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soubi122 · 1 year

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heyy I have a request!! so I really loved reading bite my tongue! it was great!!! it gave me kinda teenage vibes yk? party, sex and just fun. could u write a rindou x reader smut? yk 18 y/o RI doi with his 16 y/o gf? would that work? tell me if not. so I imagined that the reader has it's first te with rindou on rans house party (tenjiku or kantou manji time-line)!!! it would make my day?!! love u <33 !!!

Hello! Sorry it took so long to respond. Unfortunately, I cannot write minor content, though I know some countries consider 16 to be an adult. I will age the reader up to be 18.

WARNINGS: alcohol, smut, virgin reader, unprotected sex, sex, f!oral. oh he's is so soft, i really do love him. IT IS CANNON THAT HE IS VERY SWEET/NICE. (pazuribe shibuya event confirmed lol)

They know you love him - one shot - request.

Having a super popular boyfriend makes it difficult to escape the scathing questions that people ask. How good is he in bed? What's he like in bed? Is it big? How long does he last? It was rather annoying and intrusive. Either way you couldn't give them an answer. Regardless of Rindou’s reputation, he was quite the nice guy - unlike the elder Haitani, Rindou was gentle. You’ve yet to lay with him, or better yet, you have yet to lay with anyone.

Tonight you were going to face those questions again as the Haitani’s were throwing a house party. Of course Tenjiku members were going to be there and you expected quite the crowd. Not to mention the amount of females who were going to be like vultures and circling around your boyfriend.

“Shion and I will be buying the booze - do you want anything in particular?” Ran asks you while you help Rindou set up the DJ booth and lights. “Hmm…what can your brother handle?” You say teasingly knowing that Rindou was within range. The hard smack of his lips made you both turn around and face Rindou - he was smirking. “I don’t know babe, I’ll have you crawling out of here - you can’t out drink me.” Challenging him for drinks was a mistake, but you had something up your sleeve. They’ve tried a lot of liquor before but you wanted to try something new. “Get me the Añejo Tequila, the one that’s in a twisted bottle and the cap looks like it was dipped in black wax.” You say mischievously. We’ll see who will be crawling by the end of the night. You think to yourself.

After finally setting up everything, the first wave of people started to flow in. They brought booze and other things to the mix. Amongst them, the number of chicks slowly increased and began to circle around Tenjiku’s men. Before you knew it, the place was crowded and the music was blaring. Haitani parties were always like this - it was the talk of Roppongi. If you weren’t there, then you weren’t cool or important. Kakucho’s nervous smile always made you laugh, he’s the youngest out of all of them and from what you could see - he has zero experience with women. Shion had two girls on his lap and a third pouring booze in his mouth. Mochi and Mucho were in the crowd with their girlfriends. Izana was making conversation with the girls that were flocking around Kakucho, teasing him and also smooth talking to some of them. Ran, of course, had dozens of girls around him, each of them trying their hardest to snatch his attention with their skimpy outfits or pouty lips.

That left you with Rindou behind the booth. You made your way back and forth between the booth and kitchen. Bringing him drinks and other things he needed. It went on for a few hours, but you never complained. While he was mixing music, he told you to go have fun, just don’t dance with any guys. As much as you liked their parties they threw, it was always hard to enjoy them when he was always behind the booth. “I want to dance with you.” You say in his ear but the crowd kept requesting songs and made it hard for him to leave the booth. “In a little bit. Gotta give the people what they want.” With that he went back to mixing. It made you feel rather ignored. Instead of protesting, you stepped down and went to the kitchen in search of some liquid courage.

“Aw, did he blow you off?” One of the girls said as you poured yourself a drink. “gOtTa GiVe ThE pEoPlE wHaT tHeY wAnT.” You say mockingly and drink. They bursted into laughter, your friends knew the answer but they weren’t expecting you to mock him in such a childish way. “So…are you planning on getting your cherry popped tonight?” Someone asked. Their question made you giggle, there was no way, he was too busy and by the time the party's over - he always passes out. “The only thing that is going to get popped are my eardrums.”

Throughout the night you drifted between the crowd and the kitchen, dancing and drinking. As much as you hated to admit it, he was a fucking great dj and played the best songs, sneaking in some of your favorites. Even though you felt as if Rindou wasn’t paying attention to you, his eyes followed you. Each sway of your hips had him mesmerized, he wondered if there was anyone stupid enough to lay a hand on you. Those who got a little close were met with an elbow pushing them away. You kept your distance and knew that Tenjiku’s men wouldn’t hesitate to start a fight.

There was one song that he played that had people dancing close and sensual. The heat that radiated off of the crowd made you dizzy, they were close and personal. Some were beginning to make out with each other, others were leading each other out of the party or into the bathroom. Even your friends were slowly getting swallowed up by the sounds and their new boy toys. From the looks of it, you were the only one without a dance partner and it made you feel out of place. Yet the pheromones emanating off the crowd had you feeling more than just the effects of the alcohol.

Everything looked like it was moving in slow motion with the flashing lights. “What's wrong? You look lost.” A familiar voice says right in your ear. Turning around you see the tall figure and signature braids. You chuckle and respond “The DJ needs a break.” You say with a smirk on your face. Ran wrapped his arms around your waist, gently pulling you in and moving to the music with you. He was close but not close enough to feel his heat. You were surprised, it wasn't like Ran to do something this bold with you - especially in front of Rindou. As long as he wasn't touchy with you, you shrugged and said what the hell. You needed a dance partner since your boyfriend was too busy to give you attention. This will surely bring him to her. Ran thinks to himself as he glances at Rindou, he is met with furrowed eyebrows and a glare so heavy that a chill runs down his spine.

What followed was Ran spinning you around rather frequently while dancing so that almost the whole floor saw your lace panties. Tenjiku's single men, along with others, only titled their heads down a bit to get a better peek at you. The way you giggled and held on to Ran made it look like he was your boyfriend. “Izana… Isn't she Rindou's girlfriend?” Kakucho asks and gets worried about a fight breaking out. Izana laughed and continued to drink, “That's the point… she shouldn't be alone anyways - he's drawing Rindou in.” Ah, so that was the plan. He was doing you both a favor.

After a few songs, Rindou still didn't come down from the DJ booth. “Ran, I need a break.” You pant and giggle as he continues to move you around. This man was seriously going to give you a workout. “Nuh-uh, you're my dance partner tonight. Besides, Rindou is still busy right?” Ran chuckles and pulls you in, he was close - a little too close. Oops… He thinks to himself when he feels your figure tightly against his. You quickly pulled away from him, this wasn’t an ok thing for him to do - even if you were close friends. Now he knew for sure that Rindou was going to stop the music, however the music continued without interruption. When Ran looked up at the booth he felt a slight sense of panic, Rindou was nowhere in sight. “Finally.” Izana says to Kakucho when he spots Rindou in the crowd. It took him a few minutes to come down from the booth, he needed to set up music so that he wouldn't have to go back up to the booth for a while.

In the blink of an eye, Rindou was now standing in front of you - his face was calm, a little too calm. You knew all too well that he was seething on the inside. “Oh, little brother – don’t take my dance partner away…” Ran kept egging him on and you felt a sudden wave of worry when he placed his chin over your shoulder, he was too close to your face. “Ran, don’t tease him like that.” You say and pull away from him, you reach out for Rindou's hand in hopes that he isn't going to start a fight. Gently, he took your hand and pulled you away from the crowd - he was leading you somewhere. “Rin… Wait, where are we going?” You questioned him and struggled to keep up.

Soon you were pushed through a door and the familiar space felt a little more threatening than welcoming. Strong arms spun you around and now you were facing your boyfriend. Those amethyst eyes were hazy and had a glint of jealousy in them. “It looks like I'm gonna have to claim you right here, right now so that they know you're mine.” His tone was low, his hands were snaking their way around your waist and the heat that radiated off of him was making your core throb. “Wait, Rin…your brother was only keeping me company.” You manage to say before he pushed you on the soft mattress. It didn’t matter, Ran was another man so of course he’d get jealous. The moment he got on top of you, you squeezed your eyes shut and prepared for the worst.

The gentle kiss on your lips made you open your eyes, Rindou was smiling softly and chuckled. “Babe, I’m not gonna hurt you - I only wanted to take you away to spend time with you.” The sincerity in his voice made you feel warmth in your cheeks and butterflies in your belly. “You’re not mad?” You ask him carefully, you weren’t sure if he was tricking you. The tender kiss he placed on your lips answered your question. The sweet taste of liquor that danced between your tongues had you both panting and roaming your hands around each other. He was taking his time and slowly unbuttoning your shirt. The moment you felt his hand try to go between your legs, you stopped him. “What’s wrong darling?” Your hands were shaking, and your heart was pounding. You hid your face under his chin, you didn’t know how to tell him.

He pulled away a bit to take a look at your face but you pulled him in and kept hiding your face. “Babe, hey - look at me. What’s wrong?” Rindou asked and managed to get you in front of his face. The worried look on your face made him feel bad for messing with you earlier. He asked you if you were mad at him for what he did or if you were frustrated with him for not paying attention to you during the party. You shook your head no and blushed even harder. “Rindou, I’ve never mentioned it before but I’ve never been touched by someone else nor slept with anyone before.” You whisper and bite your lip, you were expecting him to make fun of you or get turned off by your confession. Rindou snickered and cupped your face, his expression was loving and comforting. “You think I didn’t know? Baby, we’ve been together long enough for me to know you inside and out. Just for the record, I don’t care about that - whether or not you’ve done this before, you’re with me now and that’s all that matters.” Oh sweet baby cthulhu, this man was truly a prince, a king, a fierce god with a gentle soul.

Looking into his eyes, you could feel a wave of relief wash over you. “A-Are you sure? I thought that-” You barely managed to say before a finger was placed on your lips to shush you. “I already told you, what matters is that you’re with me now. So…can I take care of you?” His words managed to make you let go of your nervousness and fear. With a soft nod, you allowed him to continue. “I promise, I’ll make you feel good. If at any point you want me to stop, just tell me, ok?” He whispered in your ear and began to trail kisses from your cheek to your jawline, and down to your neck. It was giving you goosebumps and making your body tremble beneath him. Soon his kisses trailed down to your chest, leaving open mouth kisses and unhooking your bra and latching on to your nipple. This was nothing like before, you and Rindou never really went beyond kissing, gentle touching over your clothes and dry humping - this was a whole new experience for you.

You covered your mouth with your hand when you moaned a little too loud. However, Rindou moved your hand away and looked up at you with a devilish grin. “The music is loud enough to cover for us. I want to hear you say my name.” A chill ran down your spine, he was totally a different person. He was sweet and malicious at the same time. He went back to sucking on your nipple and rolling the other hardened bud in his fingers. You could feel the way his tongue licked and swirled your nipple, when he pulled away ever so slightly, he blew on to it. The cooling sensation had you arching your back and panting. Your hips were now rolling into the mattress and you felt your cunt ache - the slick was pooling between your legs. The sensation building up inside you felt like heaven and this was just foreplay.

Soon his right hand was under your skirt, teasing your pantyline with his fingertips - you clenched in reflex. “Rindou…” You moan his name and feel your heart pounding against your chest, he was so close to touching your honeypot. Having you like this only made him fall for you even more. It was never his goal to take your innocence but he couldn't help having his pride swell up, he was going to pop your sweet cherry. He's heard stories before about how your first always leaves an imprint… he wanted to make sure you will always remember him.

Once his hand went past that line, he slid a finger through your slit and groaned at how wet you were. “Fuck, darling…” He looked up at you with a mischievous smirk. “I need to taste you, can I do that baby?” He asks and starts to leave open mouth kisses down your chest and belly. Right before pulling your panties down, he looks back up at you and waits for your permission. Your face is dusted in pink and your eyes are hazy, biting your lip you nod a yes. “Use your words pretty girl…” Oh sweet baby Cthulhu… his tone was low and made something feral bloom inside you. This was different from before, he was making you needy and you loved it. “Rin… I want you to taste me.” You pant and grind your hips into his hand. He didn't waste any time and stripped you, those amethyst orbs drank in your bare figure - he basked at how beautiful you looked underneath him.

Positioning himself between your thighs, he teased you with kisses, slowly getting closer and closer to your core. Your essence was dripping and he couldn't help but feel his member throb under their restraints. Your thighs trembled as he got closer, you could feel his breath fan your cunt and you clenched around nothing. Rindou's tongue took a long and slow swipe between your folds, tasting your honey for the first time had him feeling something he never knew existed. It was ecstasy or maybe even bliss to him. “Ngh… oh god, your tongue… it feels s'good!” You barely manage to say before he rips another moan out of you. Lithe fingers glided through your folds, two fingers prodded your entrance and you felt a jolt of electricity.

The deeper his fingers went, the tighter you clenched and felt a throbbing sensation around your entrance. The mild stretch was to prepare you for what's to come. Your walls sucked his fingers in and it felt so different from your own hands - curse your small hands for not preparing you better. Once his fingers began to thrust slowly in and out, Rindou focused on your puffy clit and gently teased it with his tongue. There was a tingling sensation that was beginning to build up in the pit of your stomach - it was faint but you knew what it was. Knowing what could come next only made you drip even more. Now his whole hand was coated in your essence.

“You're gonna take me so well baby…” He pants and continues to eat you out as if it were his last meal on earth. His blonde and blue silky strands were now tangled between your fingers. Rindou took his time, thrusting in his fingers sensually to the point where you were begging him to go a little faster. His lips curled into a smile when he felt you grind your hips into him. He was building up your orgasm little by little, giving your body so much love and affection that you didn't know what to even think anymore. All you knew at this point was that you wanted to feel him, feel his cock between your legs and you wanted him to cum inside you. To feel that close to somebody, to feel that close to him - it was all you wanted.

He could feel how your thighs were beginning to tremble, you were close and as much as he wanted to see you come undone - he stopped. Rindou wanted you to cum on his cock, he wanted to see your pretty face from up top when you hit that perfect O. Pouting and whimpering, you take a moment to catch your breath and ask him why he stopped. “Rindou… I was so close…” The chill that ran down your spine when he sat up and zipped his pants, oh. Oh indeed. His heavy cock sprung out and dripped precum onto your slit. He was panting and pink dusted his face, those glossy orbs of his reflected nothing but love and desire.

Your lips began to tremble when he stroked himself, earning him more beads of precum that dripped on you. Absentmindedly, you spoke and admired his member. “It’s so…big.” Already having an idea that he was well endowed when innocently teasing him before, you thought you’d be able to handle him. However, actually seeing it made you feel as if you were going to be impaled. Removing the rest of his clothing, your eyes feasted on him - his broad shoulders, those gorgeous tattoos and that perfect V cut… oh it had you in a daze. You didn’t even notice the little drool that began to run down the corner of your mouth. The sound of his chuckle made you snap out of it and you looked up to see the alluring look on his face. “You like what you see, baby?” That low and husky tone made your heart skip a beat.

Leaning in to position himself, he placed a passionate kiss on your lips and cupped your face. Rindou was a true gentleman, he never gave you a reason to mistrust him nor to question his loyalty to you. Pulling away ever so slightly from your lips, he whispered “Tell me if you want me to stop…” Too enthralled in his affection, you didn’t realize this was his warning to you that he was going in. Your breath hitched the moment his tip prodded your core and slowly stretched you out. The burn was getting more and more intense as he pushed past your walls. Screwing your eyes shut, you grip his shoulders and moan in pain. Rindou placed tender kisses on your lips and wiped the tears that trickled down your face. “I know it hurts, baby. Do you want me to stop?” He asked and paused his movements. You kept your eyes closed and shook your head no, you didn’t want to stop half way - you didn’t want to disappoint him. “Hey, hey…look at me.” He says sweetly and smiles. Opening your eyes, you were met with those beautiful amethyst orbs - they were glossy and his face was dusted in pink. For the first time you see him, the real him…

“No… please. I-I can take it.” You pant and bite your lip. What you just said and the way you said it, lit an even greater fire inside him. “Good girl…fuck.” Rindou said and proceeded to bottom out in one thrust. The pressure between your thighs and hip made you dig your nails into his shoulder and back. Shaky breaths were all you could hear along with the sound of your hearts pounding against your chest. “Breathe baby…” Rindou rests his forehead on yours and slowly gives you shallow thrusts. His member was so thick, that you could feel him throb and pulse inside you. Slowly the burn of the stretch subsided and was replaced with gentle waves of pleasure. “Ngh…” You moan and rock your hips with his. “Such a good girl…” He moans and crashes his lips into yours. The fire that burned between you two had you whimpering and moaning louder and louder with each thrust.

The high you felt here was nothing like you’ve ever felt before. Your coil was already tightly wound due to his previous actions. He was making you feel special, as if you were truly the love of his life…wait, love? This is what was happening…you were making love. It wasn’t just sex, it wasn’t just a fling or a one time thing - this was love. You couldn’t help but moan out his name and the next words that rolled off your tongue set his heart on fire. “I love you…I love you…” You repeated those words like a prayer. Rindou buried his face into your neck and quickened his pace, the way his cock would kiss your cervix, it made your eyes roll back into your skull. The sound of your slick and skin colliding started to get louder. Such lewd sounds would make anyone’s core throb. For him to hit sweet spots you didn’t know existed had you writhing beneath him. His husky moans in your ear and his warmth on your body brought you closer to bliss. “Rin-Rindou! Ahn-I’m gonna cum!” You scream and clench around his cock.

He slowed his pace and proceeded to sit up on his knees, those slow but deep thrusts had you clenching the bed sheets. Your beautiful nude figure captivated him. His hand reached to pinch your nipple, he couldn’t help but touch your tits while they were bouncing. “...so perfect.” He groaned and ran his hands down your waist. True to his own words, he wanted to see you come undone and wanted to have the perfect view for it. The hand that was toying with your nipple traveled south and landed right on your clit. His fingers place pressure and move in circular motions on your puffy bundle of nerves. Rindou had your back arching and your screams could be heard to anyone who was close to this bedroom. Slamming his hips into you, he focused on how your pretty face was filled with pleasure. The way your lips parted and said his name as your coil snapped made him reach his peak. His hips stuttered and his pace got sloppy, thick white ropes filled you to the brim and you felt him throb inside your velvet walls.

Rindou leaned in and gave you the sweetest kiss, “I love you too.” He chuckles and rolls over to pull you in. His scent made your eyelids heavy and your body felt drained. Both of you were on the verge of falling asleep, well that is until a knock on the door disturbed the peaceful bliss. Rindou yells out loud, a little annoyed. “WHAT?!” What followed was Ran peeking through the doorway with a sheet eating grin. You couldn’t see him as your face was pressed against Rindou’s chest. “The music stopped a little while ago…that is all.” Ran said and closed the door. The sound of what you could only assume were Tenjiku’s men giggling like a bunch of school girls could be heard on the other side of the door. “Oh… OH!” You yell. For a moment you could have sworn your soul left your body. No wonder you two were about to float off into a deep slumber. Rindou proceeded to laugh and snort at the expression on your face. “At least they know you love me…” He says teasingly and pulls you in for another kiss.

END

Tags: @anxious-chick

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eideticspider · 4 months

Text

|| @spiderbyhalf ||

With Hanukkah and Christmas steadily approaching, Cindy was unsurprised to see the halls at HQ almost empty. What was surprising was that it was more relaxed than eerie. Clutching the two cups of coffee in her hands, she nods at the odd passersby, even smiles though her mask hides it.

Christmas used to be one of her favorite times of year before the bunker. Ezekiel didn't really do anything to celebrate for her, maybe brought her the odd book to add to her tiny collection--but nothing to the same effect that her family had. And though she and her mother had had a strained relationship since she was freed, the holidays are a little easier. The house is full of warmth and laughter, the smell of good food and simmer pots swirls around the air.

It reminds her of better times and it's a time she's come to cherish.

She'd been putting in a lot of thought into her gifts, working into the night on some occasions to make sure they were just right. For her mother, a hand knit sweater in her favorite color. For her father, she'd gone out searching for the perfect watch after he'd casually mentioned he'd broken his original. For Al, a new set of knives for his new position as sous chef at his restaurant and a new apron. Peter and MJ would be recipients of tickets to the show MJ had suggested months ago and for Mayday? Of course she had to buy her the biggest, messiest art kit that she could get her hands on.

Miguel's gift had been another one that she'd worked tirelessly on--since the day after Thanksgiving. There were constant nights where she'd collapse on her bed, smudged with lead and smeared with paint. Anxiety constantly ebbed and flowed and she worried that he would hate it. Since she finished the piece, Cindy went back and forth with just going to the store and buying him something.

It was getting to the point where she didn't have time to keep alternating between ideas.

She hadn't done the piece with any kind of intention--just a reflection of a time they shared that she looked on with fondness. He was, with the strongest definition of the term, her best friend. She valued having him in her life, regardless of the connotations.

Even if she found herself thinking about a deeper connection more and more since Thanksgiving.

And even more so after her date with Derek.

He was a nice enough guy, and they had a decent time. He hadn't tried to kiss more than her cheek and they had good conversation.

But he wasn't the one. It had occurred to her that she couldn't be with someone she had to lie to, at least not in the long-term. And she liked Derek. Not enough to share her life with, but enough to not want to have to constantly lie about who she was. As much as she'd like to take credit for declining a second date, it had been more of a mutual decision.

(And, she'd never admit this to Miguel but the meat eating had been a problem.)

Not to mention, her mind had been all over the place since Thanksgiving. Overanalyzing his kiss to her cheek had come and gone, determined to be just friendly by her forced recognition. But still, she couldn't fight off the lingering feeling that there was something more there.

Not to mention, she'd been noticing just how...beautiful he was in recent days. The lines and creases of his face, his steady posture, the rare smile that she felt privileged to see, the way joy will glimmer in his eyes at a stupid joke...If she had been an artist of old, he'd be her muse.

But she was born in the modern age and it was considered a faux pas to send two texts in a row to a guy. Jesus.

Dr. Sinclair had her work cut out for her that week.

Using her shoulder to slip into Miguel's office, she sits and nudges his cup closer to him on his desk. Neat fingers tug down her mask so she can take a long sip of her own.

"How grateful are you that it's so damn quiet right now?" She teases, leaning her hip against the side of his desk.

#spiderbyhalf #;built a fire just to keep me warm {spiderbyhalf}#;holidaze {miguel & cindy | spiderbyhalf}

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alpineglow · 6 months

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do you think you could write for Yelena Belova x reader Sharing their first kiss?

ofc!! I adore a cute little fluff fic like this, they are DELECTABLE!! also I hope y'all enjoy the fact that all my fic titles are Taylor lyrics, idk why I always love people who have super cohesive title themes. Also sorry if this is OOC or anything! I wrote this all in one go at like 10pm LMAO.

The First Kiss, It's Flawless

Ship: Yelena Belova x Reader Word Count: ~1.8k Description: Yelena's got a crush on you. She wants it to be perfect. Who better to ask than her older sister? (Spoiler: Many people are better to ask) A/N: NOTHING BUT SILLY ROMANTIC FUN FOR MY GIRLS BC THEY DESERVE THE WORLD

Masterlist

11:30am, Manhattan

"Natasha, I'm being serious," Yelena groans, shoving her face into her hands. Her sister was sat next to her on the edge of her bed, awkwardly patting Yelena on the back. When her sister asked for help, and to come to her Brooklyn apartment as soon as possible, the last thing she expected it to be for was romantic struggles.

"And I'm being serious too! You just go with the flow," Natasha says, sighing softly as her free hand pinches her brow.

"That's easy for you to say! Maria asked YOU out!" Yelena was definitely growing more frustrated, owed to the way she flopped her body back onto her bed and pulled a pillow over her face. Natasha rolls her eyes, pulling the pillow away. She earned herself a few daggers glared in return.

"Yelena, Y/N is sweet. The worst they can say is no."

"That's what you and everyone else say! I can think of so many worse things that could-"

There it was, the list of reasons she couldn't take the leap about to tumble forth. Natasha knew it all too well. It was incredibly impressive how in every other aspect of their lives, Yelena led with her head held high. This was a vast departure from that. So, with a sigh, Natasha stood up, stretching, and grabbing her keys and phone from the bed.

"What are you doing?" Yelena asked hastily, pushing herself up onto her elbows.

"Going to play matchmaker." It was a simple plan, really. Feign confused sibling, apologise if it wasn't the case. Easy operation, in and out. To Yelena though, it wasn't.

"Are you out of your mind?" Thankfully, the door was shut, meaning Yelena's shout didn't have the chance to escape the room and echo down the hallways of the apartment building.

"No- Seriously, you have nothing to freak out about! I figure it out for you, and make the opening!"

Before Yelena could object, Natasha was out of the door.

---

Natasha had asked to meet you at some nondescript coffee shop by Central Park. It wasn't out of the ordinary, meeting an Avenger in some otherwise innocuous location. Unlike other times though, this did seem like a genuine encounter. When you arrived, Natasha was already sat outside, with two coffees on a wire table.

"Hey, Nat! It's been a while!"

You'd been friends with the redhead for nearing a decade now - working with the Avengers as an intelligence officer on several occasions. On the third or fourth time, Natasha had taken a shining to you, and the pair of you became close friends.

Being close friends, she had, of course, gotten your coffee order dead on. It was a welcomed warmth in the late winter in New York.

"How've you been, Y/N?" she asks, taking a swig of her coffee. From there, the conversation flowed naturally, as if you'd seen each other yesterday. It was nice, pleasant even. You felt yourself relax into it, smiling as the odd joke came to light.

"Hey, do you mind if I ask you something?"

You furrow your brow, nodding.

"Of course?"

"Forgive me, if I'm overstepping, but I couldn't help but notice- You and Yelena? Are you two-"

A blush blooms across your face, and up your neck. You try and hide it with a sip of your coffee, but you fail miserably, choking slightly.

"What? Oh- No! No, no, no. We're just friends." You laugh nervously, coughing a few times. When you finally meet Natasha's eyes, there's a good natured humour in them. And, obviously, she had seen right through you.

"Is it that obvious?" you say, a frown meeting your expression. You'd thought you had been subtle.

"Afraid so," Natasha replies. This was good news, great news for her sister. An idea sparked though. She'd have to beg Yelena for her forgiveness though.

"You know... Yelena's free this Friday night."

Your brow furrows.

"I don't follow?"

Natasha laughs, setting her empty coffee cup on the table.

"Ask her on a date. I promise it'll go well."

Things clicked into place for you, and you roll your eyes. This was a double agent case. But that meant Yelena liked you back... Oh my god. You reach into your pocket, pulling out your phone.

"You're an asshole, you know that?"

"Hey! I had to play it cool, in case you didn't like her. Would've been really awkward if I was straight up and you weren't into her."

You couldn't argue with that logic. Finally, you find Yelena's contact on your phone, and type up a quick message.

Are you free Friday?

There's a short delay, albeit a touch too short, before Yelena responds.

Yes. Are you suggesting something?

How about a movie at mine? 7pm. Keep it casual. Like a casual date.

Yelena takes a little longer to respond this time. You hear Natasha's phone ding, and look up in time to see her laugh.

"She just called me a motherfucker."

---

Friday came all too quickly, and you found your palms sweating. You're not sure why. Your intentions had been perfectly clear when you messaged Yelena and asked her out. She knew what this was, and you did too. And it wasn't like you didn't know her - you'd warmed up to each other quite quickly once Natasha had introduced you both. Being closer in age to the younger of the sisters would do that.

To top it all off, you already had Natasha's approval. So there was nothing to be afraid of, right?

It was just you and Yelena, in your living room, watching a film.

Romantically.

Not as friends. Very very not as friends.

The microwave beeped from your kitchen, yelling at you that the popcorn had finished.

God, what am I doing?

The microwave opens with a thud when you pull the handle, grabbing the popcorn by the very corner. Holding it over the sink, you shake it a few times to disperse the butter, and get the kernels out. Fondly, you remembered it was Yelena who'd actually taught you that trick.

Finally, you dump it into a large bowl, and take it over to the living room. Netflix was already pulled up. You hadn't yet settled on what film to watch, and you'd be damned if you picked it on your own. Risk her not liking it. On your first date. The very thought sent a shudder through you.

You couldn't linger on it for too long, because the doorbell rung.

"Fuck! 7pm already," you whisper-shout to yourself, carefully dodging around the couch to get to the front door. Habitually, you look through the peephole. You're greeted with a fisheye view of the blonde, and open the door.

"Yelena! Hey!"

Why the fuck are you saying that like you didn't expect to see her. You literally invited her here.

Thankfully, she looked as nervous as you felt. Yelena smiled though, holding up a bag of M&M's.

"Hi. I brought these! Makes popcorn better," she said. "Can I come in?"

"Oh! Yea, of course, sorry!" you jumble out, stepping out of her way. You lock the door behind her as you close it, and follow her as she's already made her was to the living room.

"I didn't know what you wanted to watch, but I made popcorn!"

You're nervously fidgeting with your hands, surveying the living room situation. There were plenty of blankets, and pillows. The coffee table was in reach, with popcorn, and the new bag of M&Ms. You're too busy worrying to catch the soft look Yelena sends your way.

"We can pick off of your Letterboxd, don't you have that watch list? Movies are more your thing," she jokes, settling down with a pillow and blanket in the corner.

You agree, pulling out your phone and settling on the lounge. You're a little too tense, and sitting an almost awkward distance away from her. Not quite in her space, but not quite in yours either. You rattle off a few titles, and don't notice her creeping nearer until a hand rests on your forearm. You look at her.

"How about that one?" she asks, pointing to a movie poster on your phone. You become aware of how close she is.

"Yea... That'll work."

---

It'd happened almost 20 minutes ago now, but your knee was touching Yelena's under the blanket. It felt like electricity arcing up your body when it first happened, but now it had settled to a soft warmth. A pleasant warmth.

When the end credits rolled, Yelena stayed still for a while. Wrapped up in a blanket, leant against the armrest of the sofa.

"Wow. That was a good movie. Good taste," she said, sitting up. You liked the way her accent wove the words together. It made such a simple statement feel like the highest praise.

"Yea!" you say, standing up to take the bowl to the kitchen. "I'm glad I got to watch it with you." It's a tad sappy, but you meant it. Couldn't hurt to say on a first date.

"Do you know what time it is?" she asks from the living room, where she'd rolling up the blanket she had used. Your eyes stray to the microwave, which reads 10:30pm. You relay that information to her.

"Your place is pretty far away... I have a guest room you can use?"

"My my! Getting me to stay the night on our first date, that's very bold."

If she were anyone else, and if you'd known her for any less time, you would've panicked. A faux pas, and you would've passed out. But you could spot the jest in her tone. When you come back to the living room, she's smiling.

"I'd actually really appreciate that," Yelena says. Her tone is lower than before; more authentic. More tender. Simply more.

"Thank you for coming tonight." She looks at you, regarding you with a warmth that went just a step beyond friendship. A new dash of vulnerability.

Her hand rests on your outer forearm that's by your side. It was a sweet touch, an innocent one, too. But it felt perfect. Everything in this moment felt right, and you felt at ease.

"Can I kiss you?" Yelena asks. If you listened closely enough, dissected it with the proverbial knife, there was a touch of fear in her tone. You hadn't heard it, though.

Rather than answering, you lean forward, capturing her lips in yours. Like everything else, it felt right. It was chaste, and didn't last long enough. But for now it would be enough. It was more a promise. A beckoning call forward, a waiting hand.

Yelena's smiling when you pull away. You find yourself smiling too.

You show her to her room for the evening, and before you go to return to your own, you call out behind you.

"Night, Yelena!

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

Hope y'all enjoyed! Like I said, I wrote this in one take at night, so forgive any mistakes! Requests are open!!

#yelena belova x reader #yelena belova #marvel #x reader

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lilyginnyblackv2 · 1 year

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Daughter Daddies - 10-Year Time Skip - Sub vs Dub Comparison

I’m going to make a proper post for both Episodes 11 and 12, but I wanted to make a short, separate post for the Daughter Daddies segment of Buddy Daddies in Episode12. Having watched this scene in both sub and dub, I’m thinking the disconnect that some people are getting from the character interactions here are from a combination of two things:

1. The one degree of separation that comes about from listening to one language but reading the interaction in another. We know which characters are saying what words and we can see the way the characters are emoting and interacting with each other, but there is still a disconnect with the language being spoken and the translation being read.

2. The sub translations for Buddy Daddies have been extremely good. But having watched the series both subbed and dubbed, I feel that the dub translation comes out a bit more on top. I think that comes from the fact that there is a little more freedom and wiggle room to work with and dub translations tend to fit spoken language better/more, while sub translations tend to lean more into written language and direct translations a bit more. In most cases, these differences don’t really matter, but with this 10 Year Time Skip scene in Buddy Daddies, I really do think it makes all the difference.

And I think that disconnect that some people feel from that time skip scene is due to the combination of these two factors. It resulted in the sub not really being able to capture the back-and-forth/play off of each other nature of Kazuki, Rei, and Miri in the scene that the English dub is able to properly capture. There is a flow there between the three characters that you can hear in the Japanese, but can’t quite see happening in the subtitles.

I’ll try to show that aspect as clearly as I can in this comparison post, but I also highly suggest just giving the Daughter Daddies segment in Ep. 12 a watch in the English dub to really see (and hear) what I mean.

Anyway, let’s dive in!

-----

There really isn’t much difference in the scene where Miri is up in her room and Kazuki calls her down, so I’ll start with when Miri is down in the diner area with Kazuki and Rei.

Sub Miri: Papa Rei! Papa Kazu! Ta-dah! (Rei & Kazu: Oh!) Well?

Sub Rei: A high school student.

Sub Miri: Bingo!

------

Dub Miri: Papa Rei! Papa Kazuki! Ta-dah! (Rei: Nice!, Kazu: Hey!) How do I look?

Dub Rei: Like a high school student.

Dub Miri: Ding-ding-ding! (They had her say this with the Santa snow art scene too).

Thoughts: It’s small, but the addition of Kazuki and Rei actually say things like “Nice!” and “Hey!” (a “Hey” like in “Hey! Looking good!”) and having Miri ask specifically how she looks, instead of just “Well” and having that question be connected to Rei’s answer with “Like” instead of just “A high school student” helps with the flow and connectiveness of the scene.

Sub Kazu: I’m so glad you didn’t break bad!

Sub Miri: What in the heck?

----

Dub Kazu: I’m so relieved that you never ended up breaking bad!

Dub Miri: Huh? Breaking bad...?

Thoughts: It’s small, but by having Miri repeat the “breaking bad” part as a question also helps with that flow I was talking about above and with it feeling like a more connected conversation.

Sub Kazu: When you’re a parent, there’s so much to worry about. The ten years I spent since opening this diner really paid off!

Dub Kazu: You don’t know what it’s like! Parents have so much to worry about! That’s why I decided to open this diner ten years ago, and devote my life to honest work for your sake.

Sub Rei: Honest work?

Sub Miri: Didn’t you slip out yesterday to go drinking with a girl again?

Sub Kazu: That doesn’t count!

----

Dub Rei: Really?

Dub Miri: I seem to recall someone cutting out early yesterday to go drinking with the ladies.

Dub Kazu: Sorry, what was that?

Thoughts: In the Japanese, Rei does parrot back, “Honest work?” like he does in the sub, but I feel that comes across a bit differently than it does in English. Here the “Really?” sounds a bit more teasing and being more general, and feels less accusatory in nature, more just disbelieving about Kazuki’s statement in general.

Meanwhile, Miri’s English dub statement clarifies that the doubt that both Rei and Miri express in regards to “honest work” is very specifically about the fact that Kazuki left work early, not that he was drinking with a lady or ladies. Also, Miri saying “drinking with the ladies,” makes it clear that he was likely at a Fairy Lips like establishment and really just out for drinks with them. Not on a date with a lady in particular or anything like that.

The Fairy Lips establishment worked in a similar way as a hostess bar, just with a gambling aspect as well, so nothing sexual (as in sexual acts) are actually allowed (though, I have no doubt that they do sometimes happen at establishments like that). But the true appeal of those places are the illusions of sex and just female company in general.

Sub Rei: Miri. Eat.

-----

Dub Rei: Eat up, Miri.

Thoughts: By having Rei say, “Eat up, Miri,” instead of just “Miri. Eat,” the feel comes off less like a command and more like a general statement that the food is ready for her to eat. There’s a softness to “Eat up, Miri.” Still a command in some ways, but gentler. I also think that in English, one word verbal commands always come off as could and harsh on some level, while in Japanese having a verb just existing on its own is way more common and therefore doesn’t hold the same sort of feel to it. Of course, since we know Rei as a character, we also know that Rei doesn’t mean anything harsh by “Miri. Eat,” but there is likely still a left over feeling of coldness or distance there.

----

The Rei and Miri exchange of her saying thanks for the food, him asking her how it is, and her saying it’s yummy as always is pretty much the same as the sub without any substantial changes or differences. Basically, nothing worth mentioning here.

Sub Kazu: I’m glad you got a signature dish with that toast, but shouldn’t you expand your repertoire a little?

Sub Rei: But why?

Sub Kazu: Ever the one-trick pony...

Sub Miri: Hey, it’s fine! Since Papa Rei’s the best!

----

Dub Kazu: Listen, I know the toast is your signature dish, and that’s great, but shouldn’t you expand your repertoire?

Dub Rei: What for?

Dub Kazu: You are such a one-trick pony.

Dub Miri: Hey! There’s nothing wrong with that. The important thing is that his one-trick pony is yummy!

Thoughts: The use of “listen,” and “that’s great” definitely makes Kazuki’s statement to Rei feel more like general constructive criticism, while Miri’s words in the dub come off more like a warm teasing (like this is possibly a conversation that they’ve had before, lol). Kazuki’s “You are such a one-trick pony” statement also comes off more as more as a warm, sentimental line sort of thing.

The sub translation comes off a bit colder. The way Kazuki’s first line is structured sounds more like just general criticism, as does the “ever” part in his one-trick pony line. Miri’s line as feels less connected, even though it is still on topic, so the comradery feel found in the dub is less present. Of course, tone also matters here and I think the dub really allows for the more teasing and warm tone of the scene to come across than the sub does since, as I mentioned, there is a bit of a disconnect with subs that isn’t as present with dubs.

Sub Kazu: It’s fine like this, right?

Sub Miri: It’s not! Come on, we’re family!

Sub Rei: Family?

Sub Kazu: Can’t be helped, right?

Sub Rei: Hey-!

-----

Dub Kazu: Can’t we make it work like this?

Dub Miri: No way! C’mon, we’re family, aren’t we?

Dub Rei: Well, are we?

Dub Kazu: Get over here, you big lug!

Dub Rei: Hey-!

Thoughts: The dub translation makes things a bit clearer by adding more words and context. In the sub, Kazuki just questions, “It’s fine like this” but what is meant by “it”? The dub line makes the “it” easier to figure out. Adding “can’t we,” “make,” and “work” together with the it makes it clear that the “it” here is referring specifically to the photo arrangement that they had going on (Kazuki and Rei on either side of Miri).

Miri’s lines are largely the same, but by adding “aren’t we?” to the end of it, and then having Rei parrot that with a “well” in front of it, gives a feeling of Rei and Miri sort of coming together in solidarity on this, a little teasing on their end. And Kazuki just going all in on it, with the dub giving him a line that implies a lot of sentimentality on Kazuki’s part towards Rei. “Big lug” is a term of endearment, and implies someone (usually a man) with a strong physique, but a gentle personality, which does fit Rei.

The Japanese does have Kazuki saying the Japanese equivalent of “can’t be helped,” but...A lot of Japanese translators view that translation of the phrase as being overused and not necessarily the best translation all the time based on situation and context. And this would be one situation and context where I think it doesn’t quite work.

Kazuki is being put on the spot by both Rei and Miri, “we are a family, right,” him saying otherwise wouldn’t be right and they all know that, while Miri has made it clear that they can’t do their usual photo arrangement, they have to try something new. So, yes, in a sense there is “no helping” the situation. But by the way Kazuki latches onto Rei,bringing him into a one-armed hug, and the huge smile on his face, we know this isn’t a sort of ‘-sigh- can’t be helped!’ kind of situation that that phrase often implies in English.

The dub translation of choosing to translate that as “Get over here, you big lug!” easily implies that Kazuki has accepted this new arrangement for their photo and that they are, of course, a family. The dub has Kazuki use a slangy term of endearment, because that is within his personality. He uses slang and overfamiliar grammar and words, so he would say something like that.

I think the dub does a great job of capturing this new change in the Kurusu family! <3

#Buddy Daddies #BD #Kazurei #Kazuki Kurusu #Rei Suwa #Miri Unasaka #sub vs dub #sub vs dub comparison #long post #image heavy post #thought post #meta post #analysis

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thewritersaddictions · 8 months

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Drabble- (A/A) Pedro Pascal: Internets Daddy

You'd come to the bar with your friends, and they were all currently drunker than skunks, so you had drifted away from your table, telling them you'd be back with more drinks later rather than sooner.

You took the time you had at the bar quickly, taking long, deep breaths and regaining the little control you had left. You weren't drunk like your friends, but you were sober either, so when a man came up to the bar and sat down next to you. Your body reacted. Your cheeks were red with a blush from sitting next to such a beautiful man. You eyed him from the corner of your eye as you sipped at your margarita. His voice was what blew you further into the depths of blush. "I like your nails." He says first as he talks loudly over the bar music. You look down at your nails gripping the glass and lick your lips.

Muttering out a quiet 'thank you.' Your nails aren't unique; they are painted at home because going to the nail salon alone is too expensive nowadays. A black lay underneath a sparkle color on top; they sparkled under the bar's neon lights. When you look at him finally. You're in awe at the man sitting next to you. A strong jawline with stubble all over, and that nose. He was smoking hot from the side, but now that he was looking at you. God, you felt like you were on fire.

"My name is Pedro." He says so sweetly, reaching out a hand. You grab it shake his hand, and tell him your name without stuttering or completely fucking up your name. After that, words flow between the two of you. He asks why you're at that bar alone. "What would a gorgeous woman like you be doing alone at the bar?" He says it differently than other guys say it. It doesn't feel like he's degrading you; instead, he simply wants to know how you haven't gotten caught up in a relationship by sitting at the bar alone.

"I came here with some friends, but… um, I'm the least drunk and need some air." You tell the new stranger honestly. He nods like he understands what you're saying, and for once, it feels okay to talk to a random person you've just met about your promise, hopes, and dreams. You shake yourself of the thoughts and continue your conversation with him. You ask Pedro what he does for work, but he rolls right over it.

"Your accent is very nice," you mutter, and a warm smile grows on Pedro's face. "Thank you," he says sweetly. The conversation bats back and forth. The glasses are refilled in front of you a few times before the both of you cackle and touch each other. His large hand is sitting comfortably on your thigh.

The two of you end up in the bathroom with the door secured behind you. Pedro's hands gripped at your waist, pulling you into his chest. His cologne is clogging your senses, making you fall deeper into whatever trance this is. The trance is only further pushed along when Pedro's lips land on yours. Soft and gentle at first, but all that sweetness is left when you pull him by the jacket to deepen the kiss.

Rough nips at your bottom lip between his teeth and deep groans fill the air between the two of you. "You taste so good, honey." The pet name has you yearning for more, so you give him more. You lower down to your knees. A strong hand is carding through your hair, and the other rests on the door above you. You lick your lips and start to undo the trousers. You easily pull the zipper down, leaving little to the imagination.

When you pull his cock out from his boxers, he hisses at your soft but cold hands. His cock is already leaking pre-cum, so you lick it up, sucking gently around the tip of his cock, not fully taking him into your mouth yet.

"I swear carnio, I don't normally act this way. You're just so damn pretty." His words make your already hot cheeks even warmer. "I understand, Pedro." You say, but then your lips are back around his cock, taking his full length down your throat. What you can't get down your throat, your hand makes up for. Jerking and sucking his cock. You never once break eye contact with him as your continue to suck his hard length.

He doesn't have you on your knees for very long before he's dragging you back up and into his arms. He presses a hot kiss to your lips, and your moans are swallowed by his mouth. "Fuck your so hot." He whispers into your lips as he drags away to take a look at you.

"Can I fuck you?" He asks, and it makes you wanna squeal like a schoolgirl. He's just a gentleman, but he's asking and needs an answer. You nod, but it's not enough for Pedro. "I need words, baby." He says, and it has you melting further into whatever is between the two of you. "Yes, please. Fuck me, Pedro." Something shifts behind Pedro's eyes as he picks you up, guiding your ankles and legs around his waist. "Gonna fuck you so good, cardio. I'll have you forgetting your name." His words are slick and warm, like honey.

The dress you were wearing bunches at your hips, and you come to feel the massive length that is pressing itself into your wet cotton panties. Pedro can feel it, so he ruts himself into it. Causing your back to hit the tile wall. Your head falls back, leaving your neck exposed for Pedro's wet kisses to land on. It doesn't take long for Pedro to get frustrated with the thin piece of cotton between you.

He shoves them to the side, and your shiver with anticipation along with the cold air that hits your soaked cunt. "Look at you. So pretty. All this for me, mi amor?" He asks, and you nod, uncaring what he genuinely asks you. At first, you feel the blunt tip of his cock nudge at your cunt, and then the feeling of being open and torn into like a package. "Fuckin' hell. Squeezin' me so tight." Pedro mutters while waiting for your pulsing walls to let him in even further.

The pace is set; at first, he slows down and thrusts his hands, searching for yours. Then, the pace changes as your moans start to flood the bathroom. His hips pistoning into yours. His denim jeans deliciously scratch your skin with every thrust he makes. Your nails, blunt as they may be, still leave crescent shapes through Pedro's shirt and into his skin. His lip is between his teeth as he tries to ground himself. "Oh please don't… don't stop Pedro." Your moans are high-pitched but not fake, and Pedro is itching to hear more of you.

But everything must come to an end. Pedro's thrusts are fast and hard, his grip on your hand even harder. Your head bangs against the tiled wall behind you before your legs shake and your eyes roll back. The next thing you know, words you don't understand are whimpered into your ear as Pedro's thrusts are slow and erratic.

It's not long before Pedro's warm feel disappears, and a wet paper towel is pressed between your thighs. "That was…" You say, trying to catch your breath. "You, mi amor, have a beautiful body," Pedro says, not really finishing your own thoughts but making you blush.

Pedro helps you walk out into the crowded bar after a few minutes of getting yourself back together. He gives you a warm smile and kisses your cheek before putting something on a napkin and placing it in your hand. He presses a soft kiss into your cheek and one last playful wink before he approaches the door.

Not until days later, when your friends are talking about celebrity crushes, does someone bring up Pedro Pascal? The name does strike you as odd at first, but the image that your girlfriend brings up on her phone has your cheeks red and your panties growing wet. You had… and he left his…

You rush towards the bag you had that night in the bar. Pulling out the same napkin he had given you. A row of numbers and the words 'Call me' are written on it.

Completed on: 02/03/24

Posted on: 02/12/24

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heygerald · 2 months

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Falling Without a Harness - Chapter 11

AU where Tom Ryder is still an asshole, just not a psychotic one. Tom Ryder is rich. Everyone knows that. When Tom decides to do something out of character, Parker has to decide what is just the habits of someone careless with their fortune, and what can be considered acts of service from someone that cares about her.

Read the story here: prev / ...

The studio set after hours was a strange place to find oneself. It was beautiful in that glamorous way that everything mundane in Hollywood was; twinkling lights strung between ugly studio buildings, extras dressed in 1800s regalia tapping on their phones as they awaited whatever scene they were in, the black blanket of the endless LA sky an empty backdrop to the megaphones and spotlights being lugged around.

It was exciting, and it was also not; there was a lot of movement but not a whole lot of doing that translated to a mute static hanging in the air.

"Is it always like this?" Parker asked from her spot in the back end of Dan's pick-up truck. It had been packed with all sorts of bits and bobs that she had never seen before, and as Jody exchanged the batteries in a flashlight, Parker prodded curiously at a baseball sized dent in one of the various helmets stacked behind her. "Not stunt work, I mean. The set in general. I figure Dan probably goes through three helmets a week."

Jody hummed, flicking the flashlight on then off before setting it aside as a warbled voice crackled across the radio on her belt. She tilted her head to listen for a brief moment before turning back to Parker.

"Studio sets are always busy. Haven't you been here before?"

"Sure, but... during normal hours," Parker noted with a glance towards the sky. "But it's almost midnight, and the parking lot was pretty full when I got here at ten."

Jody hummed flippantly, shrugging as she switched her radio to a different channel. More warbled conversation flowed for a few minutes before she decided that there was nothing important enough to require her attention.

Snapping it back onto her belt, the camerawoman kicked her feet back and forth with a delicate smile curving her lips. "Well, I suppose there's always something to be filmed. It's not just us filming on the lot, you know. We share space with a dozen other directors at any given moment. Sometimes, you're filming night scenes. Sometimes you just want to get work in when less people are around. It's just how it is."

Parker supposed that made sense. Afterall, she preferred to go grocery shopping late at night for the very purpose of having less people to avoid in the aisles.

Still.

It was odd to see a set full of life in the middle of the night. Odder still when a pair of actors drifted by on a golf cart; the pair were dressed in ragged clothes, with fake bruises painted along their cheeks, and red cuts oozing fake blood down their forearms. No one but Parker even seemed to register their presence before they disappeared down a nearby alley.

"I think this is way more fun than coming during the day," she decided a moment later. "And I'm not just saying that because I didn't have to argue with the security guards to get in."

Jody snickered. "They're actually very nice."

"To everyone but me, apparently."

"You never have a good reason to be on set, though, do you?" the Brit teased with a wiggle of her eyebrows. Parker faked offense, and Jody's hair came loose from behind her ears as she laughed. "Kidding. I'm very glad to have someone keep me company tonight while Colt's training. Although I am surprised you had time to come by at all. Colt says you've been busy lately."

"Busy-er than before. But ten times zero is still zero, you know?"

"Oh, please," Jody rolled her eyes, flashlight toggle flickering mindlessly in her hands as she tried to stave off boredom. Honestly, Parker didn't know how she managed not to fall asleep with so little to do this late at night. She was yawning and she hadn't been here since the early morning like Jody had. "Your store is splendid. You've always had clients. Now, apparently, you just have more. Busy is still busy."

"Splendid?" Parker echoed, teasing the word in a mock British accent. She quite liked it; both the sound and the funky way she had to work her tongue. "No one has ever called my store splendid before, but you're right. It is a splendid store. Andy R from Angie's List can suck it."

"He left a bad review?"

Parker waved a hand at Jody. "He comes in once a month to ask if I have any new Tolstoy books in, and when I remind him that Tolstoy died a couple hundred years back, he thinks I'm being emotional and sassy. Asshole."

"Prick," Jody said in her very real British accent.

Parker liked that too. "Andy R is a total prick. Maybe that's the tagline that I'll put on my t-shirts. Or, a few, anyways. I'd bet Melissa would be happy to wear one with me. She does not like that dude."

"You're finally getting shirts?"

"Finally."

"See?" Jody gestured to her. "You are busy."

Parker rolled her eyes with a smile. It was endearing how much Jody cared about the success of her store—always inquiring about how sales are going, and dropping by when she has some time to pick up a new book—but they were surface level compliments at best. Her store wasn't going to beat out Barnes & Nobles for awards anytime soon.

She'd be lucky to finally have her shop registering on Google Maps as a business and not as just a big question mark like it currently was.

"Not for customers to buy, anyway. I just think it's about time I got my store name on a t-shirt. Everybody has t-shirts. I mean, literally everybody. Have you ever been to a thrift store? I have found some weird stuff in the dollar bin."

Jody tipped her head back in laughter. "I have seen some odd shirts. Mostly, though, they're shirts that you are wearing."

She shrugged. "What can I say? I love a good thrift store bargain. And a gimmick. And—well, anything to do with my store. All the more reason to start printing my own shirts. I can finally rep the place, you know? Plus, I am busier now. I might even be able to print a dozen tees without going bankrupt by the end of the calendar year."

Jody peered at Parker sideways, soda bottle in hand as she swished the lash few sips around in circles. "So, things are going well, then."

Parker tilted her head left and right. Things certainly were going better, but that didn't mean she wasn't still drowning in bills and ridiculous requests from customers that were absolutely not 'always right'. Even with the increase in revenue and constant presence of teenage girls from the local high school, she was stuck spending most of her day putting out fires. She could feel herself stretching thin lately with all the extra hours her and Melissa were putting in, and at some point over the last year she had gone completely nose blind to the musty smell of her store. Not to mention the fact that she was also fairly sure that the Bath and Body Works' plug-ins spread around her store were going to give her cancer one day (if the crusty moms were to be believed). But it wasn't the time nor the place to drop all of those fears onto Jody's lap; not to mention way too late to use the braincells needed to verbalize those thoughts.

So, Parker elected to ignore all of that. Instead, she waggled her brows with a grin. "Does that mean you'll buy a shirt?"

Jody shook her head, snorting. "You really are Colt's sister."

"Well, I'd hope so," she sniffed. "The orphan-in-a-box story always seemed a little too stupid to be true. As if someone would ever give this up," she tacked on, gesturing to herself with an impish smile.

The look was betrayed by her over-sized sweatshirt and messy braids. Not to mention the tattered jeans and filthy sneakers on her feet. But if Jody was laughing at her, she didn't say, and so the two women giggled at their inside joke whilst the set continued to spur to life around them.

An actress dressed in a delicate silk dress and high heels strutted past as they laughed; her hair was done up in perfect Hollywood glamor, sparkly highlighter on her cheekbones and a delicate pink eyeshadow painting her lids. With the fur slung over her shoulders, she looked like she had just hopped out of a Marilyn Monroe biopic, and when she tossed her hair, it looked like—well—a movie. It took Parker a moment to calm down from her laughter to recognize the actress from a popular CW tv show, and as she strolled past, she couldn't help but crack her neck to get a better look.

When she turned back to Jody, the camerawoman hadn't even seemed to notice.

"This is crazy," she said, tucking her legs up underneath her as she fiddled with the straps on Dan's busted helmet. The actress was gone now, and Parker tried to shake the bizarre feeling of being stuck in The Twilight Zone from her mind. "I know you work in the film industry, but, honestly... It must be so much fun doing this sort of thing all the time."

Jody snorted. "Sure," she echoed. "Fun."

"Isn't it?"

"I mean... alright, yes, of course it is fun. It's amazing to be behind the scenes, to see how movies are made, to know how much work goes into a three minute scene without any dialogue. I mean—I'm always learning new things, so it's certainly not boring," she said. But Parker felt like there was going to be more to her answer, and so she tilted her head in interest, prompting Jody to continue. "But... a typical nine to five certainly wouldn't hurt sometimes. Times like these, when we're stuck here until god knows when just so the director can perfect a shadow in one of the scenes or something else as miniscule... well, it can certainly test your patience."

Parker glanced in the director's direction, taking note of the two assistants that trailed after him with thick binders full of colorful notes, pens tucked haphazardly about their persons. "It's not always like this though. Right?"

Jody shook her head. "No, no. Of course not. Usually our shifts are much more normal. Even if the hours vary, they usually schedule morning scenes together, evening scenes together—you know. So it's not so tedious. And we're almost never here this late just for blocking. Sadowitz is on a tighter schedule for a few things since the New York scenes have to be shot by the first of the month. He's just getting in as many last minute rehearsals as possible so when they go to New York everything is set to go right away. Understandable, of course... I just wish he wasn't such a perfectionist sometimes."

Jacob Sadowitz was the up-and-coming director leading this sci-fi film, and though he wasn't that much older than Parker, he had already earned himself a fair share of accolades for his daring action films. Particularly, the box office had been impressed with his intricate fight scenes and stunt work in his latest movies. Just last year some veteran journalist had printed an in-depth essay commending Sadowitz' dedication to the craft, touching on how much research he put into his work to make sure everything was as accurate as possible. Based on his credentials alone it was no surprise that he would be working his stunt crew till the middle of the night until they were well-oiled machines.

Still, Parker wrinkled her nose tiredly. "Isn't there a quote about that? Perfectionism being the downfall of yada, yada, yada. Want me to tell him that? Threaten to call the union if you don't get to go home soon?"

The truck shook as Jody kicked her leg at Parker with a reprimanding tut. But, she was smiling as she did it, giggling under her breath in that way of hers. "He's not that bad. This is not that bad. I mean, sometimes, the schedule is so mind-bendingly awful that it's a wonder anything gets done... but it's hardly the worst I've dealt with. At least he treats everyone well. Well, he doesn't scream at anyone, I mean."

Parker blew a raspberry. "I can't even imagine. I think I'd get arrested for my behavior if a director ever screamed at me. No idea how you don't lose your shit on the daily."

"Oh, I've come close a few times," she chuckled.

The comment surprised Parker. Not because Jody Moreno was a woman that could take care of herself—obviously, she didn't put up with bullshit, and she didn't rely on anyone to get things done. Moreso because Jody had to put up with so much that Parker couldn't quite imagine a scenario that would have to be bad enough to cause the camerawoman to lose her cool. And if being yelled at wasn't enough, what was? Leaning closer, she needled. "You're serious?"

"Of course I am."

"What happened?"

"I'm not sure I can even remember why anymore."

"So it's happened more than once?"

"Are you kidding?" Jody scoffed with a shake of her head. "The type of behavior you see on set is not something you'd ever get away with anywhere else. It happens every movie. Directors are just so..."

"Insane?"

"Hollywood," she corrected, gaze darting around to see if anyone was in hearing range of her complaints. No one was, though, and even if they were, Parker had a sneaking suspicion that the other set crew would be more likely to join in on the bitch fest than snitch about it. "I mean you wouldn't believe some of the stuff we have to put up with. The egos some of these directors have is absurd. Bad directors! Ones that shouldn't even be directing that act like they're Tarantino or Nolan. Throwing things and crying and blubbering like babies—"

"Oh, fuck off!" Parker cried, leaning even closer. "You're joking!"

Jody Moreno was not, in fact, joking. She looked scandalized just by having to recall the things she had seen. Something haunted in her eyes, but there was still a smile tugging at her mouth. Obviously, she saw the humor in it; even if it was fucked up. "I wish. I mean—grown men crying because something wasn't going their way or screaming because the sun is too bright." She made air quotes with her hands, showing that she was not joking in the slightest about this before inching towards Parker. Something twinkled in her eyes as she said, "I kid you not during my first gig ever, I had a director break down in tears because the lead actress wasn't pronouncing the word butter how he wanted her to."

"Butter?" Parker echoed incredulously. "Is there even a wrong way to say it?"

"Oh," she said, giggling. "You'd be surprised. Not to say that he was right in his little hissy fit, but her accent was so wrong. Awful, Parker. I'm telling you. The whole film—a disaster."

"Huh. Butter," she said with a giggle.

Jody giggled back. "No, it was more like boo-ter."

"Boo-ter?" she cried. "That's—no way. Butter. Butt-her. How do you even—bu-t-ter?"

The two women keeled forward in laughter at the ridiculous conversation. It was such a stupid thing for someone to cry over, but the longer they tossed the word back in forth in the most ridiculous accents they could imagine, Parker was beginning to forget how it was properly pronounced in the first place.

Was it—?

There was a scuffle of shoes, then a thump as Dan dropped his elbows onto the side of the truck bed with a wary glance towards the two women. He almost looked like he didn't want to get involved in the first place, but when the silent stare-off seemed even funnier than their previous conversation causing them to tip against the other in laughter, his curiosity seemed to outweigh his hesitation.

"Do I even want to know?" he asked.

"That depends," Parker wiped tears out of the corner of her eyes. "How do you say butter?"

Dan blinked at her. Then, slowly, he shook his head at them with a long sigh. "So, no, I don't want to know. I told your brother that leaving you two hens together would only lead to trouble. He doesn't ever listen to me, though, does he?"

"Oi!" Parker smacked him on the arm, scoffing. "Who are you calling hens?"

Dan waved a hand at her, before snatching the helmet off of her lap, and plopping it atop her head to say, "always clucking, you two. Colt's going to end up in trouble and he's not even going to know why. I'd feel sorry for him if he didn't still owe me fifty bucks. You aren't here to pay his debts, are you?"

Parker, helmet now hanging low over her eyes, adjusted it towards the back of her head with a scoff. "It's sins of the father, not sins of the little sister. What's he doing that he's going to get in trouble for, anyway?"

"Oh, no. No, no, no," Dan laughed, wagging a finger at her in as much of a patronizing manner as someone could manage after a twelve hour shift. She would have scowled if it wasn't so endearing; she always liked Dan. Mostly because he had a head on his shoulders when her brother was constantly looking for where he left his, but also because he was just as good at teasing as he was being teased. "I'm not falling for that one, Park. If you don't know, then you're not going to find out from me. Snitches get stiches, you know?"

"Whatever. He's awful at secrets, so if he is doing something stupid, I'll find out. I always do."

Dan mimicked talking with his hand. "What'd I say? Clucking hens."

"I don't cluck, I just point out all the ways he's spectacularly stupid in," she corrected with a waggle of the head. The movement seemed to jostle the oversized helmet too much, however, and it rapped her nose as it slid down her face. Parker adjusted it a second time with a huff, ignoring how Jody was snickering into her hand. "Speaking of doing spectacularly stupid things, Numbnuts doesn't need this helmet for this stunt does he? I think it's broken."

"They have straps for a reason," Dan pointed out.

The comment sounded far too much like a threat for her liking though and Parker just managed to bend out of his grasp before he could cinch the straps under her chin. She bumped into Jody, who only shook her head at the pair's antics, as her radio warbled with nonsensical chatter.

Parker side-eyed Dan. "Isn't there something you should be doing right now? Like—I don't know—working? Tying safety knots or blowing up an inflatable mat or whatever it is you do? I'm sure there's a building you could hurl yourself off of nearby if you'd rather leave the hens alone."

Dan rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "That's your brother's job, though, isn't it?"

And—oh, yeah.

Remembering the reason that she was sitting in this pick-up truck in the first place Parker planted a hand on the helmet so she could tip her head back far enough to see said brother standing about thirty feet up on a platform of sorts. It was the skeleton of a building, open staircases with haphazardly drilled in railings surrounding each new floor. It almost looked like something you would find on a construction site in lieu of a working elevator, but Colt didn't seem to mind the shoddy building from his spot at the tip-top of it where he was in deep conversation with the stunt coordinator. Jody had explained that this was the frame of whatever building he would actually be performing the stunt from; just a temporary set he could work with here before shooting the real thing, but from this point of view it just looked like a whole lot of OSHA violations to Parker.

As expected, he didn't seem to notice.

In fact, Colt seemed to be smiling an awful lot for someone about to be thrown off a building, and even though he was wearing a harness, Parker had to look away before the nervous feeling in her stomach ran off with her dinner.

"I still don't understand why he's doing this at midnight," she mumbled to no one in particular. The darkness seemed to creep in every corner, and Parker wrapped her arms around herself to stave off the chill. "Couldn't the stunt coordinator have booked this death trap during the day?"

"It's cheaper at night," Jody said. "Less people around, less unnecessary crew getting in the way."

"Plus, you know, if he does fall and crack his head open on the pavement it's a whole lot easier for an ambulance to get here without rush-hour traffic," Dan joked.

The truck physically rocked from how quickly the two women jerked their heads in his direction, and as if suddenly aware of how flat his joke had fallen with this particular audience, he threw up his palms before they could say anything.

"Shit. Sorry. I was just kidding, yeah? Stunt humor tends to be... bleak."

"Stunt humor is never funny," Jody said.

"Honestly, Dan," Parker added with the shake of her head. The helmet slid down her forehead once more, and she tossed the entire helmet behind her with a patronizing tut. "Read the room."

He sucked his teeth, grimacing at the ground. "Sorry."

"If he ends up in the hospital now it's all going to be your fault," Parker continued, digging her teeth in. She could have bleak humor too when she wanted, and Dan grimaced a second time as if he was just remembering that. "Don't stuntmen believe in jinx's? We need salt, now. You have any salt? Or, like, a rabbit's foot or—is it one crow's feather or two?"

This time, he rolled his eyes at her, looking a whole lot less apologetic about the situation. "I said sorry."

"Oh, well, I'll make sure Colt knows that when he's on a ventilator and having a machine do all his breathing for him. He'll be so touched, I'm sure."

"I said I was sorry!"

"Sorry! He's sorry! Jody, give me your radio, we need to cancel—"

Parker reached for Jody's radio at the same time that she got tired of their antics, and with a glare, Jody swatted Parker's hand away from her hip. "Honestly, you two," she tsked at them like a teacher scolding schoolchildren. And, like two schoolchildren being scolded, Parker and Dan avoided one another's gaze so they didn't bust out in laughter. "Now you have me worried!"

"Oh, he's going to be fine," Dan assured her.

"Fine," Parker echoed.

"Well," Dan hedged after a moment, and Parker was already snickering before she heard what he had to say. "Physically he'll be okay. It's all safe, he's harnessed in, the mat is made for this sort of thing. But, mentally, you know..." Dan trailed off as he glanced up towards Colt. "He'll be the same he always has been."

"Oh, stop it!" Jody chucked her empty soda bottle at him.

It bounced off his chest with a dull thud, and Parker had just tilted forward in laughter when there was a bullhorn somewhere on the far side of the set. The three tilted their heads back just in time to watch Colt lurched off the platform, arms swinging wildly as if he was falling to his death. And just when Parker's stomach clenched in concern because—what if?—he hit the mat with his own dull thud. Air started hissing out of the inflatable in seconds, and as it pooled around him, Colt's first response was to give everyone on set a thumbs-up.

"Well, there's definitely something wrong with him," Parker said after a long moment of silence, letting out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Dan was already walking away from whatever she was about to say, and needing an audience, she turned to Jody knowing the woman would sympathize. With a jerk of her thumb, she sighed. "I mean, why else would he do this for money? Honestly?"

Jody hemmed and hawed for a moment before giving in. "Because... he's an idiot?"

"Because," Parker agreed, finishing her own soda with an eyeroll as her brother traded high-fives with one of the other stuntmen, "he's an idiot."

---

...

Parker rolled her eyes, watching the little green message bubble filled with "..." blink yet again on the phone screen before her. It had been repeating this message for the last hour of her life; an hour that she was now never going to get back thanks to the idiot on the other end of the messenger app, and as her neck twitched with a painful crick from the angle she had been staring at her phone, something even more painful burned behind her eyes.

She should probably stop staring at it; could definitely do with some dinner, a nice glass of water, and maybe some Ibuprofen. Wine wouldn't hurt either. Nor would a cigarette, a nice warm shower, and a few hours lying vertical in her bed. Somewhere unplugged, where she didn't give into the temptation to glance at her phone; the very phone in her hand, that she could ever so easily tilt her wrist to see if maybe, in her spiral of misery, he had—

...

"Son of a bitch," she muttered, head thumping none-too-gently against the table.

It hurt a lot more than it should have, but it was cool, too. The scratched up wood smooth against her cheeks as she worked on evening out her breathing. Her neck felt better like this; shoulders too. Hell, it just felt good to lay her head down after the week that she had. Felt nice to let her eyes flutter shut, to let all thoughts turn off, to just breathe in, breathe out, and—

Her phone buzzed, and Parker ripped her head up off the table so quickly the room spun before her.

But whatever hope had caught in her chest fizzled out like a popped balloon upon seeing Colt's name on her screen.

The message read, "I thought we were gonna be sombrero buddies :(" with an attached picture of her brother wearing a sombrero and sunglasses, holding a heavily packed taco, a still smoking grill in the background. She recognized it immediately as the one at Dan's, before remembering that she had been invited over with some of the other boys for tacos and margaritas earlier that week. No wonder her brother looked so put out.

"Son of a bitch," she said a second time.

She meant it, too. Parker was pretty sure that tacos and spicy margaritas was the cure for every ailment in life. Or, you know, the spiritual kind anyway. They certainly didn't help when she broke her arm a few years ago; but they did lift her spirits immensely.

"What the hell is going on over there?" Tom's voice echoed from the other end of the room, and suddenly Parker was reminded that she was not alone in her misery.

She glanced up to find him staring at her with furrowed brows, a hand on the hip of his leather NASA flight suit as Betty and Sasha fiddled with the material. It was his final character testing today, along with the creation of the highly coveted look book, and while her brother wasn't needed for this sort of thing, Parker had jumped at the chance to spend some time with Tom specifically so she wouldn't spend all day thinking about work.

Son of a bitch!

She winced, waving her phone at him. "Oh, just Colt. He invited me for dinner tonight over at Dan's and I totally forgot. He's going to be pissed. He's all alone wearing his sombrero."

"Colt is going to be pissed because he doesn't have anyone to wear a sombrero with?" Tom asked in a scathing tone. She would have corrected him if it wasn't... well, accurate. She loved her brother, but sometimes he got upset over the littlest of things. Particularly when he felt like she was doing something without him. "He does know that he's an adult, doesn't he?"

"Oi, be nice. That's my brother you're talking about."

"You shit on him all the time."

"Well—" she waved a hand around flippantly, flabbergasted at even having to defend against such an accusation. "Duh! He's my brother. But you don't have that right, Ryder, so pack it in before I report you to, like, HR or whatever."

Tom rolled his eyes as Sasha tugged on the length of his right pant leg. It all looked good; professionally made, snug in all the right places, and the perfect backdrop for his bright eyes and shiny teeth. In fact, he looked even better than she thought he had looked before, and Parker was just about to ogle him as he was turned left and right by the seamstresses when her phone buzzed a second time.

She plucked it up, disappointed yet again to see that it was from her brother and not from the eBay seller.

"And what on Earth is with that?" Tom's cloying voice echoed a second time.

She pulled her attention away from her phone long enough to notice the cross furrow of his brows and the tightness of his shoulders.

"With what?" she asked, not sure where this was coming from.

He gestured to her phone, sniffing when his hairstylist teased a few strands of hair off his forehead with a comb. "You've had your nose in that thing since you got here. You have a hot date that I don't know about or something?" he snarked.

And—well.

Parker had to physically bite down on her bottom lip to stop from laughing. Not only would that further piss him off, but with the people in the room, it likely wouldn't be great for his image either. But the idea that Tom—Tom Ryder, the same man whose face was plastered all over town—would be upset that he wasn't given her undivided attention was fucking hilarious to Parker.

Honestly, men. They really were just children.

Smothering out her smile, Parker turned her phone face down against the table. "Okay, alright, I'm sorry. There's this guy over in Wrightwood that has a print shop, or inherited one or his Dad just demolished one or—I don't know," she paused to wave a hand around, earning an eyeroll from Tom. "Whatever. I'm trying to convince him to sell me a box of mystery novels from his collection. He's being unnecessarily difficult about it, though."

"Who is this guy?"

"Melissa's dad's second cousin or something. She showed me his eBay profile last week and he's been dragging me over the coals for the past couple of days about whether he'll sell to me or not. He wants an absurd up-front price that, even if I could pay, I would never pay, but he also hasn't sold anything on eBay before so I think he's getting kind of desperate."

Tom, still cross, but now slightly more interested, arched an eyebrow at her. "Why are you buying stuff off eBay?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Do you think I have a print shop hiding in my apartment? I know you haven't been there yet, but it's not that big. I think it has an occupancy limit of five."

"Five?" he echoed dumbly. To that, she did laugh, but then she glanced back at her phone and realized that she likely wasn't going to get anything good from this idiot even if he did sell to her. As was her lot in life, nothing seemed to work out her way. Knowing this, Parker let her head fall onto the table with a hollow thump, something miserable prickling in the back of her eyes. Maybe that's why he let that particular comment go without any further mocking. There was the shutter of a polaroid camera snapping before he spoke again. "Well, why are you worrying about this now?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's Sunday." She tilted her head sideways on the table to peer over at him. He wasn't mocking her, but given the team of people quite literally fixing his air and clothes for him at the moment, she doubted he understood what she was going through either. "Can't you deal with it later?"

"Like... when I'm busy working at the store?"

"You're always working at the store."

She tutted; half in humor, half about how miserable that statement about her life just was. "Well, duh. That happens when you own a teeny tiny little shop that, for some reason, seems to be actively trying to bankrupt you. I think there's a malevolent spirit the real estate agent didn't tell me about. Or, like, it's built on haunted burial grounds or something. I've broken three lightbulbs this month, and fell off a ladder yesterday just trying to fix the stockroom fan. Which, by the way, I still don't know how it broke, but something is not right with that thing. I don't think they should squeak so much. It sounds like a pig. Or... like a dying cat. It's unsettling."

Tom must have sensed something in her lackluster tone because he almost seemed concerned when he asked, "don't you have employees to do that stuff for you?"

"Uh, employee, singular. And you've met her. And, half the time, I wonder if she isn't the malevolent spirit that's out to make my life miserable," she said. Meant it, too. Just that week Melissa had insulted her style in three different slang terms that Parker had to look up on Urban Dictionary to understand. Honestly, she could handle being "old", what she couldn't handle was having to put work in just to know she was being insulted. That crossed some sort of imaginary line. "Besides, she only works a couple shifts a week, and she's more for cleaning and stocking than real, managerial stuff. Or anything that might require her getting more than two feet off the ground. I'm not paying liability insurance."

He frowned at her oddly. "Don't you have to—?"

"I mean, don't get me wrong, Melissa is great. But she can't do everything, and I can't expect her to do more than she already has as a part-time employee."

"Why don't you hire a manager then?" he asked as if that was a conclusion she hadn't drawn herself.

She might have told him to fuck off for mansplaining right then and there if Tom's question hadn't been spoken in such a earnest manner. Or, as earnest as someone like him could be. Most A-listers like him wouldn't even be giving her the time of day, let alone listening to her problems, and at the very least Parker took some comfort in the thought.

"Good idea, but I think there's about a thousand other things I need to do before I can budget for a manager. Like, I should probably pay off my car at some point. Then get liability insurance. Then get car insurance," she counted off.

Sasha and Betty laughed into their hands, both women just as amused by Parker as the first time, and with another snap of the polaroid camera, the group shifted to making sure the right picture had the right information in the tag book for future reference.

Tom took the reprieve to snag two bottles of water from the mini-fridge before he was sitting down next to her. He wasn't slumping—she didn't think Tom Ryder could slump—but from the weight of his shoulders it was obvious he had been having a long day too.

"You can't afford anyone else?" he asked in spite of that.

Parker uncapped her bottle with a sigh. She didn't even have the energy to be disgruntled by how different their lives were. What he had, he had because he earned it, and Parker made sure to remember that rather than resent that as she took a long dreg of water. "One day I can. Just... not today. I need to have a more steady revenue stream before I can start thinking about anything like that, and to get a more steady revenue stream I have to be willing to work all hours of the day. Even if it's just to haggle with some prick still living in his parent's basement for a box of Hardy Boys books. Turtles on turtles and all that."

"I have no fucking idea what that means," he said, blinking at her, and this time he was so earnest that she couldn't have doubted him even if she tried.

She shook her head with a laugh, already feeling better. "Do you feel like Mexican food after this?"

"Dan's?"

"I have an open invitation," she said. They'll be cool with it if I bring you, she meant. And from the way he pursed his lips, it was obvious that he understood that too. But, he also seemed tired sitting next to her, and Parker could feel that same sort of weariness in her own bones too. "Or... we could get pizza?"

"Pizza is all carbs."

"Mhm, you're right. We should definitely get pizza," she nodded as if he had made a really good point.

"Can you afford that?"

"Are you kidding?" Parker clutched a hand to her chest. "There's always money for pizza. That's like budgeting one-oh-one, Ryder."

He didn't make a comment about how that was probably a stupid way to spend what little money she had, and Parker didn't bring up the fact that she knew he would pay for it later anyway. He always did, even when she made a big deal about wanting to pick up the tab, Tom had yet to let her pay for anything when they were together. She supposed it was easy for him; just muscle memory at this point in his life.

But to her it meant a lot, and she always did her best to make sure he knew that.

Just at the crest of his elbow sat the photographer's polaroid camera, and while the ladies were busy taping everything down and scribbling notes in a variety of pen colors, Parker reached past Tom to grab it.

"I've never had a polaroid camera before."

"Never?"

She picked up the camera, aiming it at Tom, and without hesitating he tilted his head up, eyes down, mouth curving open just a centimeter in that way that looked so effortlessly good that she almost forgot to snap a photo.

"Son of a bitch," she said when it printed, the photo glossy and warm in her hands. "How do you do that? Is that what mewling is?"

"Don't—don't say that," he laughed at her, grabbing the camera from her hands to point it at her. Parker's response was the opposite of his, however, and when the picture printed, it revealed an awkward looking Parker, mouth half open in argument, eyes a little too squinty, hair all sorts of a mess.

"Oh my god!" she shrieked. "Give me that!"

But Tom was faster than she was, and when he tucked the picture into the pocket of his jumpsuit, laughing so heartily that the ladies glanced over at the pair with their own curious smiles, Parker could only catch her face in her hands with a furious blush.

"Tom!" she hissed, smacking him. "It's not funny!"

"You just—it's not—come on, here," he said, shaking his head at her. She was still scowling when Tom grabbed her chair and tugged it by the leg until their thighs were pressed against one another. His body radiated heat as he tossed his free arm over her shoulder, cheek against cheek, and she felt the rumble of his voice more than heard it as he directed her. "Just smile, Park, Jesus. Don't look so stiff."

She tried to shove him off her, only to fail, and as Tom laughed at her, Parker couldn't help but laugh herself.

The photos were crooked, one slightly blurry, and in neither photo were they looking at the camera. And though she still didn't look great, nowhere near as good as him, Tom looked happy in the photos as he laughed.

Parker decided right then that she could live looking like this if he looked like that.

---

Crave Cafe was just as quaint during the off season as it was during the busy summer months, and though it was surprisingly vacant for a Saturday afternoon, the cafe never actually felt empty to Parker. All the tables were dotted with cute decorations, the chairs all stuffed with hand-stitched pillows and dollar-bin cushions that added an eclectic nature to the darkly painted walls, and the jukebox in the corner never failing to fill the lapses of silence with something soothing. For so many reasons this spot had always been one of her favorite places for coffee in LA, and after a long week at work, Parker couldn't help but take a deep whiff of the cinnamon and coffee bean scent that lingered in the air.

"There you are," Harry greeted from behind the counter. He looked a little out of sorts with how empty the place was, the counter spotless and clean from wiping it down too much, and as he grinned at her arrival, Parker was more than happy to be of service to her favorite barista on this side of town. "I was wondering if you'd make it over today."

Parker ambled closer with a tut. "That's almost insulting, Harry, of course I would. It's Saturday, isn't it? What sort of person would I be if I broke tradition with no good reason?"

Harry swung a pink towel over his shoulder, grinning as he started tapping away on his kiosk screen. "The usual, then?"

"Plus, a cookie, please."

"Really living big theses days, huh, Parker?" he teased.

She bent her hip at the counter, watching as she always did as Harry started fiddling with the expensive machines lined behind the counter. She never understood which thing did what, but she did know that anything made by Harry was about to be phenomenal. As steam rushed from one of the metal prongs, she promised herself that one day she would buy a top of the line espresso and latte machine for her kitchen.

Of course, she'd had to learn how to use it, but... well, dreams were dreams for a reason.

"Yeah, well, I always had a weak will when it came to your baked goods. Is this the same recipe as last year, or did you change it up?"

Harry poured her coffee into a to-go cup, twisting the foam at the end to create the image of a leaf, before carefully sliding it towards her. Right before she could grab it, however, Harry pulled the cup back, warning, "I know I say this every time, but it is literally boiling right now, Parker. Don't drink it yet."

She laughed as if that hadn't been exactly what she was about to do. "I know," she said, smiling a little too keenly for his liking. "I won't. Promise."

He didn't seem to trust her, but eventually he gave up and slid the cup towards her side of the counter. The second he moved away she grabbed the cup, finger dipping into the foam—which, of course, was also scalding hot—and to hide the fact that she had just burnt herself, Parker licked some foam off her finger with a bland smile. "I was just... taste testing."

Harry suppressed a sigh to toss her a cold rag, and as Parker cleaned off her finger, he started making Melissa's pumpkin spice latte. "The cookie is a different recipe this time. Marin wanted to try something new, so make sure you tell her what you think. It has nutmeg and hazelnut in it. I think it's a little too much, but Sarah really likes it."

"Nutty," she joked.

"And hopefully good."

Parker waved a hand at him, testing the temperature of the cup once more, before catching Harry's stern look. She tucked her hands before her back with a glittering smile. "I'm sure it'll be amazing. If I get to eat any of it, anyway."

Parker didn't mention the fact that Melissa had a nasty habit of eating any and all pastries she brought into the store without so much as leaving a crumb for her boss to taste. She figured Harry didn't need to know all that information. Besides, on the off chance that Melissa was actually a Gremlin like Colt had theorized, she was still trying to figure out what the rules were for feeding her, and the last thing she wanted was to have Harry cut off their main source of lunch.

As if he understood all that without her having to explain, Harry shook his head at her with a laugh. "Yeah, well, you may as well scarf it down now before you head back over. I know we joke that you're my number one customer, Park, but I would have understood if you didn't have time to stop over today."

Nothing he said had any bearing on the Melissa being a Gremlin vs not debate, and Parker tilted her head at him oddly. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm flattered that you would want to stop in here, but I don't know how you found time to with that whole mess going on. I couldn't even park in my own parking lot this morning, you know that? Kudos to you for finally stealing my customers, but... sheesh. I'll never understand how you pulled this one off."

Huh.

Well, that made even less sense than before and she had quite literally been debating whether her employee was a creature from an 80's fantasy horror series. Sensing that she was missing something important, Parker peered out the front window with a frown. She had noticed a lot of people milling around outside, but she had walked from the post office so she didn't have to deal with traffic, no parking involved. "I'm not—what do you mean?"

It was then that Harry seemed to sense her confusion, and suddenly the pair were sharing matching looks of confusion. "Um... didn't you come here from your shop?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. And while it wasn't unusual for Melissa to take morning shift on Saturdays lately, suddenly, there were a thousand possible scenarios flickering through her mind of all the things that could have gone wrong since Melissa opened that morning. Panic welled in her chest, and Parker tried to laugh through it, struggling to explain herself. "I crashed at Colt's place last night without my phone charger. I dropped it off to charge while I ran some errands, but I came right here to get lunch, so I didn't grab it yet. Melissa was working this morning."

Oh god.

Melissa was working this morning.

"Oh my god," Parker slapped a hand onto the counter, suddenly worried that either her shop was on fire or that her only employee had died. "She's alright, isn't she? Oh my god! I haven't checked my messages yet—!"

"Jesus, no, Parker, it's okay!" he interrupted her before she could have a full blown panic attack in his cafe. He lifted his hands to placate her, and while Parker took a deep breath, she noticed how busy the outside street seemed to be. Awkwardly laughing, he rubbed his forehead. "Nothing's wrong. Definitely not wrong."

"Oh," she said, blood slowly rushing from her head. "Good."

He blinked at her, and Parker blinked right back.

"But then why—?"

There was a ding from the far end of the counter, and Harry gestured at her to wait as he grabbed her to-go bag. She could smell their freshly toasted sandwiches across the counter, and when Harry plucked a cookie out of the display, her stomach twisted in nervous knots.

"No phone," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head at her. "Wow. That's... So, you haven't checked social media or anything today? Or talked to Melissa."

Her reply was a hesitant, "...no?"

Harry stared at her for a long moment, before shaking his head with another, surprised laugh. Like it had been startled out of him. Feeling even more confused, Parker frowned at him helplessly from her side of the counter. "Maybe you should just head over, then. Melissa could probably use the help right about now."

"Help?"

"And, uh, listen if you ever want to do some sort of deal with Crave, I'd love to talk to you about it," he added on as she numbly scrabbled for her credit card. The machine beeped as he continued, "you know, a punchcard sort of thing; buy two books gets fifty percent off coffee here, or something like that. Lots of stuff we could do, really. But we can talk about it later."

"Um... okay?" she nodded, so bewildered that she almost forgot to grab her coffees off the counter. Harry waved at her as she went, and Parker nearly smacked into the glass door as she waved back. "See you later, I guess."

The moment she stepped outside she bumped into a throng of girls standing on their phones, snapping photos. They reminded her a lot of Melissa; dressed in cute outfits, hair done up for the occasion, makeup a tad smeared beneath the eyes from grinning too much.

"Um, excuse me," she called, angling past one of the girl before running into two more identical ones. In fact, when Parker actually picked her head up to look around, she realized that the block was crawling with people. Mostly girls. Teen girls.

Mostly teen girls that seemed to be waiting in a line for—

Parker's coffee hit the sidewalk with a splat.

"Hey!" one of said girls cried at her, angrily shaking coffee stains off of her white sneakers. But Parker didn't notice much of anything she hurried down the block, bag smacking into every third person as she tried to weave through the thread of people. "At least say excuse me!"

The crowd of people got more tightly packed as the line curved, and Parker stopped square in the middle of the street to gape at the sight in front of her.

Every square inch of her store was packed with people. Girls, boys, thirty-year old blondes snapping photos of every angle and squealing delightfully when the picture came out right while their boyfriends hung out front with matching looks of boredom. People were even spilling outside from how crowded it was, and she had to physically push through to step inside.

"What in the f—?"

Parker was just about to owe a ten dollar bill to the swear jar when a familiar head of hair snapped up from the other side of the front counter.

Melissa didn't look much like Melissa. Her curls had fallen over the course of the morning, wayward tufts of frizzy hair tucked behind her ears as she worked on bagging an order. There were flecks of mascara smudged along her cheeks, her lips were lacking their normal peach glossy glaze, and as they made eye contact, she looked half dazed.

"Parker!" she hissed, trying not to sound shrill but definitely not sounding calm. "Where have you been?"

Not knowing what to say, Parker lifted her sandwich bag and latte into the air, helplessly fumbling for words. "I—I was getting us lunch. What is going on here?" she cried, angling behind the counter before someone else was the victim of her wayward coffee. "Is everyone on crack or something? What did you do?"

"What did I do?" Melissa echoed with a scandalized glare, a broken manicure jabbing in Parker's direction as the next person in line awkwardly set their books on the counter. "What did you do? Why haven't you been answering your phone? I've been calling you all morning!"

"It's been like this all morning?"

"Uh, duh!" Melissa shrieked. The noise caught the attention of some nearby customers who looked concerned by the high-pitched noise. In unison, Parker and Melissa smiled at the customers, offering one-handed waves until their attention drifted elsewhere. Stiffly, they started on the next customer's order why talking out of the side of their mouths at one another. "You need to check your phone. Like, right now, Park."

"I can't," she hissed back, still speaking through a smile. Her store had never had this many people in it before, and suddenly she was wondering if she should move liability insurance higher on her list of things. "I left it at home."

"Oh my—" Melissa grunted under her breath, still smiling, and when she finished ringing up her customer, she quickly snatched her phone from her back pocket. The next customer in line seemed annoyed that her attention was taken away, however, and as she fiddled with it, Parker worked through the girl's pile of books. "Honestly. Of all the days that you don't have your phone on you... I mean, it's the twenty-first century, Park! Always have your phone on you!"

"Okay, maybe save the lecture for later," she chirped back as she finished ringing up the order. The girl paid with a credit card, and on she went, receipt waving in hand just as someone else took her place. "Just catch me up with what the hell is going on right now, please."

Melissa's response was an exasperated sigh before she was shoving her phone into Parker's hand, and retaking her spot at the register.

At first, Parker had no idea what she was looking at.

It was a picture on Instagram. A picture of her storefront, taken from across the street, framed to look aesthetically pleasing, and with some sort of boho filter on it that actually made the place look prettier than it really was. A nice picture, definitely, but not a good explanation as to what the hell was going on.

"Why are you showing me a picture of my store? I know what it looks like. I bought it."

Another customer went out the door as two more potential customers stepped inside, and Melissa sighed so heavily Parker was pretty sure they could feel the gust of wind on the other side of her double paned front windows.

"It's not the picture that matter, dummy!" she chirped, still smiling, before she was nudging Parker with her elbow. "Just—look at it!"

Parker was about to give a very childish retort about how she was looking at it, when she actually looked at it. It had received hundreds of thousands of likes since it had been posted last night, and while she clicked on the caption, a flood of new comments were being added by the second.

"Biggest question anyone asks if how do I prepare for an audition," the caption started. "Sometimes, it's easy. Sometimes you got to get your hands dirty and do some reading to get in the mindset of the character. In honor of filming starting this week, here's a s/o to my favorite hole in the wall bookstore in LA."

There was a flurry of hashtags—all ridiculous and stupid and so innately self-centered—that before she even checked the profile, Parker had a very strong feeling about who the original poster was.

Who else had this kind of social media following? Who else could do this?

The profile pic was just as pretty as he was: tomryder

Parker scanned the post a second time. Then a third. Then a fourth. Then, when she still felt like she wasn't processing it right, she glanced up at Melissa.

"Is this...?"

"Yup," the girl said.

"It's—this is his account?"

"Uh-huh," she said again.

Parker slumped against the counter, gaze raking over the horde of customers prodding around her store like it was a damn Barnes & Nobles. No, better. Because this was officially the bookstore that inspired the Tom Ryder for his latest role. NO Barnes & Nobles had ever done that. "This is all because he—"

"It had three hundred thousands likes this morning," Melissa added, not even waiting for Parker to get around to asking about that. And while the teenager seemed like it was no big deal, when she glanced up at her boss, her eyes were sparkling and her mouth was curled at the side. Obviously, her fascination for Tom Ryder had not disappeared. "Yeah. I know."

"This means..."

"That you're officially cool now?" Melissa chirped; somehow scathing and ecstatic at the same time. "Trust me, I know. Our lives just got a whole lot better, Park. I mean—look at this! We're so the coolest people here. I can't wait until school on Monday."

Parker nodded, feeling like her entire body was buzzing, and not quite hearing anything else that Melissa was saying. She just kept seeing the post over and over in her head. She had tried so hard not to need things from Tom, and he had proven time and time again that he was more than happy to give them.

For a long while, she had suspected that doing things for others—throwing parties, picking up the tab, paying for the alcohol—was just natural to him in his life now, a way that he had adapted to Hollywood stardom.

Yeah, you're welcome. I usually get paid twenty grand for doing something like this.

But that didn't quite fit the narrative anymore, did it?

"Excuse me?" a voice called out, interrupting her thinking. Parker blinked to find a twenty-something year old girl staring at her, hands timidly picking at one another. "Um, sorry. Do you have any Frank Herbert books? I looked, but didn't see any."

"Uh... yeah," she hedged, shaking any thoughts she had away. Right now, she would work. Later, she could deal with the rest of it. "Yeah. Right this way and I can show you what we have, and if you don't see any you like, I try to get sci-fi as much as possible so I can try to have new stuff this week. I might even have some extras in the back..."

The din of noise threatened to drown Parker out as she worked with her customer, but no matter how frazzled her tired she was, every time the bell tinkled with someone new coming inside, Parker found herself smiling a little bit brighter.

#falling without a harness #the fall guy #tom ryder #tom ryder x ofc #tom ryder imagine #colt seavers #jody moreno #the fall guy imagine #the fall guy series #series #parker seavers #imagine

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yellowhollyhock · 1 month

Note

how to NOT use dialogue tags?

Use dialogue tags

Pretty please

Your writing will flow better when you show love and respect for the little helper words. Trying to avoid useful words will just lead you to phrasing things in confusing ways.

I say this because it's a mistake I've made! Trying to avoid 'said' and 'asked' is advice I took seriously and I saw my writing suffer for it.

Some tips with dialogue:

"You can start a new paragraph to show a new person talking," she explained.

"Ah, yes, of course--if both characters have been established the paragraph breaks and quotation marks will be enough for readers to easily follow the conversation," Anon flapped their hands gleefully.

"Precisely. After we've both spoken, we can go back and forth for any length of time. We only need clarify if a third person joins."

"Wait a minute. You said to use dialogue tags, but you've replaced them with descriptive verbs. And in that second one you narrated my actions while I spoke. Aren't you avoiding dialogue tags?"

"It may look that way," she admitted with a shrug, "But the point was never to avoid those words. The point is that on some occasions, explain is the word to use, and on others, said is not only sufficient but preferable. It's about using the most accurate word, not the most impressive one."

"Oh, I see--if our goal is to not use dialogue tags, our writing will suffer. But if our goal is to use our words to paint a picture, it will be easier to decide when we should use bold strokes like 'declared' or 'inquired' and when 'said' or 'asked' will blend more nicely into the background."

"What a lovely metaphor, Anon!"

"Hey," a third person, unfamiliar to either of them, poked their head around the corner. "You wrote that metaphor. Stop being pretentious! All this pish posh about when to use dialogue tags and when not to use dialogue tags--it's exhausting! Can't you make up your mind?"

"It's not that we haven't made up our minds," said Anon, "We're quite decided that different words are good for different reasons, and agreeing how silly it would be to try to avoid a whole section of words when they might sometimes be the very tool you need."

"An unobtrusive dialogue tag works wonderfully when you want to keep the focus on the dialogue itself, or when you want the conversation to be fast-paced," she said.

Anon crossed their arms with a triumphant smirk. "I won't be taking any old advice about writing anymore. Certainly not advice that reads like fad diets, asking for such extreme avoidance of some things and gross reliance on others. If I need to know whether something reads naturally, I'll read it out loud. That trick will work best."

"That's a lovely idea," she dipped her head, "And it's good to keep in mind that there are even time you might want to sound unnatural! As the artist, the question you want to ask yourself is what effect your work will have on readers. Your first priority is to be clear, your second is to be interesting. If you do those two things you really can't go wrong."

"No," the stranger moaned sadly, melting back into the wall. "I came all this way to destroy your confidence. I will have you both! You haven't seen the last of me!"

They watched together, bewildered and a little sad. They were starting to remember the stranger's voice now, and it was one that had often tried to help.

Yet it had done so much lasting harm, and promised more even as it faded into nothing.

"Well," said Anon, "I don't know that I've gotten very far past where I started."

"Perhaps not," she said softly, "But perhaps that is the point. Where you've started is not so far back as you may have believed."

#this got a little out of hand #writing #i've been reading narnia to my students #so that's why my voice is like that right now XD

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phoebepheebsphibs · 5 months

Text

Double-Mutated Mikey

Chapter 7: Habituation

Continued from the short story written by @boots-with-the-fur-club

Prev || Next

"Did... Did Mikey just sign at us?" Leo asks, eyes wide.

Mikey repeats the motion again.

'Talk. Talk. Talk.'

"I think he wants to talk," Raph mutters.

"I think he wants US to talk," Leo adds, looking down at his baby brother. "You don't like being left out of the conversation, huh?"

Mikey shakes his head. It's hard enough trying to communicate when you can't say anything, but cutting him out completely? That's simply not fair.

"Sorry, bud, we just... didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

Mikey signs again, bending his middle finger so that only his thumb and pinky are pointed, starting at the top of his head and dragging down just below his chin.

'Why?'

"Well, we were worried you might get... upset if we talked about it," Raph says, glancing between him and Leo. "I guess we shoulda remembered you know ASL..."

Mikey signs again, this time at Leo. He touches his hands to his chest, pivoting them towards each other twice.

'Animals?'

Leo gives him a confused expression. Mikey tries another one, his dominant hand forming a small fist with a finger pointing, mimicking a tail.

'Reptile'

"Oh... you read that?" Leo asks.

Mikey nods, a small chirp escaping from his throat.

"Well --" Leo looks up to Raph, who is waving his hand over his throat, trying to signal him to cut it out, don't say anything!

Mikey follows Leon's gaze back to Raph, who glances away and whistles nonchalantly, pretending to be distracted by something in the back of the room.

Leo snickers and rolls his eyes.

"You have some reptile blood in you now," Leo announces quickly.

Raph and Mikey's heads both snap back to him. Both of their eyes go wide, both of their jaws drop, yet their expressions totally different.

Mikey looks astonished and intrigued, a soft grin presses his lips as he contemplates what this means for him.

Raph looks utterly terrified.

"We think that might be why you got so agitated with the cold," Leo finishes.

Mikey shivers slightly, his hands trembling from the chills as he moves his arms back and forth, signing again.

'Cold. Not good. We don't like it.'

"We?" Leo asks.

Mikey blinks before signing again to clarify.

'Mikey doesn't like cold'

Leo does his best not to be put off by his brother referring to himself as a plural or in the third person, and chalks it up to just the fact that he hasn't used sign language in a long time, and is mixing up or forgetting certain words.

Raph picks Mikey up from the floor, cradling him close.

"How about we get you back to your room where it's and nice and warm, hmm?"

Mikey purrs happily, snuggling deeper into the towel and nuzzling Raph's plastron.

The trio walk back to Mikey's traincar, where Splinter is gathering more blankets and pillows.

"Ah, boys! I was just getting the bed set up."

Mikey wriggles out of Raph's hold and jumps to his father, squeaking and croaking out noises of happiness.

Splinter chuckles softly, petting his son on the head. Mikey's feline instincts start to take over, and he circles around him, nuzzling his head against his legs as his tail wraps his father's robe. Splinter's hand stays still, allowing Mikey's moving body to flow underneath it.

He holds the tip of his tail in his hands, gently rubbing his fingers over the slick and smooth scaly skin. He can feel the spikier ones that raise up when threatened, making Mikey resemble a stegosaurus -- though currently they are smoothed down.

Michelangelo hums at his father.

Splinter looks down at him, tears in his eyes as he examines the face of his youngest son. His baby, his sweet little boy that used to make him all kinds of drawings for fathers day and his birthday and Lou Jitsu appreciation day. The boy who learned to cook so that their ailing father didn't have to, when his depression caused aches and pains that wracked his aging body and kept him bedridden. The toddler that would beg his father to watch him dance, only for Mikey to just jump around and spin in circles to the rhythm of a new pop song while Splinter would clap and cheer with such adoration for his little boy...

Where is that child? Is he still in there somewhere?

Mikey looks up at him, concerned. His eyes sparkle, the yellow-tinted scleras and the glowing red irises and pupils covering up what used to be a white eye with dark green iris and black pupil. The colours are not the same, but the life and energy behind them are.

Splinter can't hold back the tears anymore, but he smiles profusely at his baby boy.

"There you are," he mumbles, crouching down to hug him tightly.

Mikey hugs him back, his tail twisting around them both.

After a few awkward minutes of silence, Splinter finally releases Mikey, who starts running around the room again playfully.

"Purple gave me a list of some tests he has planned for tomorrow," he recalls, wiping the last of the tears out from his fur and whiskers. "Small things, like an eye exam and saliva swab. He wants to try a blood test, if possible."

"Alright. Oh, by the way, tell him that Mikey has an aversion to cold now," Leo informs him. "And that he CAN understand us. We figured out how to use ASL with him."

Splinter's eyes widen with hope as he looks behind him at his baby boy. Mikey ignores them and their serious-sounding conversation, and instead jumps up into his hammock and plays around with the pillow before jumping back down, still looking around and getting reacquainted with his room.

"Very well. Are you boys sleeping with him tonight?" Splinter inquires.

Mikey attacks his pillow, grabbing it in his mouth and shaking it with a playful growl.

"We'll stay for a bit," Raph answers softly.

Splinter nods, grimacing at the cushion being ripped to shreds.

"I'll have to buy more pillows, I think..." he jokes half-heartedly.

Splinter walks over to Mikey and kisses his head. Mikey mews at him and purrs happily, the tip of his tail wagging.

"Goodnight, my sunshine," he whispers before heading out.

Mikey makes a small call out after him, like a tiny yowl or cheery whine. He's calling goodnight to him.

"Alright, Mikey, I think it's bedtime," Leo announces, stretching softly with an exaggerated yawn to convince him of the lateness.

"Aaaaawwhh!" Mikey howls. It almost sounds like an actual word...

Leo is shaken by how human the sound is. But then again, it almost sounds like a sad cat yowl if you think about it.

"No buts, big man," Raph interjects, taking over for Leo. "You fell asleep in the tub. You need your rest. Pops just brought you all these nice warm blankets and comforters, see?"

Raph holds up one of the freshly folded sheets under the hammock.

"So let's get you into bed and cozy, hmm? Yeah? Sounds good, right?"

Mikey's brow furrows, though the corner of his mouth turns up. It's as if his expression is trying to say "Really?"

Despite this, Mikey rolls his eyes and saunters over to the hammock, wiggling his hind quarters before leaping up again. He slithers under the blanket and gives out a single chirp of satisfaction.

"Good Mikey," Raph says, coming over to rub his brother's head. "We'll see ya in the morning, m'kay?"

Mikey moans at him, his eyes wide and sad. He wants them to stay.

"Alright, we'll stay," Raph sighs. He could never resist Mikey's puppy eyes before. Now it's as though he's even more of a puppy.

Mikey beams at him, chirping sweetly and cooing lovingly.

It takes all of five minutes of Raph rubbing circles on his head for Mikey to pass out.

"Is he asleep?" Leo whispers.

"No doubt about it," Raph chuckles. "Kid is in slumberland."

"Good," Leo sighs, taking Raphael's hand and leading him out of the traincar.

Once they are out, Leo starts whispering again.

"We need to talk. Mikey understood our conversation, so we can't do private conversations in ASL anymore."

"Okay? So, then what?"

Leo taps his head.

"Ninja mind meld?" Raph questions, making doubly sure he understands.

"Just for the stuff we don't want Mikey hearing," Leo answers, "or reading."

"Like the deets about his mutation, for example?" Raphael grumbles. "We agreed we wouldn't tell him!"

Leo widens his eyes and taps his head again. Raphael hears his brother's voice in his mind.

We agreed that we wouldn't tell him about the ang-kray. But I don't think it's that bad that he knows he has reptilian traits, do you? And like Donnie said, he might even know that he has it already!

Raph grunts.

Fine. You're the leader now, you can decide what we do or don't do in this situation. I can't stop ya. But... I'm worried for him.

Raph scratches his arm, a habit born out of stress.

He's... he's just a kid. And you know how hard it hit ME when I knew I had the krang in me... Mikey... I don't want him to hurt like that.

He's probably already hurting, Raph, Leo responds, taking his older brother's hands in order to get him to stop scratching. He needs us to be honest and upfront where we can be. Yes, I agree that telling him about the krang is probably not the best idea right now. But eventually he will need to know. We can't keep that from him. I don't WANT to keep things from him. If I can help Mikey understand himself, then I will.

Raph sighs.

"You're right," he says out loud. "I just worry a lot... about him, especially."

"I know," Leo sighs, pulling his brother into a hug. "But it wasn't your fault that this happened."

Raph squeezes Leo closer.

"...But it is."

Prev || Next

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urfavnegronerd · 1 year

Text

nothing even matters- lauryn hill + d'angelo

sum slight

warnings: i projected like a bitch in this because im anxious about school starting again, anxiety so like angst if you squint really really hard, fluffy, grammarly edited, lmk if i missed smth

pairings: miles g x shy black reader

thoughts have an asterisks (usually*

w/c: 2.24k ish

published: august 10, 2023

song lyrics are italicized

now the skies could fall

It wasn’t necessarily uncommon for you to panic when a teacher called on you during class. Especially, cold calls. So when third-period English rolled around, a class you typically had no problems in, and Mr. Wilson decided to call on you, your heart stopped. The familiar ice began to flow all through your veins as you gasped, eyes wide, and face on fire. The entirety of the class turned around to face you, your hands now unconsciously playing with your hair, touching your piercings, bouncing your leg, and sinking in your chair. It felt like your chest had both turned cold and dropped all at once, your eyes darting back and forth from Mr. Wilson in the door, *If I bolted now, would they call security?*

“What prevented Yui from speaking on the phone until the very end?” Mr. Wilson repeats.

It was a rather simple question, but you couldn’t bring yourself to answer it. To make matters worse, you knew the answer, hell, the answer damn near wanted to roll off your tongue.

“What prevented Yui from speaking on the phone until the very end?”

This is the third time he’s asked this question. Your breathing begins to speed up, hot tears begin to prick at your eyes, and you anxiously begin to play with your hands. *I could make it to my dorm, safe and sound with a good five-second head start.*

“The finality of it.” a voice answers from two seats to your left. “The finality of grief. She thought if she delayed talking on the phone, her daughter would come back. She thought that maybe the news was a mistake, given to the wrong person,”

“Thank you, Mr. Morales. Moving on,”

Before you hear the rest of the conversation, you shoot out of your chair, hastily grabbing the bathroom pass, and darting out of the classroom, not even bothering to ask permission.

Slamming the door to the single-stall restroom, ensuring to lock the door, you sink to the floor, defeated.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid, it was just a stupid little question you idiot,” You seethe, resting your head on the wall behind you. “Can you not be awkward for a second?”

The prick of tears you had felt in Mr. Wilson's room, gently poke out of your eyes and down your cheeks, leaving delicate and hot streaks in their wake.

Three knocks are heard on the door. If you didn’t say anything, they’d probably go away, the blazing red ‘occupied’ was currently displayed on the door’s exterior in the slit of the cool silver lock.

“Hello?”

Don’t move. Don’t say a word. They’ll go away.

“I saw you run in here,”

Shit. Someone saw, a whole class of people saw you freeze up like a deer caught in headlights, as if you aren’t almost 16 years old.

“Right, you’re not a talker,”

Embarrassment heats you like a furnace and you bury your head in your hands.

“I’m Miles if that’s any help,”

His voice is firm, calm, cool, collected, and kind of nonchalant. Almost comforting to be spoken to without someone using the voice, as if you were stupid.

“Can you come out? It’s weird talking to a bathroom door,”

Still glued to your place on the floor, you dig your nails into your palms.

“That’s fine, I get it,”

You felt bad, he was just being nice, right?

“Do you want me to stay out here? Can you like knock once for no and twice for yes?”

Timidly, you knock twice on the door.

“Cool. I don’t really talk, either, but I’ll just sit here.”

Very slowly you scooch over to your side of the door and press your back against it, tucking your knees under your chin. You can hear his soft and abrupt laugh from the other side of the door, he undoubtedly saw the slightest bit of your shadow.

You both just sit like that, for about ten minutes. You enjoyed the silence and the feeling that you weren’t alone, and having someone just felt nice. From what it felt like, he wasn’t judging you, at least you didn’t think.

Pushing yourself off the floor and making your way to the sink, you lightly splash cold sink water onto your face and thoroughly wash your hands, scrubbing your knuckles as if you could scour everything away and leave an empty canvas; one that could be painted with bright colors, happiness, flowers, and extroversion. It doesn’t work. Defeated, you sigh and pat your raw hands with scratchy brown paper towels and unlock the door.

You’d never really seen him before, or at least not fully registered his presence.

“Tight braids,” he mumbles. Subconsciously you tug at the tail ends of your cornrows in hand and blush.

“Thanks,” you whisper. And then he’s gone to god knows where.

not even if my boss should call

It had been several months since ‘the incident’, which is what the two of you called it, and life had moved on. You and Miles had gotten to be really good friends, which worked out in your favor because now teachers would pair the two of you together without question, so neither of you had to deal with people you didn’t like. This particular project was for art class, the two of you were to study the object permanence of urban life. This project had been assigned for two months, the concept the two of you came up with was standing side to side on a corner each day for the past two months. As the term had slowed down to a close, you and Miles were stationed at his desk, editing, with the help of youtube and a school-issued Photoshop account.

“That corner looks a different color than this one, Miles,”

“I think it's supposed to,”

“Oh, the light distribution?”

“Yeah, at least I’m pretty sure,”

“Miles!” his mother shouted, walking into his room while adjusting the thin gold chain that adorned her neck. “I’m going to work, call me if you need anything, ¿entiendes?”

“Have a good shift, Mrs. Morales,” your voice barely above a whisper. Not wanting to pressure you into repeating anything, the two of you had gotten to know each other the past few months, she raised her eyebrows, smiled, and looked at Miles for help.

“Have a good shift, Mamá,”

“Ah, thank you. Bye, Miles, I see you later, yes?”

“Sí, Ma, I love you,”

“I love you too,” and with a quick wave, she’s off and out the door.

Returning your attention to the laptop on his desk, you rest your head on your hand, slowly drinking in your surroundings. It wasn’t like you had never been into Miles’ room before, oh no, you’d seen it, just not as in detail as you see it now. He didn’t have as many tchotchkes as what would have been expected for someone his age. Instead, there was a pretty decent collection of sneakers and shoes, mostly Jordans, Adidas top tens, or Timberlands. You liked that there were shoes instead of trinkets. Tilting your head to the side, you look at him with a certain intensity.

the world it seems so very small

It wasn’t like you hadn’t realized Miles was attractive in the time that the two of you spent together, because you definitely did. It was hard not to notice, but you thought it would just go away. You were just friends. That’s all. Although you indubitably wanted more, you also wanted to keep your friend. The friend that had an astounding amount of patience with you, waiting until you spoke up just enough for the fast food worker to hear you or ordering for you with no questions asked, nudging or signaling you to speak up during class, and would only repeat what you’d say if the teacher had asked you to repeat what you had said more than three times. Three was the limit with you. If it didn’t work by three, it wouldn’t work, period.

And, maybe it’s just the fact that he genuinely had the patience to get to know what made you anxious and what didn’t, but you were attracted to him. To the point where his room, the very room you were in now, that smelled completely normal–peppermint, sandalwood, and some sort of cologne musk you’d recognized from him– felt like another world. Like you were transported to somewhere that the two of you just existed, and that here in whatever limbo, whatever dimension, there was nothing odd or strange about you. You were just you, funny, smart, artistic, and a reader, you weren’t that freak who couldn’t talk. You were just you.

You’d felt a little bad, though. Were you being codependent? Was your presence too much for him? That’s what scared you the most, that secretly you were his little charity case that he wanted to nurse back to health, to normalcy, and that the friendship you’d so easily cultivated wasn’t real.

Was it a friendship though? You’d been conscious of the way that he looked at you at times, especially that one time in the rain, when you had a newspaper that you’d swiped from the bodega covering your braids, whereas he had a regular rain jacket. He looked like he had just watched the first flower of spring bloom, his mouth was fighting a smile, dimples deepening the slightest bit. But, you were also the one noticing the way he looked at you. You were noticing each other, and that scared you.

Bringing yourself back to the moment, grounding yourself, you turn to look at Miles’ now distracted figure. Sure, he was still looking at the pictures for your project, but he wasn’t really doing anything. Just looking. Was he looking at you? What would it have mattered if he was? The two of you were friends, nothing more nothing less.

But the way you were looking at him now though, you could be sure that this was not how friends looked at each other. You were almost inspecting him, the very small, barely noticeable, gold studs in his ears, and the thin yet durable gold chain around his neck. His chain basically matched Rio’s, and admittedly, you thought it was cute, sweet even. That this boy who mainly spoke in clear and concise sentences, the boy who had a cold wall up, matched chains with his mom. You’d wondered about it, the chain, you never really pegged him for a jewelry kind of guy, more like a hair clip jewelry if anything. You’d been wrong, but you didn’t mind it. Not this time.

Suddenly, you weren’t in control of your movements at all, you had found yourself timidly reaching out to touch his necklace. It was pretty. And definitely overstepping a boundary. Or so you thought? He didn’t really react, other than slightly raising his head in acknowledgment.

“It was my dad's,” oh. He never really spoke about his dad or what happened to him. “It matches my mom’s chain.”

“That's really sweet,”

You had just now realized how close the two of you were, your face practically in front of his shoulder. You could smell him. Today wasn’t a cologne kind of day, more like a clean day. He smelled like hair oil, and a bit like rosemary. It was intoxicating.

Instantaneously he jolts his head to the side, not expecting you to be right there

“Hey– oh. Hi.”

The air around the two of you changes, and you begin to study his face. Like, really study his face. The subtle underline of his cheekbones, the slight curvature of his cupid's bow, and the width of his nose. It wasn’t like his nose was oddly shaped, it seemed oddly symmetrical, in fact. Like both ends resemble the arc of a pair of parenthesis.

He slowly begins to lean in, very slowly, his breathing erratic and uneven. Sitting up, slowly you look at him quizzically.

“You’re breathing weird” you whisper, only this time, you’re not anxious about talking out loud. This time, it’s a genuine whisper, a whisper with an inkling of tranquility, softness; peace. You hadn’t felt peace in so long.

Miles continues to lean in, eyes darting in between your eyes and your lips. Oh, how he adored your lips, the gentle scent of strawberry from your chapstick, how they were barely two-toned, just slightly different shades of pink. How your bottom lip was bigger than the top lip, how there was always a small recoil after you had been biting your lips.

It felt as if you were floating on a hazy euphoric cloud, you weren’t worried about your next move, or the next thing you were going to say. Softly, you bring your hand to rest on the left side of his collarbone. It jumped out slightly at the very end, but it was a delicate asset he had, gentle bone structure barely noticeable under the loose black tee he was wearing.

“Your heart,” you croak “I can feel your heart.”

At this point, the two of you were inches apart, halted, waiting for the other to make the next move. A small and genuine smile plays at the corner of his lips.

“I can feel your breath” he whispers.

The gap between the two of you closes, your hand still resting on his chest, his cradling your right cheek.

cause nothing even matters at all

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🩷 reblogs are always appreciated for reach <3

xoxo,

rae <3

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