for just a bit longer. Tears are streaming down your cheeks as you pull him out of your mouth with a loud pop, making sure to swallow as he helps you to your feet. 

Eddie pats your tears dry with a tissue so as to not smudge your makeup before you press a lingering kiss to his lips. You clean him up before pulling up his pants and touching up your lipstick.

“How’s that for repaying you?” You ask and he smiles, still dizzy from receiving the best head of his life as he follows you to the side of the stage, wondering how he can get you to do that again once your show is over. He’s sure that you won’t need much convincing.

[snugglybunny11]

knight!caitlyn x princess reader pt. 2

pairing! knight!caitlynkiramman x princess!reader

about! lucky you (not)! you get to meet your personal knight… how wonderful…

cw! nothing at all!!

word count! 792

an: here’s part two for all you lesbos!😚

“knight caitlyn kiramman of piltover, your majesties.”

caitlyn kneels on one knee, her head held down in front of the king, queen, and princess of Demacia. caitlyn’s done plenty of protection jobs before for numerous councilors and their various families, but this was a whole different ballgame for her. an entire nation’s future depends on her, but she’s not panicking, she can’t panic - panicking is not an option for her. that’s when she heard the click of heels against the marble floors, clicking closer to her. all she could see with her downward gaze was a pair of dainty glass heels, inlaid with rose quartz designs. her eyes widened slightly before she fixed her face back to neutrality.

“at ease.” a female voice spoke.

well this must be the princess, caitlyn thought to herself as she rose to her feet. when she finally raised her head, she met the princess’s gaze.

my god she’s beautiful.

what?! the hell is wrong with her? it’s probably just a… reflex reaction or something, she didn’t mean that. the princess had her arms crossed over chest, appraising caitlyn’s armor, her face, her cobalt blue hair tied into the tightest bun caitlyn could manage. she circled the knight slowly, taking in every inch of caitlyn with a critical gaze. the princess even went as far as to flick the back of caitlyn’s breastplate, almost playfully? this was downright… downright… well, caitlyn didn’t know what to even call it. appalling? outrageous? brave? this princess was just here, checking over caitlyn like she was inspecting cargo. but strangely thrilling all at once.

the king subtly yet firmly cleared his throat, a gentle but pointed reminder for the princess to mind her actions.

as the princess took a step back, the king spoke, “knight kiramman, welcome to Demacia. we have heard of your exploits in Piltover, therefore, me and the queen have employed you to keep watch over and protect our daughter, the princess. you see… the princess, has taken it upon herself to sneak out at night to secretly train with weapons, not to mention going into town to interact with the townsfolk. i don’t think i have to tell you how unbecoming that is of a regal young lady, especially the princess nonetheless. but that’s a conversation for another day, for now, just know the basics. from the minute the princess leaves her chambers in the morning from when she returns in the evening, you must be at her side at all times. the only time the princess is allowed somewhere by herself is in her room. also, for the duration of your employment, you shall live in the castle in the guestroom right next to the princess’s, so you will be able to protect her at every moment of the day. understood? great, now, the princess’s handmaiden, Charlotte, will bring you to the princess’s quarters so you two can get acquainted. you’re dismissed.”

caitlyn subtly watched the princess as her father spoke, taking note of the discrete roll of her eyes and the way she slightly pouted. so it seems the princess was… difficult to say the least. when the king finished speaking, a woman caitlyn assumed to be Charlotte stepped in front of her and bowed before leading the way down one of the lavishly decorated hallways. Charlotte walked ahead, with the princess (begrudgingly) following behind, and caitlyn at the end. after a flight of stairs and numerous turns, the three women arrived at the princess’s room. caitlyn couldn’t even thank Charlotte before the maid scurried off down hallway, leaving just her and the princess.

caitlyn cleared her throat, “allow me to introduce myself in a more casual manner, princess.” caitlyn held out her hand for a handshake, “caitlyn kiramman. i understand you may not fancy me, but i hope in due time we can perhaps become friends?” caitlyn tried to make her introduction as casual as she could, but such language didn’t come very easily to her. still, she was determined to try and soften the edges of her usual formality, even if the words felt unfamiliar on her tongue.

the princess looked at caitlyn’s gloved hand before finally giving her a handshake, the expensive lotions making her dainty hands soft and smooth. the slightest hint of a smile tugged at the princess’s lips before she fixed her face to one of neutrality.

��trying to win me over already? i should make you work for it.” the princess’s tone could almost be seen as flirtatiously teasing to the untrained ear. with a hint of mischief, she pretended to point at something on caitlyn’s armor, only to flick Caitlyn’s chin up with her perfectly manicured fingernail.

“are you always this easy to fluster?”

taglist: @taurtel @wyprettylilone @yuzu-kun123 @graciedollie @kittycarabiner

also @stvrnise, i couldn’t find your acc!

[mayasaurusss]

What could have been.

Contains: angst, self hating.

A/N: this is a rewritten blurb of the lake scene in episode three. After I made a poll, asking what you guys would have liked the most, 70% voted for a fluff blurb, while 30% for an angst one; so I decided to do both! (as the amazing person that I am).

This is the angst version. I decided to not incorporate the sucessive scene that is in the show, the classroom and Jackie's one, simply because that would be me rewriting it as it has already been filmed, and that wouldn't be interesting. In this blurb, after the lake scene, Shauna immediatley wakes up: you can choose weteher to view this as before the classroom scene or as a stand alone.

You can find the poll I made here and the fluff version here. Enjoy!

She should have never come here. That's all Shauna can think as she passes out, the oxygen in the cave replaced by something foul that slowly chokes her to death.

It was her arrogance that ultimately doomed her. Why did she feel the need to lead herself and the others down to their doom, pushing through the narrow stone walls even when their bodies weren't capable of doing so?

What use did finding Scott even have? Was she hoping to let out her anger at him, to make him see her as she tore his jugular from his throath?

What was the point of all she has done up until now; to make herself the one who would kill them?

What pushed her to do this?

She had always been a mean thing, tearing and burning everything that surrounded her, only to feel its warmth. That horrible, disgusting part of hers was what led Jackie to her death, at the hands of the elements. There's no use to it: no matter how much others have said it to her, no matter how much she rocked herself to sleep at those words, she was the reason Jackie died. Not the cold, not the ancient god bullshit that everyone professed, no. It was her.

She didn't even stop them from killing you. Really, what kind of person is she? A monster. That's all Shauna Shipman ever was, and ever will be.

Darkness lives freely inside the cave, lulling her to a gentle, deadly sleep.

She awakes in the waters, rocked by the waves. She didn't remember how good the warmth of the sun on her skin felt like.

Maybe she could stay here, submerged in the water until the end of time.

But something wakes her up: a child, crying for her name.

Nothing in the universe could describe the leap her heart took when she hears his voice. Her baby, so grown and beautiful, waving at her from the shore. He is so big, and so, so small. How much has she longed to feel him in her arms?

Next to him there's you, as beautiful as the day she met you. You are kneeling on a rock, playing with her baby, moving on an imaginary lane a makeshift car toy you yourself carved for him, when he was still growing inside of Shauna.

And when you hear him calling for her, you wave as he does, smiling and calling for her. "Shauna!" and her heart aches at your voice: she had never thought she would hear it again. "Shauna!" you call again, your voice and his smile attracting her to the shore like a siren's song.

This is all she has been dreaming of these past months. You and her, she and him, together, in the warm weather. Happiness, just a taste of it.

She waves back, her body barely afloat to allow her to do so. You are back; you and him are back, and you will live a life full of love, and you will be so happy together. She swims and swims for what feels like miles, for minutes, hours, and she's sure that she must be next to the shore now. But when Shauna looks up again, she hasn't moved from her spot in the lake.

There's something wrong.

Her legs are chained to the bed of the lake and moving is impossible. She wants to scream "Help me!" but nothing comes out, her lips stay glued to her teeth. Her eyes search for yours, but what she finds is unawareness. You don't even make an effort to move and save her. Why should you, anyways? She didn't save you. But you still love her, don't you?

He continues to wave, mechanically, and your face doesn't look quite right.

In a fraction of a second, Shauna is dragged to the bottom of the lake by something larger than her. She tries to break free, in vain: how could her body fight It anyway?

No, no, she has to go back. He's waiting for her, you are waiting for her.

Help! Please...

When she wakes up, her eyes meet the humid stone ceiling of the cave, darkened by time. The air is so little that she can only breathe a sliver of it, stealing it from her teammates.

So she's back. She would have rather stayed in that dream forever. She would have rather died.

Jackie is still dead, her bones buried in the earth. Javi is still dead, the taste of his blood still fresh on her tongue. Her baby, a victim of fate, and you, a victim of a hunger no human should experience.

They died for nothing. They died for the cruel winter, for the darkest hunger.But unlike them, today Shauna lives. Today, when she'll feel the fresh night air on her face and in her lungs, she will experience the warmth that spring brought.

But what use does spring have, if she feels so cold?

[clearancecreedwatersurvival]

Adding more onto this chain with a few book spoilers but only the kind that improve the recommendation. And tbh wot is complex enough that spoilers absolutely do not ruin the narrative, they enhance it. It’s better and better on every reread when you can pick up the foreshadowing.

If you like BBC Merlin, you should watch Wheel of Time.

See above: hot villainous lady mages

codependent sworn fealty relationships between mages and knights

Magic systems where the main characters who are magic users are basically demigods able to exercise some insane cosmic powers over the fabric of spacetime

arthuriana stuff. Theres two different Arthur characters and like 3/4 Merlin characters and this is very vague book spoilers that have already been hinted at in the show but one of the Merlin characters is also the Guinevere character and they’re great dramatic and political foils

homoerotic bromances #cauthorcanonwhen

Protagonists hounded by prophecy

Magic battles. Oh my god. Just trust me on this, prime released a preview scene from season three, the magic fight scenes pop the fuck off in season three.

And also as as @twicetolivetwicetodie pointed out previously, if you like Critical Role or dnd in general you should watch the wheel of time.

The main ensemble are basically a chaotic dnd party prone to engaging in absurd near-slapstick comedy shenanigans in a magical post apocalyptic feudal fantasy setting whose job it is to save the world at the Last Battle between the forces of the Light and the Shadow. The first book is basically a lord of the rings fellowship fanfiction. Here’s the main party rundown.

Rand: what if a paladin was also a level 20 mage with no control by birthright? And also his innate magic is slowly driving him insane because of a magical cataclysm 3000 years ago. And he’s King Arthur and a Christ figure and the reincarnation of magical Eve (see magic cataclysm 3000 years ago)

Nynaeve: this healer can will and probably already has kicked your ass. Incredibly stubborn, mad as hell, usually right.

Egwene: wizard and also resident badass. Has killed before, will kill again. Egwene has done nothing wrong ever in her entire life.

Elayne: this future monarch is an artificer!

All four of the above are so innately magical that they’re basically walking nukes. The magic users in wot are elemental benders who are channeling the fundamental power that creates the fabric of reality, the woven pattern of an age threaded with the lives of individuals. And it both feels wonderfully addictively good to channel, and if you channel too much of the One Power you die!

Lan: uncrowned king of a lost kingdom who already maxed out fighter levels and keeps on taking more levels in adjacent classes

Mat: what if a rogue had world breaking levels of luck and the memories of dead generals in his head. Token funnyguy.

Perrin: this blacksmith can talk to wolves (it gives him magic dream powers)

Moiraine: this magical mentor/gandalf figure is a Demi-immortal spymaster milf. And she’s in a secret lesbian marriage with the wizard pope.

Do you like the lord of the rings? You should watch the wheel of time.

Do you like arthuriana? You should watch the wheel of time.

Do you like the locked tomb? You should watch the wheel of time.

Do you like dune? You should watch the wheel of time.

Do you like GOT/HOTD? You should watch the wheel of time.

Do you like the expanse? You should watch the wheel of time.

Do you like complex science fantasy worldbuilding, showstopping villains, weird cultural mishmash religious allegories, codependent knight/mage relationships, geopolitical dramas, homoeroticism, polyamory, and again I can never stress this one enough, femdom stuff?

You guessed it!

You should watch The Wheel Of Time!!!!

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Barnes Bakes Chapter 2

A request that turned into a short story. *mudak: moron or blowhard in Russian

Previous chapter Next chapter

From then on, every Sunday night Bucky could expect a knock on his door at about 7:00 p.m.  It was always Y/N, bringing him a new plate of treats to try.  Her bubbly vivaciousness was palpable as she would talk to him and explain what it was she made, then wouldn’t leave until he took a bite in front of her.  First it was classic chocolate chip cookies, then sugar cookies, oatmeal raisin, white chocolate and macadamia nut, and almost every type of cookie imaginable until she moved on to brownies, cake, and now ice cream.

Bucky at first tried to turn it down, but she was persistent, and he would eventually cave and just take the damn treat to make her leave him alone.  He wouldn’t let her see how much he liked her coming by, but would indulge showing her his one bite of trying it in front of her before she left.  After she had come by with mint chocolate chip ice cream, which he really wasn’t that fond of but knew Sam would love so he took it, he closed the door and turned around to find his girlfriend glaring at him.

“Who the fuck was that?” Mandy asked, her arms crossed on her chest.

“My neighbor,” Bucky said, bringing the ice cream into the kitchen and placing it in the freezer.

“No shit, Sherlock.  What’s her name?” she asked.

“Y/N,” Bucky said simply before facing her and crossing his arms.  He hadn’t really told Mandy about Y/N.  It didn’t seem like he needed to.  “She’s a baker and likes to bring treats by.”

“So you know her name and that she’s a baker,” Mandy said, her eye twitching in annoyance.  “What else do you know?  Huh?  Has she been here before?  Are you flirting with her?”

“What?  No, Mandy, god,” Bucky groaned, rubbing his eyes with his flesh hand.  “I helped her move some boxes when she moved in and she insisted on paying me with treats, because that’s what she does.  Nothing inappropriate has happened.  Why can’t you trust me to just, I don’t know, know people outside of you?”

“How well do you know her?” Mandy asked, her voice raising.

“Not well,” he shrugged.

“Where does she work?” she asked, her teeth nearly grinding.

“I think she said that bakery on 5th, but I could be wrong,” he said simply, shrugging again.  “I don’t know her.  She’s just a neighbor who likes to bring me treats.”

“Then why did she call you sweet pea?” Mandy growled.

“She just does, that’s her thing,” Bucky sighed.  “She doesn’t mean anything by it.”

“Are you really that stupid, Bucky?  Some bitch is bringing you food and calling you nicknames and you’re just ‘neighbors’ and nothing more?” Mandy yelled.

“Okay, that’s enough!” Bucky yelled back.  “I told you this jealousy thing has to stop.  Not every woman I walk by or associate with in my life is trying to steal me away from you.  And you calling her names just because she’s being nice isn’t going to make me feel any better about this,” he gestured between them.  “I’m telling you, Mandy, I’ve had it.  I’m done doing this with you–”

“I’m sorry!” Mandy said, suddenly looking sad and pouty.  “I’m sorry.  I was just insecure, alright?  She’s…nice,” she said it like it hurt her to admit.  “Please don’t break up with me over something like this.”

Bucky sighed heavily.  “Okay, okay.  Just please, no more of this weird jealousy thing.”  He walked over and hugged her.  “She’s just a nice person who lives across the hall from me.  That’s all.”

“Okay,” Mandy said, still not sounding sure but accepting it.

***

The little bell rang over the door and Y/N came out from the back to greet the new customer.  “Hello!” she said cheerfully, watching the woman scowl at the bakery.  “What can I help you with today?” she continued, trying not to let the woman’s dislike dampen her mood.

“What the hell kind of name is ‘She’s Tasty’?” the woman asked, giving Y/N a dirty glance.

Y/N’s eyebrows raised.  “It’s based on the fact that all my bakes are named after a typically female name,” she explained, pointing at the menu above her head that had lists of names, categories and what the dessert was made of under each one.  “It’s just a play on words.  Like, ‘Ooh she’s tasty!’  You know?”

The woman grimaced.  “Right.  Well, I’m not here for a dessert.  I’m just here to talk to you.”

“Uh, okay,” Y/N said, leaning against the counter and frowning.

“Stay away from my boyfriend,” she snarled.

Y/N smirked.  “Okay.  Who’s your boyfriend?”

She looked even angrier.  “Bucky!” she cried indignantly.

“Bucky?  My neighbor Bucky?” Y/N asked incredulously.  “I didn’t know he was even social enough to have a girlfriend.”

“Well, he is, and I’m the girlfriend telling you to back off,” she spat.

“Back off from what, exactly?” Y/N asked, crossing her arms and tilting her head in question.  “I haven’t flirted with him.”

“Yes you are!  You keep bringing him treats!” she said, slapping the counter.

“Okay, hun, just chill out,” Y/N said, rolling her eyes.  “I won’t bring treats anymore, k?  I’m sure I’ve paid him back for helping me move in plenty at this point.”  The girlfriend kept glaring at her.  “I was just being friendly and neighborly,” Y/N continued.  “No need to be jealous of some little treats.”

“Just stay away from him,” the girlfriend snapped, then turned on her heel and stomped out of the bakery.

Y/N rolled her eyes again and walked back to the kitchen.  She hadn’t said or done anything to warrant this type of response, but whatever.  She wouldn’t make Bucky’s treats anymore.  The less drama she had to deal with the better.

[collectivephilosopher]

JINX'S ATTACK AT THE COUNCIL

Alright, I need to get this out of my system.

I really don't get how people can portray Jinx's attack at the council as "lashing out" and "throwing tantrum"

I'm not sure if the show is potraying it as such but I'm not saying otherwise either.

First.

If Jinx was lashing out and throwing tantrum, she would show this by lashing out to others other than Piltover. I'm not saying she wasn't angry but she was angry specifically at Piltover. She did not bomb anyone/anything else but the council aka Piltover. Was it personal? Probably yeah. But this is like someone finally attacking their abuser who has been abusing them for years. It's not tantrum. Tantrum is destroying irrelevant things to channel your anger like when you're angry at your parents and destroy the table instead.

What Jinx is doing is showing to piltover. ("We'll show them, we will show them all"). She's telling the council, "look here, I am what you've made, I am the consquence of your action/inaction and I am done. I will show you how much you have hurt me."

"But they were about to vote for peace and Jinx ruined it!" Wrong.

The council were voting for "councilor Talis's proposal for peace." What is this proposal? His deal with Silco ("Jayce has brokered a deal with Silco"). His deal specifically asked for JINX which Silco would not give thus this deal and the meeting was useless because it would never happen anyways.

I need to say btw that his demand for Jinx was ass. He was asking for an individual to essentially be the pound of flesh to satisfy Piltover. Like okay, if Jinx has to pay for the crimes she did then what about the enforcers who has done brutality for years in Zaun? They get free pass? Really? Why? Because Jinx is an individual who did crime on her own? Then what about Jayce who killed an innocent child while attacking a factory filled with people who just work there for living? (Mind you in S1 the show never show Jinx killing civilians)

Now about the tea party.

The reason why Jinx was there at the cannery, why Silco was there which leads to his death, was BECAUSE OF PILTOVER.

Jinx overheard Silco's lament about his deal with piltover and thought he's going to go through with the deal, giving her up, betraying her. Had Jayce never demanded Jinx, she would literally never kidnap Silco.

Silco told Jinx about the deal again at the tea party and he until the end said he would never gave up Jinx. This goofy peace will literally never happen. Besides until the end of S1 the demand for Jinx was never dropped so we can safely assume that the council are still out for Jinx's blood. What else was Jinx supposed to do when she was put at the end of a spear like that?

Jinx attacked the council for all the pain they caused her. While she might not think of other Zaunites at the moment, it's still a political attack. Jinx was also the victim of the system here. She's an oppressed individual. The enforcers hunted Zaunite like they're animals. Jinx is just a Zaunite who happen to grew up stronger than the people who hunt her and in return hunt them back.

She attacked nothing else but the council tower and disappeared after. She was not lashing out.

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

The Tape - Part 2

Christian Yu x Y/N - drabble - 1K WC

Part 1

Masterlist

Warnings: hurt comfort, fluff, bold = flashback

--------------------------------

Christian reread the speech his company had given him for the press conference to address the leaked tape from a month ago. When he entered the hall flashing lights blinded him. As he took the podium all he could hear was the whispers of judgement from the press. 

“Hello everyone, I appreciate you all coming today.” he began. 

The speech was all apologies, all shame. With what he was hearing he could not stand by and apologize for something that was done to you both. You were the victims, why should you apologize?

Christian put the speech cards down, “I would like to begin by saying this was not only an attack on me but an attack on my partner Y/N. She is the most lovely person… neither of us deserved this and the man identified as the one who put the camera in the room is currently being prosecuted to the full extent of the law. The comments on my partner during this situation have been nothing less than vile, all who said such things should feel nothing but shame.” he said with confidence. 

He could see his manager sweating out of the corner of his eye as he did not follow the script. Honestly, he couldn’t care less. 

“The effect this has had on our lives and mental health has been detrimental… I ask for all of you to consider this - How would you feel if this was happening to you? Having sex with the love of my life is not a crime and I will not apologize for it. We are the victims in this. My wife and I will be taking an extended leave from the media to focus on what is most important, ourselves. Thank you.” he said before walking out of the room and straight back to the apartment.

You had become a husk of yourself over the last month. Pale and weak, withering away. You hardly spoke or ate. All you did day in and day out was sleep or cry into the pillows of your shared bed. Christian hadn’t been able to touch you in any way, you always flinched away from him for who knew if there were cameras in here as well?

“Y/N? Honey?” Christian said, knocking on the bedroom door lightly before walking in. The room was gloomy, hardly any light snuck into the room for the closed curtains draped themselves in a way that filled the room with despair. 

You laid on your back, eyes closed. You looked peaceful when you were like this. Unable to worry about the nightmare at hand. Christian sat on the edge of the bed next to you. He traced his fingers softly over your angelic face, moving the hair from your eyes gently. 

“I told the world what must be said. I made no apologies, I have no shame in this regard… the only thing I feel is sadness. Not for myself, but for you. I have dragged you into something that would never happen with someone else. And for that, I am so unbelievably sorry. However… I am a selfish man. I cannot bear to think of life without you, I won't.” Christian slid a ring onto your finger slowly so as to not wake you. “I want you with me always, I love you.” he said, kissing your knuckles. 

You fluttered your eyes open at his proposal. The hand he was holding moved to cup his face, “Do you think we can beat this?” you asked with a scratchy tone, as if you hadn’t talked in days. 

“I do.” he said immediately.

“That's my line.” you said, giving the gentlest of smiles. Your thumb brushed over his cheekbone before you pulled him down to kiss you. You kept it short and sweet, still paranoid about the cameras. “I miss the sun on my skin…” you whispered against his lips. 

Christian didn’t miss a beat, he picked you up bridal style and took you outside onto the balcony. The sun was setting, turning the sky into the most beautiful shades of pink and orange. The warmth of the summer air caressed your skin, shooing the cold of the dark bedroom away. Christian kept you in his arms, you nestled your head into the crook of his neck.

Christian rubbed his hand up and down your thigh, avoiding the bandages placed there. You had succumbed to an old nasty habit with everything going on - you cut yourself. None of it was enough to kill you, you just wanted to focus on something. Feel a different kind of pain. 

“I love you.” you whispered.

“I love you.” Christian replied before kissing the top of your head. 

You stayed like that until the sun was down and only the city lights of Seoul illuminated the sky. “They arrested the hotel staff who hid the camera… our lawyers are seeking the max penalty.” Christian said, trying to ease your tension. 

You nodded. “Maybe one day we will joke about all this.” you muttered.

Christian chuckled before he let out a sullen sigh, “I’m so sorry all this happened.” he said with the utmost sincerity.

You kissed his neck, “It’s not your fault. It's something that never should have happened but it did and everyone who watched it, commented on it - they are the problem, not us.” you said with conviction. 

“We should go to Italy.” Christian said.

You sat up, “What?”

“Let's leave for a while. Leave all this behind us and go enjoy paradise. We will come back when we are ready, on our own terms.” he smiled down at you.

“I guess I need to go pack.” you smiled back at him.

“I guess so Mrs. Yu.” he said, loosening his grip on you so you could stand. 

“What if we eloped there?” you said, walking back into the apartment.

Christian hugged you from behind, picking you up. You squealed, letting out a giggle that was like music to his ears.

“Whatever you want my love.” he said before putting you down.

You turned, leaning your forehead against his. “Us against the world?” you asked, repeating the words you spoke to him on the day you met. 

You had snagged the last pastry at the coffee shop, Christian chatted you up and you ended up sharing with him. 

“What happens if they run out again?” he asked.

“I guess it’s just us against the world then.” you smiled with a shrug before laughing.

-------------------------

Naboo's Note:

Hello :) I hope you guys like this, i feel iffy about it. I'm currently rocked off of muscle relaxers and am gonna have such a good sleep like right after I post this. I got a couple Christian requests so I will be getting those out as soon as I can. Thank you!!!! XOXOXOXOXOX

[jytan2018]

Yessss.

Hope OP doesn't mind me adding on, but another thing that makes Shen Gongbao a good Nezha/Ao Bing foil is how their parents contributed to their self worth.

Nezha grew up with parents that relentlessly defended him from an entire town that's hated him since his birth, even if Nezha went on to act out in ways the townsfolk rightfully resents him for (property damage and serious physical injury is no joke when you're a peasant who does manual labour for a living, y'all). Ao Bing grew up with a father who not only got the entire dragon clan to pry off their toughest scales (which is explicitly shown to be a PAINFUL process) in order to forge armour for him, but also admitted that his life experience may not be applicable to Ao Bing's pursuit of happiness and allowed him to resume risking his life with Nezha.

Shen Gongbao, on the other hand, grew up with a bootstrap-mentality father that teaches his disciples, "If you must hate, then hate the fact that you were born a demon!".

Like, I understand it's intended to be motivational, but that can't have been good for Shen Gongbao's self esteem. Papa Shen was unknowingly setting his own son up for a lifetime of failure, not because of a skill issue on SGB's part, but because Papa Shen himself is so loyal to the oppressive status quo that he doomed his own disciples by asking them to surrender to the Chan Sect. And when the only way to win the game is to change the rules entirely, is it any wonder that SGB found himself repeatedly losing and got desperate enough to turn evil?

I'm gonna go off on a tangent here, but another character I've seen people suggest SGB is a foil to is Taiyi Zhenren, and I find that especially interesting. Taiyi is consistently portrayed as the favoured disciple throughout both movies, be it through SGB's jealousy when he discovers their master gifted him the Shan He She Ji Painting (Taiyi's Doraemon pouch of ridiculously OP magical items suggests it's a regular occurence) or Wuliang calling Taiyi "privileged" while ranting about his justification for committing demon genocide. Literally, the plot of Nezha 1 kicks off because SGB got nothing after years of doing Wuliang's dirty work, and all Taiyi had to do to score the Golden Immortal title was babysit the Spirit Pearl's reincarnation (a.k.a. Nezha) for 3 years.

This privilege is also glaringly obvious in the simplistic suggestions he provides to them. Why don't you just ask Tianzun for Liquid Jade instead of going through the three trials? Why can't you simply apologise to Tianzun instead of killing everyone? These are solutions that can only come out the mouth of someone who's never been told no.

By all accounts, Taiyi is just as much a personification of the system's inequality as SGB is, and he should be its staunchest defender because of everything he stands to lose when it falls.

And yet, who was the one that decided to risk it all for Nezha and Ao Bing when they were caught in the Heavenly Trial Curse? Taiyi. Shen Gongbao gave up when the Curse struck because he simply couldn't see a way out of it, but Taiyi was the one who jumped in the moment they survived long enough for a glimmer of hope to emerge. He was only able to help BECAUSE he's never been discouraged and therefore has rock-solid confidence in his ability to save them. His magical items were only there to guarantee his success.

Another notable thing about Taiyi is that he's the only non-family person that SGB doesn't stutter around. Jiaozi has confirmed in the past that the stutter was a result of Chan Sect folks repeatedly speaking over/interrupting SGB and destroying his self esteem, so it says a lot about SGB's trust in Taiyi AND Taiyi's respectful treatment of SGB if the guy instinctively feels safer and more relaxed around him than he is with Ao Bing, the universally acknowledged precious boy who's never done anything wrong except when he tried to massacre all of Chen Tang Guan.

Of course, it's very easy to do good when you have the cultivation equivalent of a Doraemon pouch in your pants and you're not being constantly beaten down by the status quo, but I feel it's important to realise that Taiyi as a character isn't meant to prove that SGB had no excuse for what he did, and that the current system is still salvageable if it could produce wholesome thicc chads like him.

Nah, I'd argue Taiyi is meant to showcase the importance of refusing to succumb to bitterness and despair. This particular trait also makes Taiyi a foil to Oubing, because both of them grew up with the depressing realisation that their parents may have their back, but the world doesn't. SGB used the resulting bitterness to fuel his cultivation efforts, but he failed to realise that it doesn't work the same way as anger. Anger is your heart telling you that something is wrong and you must fight back, bitterness is your mind telling you EVERYTHING is wrong, so you don't have to hold back your worst self against anyone, not even those who don't deserve it. The ability to process that bitterness and despair (or at the very least, block it out temporarily) via self-care, mutual aid etc. can make or break a revolution, and it shows when the only thing Ao Guang had to say when demons were dying by the dozen in that cauldron was, "Don't give up." Taiyi had a lot of chances to turn bitter when asked to teach Nezha, or after he realised how far gone Wuliang was, but he continued to put the "relief" in "comedic relief" and kept everyone going with the resources he had at his disposal and/or his refusal to give up.

With Nezha 2's post credit scene implying SGB will accept the deal with Wuliang to save Papa Shen, I think Nezha 3 will set up another crossroads moment where he decides who he truly wants to be. However, given that Nezha's OG myth revolves around this epic battle between the Chan and Jie Sects where multiple major characters die and subsequently attain godhood for their service (both movies reference the Fengshen Bang/Fengshen Da Zhan, or God Induction List/God Induction Battle for this reason), literally everyone will likely be struggling just to stay alive, let alone reach out to a enemy-turned-ally-turned-enemy-again guy like SGB. Well, everyone except the comedic relief guy who's had god-tier plot armour for two movies straight.

It'll come down to Taiyi Zhenren, the one Chan Sect Guy who he can trust AND has the resources to shield him from some of the immediate backlash for his betrayal, to help SGB complete his redemption arc.

Nezha 2 spoilers - on the character of Sheng Gongbao.

More on Sheng Gongbao, because I think what the movie did in introducing this classic antagonist's parent and kid brother may feel really random at first, but totally recontextualsies him to be (1) an even closer foil to Ao Bing and (2) a new foil to Nezha.

Ao Bing

In Nezha 1, Shen Gongbao explains his nature to Ao Bing so he could share the similarities of their situations: that he is a leopard demon, and demons suffer the same disrepute and disadvantage of dragons in the world of cultivation. That's why he did all this scheming from Ao Bing's birth to set him on a path that can diverge from his own - so he can prepare his disciple to advance where he can't - so Ao Bing can climb higher on the cultivation ladder. Shen Gongbao would benefit from Ao Bing's advancement as the master who trained, raised, and sponsored him to advance on the celestial stage. Ao Bing's father and people would also benefit from Ao Bing's ascension.

The foil Shen Gongbao plays for Ao Bing is being a demon - underpriviledged, undesired, having to struggle and claw his way in everything, being twice as good and yet not good enough, all because of what they are and how they were born. But he's known to Ao Bing only as his master and senior, someone who understands how the world works and whom taught Ao Bing his martial arts and magic.

In Nezha 2, the characters Sheng Zhengdao, the father, and Sheng Xiaobao, the kid brother, are introduced. This immediately changes the reading of Shen Gongbao. Not only is he a master, senior and an 'adult' in the complicated and cruel cultivation world - but he is also a son. Not only is he a son, there is an intricate backstory about what kind of son he is - he's the son who left his home and backwater town to go to celestial university, he's the first in the family to be accepted into the Chan Sect, the son who achieved human form, the over-achieving son, the son with a career, the son who made it, the absolute pride of the family. The eldest son who's family think he is living it up.

He is..........decidedly not. This is where the 'demon' storyline comes back: he has hit wall after wall. He's done dirty quid pro quo. He's been decieved, used, and even cowed by the system. One can't be treated fairly as a demon. Since he cannot make it any further by himself, he's resorted to relying on Ao Bing.

However, Sheng Gongbao's new role as a 'son' now paints him in an interesting light to both Ao Bing and Nezha. We instantly see that his motivation isn't just about feeling oppressed as a demon and wanting to be recognised for his merits. There is also clearly some insane filial piety driving him - because his position and ascention is supposed to benefit his kid brother and aging father back home! He is not just doing it for himself. He did all that dirty quid pro quo, being used as a tool, cowed by the system....because he needed to be the good son for his family. Because the truth is he has not made it at all. But if only he trains the perfect disciple, more perfect than himself...if only he gets him accepted into the celestial word...if only Ao Bing becomes a god of the Fengshen Bang...if Sheng Gongbao is reocognised as one of the 12 Golden Gods.........

On and on. His foil to Ao Bing as a son adds an extra dimension to Nezha 1. Ao Bing trained his whole life (being given the advantage of being the 'Yang pill') to advance his father's and people's position. To the point of being convinced, even if for a moment, that levelling Chentang Guan and killing all the people to keep the shameful secret of his dragon nature, was the only way forward...This now sounds very similar to his master. This is the solution his trusted, experienced master sold him. In Nezha 2, we learn Shen Gongbao has done terrible things for the celestial Wuliang (his senior cultivation brother)...it follows he would unload that same treacherous cycle onto Ao Bing.

2. Nezha

In a broad sense, Sheng Gongbao as the son becomes 'young,' a former protagonist himself, the hero of his own story, with his own parents and brother to appease. What I found endlessly interesting, is that with this new role, Shen Gongbao explicitly becomes a foil to Nezha as well. But the specific foil to Nezha in this case is 'being a son who will go on a total rampage out of love for his parents/family.'

With the knowledge of his parent's 'deaths,' Nezha goes on a total rampage out of love for his parents and the pain of losing them, that ends in beating up dragons and locking them in a huge magic furnace, completely playing into the hands of the evil celestial Wuliang. When our hero Nezha mitakenly fights the Eastern Dragon King Ao Guang, with the threat of his unfinished flesh body being disintegrated (he's not ready to fight in that condition yet!) - what does he say? He says "I don't care if I'll die, so long as I kill you!" The urge to avenge his parents is stronger than his self-preservation. But it's a twist. His parents are alive!

In the furnace scene, Nezha is offered a chance to save his parents who are getting cooked into cultivation pills by Wuliang. To accept a pill that makes him lose his memory and fall under the control of Wuliang. But Nezha's mother bats that thing out of Wuliang's hands, that's stupid and her son will never be a puppet for nefarious gods! Nezha, in the end, comes from a loving and supportive family who knows and understand him. They accept him for who he is. They would never stand for it. And so Nezha is protected from being manipulated.

Upon the Chentang Guan plot twist, it's revealed Shen Gongbao actually has the same reaction Nezha has when he thinks his family has died. Except for the point that his kid brother really does die - right in front of him! After whisking away Nezha's parents, Sheng Gongbao steps out again to the war-torn Chentang Guan, to fight off a thousand demons and the three traitor dragons. All by himself. There's dialogue, Nezha's parents ask Master Shen Gongbao what is he doing - where is going - why doesn't he take shelter with them?! And Shen Gongbao answers with bitter acceptance, "What's the point? My family's gone." And he goes out to fight. To take a last stand. To die.

Going back to Nezha, doesn't that reveal Sheng Gongbao's deepest motivations as the same as our hero's? He wasn't really doing it - all of it - entirely for himself. Now that his father and kid brother are dead, there is no reason to strive further. Shen Gongbao can let go of being one of the 12 Golden Gods or whatever. He's going to go out into danger, satisfy the urge to avenge his father and brother, and die.

Which takes me to the very delicious, delicious, diabolical end credits scene. The villainous Wuliang goes to a terrible prison where Shen Gongbao and his barely-ok father are alive. In a scene that totally parallels Nezha's choice in the furnace, he presents the same offer to Shen Gongbao. Accept a curse on his mind and body that will enslave him to Wuliang in exchange for his father's life.

But Shen Gongbao doesn't have the same honesty, understanding, protection from his father...because all this time he has been away from home...not returning because he hasn't made it...his father under the impression he is living it up as a celestial...his father not even conscious...

His kid brother died.

He has just this one family member left.

A person he was supposed to be doing all this for, to make proud.

A person he was ready to get revenge and die for.

After all he has already done - what is a little curse on Sheng Gongbao for the benefit of his father?

[artsninspo]

COUNTERFEIT - four

⇽ part three

➨ rio's library - good girl nbc

「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」

🍒 pairing: Rio (Good Girls) X Faith (Original Character) All my characters are black women.

🍒 word count: ~1.8K

🍒 summary: Faith continues working at the bar with Diego, run-ins with Rio continue. Jason reveals the repercussions for his actions and Char reveals unsurprising feelings. Tensions rise at the end of the night when Rio reveals his disposition and intentions.

four - playing games

I’ve been making so much money over the past month. So much so that I can use tips to pay rent and still have cash leftover. Diego calls me in whenever Rio is out of town and it’s like old times - just us horsing around and having fun while getting shit done. He’s the reason I’m here we’re out of our fruit supply so i’m here to top up. You'd be surprised by how much  guys at the bar love themselves some lime wedges on their drinks and orange rinds in their old fashioneds. I’m in the grocery pick up line and I see Jason. He looks startled before he glares looking straight ahead.

 I’m fine if he is. 

Mom has finally accepted we’re over and Char is starting to as well. I use my phone to check out and then we’re standing next to each other, Jason and I.

“So you go from grabbing me to ignoring me?” I ask and his eyes shift to me before he turns. “Okay..” I trail not used to this level of weird behaviour.

“Guys we’re waiting outside of my house telling me about all I’d have to lose if it got out I was inappropriate with my ex. And to never speak to you again” he says.

“What guys?!” I ask.

“Big ones” he says and I remember the security took a picture of his license. 

Rio.

“You were pretty inappropriate” I admit and he swallows. “And you weren’t even willing to fight some big guys for me so I couldn’t have meant as much as you thought I did” I add getting my groceries.

“Faith” he calls.

“Listen to the big ones” I cut him off before loading up my car and leaving him where he stands.

…

D and I set up the bar for tonight.  There are cases of liquor to unload because we’re a dynamic duo and nothing lasts on the shelves. I ran through the supply by using the divisiveness of sports to my advantage. D and I became representatives of each team. For the love of pride and bragging rights we made the competition a variety of drinking games - we burned right through the reserves. The bar has been filling up so much D’s had to send people away and get security. I’m doing really well financially on my own for the first time in my life. It makes me feel closer to my father and uncle.  They lived and breathed their work and I feel similar about helping Diego with his bar and now having big cash deposits to show for it. Once we’re done with the set up I head to lunch to meet Char.

“You’re late” she notifies me.

“As usual” I remind her with a smile and she rolls her eyes.

“You missed dads party” she says, talking about our step father. 

“He’s not my dad. Ours is dead.” I remind her.

“Merrick has been our dad since we were 12” she says and I smile to keep myself from arguing with her.

“I’m gonna need a strong drink tonight” I mutter looking at the menu and she huffs.

“He put you through college” She starts, reminding me of Merrick’s good deeds.

“He’s not my dad and I don’t like politicians” I counter in defiance.

“You need to grow up,” she mutters.

“You need to stop thinking money is everything” I tell her. Her expression softens and she looks away being flirty. I frown, turn and see Rio. I can't hold my smile back as he smirks, nodding in my direction. 

“You’re a mess!”  I chide her.

“He’s handsome and understands classic style” she comments after having only seen him twice. I look at him over again before smiling amused at her. She really must be Merrick’s daughter because if she remembered anything about our father then she’d know Rio’s code isn’t the law. “He has good taste, both places we’ve seen him in have been upscale.” She adds, sounding like mom.

“So you think he’s a gentleman?” I ask.

“You say that like he isn’t” she raises a brow. I haven't told anyone about my run in with Jason and his allegations. Rio is the top culprit.

“I don’t know him. I’ve only seen him around a few times” I shrug, not wanting to overshare.

Char looks surprised. “Lately?”

“No” I admit.

“How do I look?” She whispers adjusting her tits in her shirt. I laugh

“Respectable” I remark just as I’m brought my favorite drink with extra cherries.

“Thank you,” I tell the server.

“What would you like? On the house?”  The server smiles asking Char.

“Chardonnay,” she says, trying to sound classy.

“Chardonnay because my name is Char” I mock when the server leaves and she flips me off.

“How does he remember Your favorite drink if you’ve met him twice?” she inquires.

“He’s attentive,” I shrug. “Also how hard is it to remember tequila soaked cherries. It's harder to remember Chardonnay” I joke and she looks puzzled.

“Shit” she panics and I laugh at her nativité.

“What does he do?” She asks.

“I’ve never asked” I tell her truthfully.

“You’ve never asked, he’s both of our type physically.” Char says growing suspicious of me.

“I never asked because occupation doesn’t impress me” I tell her and Rio comes over with her drink and a smile.

“Anything you want is on the house” he repeats.

“My sister Char” I introduce.

“Rio, nice to meet you.” he smiles and she shakes his hand with a sparkle in her eye. She totally buys the nice guy act which amuses me. Our introduction was much more … tense.

“So Rio, what do you do?” Char asks and I smile embarrassed at her lack of game.

“I work in entertainment, run a few bars and clubs, you know” he says.

“Well that’s great, I work in PR. In case you ever need anything” she smiles.

“Chars the best” I add as a wingwoman. Rio looks me over before smiling.

“Are you working with Diego tonight?” He asks.

“They don’t work together” Char interjects. “Faith is in interior design.” 

“I know she’s been working with Diego on the Bar’s design.” Rio says recovering from his fumble and perceptively fixing it with a believable lie to maintain my secret. “Who’s older?” Rio asks, changing the subject while looking between us.

“Char by eleven months” I respond assisting in the deception. No wonder he juggles two women and doesn't seem stressed.

“Well you’re welcome here anytime, beautiful women are good for business” he flirts making my sister blush as he leaves our table.

“Play a little hard to get” I whisper once he’s gone.

“He’s charming,” she swoons.

“He’s trouble” I tell her. “Probably fantasizing about having both of us at the same time” I tell her and she blanches.

“You’re sick!” She frowns, sounding like mom.

“Earth to Char” I roll my eyes. “He walks around buying drinks and giving away complimentary meals. We aren’t special and gorgeous women are everywhere. Believe me when I tell you he’s out here living great” I tell her and she fans me off.

…

Bars closing in five and Diego and I are doing a tiebreaker. The guys don’t know that our shots are water unlike theirs. Diego lets me win and my side roars. I jump around clumsily pretending to be more sloshed than I am and collect tips as the guys file out. Security turns off the open sign and starts closing the blinds.. Rio walks in from the back and pours from my bottle. He smells the liquid and smiles.

“Water” he says and I nod.

“Diego said it would be dangerous if we were too drunk,” I explain.

“Diego has some business to take care of, so I’ll drop you home” he says and I turn to D.

“D?” I ask to confirm.

“I’ll call you tomorrow, thanks Faith” he smiles, handing me my tips. 

“Okay” I nod, turning to look at Rio. I follow him out to his car. It’s a Benz truck and I’m surprised when he gets my door. I hop in and wait for him to start it up before setting the GPS.

“Why didn’t you tell your sister you work here?” He pries.

“Then she’ll tell my mom and my mom will ask why she paid for college for me to serve drinks” I tell him honestly.

“But your sister’s into me,” he smiles.

“Yeah, but you’d hurt her, and I’m crazy. If Diego tip-toes around you it’ll end badly for all of us if you make my sister cry.” I warn.

“Well then we should be alright” he mutters.

“Don’t lie and promise you won’t hurt her feelings” I tell him and he chuckles.

“Do you one better, she’s not the sister I’m into” he smirks.

“Lucky me” I smile.

“At least you’re smiling” he says while driving.

“That was smooth, the kind of thing I’d say” I admit and now he smiles.

“That’s how you got ole boy who was tweaking at the club?” Rio asks keeping his eyes on the road.

“You scared him by the way” I told him.

“If he isn’t willing to fight or take a couple hits for his girl you’re better without him” Rio says and it’s funny we’re on the same page.

“He’s a lover not a fighter, good man” I add.

“Good men don’t grab women when they’re trying to get away,” he says and I scoff. “And women don’t try to get away from me” he says before I can comment.

“I’ll hold you to it,” I respond.

“Never said I was a good man” he rasps, his honesty is refreshing. He is who he is and isn't running from it.

“Why were you such a jerk that first night?” I ask.

“I’m not good with strangers,” he admits.

“First lie” I comment and he looks surprised for a moment before looking amused.

“I don’t trust people I don’t know or like them.” he elaborates.

“Truth” I accept.

“So, how do I get to spend more time with you?”

“You don’t. My moms married to Merrick Chase” I tell him and I know the mayor's name rings bells. “He tries to play pops and digs into anyone Char or I see’s. I have reason to believe your personal life won’t pass the test.”

“Well, what’s another secret? I’m not asking you to go steady” he says and my brain must be broken because it is exciting and not off putting.

“You're bad news” I smile looking at him.

“And a good time while it lasts” He adds.

“So stop flirting and accept friendship. That’s how we spend time together "I tell him.

“I don’t need to flirt and I can still make you come before the year is over” he smiles and I do too.

“Keep dreaming” He stops at my place putting the car in park and hands me my bag of tips and some cherries. Somehow the gesture is sexual and when he smirks I know he feels it too.

Authors note: how are you moving forward. LMK in the comments. Don't forget to ❣ Like, ❝ Comment, ↺ Reblog

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[lexicrvg]

On a random night in 1989, Ice and Mav have a fight about their future together. Ice wants to quit the navy and love Mav in all the ways he deserves, out and proud, but Maverick doesn't let him. He knows Ice wants to climb through the ranks and get stars on his shoulder, he can't be the reason Ice misses this.

That night, they broke up. Ice couldn't bear be with someone who didn't love him just as much as he loves them, and Maverick couldn't tell Ice he wouldn't give up flying for him.

Ice quits the navy. He would've done it with or without Maverick.

30+ years go by, and their lives haven't even once crossed paths, not even at Slider's wedding nor Sundown's funeral. It seems like the universe had separate plans for them, and it stuck this way.

(They were at both of these events, but Wolfman was in charge of "Not let Mav and Tom see each other" and he always aces a task)

Until Wolf's retirement party, that is. With him being the center of attention, he gives Hollywood the most important task of his life, Wood have other plans tho, he's very easily distracted by his husband's beautiful smile and when they're least expecting it...

"Hey" Maverick says, sitting on the bar, side by side with Tom.

"Pete!" Tom opens a big smile "Long time no see!"

"Yeah, right." Mav takes a pause, looking at the other up and down. "You look great"

And he did. Being away from the navy must've given Tom 10 years of his life back.

"You look exactly the same," Tom laughs. "Like, scarily so."

Pete laughs with him, although the smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. In just 2 minutes, between seeing Tom from across the room and engaging in conversation with him, Mav noticed he seems... happy.

"I think I've been time traveling in those jets," he jokes, and Tom laughs. Again.

Tom didn't have such an easy smile back then. It rubs on Maverick the wrong way.

"How have you been?" Tom asks, after taking a sip of his vodka.

Maverick did not have a good answer to that question. Miserable? Missing you every day of my life? Discharged?

"Good" it's what he settles for. "You?"

Something in Tom's eyes twitches, like he's well aware Maverick's lying to his face, he says nothing about it, and Mav doesn't give him a chance to. He spots the ring on Tom's finger and, before he can help himself, he asks:

"What's her name?" Earning yet another laugh from Tom.

"I know it's been a while, but I'm sure you remember I'm not particularly interested in women." Tom plays with his ring and adds: "His name is Grant, and he's..." Tom searches for something in the room, then points. "... right there."

Against his better judgment, Mav turns to see where Tom's pointing. He regrets it immediately. Grant is gorgeous.

He's the exact opposite of Pete. For starters, he's tall, taller than Ice, taller than Slider whom he's talking excitedly with. Grant's hair is silver, and he carries a smile that would make Mav swoon if the situation was any different.

"We met in 2001" Tom continues, smiling lovingly at his partner. "Got married in 2016, and..."

"And...?"

"Our kid came to our lives in 2019. She just turned 10."

Maverick feels like he's going to throw up. Husband and daughter. Tom had both a husband and a daughter while Pete was still in weird terms with Bradley and as single as he's ever been. It wasn't fair. He was the one who didn't want Tom and now... Now, Tom has been living a happy life with a family he could only dream of when he was in the navy, and Pete still held onto a tiny bit of hope that he would get Ice back.

It wasn't fair. Not at all. He might die of regret.

"Listen, I gotta go to the restroom, " Ice said, getting up. "You stay here! I'll be back. We have a lot of catch-up to do, " and walked away.

Mav downed the rest of Tom's drink in one go, very disappointedly realizing it was water and not vodka.

"Hey, shortstack!" comes from Ron Kerner, looking a bit tipsy, bringing Grant on his arm. "I want you to meet my dear friend, Grant!"

"Yeah, I..."

"Grant, this is Pete Mitchell, Tom's wingmen" hearing Slider refer to him as Ice's wingmen did something weird to Mav's heart. "Mav, this is Grant Kazansky, he's..."

"Ice's husband, yeah, I heard."

Both Slider and Grant giggle at this. Grown man. Giggling. "He hates being called Ice nowadays," Grant explains. "He says Iceman is someone who should stay in the past."

"Sorry, old habits." Mav opens an awkward smile.

"Can I get you a drink?" Grant offers. "Something stronger than Tom's water."

"I thought it was vodka." Mav murmurs.

Already gesturing to the bartender to bring a drink, Grant says: "He stopped drinking when our princess came to our lives."

"And yet I'm her contact emergency" Slider interrupts.

"Because you let her eat ice cream before dinner!"

And isn't this nice? Maverick thought to himself. Him, his biggest love's husband and fucking Ron Kerner all sitting together and having a nice chat!

Before he could actually throw up in front of these people, he excused himself and went to get some fresh air.

Not even 5 minutes go by before someone sits down besides him on the sidewalk.

"He talked about you." Grant says, offering Mav a glass of something that might be whiskey — or apple juice, you never know.

"Good things, I hope." Mav says, taking the glass.

Grant snorts, but doesn't answer. Awkward silence rovers between them.

"Do you love him?" Pete asks, breaking it.

Without missing a beat, Grant answers: "More than I ever loved anyone."

Something twists in Mav's stomach, but he ignores it.

"That's good. He only deserves good things."

But it went without saying. Grant knew Tom deserved only good things, hell, Ice knew it. He would never settle for less than he deserves, and that's why he's with Grant and not Maverick.

"He's lucky to have you," Pete finishes, swallowing the bitter taste the words leave in his mouth.

"I'm lucky to have him." After a beat of awkward silence, Grant adds: "You should come by to dinner."

Mav must've heard it wrong, so he waits for Grant to correct himself. It never comes.

"What?"

"Dinner at our place," Grant explains. "He'd love to get you back in his life, he treasures his friends a lot."

Friends. Right. That's what they are. No.

"We haven't been friends in a long time," not since 1986, he lefts unsaid, since we started dating.

Grant seems to think about it, then decides, "Now it's a good time to reconect. Enjoy your drink."

Then he walks back into the bar, leaving Mav and his thoughts alone.

It all seems a bit crazy for him. Ice — sorry, Tom — has a husband. And they've been together for more than twenty years. A husband who loves him dearly and isn't afraid to say so. A husband who goes to navy events just to celebrate Tom's old friends. A husband who looks like could and would kill anyone who did Tom wrong. A husband who sat down with Tom's ex and invited him to dinner just because.

Pete thinks he should accept the offer. Just to see what Tom's been up to and meet his daughter, would she like him? Would she call him "Uncle Mav"? He should call Slider and check on what to wear and say...

Oh. He doesn't know what to say around Tom. They're strangers now. The man who he once shared a house, a bed, a life, and a heart with is now a stranger to him.

The realization does something to him, something very bad. He takes a sip of his drink and decides this day could not get any worse.

Huh. Whiskey. A good one. At least Grant knows his liquor.

[ilium-ilia]

In Limbo

simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader | mafia!au | masterlist

Chapter Seventeen: brick by brick

tw: none

“So… we talking about Marco and Andrei, or…?”

Simon’s neck hurts. Painfully tense muscles plague him from spending the last handful of nights sleeping on the couch rather than in his bed. It’s a symptom of your skittish tendencies, he supposes. You’re still keeping an awkward distance from him, which he knows he can’t entirely blame you for. It’s a lot to soak in; his job, and the things he’s done, the things everyone has been hiding from you. You’re still talkative—at least, not any less than usual—but you’re hiding. Drawing away in order to make sense of this new mess that you’ve found yourself in. 

So, he gives you the bed—and your space. 

Rubbing at the back of his neck with rigid fingers, Simon swivels in the computer chair next to Johnny. If he’s lucky, he can work the knots out before they root deep enough to form a migraine. Tight tendons pull at the base of his skull, and they don’t seem to want to relent. The dim incandescence of the security room helps stave off the beast, but the question posed to him only pokes the bear. 

“What’s there to talk about?” Simon’s playing dumb. Even the mere thought of Marco is enough to make his brain throb uncomfortably within the confines of his skull. He’d rather snuff this conversation out before it ignites. 

“Aye, I see,” Johnny hums. He eyes the handful of monitors in front of him before spinning around in his chair. “So, we’re pretending I never saw anything on the cams?” 

“Would appreciate it,” Simon huffs. His hand falls away from his neck as he tilts his head to either side. There’s a sharp click! that accompanies the movement, followed by a sigh. “Don’t need this gettin’ out, yeah? I promised her that I’d keep it between us.” 

Johnny nods. “So, I suppose you wanna keep Price in the dark too?” 

The reply that burns the tip of Simon’s tongue hardly seems to come from a sound mind. Lie to John Price? The John Price? As if his family hasn’t been known for snuffing out undesirables for generations—for keeping the streets safe for those who would otherwise be crushed under steel toed boots? The same boot you’re currently pinned under? He thinks back to the other day, and the tears that pooled in your eyes; the fracturing of your voice as you all but begged him not to tell John. 

Or worse—Aelin. 

How did his allegiance switch so abruptly? So violently that an omission of truth suddenly comes easy if he does it for you? 

“Don’t mention it to anyone. Price included,” Simon confirms. 

Johnny is a good man. An honest one. So much so that his discomfort manifests in the minute clenching of his jaw at the thought of telling such a lie. “Is she safe at least?” 

Safe. Simon thinks about it. You. curled up in his bed wearing nothing but a plain t-shirt, burrowed beneath heaps of blankets. You’ve been sleeping non-stop lately, like you’ve got a deficit you’re attempting to catch up on. Though you owe a debt to Marco, you owe a larger debt to yourself and your abused body and mind. He lets you curl up like a cat and nap the days and nights away, because if you’re comfortable enough to sleep around him, then that must mean something. 

Something good. 

“She’s stayin’ with me,” Simon shares. “Probably will be for a while.” 

“Ah.” Johnny’s chair squeaks as he leans back. “So… you two official, then?”

Simon pauses, head tilting to the side. “You’re a funny man.” 

A cheeky remark flits across Johnny’s tongue, but the words are lost on Simon’s ears. His phone buzzes in the pocket of his jeans, and his heart skips a beat. There’s no hesitation in retrieving his phone and allowing the screen to illuminate his face with a text message from you. 

i’m learning new tricks (: 

Your message is quickly followed by a picture. You’ve captured an image of the string you always play cat’s cradle with, laid out flat on the coffee table in his living room. It’s in a design he doesn’t recognize. The form is fuzzy without fingers holding it taut, but he’s still able to make out the lattice-like rectangle that swirls in the photo. 

it looks better when i’m actually holding it. fun to do!

Simon tries to hide his smile. 

Looks great sweetheart. 

A playful scoff pulls Simon’s attention away from his phone. He looks up just in time to catch the tail end of Johnny’s rolling eyes before he twists his chair back around to look at the monitors. 

“Ay, right. I’m the funny one,” he mutters, sarcasm dripping from his words. 

Another message from you has him ignoring the man. 

it’s called jacob’s ladder

Simon has to blink several times in order to clear his vision. He rereads your message, convinced he’s seeing it wrong, but nothing changes. Each word is still the same—all the way down to the name. 

Didn’t know they had string versions of that. 

It’s impossible for him to hide his mirth. That sly chuckle that seeps from his chest as he stares at the screen, waiting for your response. Simon is a simple man. He likes his jokes, no matter how debauched they are. 

i don’t get it

Somehow, he’s not surprised. His fingers hover over the screen as he contemplates his answer. 

I’ll tell you when you’re older. 

Muffled music swells to a crescendo, only to quickly diminish into a hush as the door swings open and closed again. John Price enters the room with broad shoulders swaying, but it’s impossible for him to hide his exhaustion. He’s jetlagged. Enervation gnaws at the heels of his feet as he strides into the room, bags pulling at his eyes. Still, he manages a smile as Johnny swivels around to greet the boss. 

“Evening boys.” Despite his weariness, his voice is as gruff and sonorous as usual.

“Missed you, boss,” Johnny teases. “How was your holiday?” 

“Warm,” John chuckles. 

“Looks like you got a bit of color, too,” Simon notes. 

Laughing, John rubs the tip of his rosy nose. He pretends not to notice the slight peeling of his skin. “Like I said; warm. Warm, sunny, and a hell of a lot better than London in December.” 

For a short moment, his eyes flicker to the rows of monitors behind Johnny. Black and white footage of clubbers dancing illuminate the tight space of the room. The building is packed, almost alarmingly so, full to the brim of tired uni students with nothing better to do over their break as they dance the night away as the New Year approaches. 

“And you boys? Got some good R&R, I hope,” John asks, arms crossing over his chest. 

“Oh, you know me,” Johnny sighs. His fingers buzz, tapping his knees like he’d rather be clacking away at a keyboard than having this conversation. 

“Oh, I do,” John chuckles. “No broken nose this year though, yeah?” 

“Not yet,” he grins. 

“Of course. And you, Simon?” 

His phone buzzes just as the attention is turned on him, but he doesn’t dare look down at his screen. Instead, he nods as he adjusts himself on the faux plastic leather seats of the office hair. 

“Yeah. Good. Manchester was cold as hell, but we survived,” he explains cooly. 

“Chip like it?” John continues. 

“Her and Joey got along well,” Simon humors. 

“And your brother? Doing well?” 

He nods. “Happiest I’ve ever seen ‘im.” 

This feels like an interrogation. An uncomfortable insight into his life that he usually doesn’t offer up willingly. For a moment, Simon’s guilty conscience gets the better of him—has him feeling as thin as cellophane, and he nearly melts under the heat until he realizes John’s looking at him the same way he did all those years ago in that pool house.  Hidden away in the locker room, offering him a job. Earnest and amicable. 

This is the furthest thing from an interrogation. It’s rapport building. This is the man who has sent him to break jaws to keep children safe and spill blood over the smallest of cuts on women. John’s known you much longer than Simon has, and he’s simply checking in on the very man he helped save all those years ago. Muscles melting, Simon allows himself to take a proper breath. 

“Glad to hear he’s keeping clean,” John praises. “Either of you heard from Kyle?” 

Johnny chuckles. “Nothin’ but moaning and groaning. Still hungover from his night out with Lucy. Fucking lightweight.” 

“Surprised they gave her Christmas off,” John muses. “Last I remember, the hospital stiffed her with having to work every holiday, and then some.” 

Halfway through his sentence, John’s phone begins to buzz. Loud, obnoxious, incessant—a phone call. His sigh is heavy and tense as he retrieves the item from his pocket. His thumb nearly goes to ignore it until he reads the ID at the top of the screen. 

“Wife calling you home?” Johnny teases. 

“We’ll see,” he chuckles. 

His laughter dies in his throat the moment he answers the call and he hears Aelin sobbing on the other end. 

The world continues to rage around them as the room falls into silence. Aelin’s wailing cuts through the air like ice, bouncing off the walls like her voice is nothing more than a toy to be tossed around. Johnny and Simon share a look—wide eyes framed by furrowed brows—while John attempts to calm her. His head dips as his free hand rubs at the back of his neck; a stress response Simon has rarely seen in the man. 

There are a few words that cut through the static of the call, each of them framed by blood curdling cries: 

John—please—I can’t do this—not again—I can’t—

There’s an attempt made at diffusing the situation. Of gently cooing into the phone, of asking what’s wrong, but nothing calms her. It’s all tears and painful laments that he can’t seem to quell coupled with sharp hyperventilation. John doesn’t bother to give either of the boys a second glance before he’s ducking back out the door. Music swells, then quickly dies. Neither of them speak. They just sit in their chairs with Aelin’s cries echoing in their minds. 

“The last time I heard her cry like that was when her ex-fiance cheated on her,” Johnny mumbles to himself. He pauses as he looks at Simon—he’s still staring at the door. “Think everything’s alright?” 

“Yeah,” Simon responds after a pause. “If not, we’ll know soon.” 

His tone is even—strong and unwavering—but the truth is, Simon hates the sound of crying. It makes his teeth ache as if he’s scraped his fingernails on a chalkboard. He’s reminded of his mother. Even after all these years, her screams haunt him as she braces for the unforgiving impact of a closed fist against her face. He sees her crumpled form on the kitchen floor, a trembling hand covering her eye. 

It reminds him of himself as a child. Pathetic pules and sputtering echoing off the bathroom walls as he begs and screams. High pitched and prepubescent. Water sloshing. Feet kicking. His father always hated the sound of him—every sniffle, every blubber, every cough—and he eventually grew to hate it too until even the sound of his own breathing infuriated him. 

Worst of all, it reminds him of you. In the midst of your trashed apartment, hardly able to get a full breath in, tears streaming down your face—terrified. Prattling. Rambling. Hit with an unforgiving concoction of grief and fear; his stomach churns at the mere memory of you trembling against him. 

Pushing it out of his mind, Simon brings his attention back to his phone—back to you. Everything melts away—Aelin’s cries, the music pounding just beyond the door—and for a moment it’s just him and the notification flashing on his screen. 

i just googled it. the ribbon and woodblock toy, right? jacob’s ladder? i forgot those existed haha

It’s past three in the morning by the time he gets home. You’ve left the kitchen light on for him. He doesn’t know why, but that makes his heart wrench. 

You’re the first thing he checks on. He doesn’t even bother to take his shoes off at the door. The very moment the deadbolt latches behind him, he’s peeking into the bedroom through the gap in the door. Snug, you’re buried under his comforter, head hardly visible as you burrow your face into the pillow. For a moment, he stands there and watches you with nothing but a sliver of light seeping through the doorway to illuminate you. 

Safe. Comfortable. Sleeping. 

Retreating away from the door, Simon hides himself away in the living room. He’s forgotten to lay out clothes to change into, and he curses the idea of sleeping in his jeans as he sinks into the couch, but he’d rather that than disturb your sleep. The cushions are flattened. Morphed into the shape of his body after a near week of using it as a makeshift bed. A jolt of electricity shoots through his neck as if his body is already anticipating the ache. 

He tosses his arm over the back of the couch as he mindlessly flips through programs on the television. Usually, he’s able to sleep without white noise, but these days it’s hard to get any rest at all. There’s money to save up, debts to pay. A sharp pang echoes throughout his knuckles. It throbs like a heart quivering with memory, and he attempts to quell it by flexing his fingers. It’s a symptom of a larger beast. Of something that demands blood—thirsty for penance. 

An eye for an eye. 

He’s satiated this type of reprobate before, and he’ll do it again in due time. 

Anything for you. 

A nature documentary is Simon’s choice of white noise for the night. Auburn fur blurs on the screen as a red fox bounds along the environs of lush woodlands. Its thin snout pokes up in the air where a wet nose dances with short and sharp inhales. Simon smiles as the narrator—a man with an overly posh accent—drones on about the critter’s life. 

As he goes to place the remote on the coffee table, he spots a piece of string. It’s tied in a circle, just about as long as his forearm. Worn fibers fray with years of use, yet it still holds strong—well loved. Curious, he picks it up. He thinks about the pictures you sent him that evening, and how proud you were of the new trick you learned. 

How your first instinct was to tell him about it. 

Careful fingers wrap the string around his own hands as he sets up a round of cat’s cradle. It’s easy enough—a simple slip of his middle fingers—but he doesn’t know how to continue. Hazy memories attempt to surface in his mind as he thinks of your hands. How your fingers moved and danced to manipulate the string so effortlessly. Practiced to the point you can do it without proper thought.

He tries to move his thumbs. It’s what he recalls you doing, anyway. Weave them between thin lines of string until it feels firm and secure. 

When he drops his pinkies, he’s left with nothing but a knot. 

“Si?”

He doesn’t hear you approach—doesn’t hear the squeak of the bedroom door or the creak of the floorboards—you appear like an angel swathed in the light of the TV. Freshly woken and rubbing your eyes, he wants to lay you down. Needs to pull thick blankets over your body and let you get the rest you deserve. It’s an odd urge to feel; one he doesn’t quite understand. Instead, he pulls the string off of his fingers and places it back on the table where he found it. 

“Did I wake you?” he asks. 

Your prostration temporarily clouds your mind, forcing your brows to furrow at his question. He watches as you mull his words over in your mind, then shake your head. 

“No.” The fox on screen begins to cry out some melancholic tune neither of you can decipher, and still your eyes don’t leave Simon. You stare at him for so long he begins to question the state of your consciousness. “Will you come to bed with me?” 

Simon has to bite his tongue to keep his response from spewing out of his mouth too quickly. His hands reach for the remote where he kills power to the TV. A stillness stretches between the two of you—you swear you can hear him breathe. 

“Course.” 

Eager to get out of his jeans, Simon shucks them off in favor of sweatpants while you mindlessly climb back into bed. He’s hardly able to settle in next to you before you’re clamoring for him. Hands paw at his chest as you nuzzle against his side—he would chuckle if it didn’t make his heart swell to the point of bursting. Arm wrapped around you, he holds you close as he drags the blankets up where he tucks them underneath your chin. 

As you mumble quiet goodnights to one another, and your body goes still, Simon can’t help but think he could die like this. With you in his arms. With you here at his house leaving lights on for him to come home to. Sending him texts while he’s at work. Pictures of things you’re proud of; of things that make you happy. Perhaps that’s what he’s been missing all these years—someone to take care of. 

Or, maybe it’s just you. God, he could die like this—

—but really, he’d rather live like this. 

When morning dawns, and pale light seeps through the curtains, Simon is awoken by gentle fingers. Convinced he’s dreaming, he revels in the feeling. Nails carefully ghost the line of stubble on his jaw, working up, up, up into his hair, weaving between the short strands and rubbing into his scalp. He’s reminded of the way his mother used to wash him up as a child. Too scared to fit into the tub; leaning over the side instead as she rinses his hair clean of suds. 

Refusing to stir, he lays there for a while longer. It would be a lie to say he hasn’t had an appetency for this; for you. Your warmth against his side and your head on his chest, just like things were back in Manchester. That strange longing still has a hold on him. This strange affliction that not even sleep can shake off. It haunts him. Curls up tight at the side of his feet and sits with him like a cat that’s suddenly decided that his body is its home now. 

“You’re awake,” you note. 

He allows his eyes to flutter open when you speak, and his chest expands with a tired sigh. “Am I?” 

Movement ceasing, your fingers leave his hair and Simon almost reaches for you to put them back. “Your heartbeat changed,” you explain. 

Even the mere mention of it has his heart racing. You’ve been listening to it for quite some time this morning, counting each slow and steady beat as it drums against your cheek. It quickened the moment you started to caress the side of his face, lulling him back into the waking world. For a moment, it made you feel powerful; being able to change the beating heart of another person. 

“What time is it?” Simon asks. You feel his legs shift, long limbs stretching the morning ache out. 

“Dunno,” you admit. “Early.” 

“You’re not a very good watch,” he playfully grumbles. 

“Tick tock.” Things are quiet for a moment as you adjust yourself, head nuzzling further against his ribs as if you won’t be happy until you’re burrowed inside of his chest. “Were you playing with my string last night?” 

He’s glad you can’t see the odd smirk on his lips. “Was tryin’ to figure out how you play cat’s cradle by yourself.” 

You hum. “I meant what I said, you know. About teaching you.” 

Your words set off a reaction within him consisting of flexing arms and a fluttering heart. He pulls you closer, and he swears his breathing nearly ceases when he feels you melt into him. 

“Think I’d just like to lay here for now, sweetheart.”

So you do. Together. Your body lays heavy on the mattress as it holds you in place while Simon’s warmth radiates into your bones until you’re sure you’ll dissolve. You stay there laying next to him until the sun’s light transforms from a pale yellow to a glorious gold. Manna hangs heavy in the air as Simon’s thumb begins to gently caress the side of your waist—absentmindedly and sweet. 

This quiet moment ends by the fault of your stomach. It churns and protests with a pathetic growl, and despite how muted it is, Simon still hears it. Staying as still as humanly possible, you pray he doesn’t mention it—that he can allow himself to rest for just a bit longer—but of course, he stirs. 

Simon cradles your head with his palm as he moves you to the side, torso leaving the bed as he sits up, and you whine. It’s an unfamiliar sound that leaves your lips; this pathetic whimpering. It’s enough to get him to pause for a moment, body twisting as he gives you his full attention. He rests your head down on the mattress but he doesn’t retract his hand. 

“What?” he questions.

There’s a tight pull at the corner of his lips, and you’re suddenly aware of just how close he is. Hovering over you, fingers pressed into the back of your skull, his eyes locked on yours. Staring up at him, your tongue goes dry as you try to think of a response. How are you supposed to tell him he’s the first comfort you’ve felt that didn’t suffocate you? That removing yourself from him is like tearing a bandaid from your skin—epidermis removing with it? 

“Don’t go.” It’s hardly above a whisper. A susurrus that almost fails to drift through the air. 

He chuckles and it’s deep. His voice in the morning is always rough. “Gotta eat at some point today.” 

But he doesn’t move. 

Simon’s looking at you. Really looking at you. Not just into your eyes, but he’s soaking up the way the light filters through your eyelashes and the pressure indents on your cheek from sleeping. You find yourself doing the same thing; tracing every single faded scar that decorates his face and the subtle curve of his nose. His lips press together just as his thumb brushes along the apple of your cheek. You’re frozen. Forever caught in this moment. 

“Gorgeous.” 

The word leaves Simon’s lips without permission, but he doesn’t retract it. He isn’t ashamed of it, either. He refuses to play it off and be coy—he continues to caress your cheek, and you wonder if he can feel the heat brewing inside of you. Firing synapses, blood superheating to the point of sublimation—can he feel it? The way you crumble? How you melt beneath his touch? 

They say Rome was destroyed within a single day, but you know that’s not the case. Like all things, its destruction was systematic. Timed and viscerally demanded. Rome was destroyed the same way all things are—brick by brick. 

Simon takes you apart the same way with this kiss—brick by aching brick. His lips press against yours, setting you ablaze as if he’s lighting you for your immolation. Like he’s trying to burn you away until you’re nothing but ash and cinder. It’s heavy, but soft. A weight so unfamiliar yet it feels like home. It’s simple. Blithe. He neither gives nor takes with this kiss; he only speaks. 

You try to speak back as your lips perk against his, jaws gently moving in sync. It’s an insurmountable task. How are you supposed to pour out all the words you wish to speak into this single union? How can it be possible to convey to him that this is the first kiss that has not ripped you to shreds? How do you explain that you’re trembling out of ardor instead of fear? 

For once, love doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t hurt, and it tastes like stale cigarettes. 

Simon’s shaped your lips into a shy smile by the time he pulls away. Still hovering over you, he brushes a kiss against your forehead. 

“Breakfast?” he asks, muttering the word into your skin. 

He kisses you, and instead of talking about money—like you’re so painfully used to—he speaks of food. Of sharing a quiet moment with you. You don’t know why, but you want to cry. The pressure builds behind your eyes, but instead of crying, you laugh.

For once, everything is quiet. There is nothing but Simon’s soft breath against your skin, and the pounding of your own heart. Your fingers do not twitch. They do not yearn for string. 

Only for him. 

“Yeah,” you smile. “Breakfast sounds good.”

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[noirsdoll]

I am LOVING your "Jimmy gets out of prison" AU, you capture him so well. Why do I have the feeling that Jimmy won't actually get a job just to spite Anya (he doesn't want to pay her child support). Also hearing that he isn't speaking to Curly, I can totally imagine it's Jimmy who refuses to speak to Curly because Curly told him he has to take responsibility of what he's done, Jimmy literally has 100+ missed calls from Curly ;_;

Ooh I can imagine the drama if Reader/Jimmy run into Curly and Anya somewhere (they're not together but Curly wants to help Anya and the baby)...

THANK YOUUU OMG its just a dumb idea that i cant stop thinking abt LMAO thinking abt babies a lot so this is like very baby centric IDK just anya as a mom cw for referenced abuse but like barely at all... enjoy!! not shipping curly and reader btw reader is loyal unlike jimmy... first part. second part.

You’re on baby duty today, and safe to say, you’re excited.

Anya has the cutest baby ever— a cheerful little monster that latches onto your finger and coos and makes all those adorable noises. It never fails to have your baby fever running high.

You’ve always wanted kids, but something’s always stopped you. You think it might be because of Jimmy— what he might say or do to them. And the way he gets with you, when he gets angry and nothing can console him.

You walk up to the door of her cozy little burnt-sienna house. The garden is overgrown with yellowing plants, and clusters of dandelions are sprinkled across the lawn. No time to garden with a toddler, unfortunately.

Knocking on it, you assume to see what you always do— Anya beaming at you with her kid balanced on her hip, warm earth tones and crisp silver jewellery.

Instead, your eyes drag up to a man you’ve never seen before— who looks equally as shocked to see you.

His frame is blocking most of the doorway, but you peek past it to the sliver of Anya you see in the living room. “I didn’t know you had company over,” you start, “I can come over another time.”

She smiles, “Oh, it’s no problem at all! Come on in!”

The man moves out of the way and lets you in. Your eyes lock onto the kid, who’s surrounded by an assortment of colourful blocks. You take a seat next to her and watch her tiny face light up at the sight of you.

“That’s just Grant,” Anya explains, “he helps out every once and a while.”

Grant? Like, Jimmy’s friend Grant? The guy that cut him off? “Oh, from your time on the Tulpar?” You glance over your shoulder as he moves to join you both.

“Yeah. Grant, this is—”

“You’re Jimmy’s girlfriend, right?” He’s staring like he has a problem with you. What’s his deal?

You just nod, trying to scope him out. “Yeah, I am.”

Both of you look at each other for a moment, all while Anya’s daughter suckles on a wooden block. Anya breaks the silence eventually, making a show of checking her watch and getting to her feet. “Looks like it’s feeding time for you, cutie.” She picks up her baby and smacks a big kiss on her head, who gurgles happily in return. She turns to you. “I’ll be a moment. You two should get to know each other.” 

As she disappears down the hall, you turn back to Grant. He frowns some more, before he finally says. “I heard Jimmy got out around a month ago— is everything going alright?”

You blink at him, shocked. Why does he care? Isn’t this the man that Jimmy claimed to have abandoned him? “Yeah, it’s fine.”

“He hasn’t… done anything to you, has he?” Grant steps forward and places a hand on your shoulder in an attempt to be soothing. The second you freeze, he pulls it right back.

“What are you saying?” You say, anger rising in your voice. You just met this guy like five minutes ago and he thinks he knows everything about you.

“Sometimes he… realizes what he’s doing only after he’s done it.” He glances down the hall. “With Anya... I just don’t want something like that to happen again. He frowns. “Let me know, okay? I can—”

“Our relationship is none of your business,” you snarl. This prick has the toughness of marshmallows— what could he ever do to affect Jimmy?

Finally seeming to sense your annoyance, he backs off. “Alright, alright. We don’t have to talk about it. Just tell the guy to pick up his phone every once and a while.”

“You’ve been calling him?”

He nods. “Yeah, I’ve been calling for the last two weeks. I tried to when he was in the compound, but he must’ve redirected them or something, ‘cause I couldn’t reach him.”

“He said that he…”.

Grant perks up at that. “What did he say?”

You shake your head. “Nothing.”

Anya comes back around the hall with a newly energized toddler in her arms. “Who’s ready to play?!”

Grant glances at you one last time. “I mean it, though. Call me, text me, anytime.”

You nod, off put by him just as much as you are endeared. You focus on Anya’s adorable baby girl, ignoring the buzzing of your phone in your back pocket as Jimmy realizes you aren’t home like you said you would be.

[lillaydee]

Shhh!!! Part 6

Celebrity!Joel Miller / F Reader

A reluctant celebrity contractor who has closed his heart for love meets a celebrity-hating Cafe on Wheels owner...

She HATES him. Thing is, he couldn't get enough of the coffee she makes...

Tag List:

@kirsteng42 @peelieblue @harriedandharassed @joelalorian @vickie5446 @inept-the-magnificent @maried01 @brittmb115 @peedrow @lovefreylove @liciafonseca

Let me know if you would like to be added/removed from the tag list.

Dividers by the awesome @saradika

Header by Moi cause I learned how to use Canva! Yay me!

WARNINGS: Grumpy Joel (The Last of Us), Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Good Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Celebrity Joel Miller, Fluff and Angst, Eventual Smut, I'm Bad At Tagging, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags May Change, Hurt Joel (The Last of Us), Jealousy.

SERIES MASTER LIST

Part 5

What on earth was she doing?

Lucy was pacing your tiny living room, looking as if she was about to implode, and, if you were seeing and hearing right, she was muttering to herself, as if having some important discussion you were not privy to. She stopped, gesturing at the wall, before turning around and mumbling once more.

“Lucy? Are you okay? Do I need to call someone?”

She stopped, looked at you, and went to your fridge, taking out a carton of milk. She opened it and drank it all, wiping her mouth off a milk stache before tossing the now empty carton into the trash can.

“So, tell me straight. Are you, or are you not fucking him?”

Your mind wasn’t working. Why would she ask you that? You were not friends, you didn’t know her enough to share such info. All she knew was that she saw Joel leave your place. Did that simple act translate into fucking to these young ones? Were men not allowed to visit with their lady friends anymore? And even if you were (eww…), how was it any of her business?

“Look, I know you hate me and all, but I need to warn you about him. He’s not a good guy,” she continued, raiding your fridge for something else to consume. She re-emerged with a sponge cake Betty, one of your food truck neighbours had gifted you, tipped the whole thing onto a plate and sat on your couch, eating the cake as if it was a huge piece of twinkie. “Did he make you sign an NDA?”

Huh?

“An NDA, a Non-Disclosure Agreement. To make sure you don’t talk.”

Blank stare. You hadn’t even moved from your front door, still holding it open, still trying to figure out what the heck was happening.

“Shut the door, for fuck’s sake. I might get in trouble even asking you about this!” she hissed, sponge cake spraying all over your carpet.

You did but stayed where you were.

“Well, come over here, I can’t scream this bit out. I’ll fucking get sued!”

You hesitantly walked over to her, wondering if you even wanted to hear this.

She looked around, as if expecting someone hiding behind the curtains, before facing you again.

“Does he kiss you?”

Huh?

“Does he kiss you? On the lips?”

“Uh… no… but…”

“Then I need to warn you. Believe me that NDA is coming. Get out of it. Now. Look, that guy may be hot as fuck, but he has no heart. He’s like a fucking robot. He’ll fuck you ‘til he’s done and then leave. He doesn’t even try to make you finish. It’s all about stress release for him. Nothing more. You need to stop before you get your heart broken.”

You just stared at her, your mind processing what she had just said.

She looked down at her hands, head down, fingers crumbling the sponge cake you were looking forward to eat later that day, her voice cracking. Turned out, she was doing some part time job as his assistant at one of his locations a few years back, before he adopted Ellie, she was about ten years younger than him. She had just moved to LA, looking for a career in the industry.

“I just really liked him, you know? I worked with him every day. He wasn’t like the other bosses I’d worked for. He was so nice. Gentlemanly. The media made him seem like a jerk, but he’s so sweet and gentle, never raised his voice, never yelled, so I thought I was special, you know? I was new here, and I thought I knew better.”

You sat down, finding yourself feeling sorry for her a little.

“God, I was crushing so hard on him. Took me months, but I gathered enough courage to ask him out. Just for a drink. He told me he didn’t do that, not one on one. We could go out with the whole crew, he said, but not alone. But I thought he was just playing hard to get, you know? I heard about his past ‘friends’, rumours, of course, but I thought he was just not ready then. I heard about his late wife, so I played it cool. I finally told him how I feel about him, he simply told me he didn’t do relationships. I thought about it, but I had to try, you know? He was so nice. And oh… so sexy. So… normal… for someone famous. I mean, even compared to his brother… he was just like an everyday man.”

She started crying. You gave her the tissue box, and she quickly wiped her eyes with a couple.

“I should have known,” she sobbed, “He wouldn’t even kiss me. He kept saying he didn’t do that, and stupid me, I thought I could change his mind. Who doesn’t kiss?” She took a deep breath, as much as she could anyway, while still sobbing uncontrollably.

“God I was so stupid! I kept throwing myself at him. I was so desperate for him to like me. He kept telling me he didn’t do relationships and I chose not to hear it. I practically offered myself to him on a platter. I slept with him, just once. He kept asking if I was sure. Kept reminding me he didn’t want anything more. Whatever happened, it would just be sex. And I was so besotted with him I just said yes. It wasn’t even romantic. He didn’t even kiss me. It was over so quickly. We were in his office. A shipping container with AC. He didn’t even want to get drinks with me after. Much less ask me to his place or come to mine. Just zipped up, said thanks, and left. And stupid me, I was giddy. He chose me.”

She took another deep breath, much calmer this time. “The next day, I came to work happy. I thought, we had sex, right? So we must be something now? I tried to kiss him, and he pulled back, reminding me he didn’t want that. It was just sex. It was just one time. He reminded me that he had been honest and upfront. It can never happen again if I wanted more, relationship wise. I was heartbroken. Changed jobs immediately. I spoke with some people he was rumoured to have been ‘friends’ with, and they told me they couldn’t say anything. And what’s more, they didn’t want to say anything. He was nice, upfront, and they agreed to his conditions. They even signed NDAs to that fact. They had nothing but nice things to say about him. They agreed, it was just sex. If you’re lucky, he’ll come back for seconds, even thirds. If you’re very lucky, he’ll see you again on a more regular basis.”

“His agent came knocking days later, NDA in hand. I can’t say anything about him or that day to anyone. I’m breaking the fucking rule telling you about this. But if I can save you the heartbreak, I am willing to risk it. Don’t do it, Lily. He’ll only break your heart.”

You were lost for words. She just went on a rant about Joel, the man you did not sleep with, risking a lawsuit while doing so, too. How do you tell her you didn’t sleep with him, nor were you planning to, without her being angry at you? She went through all those tears trying to warn you. And now you just felt bad.

“Uh… Lucy, I didn’t sleep with him. He’s just a friend.”

“What?”

“He came to fix my shower. That’s all.”

Silence. Her face blank.

And then it morphed into one of what you could only describe as a tantrum.

“YOU’RE TELLING ME I’VE JUST RISKED A LAWSUIT FOR NOTHING?” she screeched.

You gave her a slight nod, a cringe on your face, which may or may not have come off as mocking her – she certainly took it that way – tears gone, all that simpering ‘I care about you too much to let him do this to you too’ look all but gone. She huffed her way past you to your door, taking your precious sponge cake with her, only stopping to growl at you to not mention the conversation to anyone through gritted teeth, slamming your door behind her so loud you could feel the floor shake.

You took a deep breath after that.

Well… that was… more info than you’d like to digest this morning.

You didn’t have anything to do. You’ve cleaned your tiny apartment twice, did all your laundry, deep cleaned the truck and machine, and now you didn’t know what to do. What do you do on a Monday? You called your Uncle Bill, but he was busy. So you decided why not? You hadn’t been grocery shopping in ages. You didn’t really cook that much, usually too tired to cook by the time you got home. But perhaps getting some ready made food or ramen wouldn’t be such a bad idea. Plus, you needed lunch, and that sponge cake Lucy demolished and later stole was all the food you had in your fridge. That, and a questionable orange and two tomatoes, which you were sure moved when you pushed them aside to clean the fridge.

You were in the midst of deciding which ramen to buy when you heard your name being hollered through the store, a very excited Ellie following it. She practically tackled you, telling you it was weird to see you outside of the truck, without your kerchief and apron.

“Hey, excited teenage girl, why are you so excited to see me? You’ll see me tomorrow, you know that, right?”

“Nothing! I’m just excited! How’s your shower head?”

“It’s fine now. Thanks to your Dad,” you told her, moving your basket away from her prying eyes.

She took a glance, looked at you with such disappointment in her eyes and cocked her brow at you, “Really Lil? Ramen? Why don’t you take some of those microwaveable mac and cheese too?”

“Ooh! Where are they? Can you show me?”

She just laughed at you, shaking her head, taking your arm in hers and led you to the aisle, even going so far as recommending you which brands to get. The two of you went around the store, filling your basket with more instant stuff for you to reheat when you get back from work, her phone beeping over and over, before finally ringing incessantly.

“You don’t pick up your phone?”

“Eh, it’ll stop,” she said, rather nonchalantly, as the two of you made your way to the till. She grabbed a loaf of bread as you approached, paid for it, and quickly said goodbye. You didn’t even have the chance to say goodbye back before she disappeared.

You walked out with bags upon bags of instant food and one measly bag of apples in your arms – that’s healthy, right? – and tried a magical feat where you tried to get your phone out without letting go of the bags, your tongue sticking out in concentration.

“Hey Lil!”

It’s her again. She came running, sans bread, taking the bags from your right arm, asking you if you’d had lunch.

“Er… no, I’m excited to try that mac and cheese though,” you told her.

“Come on, have lunch with me. You like Thai?” she asked, starting to walk towards the Thai place just at the end of the street.

“Okay, sure!” you said, taking one of the bags in your left arm to lighten the load.

A pair of bigger hands appeared and took all your bags from you. You turned.

Joel.

“I take it you’re joining us for lunch?” he asked, smiling at you. “Where’s your car? we can leave the bags in there, unless… anything perishable in here?” he asked, scanning the contents of your bags.

Oh… dear Lord… he now knew what kind of a person you were in the kitchen.

“Um… I don’t drive. I’m Ubering.”

“Ellie,” he said, beckoning her back to the front of the store. The two of them left you standing there, and you watched helplessly, red in the face, as they placed your groceries in his truck. Huh… a beater of a truck. Not at all something you’d imagined a celebrity like him would be driving.

You didn’t know what to do. You were all for it when you thought it was just you and Ellie, but now that you know Joel was here too? First of all, it was mortifying that he knew you didn’t cook, and you didn’t know how to look him in the eye upon that little revelation. Second of all, Lucy’s story, while questionable, was still fresh in your head.

You didn’t know why, but that story she told you bothered you. Was that the kind of man he was? Sure, he’s still mourning his late wife, that much you got, empathized with, even, but did it excuse the way he treated her? And yes, he was upfront with her, but… did he need to fuck her and then serve her with an NDA when she wanted more? It all just seemed… typical playboy male Hollywood celebrity to you, and whatever blushes you may or may not have had when the two of you were saying goodbye that morning was instantly shoved out of your person.

That was not the kind of mess you wanted to ever be involved in, thank you very much.

Or maybe, just maybe, you just felt a bit uneasy that the sight of him emerging from your bathroom with water from his wet hair trickling down to his neck and chest stuck to your brain like superglue. And the fact that you googled him after Lucy left and saw that topless picture of him in a hard-hat, wielding a very large hammer.

It was then you started obsessively cleaning your apartment and truck. Twice. Purely a coincidence, obviously. As if you would clean just because you couldn’t get those images out of your head. Madness.

“You ready?” his voice jolted you out of your daydream. Ellie took you by the hand and pulled you to the restaurant, asking you 100 questions about whether or not you had eaten there, and before you could even answer, offered you 100 suggestions of what you should try. “Ellie, let the woman think, please,” Joel chastised, earning him a raspberry from the teenager.

Once you were seated, you asked Ellie to order for you. Anything Thai was good to you, so you didn’t mind.

“So, Sarah’s coming home tomorrow? You must be excited,” you started, not willing to sit in awkward silence – although it was you who was mostly awkward, what with the revelation of that morning.

“Yeah, she was supposed to leave around seven, but I got a text from her at four am saying they were already leaving so maybe they’d get here earlier than planned. Depends on where they stop tonight. They were supposed to stay at her friend’s but if they got there early, they might drive on and stay at a motel.” There was a small frown on his features, one you could only decipher as a worried father.

“He doesn’t like the idea of her staying at a motel,” Ellie explained, “Too dodgy, no security. She won’t be alone, Joel, there are three of them, she’ll be alright,” she coaxed her obviously worried father.

He smiled at her, nodding a little, “I know, I just…” he took a deep breath. “Anyway, that means that I might not be able to earn my coffee for the rest of this week, and I would rather have Ellie home too, so we could all spend some time together,” he looked apologetic, or maybe… a little regretful? “She’s gonna skip Frank’s class this week.”

“Hey, up until a week ago, I do that alone. It’s no problem.”

He mouthed a thank you, before telling Ellie what he wanted for lunch.

The three of you chit-chatted for a while, and just as lunch was served, a bunch of teenagers walked in.

“Ooh! That’s my friend Dina, I’m gonna go say hi,” Ellie said, immediately getting up to join her friends, coming back a few minutes later to get her plate, winking at you and Joel, and left.

“Well, looks like it’s just us two, then,” he said, “Just like a date!” before taking a slurp of his Tom Yum Gung.

You choked on yours, spluttering Tom Yum soup all over yourself. He panicked and came to sit next to you, rubbing your back, giving you napkin after napkin to help you clean up. He waited until you got Tom Yum out of your nostrils before going back to his seat, wary eyes on you. He asked if you were alright, and when you nodded, he hung his head for a bit.

When you looked up, Ellie was staring at you from her table, mouthing ‘are you okay’ to you. You nodded, before thanking Joel for helping you out, apologizing for his trouble, and at the same time frowning at your formerly white shirt, now splattered with red.

“Is the idea of being on a date with me that horrifying? Lucy said something to you, didn’t she?”

You froze. You didn’t know what to say. You knew Lucy would get in trouble if you did say something.

“Lucy? No. Why? How did you know her, by the way?” you feigned ignorance, taking a careful slurp of your soup.

“She was my assistant, for a while, before Ellie came to live with me,” he said, plucking a forkful of the mango salad. “We… uh… slept together once. I was very clear I didn’t want anything more, she did, and she left for another job after. So, we didn’t exactly part on good terms.”

From the way he was speaking, it was clear to you that he regretted the way things ended with Lucy.

“I wouldn’t have minded continuing a working relationship with her, professionally, but she left. I haven’t seen her before this morning.”

“Can I ask? Why didn’t you want anything more with her?” you heard yourself ask before you could stop yourself. Shit. He’s gonna go back to being a grump now, isn’t he?

Instead, he smiled, “I just… don’t have it in me anymore. After my late wife… Laura. She died when Sarah was one. After her, I just… I’m not sure I want to go through something like that again.”

You nodded, “I’m so sorry, Joel, truly.”

He shrugged. “I’m okay, being alone, I mean. I have my girls, my work, Tommy, I get by. I just… I’m…”

“Not ready,” you tried. He nodded.

“What about you? You seeing anyone?” he asked, eyes averted from yours, focusing instead on fishing the prawn in his Tom Yum.

“Nah… never again,” you said, picking a cashew off the mango salad.

Was it your imagination, or did he seem relieved?

“So I don’t have to worry about some dude attacking me for having lunch with you?”

You laughed, “No, Joel, you don’t have to worry.”

He wiped his forehead in mock relief.

“So, Laura was the last relationship you had?”

He nodded, “I won’t lie, I had a couple ladies I could call if I wanted to, but since Ellie came to live with me, I don’t do that anymore. She was having a hard time, and with Sarah in college back then, I just didn’t have the time for all that. So, now I’m just… single. No arrangements, no nothing. Free and clear. Plus, with the way the media is these days, it’s just not convenient. My cousin visited a couple of years back, she was seen around town with me, and someone looked her up. She received threats just for being seen with me,” he shook his head, looking regretful. “Luckily, she was used to that, most of my family and friends are, but I don’t think some innocent lady would be okay with that, you know?”

You nodded in agreement, eyes wide at the thought of some innocent woman being threatened by jealous fans.

“So, how long since your last relationship?” he asked.

You took a deep breath, doing the math in your head. “A few years? He left me to be with Cleo Savvant.”

It was his turn to splutter but held his hand up when you tried to help him. He laughed a little, begging you to tell him the story. When you did, he could only shake his head.

“No wonder you hate celebrities, huh?”

You huffed a laugh, “It didn’t help, that’s for sure.”

“Well, he’s an idiot.”

“You don’t even know him.”

“He left you for Savvant, that’s all I needed to know.”

You were touched, not that you would show him. So you gave him a little smile, mouthing a thanks.

“To be fair, we were on the edge of breaking up anyway, we were barely speaking to or seeing each other anymore. She did me a favour, taking him off my hands, really. All it took was a hug and a smile, and the next thing I knew, he’s all shacked up with her. He didn’t want to move in together with me, said he didn’t believe in cohabitating before marriage. But he wasn’t exactly proposing either, so it was about time, really.”

He looked contemplative for a while before asking you the next question, “So, never again?”

“You asked me today, so yeah, but who knows? I might change my mind one day. but right now? I have all I need, roof over my head, food in my belly, money in the bank… so, yeah. Never again. I don’t need a man to survive. Unless of course, my shower head breaks again.”

He guffawed, amusement clear across his entire body. You looked across the room, Ellie looking at her Dad, a smile clear on her face. Her friends were looking too, all with sly smiles on their faces.

He insisted on driving you home, Ellie climbing in the back seat as soon as you said okay. The drive was filled with easy banter and laughter, Ellie quiet in the back, busy with her phone. You told him not to, but he carried your bags of instant food to your door for you, telling you he will see you the next week for his coffee, before giving you a small peck on your cheek.

By the time you shut the door, you were sure you had a fever from the heat radiating from your cheek to the rest of your body.

Sarah laid on the bed in the motel that night, body tired from driving for hours, ready to just shut her eyes for a much needed rest to drive home the next day, when her phone pinged.

She watched the videos Ellie had sent her. Her dear old Dad, sitting at a table alone with you, laughing his head off, chatting and laughing freely with you in his truck, looking more carefree than she had ever seen him, walking towards some apartment she had never been to before, carrying your groceries for you, and finally, walking back to the truck, a smile evident on his face, despite the lone walk.

Oh wow… Ellie was right.

Her dear old Dad had a crush. On the sweet coffee lady.

Sarah went to bed smiling that night, impatient to see Ellie for more updates, and to see her Dad with you with her own eyes.

“Hey Beanie,” your Uncle Bill greeted that Wednesday morning, trudging over to your truck as you arranged the chairs out front.

“Uncle Bill,” you ran over to hug him, “What are you doing here?”

“Felt bad I couldn’t spend yesterday with you, so here I am, needed to spend time with my favourite niece,” he said, giving you a hug back.

“I’m your only niece, and you hate my truck.”

“I do, but you are always working, and the one day you didn’t, I was not free, so here I am.”

“Aww… you’re willing to suffer through the truck for the day for me?”

He rolled his eyes, taking off his light jacket and rolling his sleeves. He shooed you inside and continued unfolding and arranging the tables and chairs for you. He was not chatty, your Uncle Bill, and was by far the grumpiest and most awkward man you had ever met. But he loved you, in his own ways, and you, him. He lived alone in a condo at the edge of the city, a quiet, retired life.

He was extremely close to his only sibling, your stepmom Jenny, and was still contemplating whether or not to move back to Wyoming to be closer to her. His only excuse for not moving immediately was you, he didn’t want to leave you alone here, but you could tell he was lonely. He’s a mysterious man, your Uncle Bill. For as long as you remembered, you had never seen him with a lady friend and was single to this day. He bought that condo to be closer to your grandma, who was living in a facility in that area until she passed and decided to just stay there. You spend every free day you had with him, if not for nothing, to enjoy his cooking. Damn, that man could cook. You wouldn’t think it, looking at him. So serious, with his full beard and sharp eyes, but he had to be the softest, kindest man known to men.

He hated the truck, too small, he said. Too claustrophobic. Even staying outside brought out the grump in him. He used to sit at a table as you and Jenny worked, scowling at everyone. When confronted, he told Jenny his aim was to scare all your customers away so you would give up the stupid truck.

When Dave dumped you, he spent a week standing outside his apartment building and work place, just to send him a message. Dave called you to beg you to call your guard dog off, and your dear Uncle Bill simply moved on when you did, telling you that his message had been delivered.

He’s retired now, but spent his days volunteering for the facility your grandma had been at, doing pro bono work for folks who needed representation. So there he was, minding the till for you as you made coffee, gruffly telling the customers how much they owed, a scowl on his face, despite your coaxing for him to smile every now and again.

“Hurts my face,” he grunted, but smiled, nonetheless, when you gave him a pleading kiss on his bearded cheek.

He retained that smile when he greeted the next customer.

“Well, well, well, who do we have here?” Frank’s familiar voice greeted. You turned around to see him looking your Uncle up and down with interest. “Another macho man to help you mind your till, Lily? You must tell me your secret!”

“Hi Frank,” you greeted, “This is my Uncle Bill. Uncle Bill, this is Frank, he’s a retired art professor, volunteering here for the summer.”

Your Uncle Bill stood stock still where he was, staring at Frank, before mumbling something about needing to get something from his truck. Frank chirped a cheerful goodbye to him, got his coffee and left. Your Uncle Bill came back 20 minutes later, sans anything in his hands, clearing the tables, eyes looking around as if looking for someone.

He spent the day complaining about the truck being too cramped, too hot, too wobbly, the music too loud, the food too dry, the customers too smiley, the sun too bright, the bathrooms too far. But you, being used to his complaining, just smiled along and entertained him the best you could, appreciative that he gave up his day to spend time with you in this ‘too everything’ environment. He insisted on taking you out to dinner, driving behind your truck after closing, keeping you company as you took it through the wash, and parked in your garage, before driving you home after, letting you hug him for five whole minutes to show him how much you appreciated him spending the day with you.

You woke up the Thursday morning to a picture from Ellie of her, Sarah and Joel with sushi between their teeth, grinning at the camera, making your heart soar at the little family, reunited.

You drove up to your usual spot early the next morning to your Uncle Bill waiting.

“Uncle Bill? What are you doing here? I thought I won’t see you ‘til Sunday,” you said, hugging him as he helped you down from the truck, shutting the door behind you.

“Just wanted to spend some more time with you,” he said, “I had fun yesterday, just wanted to have another go at it.”

Uh huh. Right.

Well, no one would hear you complain. You enjoyed having him around. So you went about your day, him by your side. He started easing up a bit as the day went by, particularly after Frank made his daily coffee stop, smiling his reluctant smile to your customers, staying until closing, having dinner with you and hugging you goodbye.

And again on Friday.

He was rather moody on Saturday and asked you to close Sunday.

He was back Monday, looking jittery as hell, and when Frank left to go to class with his coffee, your Uncle Bill ran after him, asking him if he would be free to join the two of you for lunch.

“I thought you would never ask,” Frank said, giving your Uncle Bill his card. “See you at noon,” he said, before turning around to leave, giving your dear old uncle a dazzling smile as he did.

You stood in the doorway of your truck as your Uncle Bill smiled wider than you had ever seen him, your head tilting trying to figure out what the fuck was going on, your eyes focused on your dear old uncle, who was now staring at the card Frank gave him intently, joy written all over his face.

Wait… was he…

Oh.

Oh...

Part 7

[amaiguri]

I finished the first draft of Yssaia.

Shut up, /I'M/ not crying because I've been working on the same project for 7 years and I just finished the first draft and it's super emotional and it's about moving on past loss and deciding to live, YOU'RE crying!

I guess spoilers for the last line but I think it reveals almost nothing:

"I settled with them against altar and turned my face to the sun. No matter how the stars turned, I’d always find that same warmth."

...I am so emotionally drained. I wrote so much today. And yesterday. Yesterday, I wrote like 5k and deleted 3k of it. Today I wrote about 9k. It's usually a good day if I get in 1k. This has been a huge push. But I did what I said I would: I finished it before February ended.

Omg and this relatively high-emotion song was playing when I finished and it's by my favorite OST artist and I'd never heard it before and now it's like gonna make me cry every time I hear it:

Also, I'll have a vlog going up about it on my YouTube channel eventually but for now, you can just get this text-based glimpse of tired Amai.

ANYWAY.

...She did it. And if I ever abandoned the project in the future, I can relish in the fact that I got this far.

But as like all the characters are saying at the end, "There's still so much more work to be done."

Tagging @cee-grice and @zebee-nyx, cuz I think it might interest you.

[lilysworldofjoy]

"Just admit it!" (Dandy's World tickle fic)

A/N: No Lee Rudie fics? I'll fix that, thank you very much (my motivation to write fics at almost fucking midnight is wild—)

Him combo'd with ler Bobette have been gyrating in my mind since.. a long time, so uh... Yeah. Also, look out for mentioned/implied Lee Bobette and Lee Ginger

Keep in mind, just cuz it's not Christmas doesn't mean I'll stop rudieposting... heh...

Plot: Bobette is trying to get toy ideas, so she goes to ask Rudie. That's where she makes a... rather interesting discovery—and decides to exploit the living hell out of it.

~🦌🎁~

It was a snowy day outside Gardenview. Of course it was, it's December after all. The month of the holidays!

Inside, Bobette was walking hurriedly around the area with a large box that had some toys inside. Her dog, Coal, was asleep next to the peppermint chair she usually sits on.

She places these toys on the table nearby. "Phew!" The bauble put her hands on her hips and said, "A job well done! Now... what do I make this time?" Bobette asked herself.

She asked Ginger. Maybe she should make a toy oven, the cookie says. That wouldn't end well, the bauble thought. So despite the measures that would be taken, that idea was scrapped.

Ginger is a good friend, of course! She's just a tad bit worse at ideas than everyone else, and that's why she's not asked frequently.

Or maybe... a toy sleigh! That can work! But... she tried to make that many a time, and no matter what, nothing just sparked her eye in the right way. So it was scrapped too, but one day, it would be a reality.

Bobette had an idea, maybe she can make her friends suggest some toys! So she headed off to the place where she knew she would get some really good ideas for them.

Rudie was untangling the Christmas lights from his body.... again. They shone as he removed them, the lights as bright as his nose. Of course, his peppermint-looking antlers stood out as always. He was almost done with that, and that's when Bobette entered his room.

"Rudieee! Hellooo!"

"Oh hi Bobette! Did you know it's Christmas?", the reindeer asked as the Christmas lights finally fell off of him, practically glowing bright with excitement.

"Of course I did, silly." She said, smiling. "Any good ideas you got?"

He knew the drill, practically giggling to himself as his tail wagged and he said "Oh boy.."

"How about a rocket, or a doll? A bicycle! A unicycle, even! Oh, oh! What about—" Bobette took notes fast, watching as Rudie kept on talking about toys she should craft, like a yo-yo, or maybe even some building blocks.

"Okay, that's enough! Thanks Rudie!", she said, giggling as she did the reflex thing: giving his side a playful poke, causing a flinch and a muffled squeal to exit his mouth. The reindeer swore a shiver ran down his spine.

Wait. Did she see (or hear) that correctly? Or was she just imagining things? The bauble decided to try again, but in a panic the reindeer slapped her hand away. He didn't mean to hurt her, but he was too embarrassed to state something about it.

"D-Don't do that! It's... It..." Rudie hesitated to finish his words, his ears going lower, and his face going a shade of red, though not as bright as his own nose. Said nose flickered slightly as he said this, akin to a broken LED light.

Bobette started to register this. Carefully. Methodically. In a calculating way, even. And then, the cogs in her head started to spin. And once realization dawned, she smirked.

...Oh no.

Oh NO.

But to her, it was oh YES.

There has got to be a way to avoid this fate for himself, the reindeer thought. There simply has to be!

If the bauble gets the gist even once, he's as good as done. But too bad for him, she almost instantly got the gist.

After all the times she was wrecked by him. After every ticklish piece of torment both she and Ginger had to endure. After all those days, it was finally her time to shine. It was finally payback time.

And it was about to be glorious.

Too bad for him, because his ticklishness?

Hoo boy.

Her smirk simply stayed in her face as she giggled. "You think I didn't notice? The fact it tickles?~"

"Uh... uhm..." The reindeer looked back at the closed door, and put his hands up in defense. "L-Listen Bobby," He said his voice shaking as he managed a shaky smile, "we can talk about thi—"

"Oho, there's no talking now." The bauble would rub her hands together and wiggle her fingers with a wide, menacing smirk. "Hope you're readyyy...~" she stated in a sing-song tone that made him panic.

Rudie stepped back, going against a wall. He tried to dodge every tickly attack, but Bobette didn't give up till she finally got him., right on the stomach.

"Pff—"

It was a matter of seconds before he was a giggling mess, flailing on the floor. "AHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"Gotcha! Now to amp this up~" The bauble did her tickles in a more fast manner, causing his legs to kick, he struggled to get out of her grasp. But she was strong, capable of making sure he stays. Plus, his laughter was adorable. She couldn't stop now after making this discovery!

"NAHAHAHAHAH! AHAHAHAHAHA!"

"Now now. Stop moving, or I'll getcha on your melt spot~", she said as her fingers started hovering over to his hooves, but not going there instantly. "These cute little hoovesies right here~"

That's what she thought. And somehow, she was right. The mere mention of... THAT place made him squirm even more. "NOHO, WAHAIT! I'M SOHORRY!" *snort* "PLEHEASE!" *snort*

Bobette froze the second he let that out. Was she hearing things right or was that a...?!

"Oh my gosh." She smiled as her eyes shone. "You snort?! Ooh, like a little piggy! That's SO cute!"

That immediately made the bauble want to tickle the reindeer more. Oh, did Rudie want to sink into the ground and dissapear upon hearing that.

And just like that, she buried herself on his stomach and did a raspberry right there. The reindeer did nothing but let out a loud shriek.

"NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!" *snort* "STAHAHAHAHAP!!"

But Bobette simply went to town, her fingers now circling Rudie's sides and not seeming to stop anytime soon. His legs kicked like their lives depended on it as she continued to tickle him.

"Uh uh uh. I'll only do that if you say it~", she responded to his pleas in a singsong tone, making him redder than his own nose in a matter of seconds.

"SAHAY WHAHAT?!"

And that's when she dropped the bomb, said bomb making him metaphorically explode.

"Just admit it! You're a ticklish reindeer~"

No.

No.

Hell no.

No way he's saying THAT.

"NOHOHOHO—" *snort* "IHI'M NOHOHOHOT!"

"Resistant, eh? Let's see how you react to THIS!~"

The bauble simply grabbed one of his legs and tickled one of the hooves. Let's just say he was gone, for that? That was the final straw.

The squeal that exited him was shrill, loud, and caused him to desperately bang his fist against the ground.

"NAHAHAHAHAHAH—" *snort* "NOT THEHERE! PLEHEHEHASEE!"

"Aww, what's wrong?~ Did I find your melt spot?~"

Rudie just squealed. Then Bobette got an idea, she got down, and did one raspberry on his stomach as she went to town on his hypersensitive hoof.

"OKAHAY! OKAHAY! IHI'M A TIHICKLISH REINDEER!! HAHAPPY?!"

"There we go." She smiles. "I'll just do it for.... A bit longer~ Your laugh is already cute on its own, but it's WAY cuter than before when I go here~"

"NOOOOOOOOHOHOHO!!"

After about five more minutes (which felt like HOURS for Rudie), Bobette finally stopped, letting him catch his breath for once.

"Hmpf... yohou're.. soho... mehehean..." He said in residual giggles, hating how mean she was when it was him. Like a whole different breed of toon when it came to him. She only smirked and said,

"Well, I'm just being nice!"

But deep down, the bauble was so excited she thought, ("Ginger HAS to know about this!")

If the cookie got word, he was beyond done, and we all know what that means: his reign was going to end very, very soon.

And he just hopes that day NEVER comes.

But Bobette? She and Ginger wanted exactly that and more.

Much, MUCH more.

~🦌🎁~

A/N #2: BOY did I cook with this one. I love revenge tickles, ain't nothing better than revenge tickles