#it happened four? times over in the span of a few minutes

[franeridan]

dressrosa really is the best arc........it really just is.......

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Danny Is A Self-Fulfilling Prophecy

(not in a necessarily bad way and it's by Clockwork's design)

Bats, or Constantine, or the JL, or whoever you want to be close to Danny in this prompt, don't notice it right away. It takes them a while to figure out its not purely coincidence. And even after they do figure it out, they still have their doubts.

The thing is, it doesn't work all the time. It also doesn't seem to have a system or a schedule to it, nor is it any kind of a superpower, as far as they can understand. By God, does Danny have way too many superpowers, but most of them are consistent, and yet this one... is weird. Weirder than anything they've seen before, and they've seen a lot, okay.

It also only works if Danny does it without thinking.

"You know what'd be perfect right now? A cheese sandwich," Danny says over the comms, in the middle of the fight with Dr. Freeze, "A warm, grilled cheese sandwich just out of the toas- Owch, what?" There's a pause. And then, "Guys, you're not gonna believe it, a cheese sandwich just smacked me in the face! I think someone threw it out of the window or something!" Danny sounds bewildered, but excited, and there's a sound of chewing from his comm now. At least he is eating, so that's good.

"I fucking hate robots," he grumbles the other day, punching his way through the Brainiac invasion in Metropolis, with no comm and only for the Supes to overhear, "No, correction, I hate only evil robots. The ones that interrupt my astronomy class. The ones that shoot motherfucking lasers and walk like crabs, and ruin a perfect day, and- I wish- aw, fuck, no, that's bad wording. Don't wish for shit. But if all these robots would just suddenly, miraculously malfunction and stop attacking me and the whole city, that would be, like, real nice of them."

A few minutes later, something goes wrong with the Brainiac's control over the army of robots, and all of them just stop moving and fall down at once. It is deemed as a chance, a lucky shot, a coincidence. Supes keeps quiet over what he heard Danny say.

"Oh, you bitch-ass fruitloop, you know what I want?" Danny yells at Plasmius, as the ghost is laughing like a madman, "I want a fucking brick to fall down right on your head, like, right now! Maybe that can set your brains straight for at least five minutes!" And even before he is finished talking, there's something falling down from the sky and hitting Plasmius's head. It's not a brick, to be exact, it's Miss Martian's shoe, though. She has no idea how it even came undone and fell from her foot. But it did somehow knock Plasmius out cold, so there's that.

It doesn't happen all the time. Red Robin does the math - the improbable accidents only happen in about 26% of the situations, given that Danny says something. It's by no means a reliable power. It also doesn't happen only during the fights: there were numerous times when Danny just said something like 'I wonder if the cafeteria serves garlic bread today' and sure enough, there's garlic bread there. Even if it was not on the menu. Ever.

They try to question Danny himself, but he has no idea. He doesn't even notice the coincidences most of the times - which is not surprising, knowing that they only happen in one out of four situations and Danny is known to have a short attention span. So, after a few unsuccessful investigations and failed attempts at calculating how this even works, they all give up. It has never jinxed anything, as far as they know, so everyone just leaves it be.

Danny is just magically lucky like that.

Meanwhile, Clockwork is having a good laugh about it. Danny's suggestions amuse him, and it's funny to watch the other superheroes having a mental breakdown over it, so he rigs the timeline from time to time. Just a little.

[hanjisungs-bigtittyg0thgf]

Brother

best friend’s brother!mingi x fem reader

Trigger warnings: none

Content warnings: oral (f receiving), names ( babygirl, baby, good girl, angel), ass slapping, unprotected sex, cream pie, mingi's got a big dick (bc ofc he does)

Summary: your best friend's brother finally makes a move

Word count: 3.7k

A/N: hi angelssss i hope you like thisssss i had brain rot and wrote this in the span of maybe six hours total while i was at work. also message me or comment if you'd like to be on my tag list!

Tags: @bahng-chrizz

Smut below the cut

“Come on, you’re gonna love it! I promise.” Your best friend tugged at your arm, leading you up the front steps and into her family home. The house was large and you were certain that all of the rooms weren’t used. There was no way a family of four could make total use of a space so large.

“But this is a family event, babes. Are you sure?” You asked nervously, looking around as you toed your shoes off with trepidation.

“I’m positive. You’re my chosen family so you still count.” She squeezed your hand and you nodded slowly, taking in the massive foyer. A glittering chandelier hung above your head and before you was a sprawling staircase that led to two separate wings of the house.

Yeah, no way a family of four can use all this…

“Is it like…cousins and aunts and uncles or is it even more extended?” You asked nervously.

“It’s just my parents’ siblings and their children. And of course the grandparents. But my parents both come from large families so it’ll be close to eighty people. Just stick with me and all will be well. Now, they’re all in the den. Come on.” She reassured you and then you were headed in the direction of the family room. In a house like this, it felt more fitting to call the large room a parlor but you didn’t point that out.

As soon as you entered the room, all eyes were on you and your friend, including those of a tall, gorgeous man. You couldn’t bring yourself to look directly at him though. He was too pretty and too intimidating for you to stare. Besides, your friend was introducing you to the room and you were too focused on not passing out from the attention as you waved and gave a shy smile.

As the room returned to their conversations, the tall man made his way over to you and your friend. “Hey, mom wants you. She’s in her room.” Wait a minute. This was her brother? This was the ever-annoying Mingi she always spoke of?

“All right.” She pulled an apologetic face as she turned to you. “Just wait right here. I’ll be right back.” Then to her brother. “Mingi, can you keep her company while I’m gone?” He nodded and you felt a ball of nerves form in your stomach. You were going to be alone with her hot older brother?

As she walked away, you offered an awkward smile and looked anywhere but at him. He was far too attractive for you to act normal around. And his deep voice was doing things to you. No way could you uphold a conversation.

That was four years ago. Since then, you’d gotten comfortable at these events, which you’d learned happened several times a year on major holidays. Today was one such event and you were seated on the patio, chatting with one of the many cousins you’d come to learn were close to your age. He was a few years younger and a sweet guy. You could tell he had a crush on you but you weren’t interested. You were hyper aware of Mingi on the far side of the patio, your stomach in knots anytime you caught him looking in your direction.

Over the course of the last four years, you’d grown comfortable with the family but even more nervous around Mingi. He was even more beautiful than the day you’d first laid eyes on him and he seemed to hover nearby whenever you were around. It made you nervous even if you did love the way he seemed to be everywhere you went.

“Well, it looks like I gotta go. But I’ll text you!” The younger man stood with a smile.

You offered a bright one in return and nodded. “For sure. It was good to see you again.” You stood as well when he walked away, stretching. Then Mingi had a grip on your wrist and you startled but allowed him to pull you along. “Mingi? What’s wrong?”

“We need to talk.” His tone sent a shiver down your spine and you didn’t bother trying to pull away as he led you towards the pool house. There was no room for argument. Your gut twisted but you followed.

Once inside the cramped, dark room, he turned to you with a frown. “Mingi, seriously. What’s wrong? You’re making me nervous.”

“Good.” He said simply before crashing his lips to yours in a searing kiss.

Hello?

You didn’t fight him though. You gladly accepted his advances despite the nerves settling in your belly. When he pulled back, you tried your hardest to remain nonchalant despite the way your chest heaved. “What was that?”

“You’re not allowed to flirt with anyone else, let alone my cousin.” Was his only response before his lips were back on yours in a heated, demanding kiss. Mingi was always the shy type around you so this was entirely out of character for him. You never imagined he’d react this way to you simply chatting with his cousin, as you’d done countless times before.

You allowed him to press you back against the door, your hands moving to his sides as his lips worked yours open. His tongue swept into your mouth and your head spun. This was an entirely new side to the man you thought you knew. He was starved and you were the only thing that could sate him.

His hand came up to your jaw and you bit back a small sound at the touch, still reeling from everything that was transpiring. Finally, you pulled back just enough to take a breath and pressed your forehead to his. “What is happening?”

“I’m making it obvious why you can’t have anything to do with other men.” He whispered, nudging his nose against yours. “I’ve wanted you since the day we met.”

“She’ll kill us.”

“She’s wanted us together even longer, y/n. I told her not to tell you that I liked you.”

“Why now, Mingi?”

“Because I was too much of a coward before.” He nudged your nose again and you tipped your head back enough to meet his lips again. It was a brief peck but it was enough to send electricity shooting down your spine. “I’m tired of being afraid, y/n. I’m telling you now: you belong to me and no other man can so much as look at you the way he did. I won’t stand for it.”

“Prove that I’m yours then.” You pulled back enough to make eye contact and saw a myriad of emotions swimming in his chocolate eyes. “What other men do is none of my concern, Mingi. What matters is what you do.”

“Do you really want me to prove it? Because there’s so much I wanna do right now.”

“What do you want to do? Tell me about it.”

His eyes seemed to darken with lust and he glanced down at your lips before locking eyes with you again. “I wanna taste you. Wanna make you fall apart on my tongue and then stuff you full of my cock and make you scream my name so everyone knows you’re all mine.” He paused. “And that’s only the beginning of it.”

Your pulse ratcheted up at the confession and you found yourself nodding before you could even fully process his words. It had been a long time since anyone had laid a hand on you and the dry spell was getting to you. Your inability to say no was worsened by the fact that it was Mingi propositioning you. “Do it then. Do everything you want to do to me.”

“You don’t know what you’re signing yourself up for.” He warned even as he looked back to your lips, descending on them a moment later. His kiss was ravenous, his lips devouring yours. He tasted like candy and smoke, a combination you couldn’t comprehend but knew you wouldn’t get tired of anytime soon.

All too soon he was pulling away and leaning down to press his lips to your neck instead, his hands moving to the hem of your shirt. You reached blindly behind you to lock the door then tangled your hands in his platinum hair, your head tipping back to further expose your throat to him. He began to lift your shirt and you pressed your chest against him, arching off the door. You needed to be closer to him.

“Down girl.” He teased as he tugged your shirt up and over your head, letting out a soft breath once he saw your bare breasts. “No bra? You wanted me to lose it, didn’t you?” He accused as he leaned down to take one into his mouth while the other rested in his massive hand.

“I may have thought about the possibility a time or two.” You grinned and closed your eyes, taking in the sensation of his tongue on your nipple as your head rested against the door. He rolled the opposite nipple between his thumb and first finger and you made a small noise of appreciation. “You know, I always imagined you to be a boob guy.” You teased, gasping when his teeth caught lightly on your nipple.

“I’m a man of culture, y/n, I like it all. Boobs, ass, and thighs. And I'm about to worship every inch of you.” Then he was swapping sides as his hand dipped between your legs, cupping you through your shorts.

You bit your lip hard as you looked down to watch him work, his fingers tugging your shorts to the side and tracing your slit. Things were moving fast but you couldn’t be bothered to slow it down. You needed him to do everything he’d said and more or you feared you might lose your mind.

“Wait.” He paused and pulled back, concern etched on his face. You offered a small smile and unbuttoned your shorts, shimmying the material down your legs along with your panties. “I need you.”

“Say less.” He groaned as he dropped to his knees before you and hooked your right leg over his shoulder. “You’re so pretty, baby. So perfect. And all mine.”

“All yours.” You agreed with a nod as he leaned in, his breath fanning out over your heated core. You held his gaze as his lips molded to your pussy and you let out a high-pitched whine as his tongue met your folds. “Mingi…”

He groaned against you at your taste and set a teasing pace, his tongue gliding through your folds and flicking over your clit. It was as if he’d known your body for centuries, the way his tongue worked you. He knew exactly what to do to get a rise out of you and he was all too happy to pull out every stop.

Your hand tangled in his hair and you pulled him closer when his tongue delved into you. “Mingi-” You gasped his name and rolled your hips, grinding against his mouth. His hands held you still as he fucked into you with his tongue and you whimpered at not being allowed to move against him.

“Steady, baby.” He murmured, trying to calm you down. It didn’t work, obviously, and he hiked your other leg up over his shoulder instead.

“Fuck- don’t drop me, Mingi, I swear-” You sounded panicked as both your feet dangled at his back.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, angel. Relax. I’ve got you, babygirl.” His voice was soothing as his hands smoothed over the curve of your ass, kneading the soft flesh there a moment later. “Just hold still and let me take care of you, yeah?” You nodded despite wanting to writhe against his face and he kissed your thigh. “Good girl.”

You melted at the endearment and relaxed against the door, allowing him to fully support you as he leaned back in. His tongue was fucking heaven the way it flicked over your clit then pressed back inside you. You didn’t want anyone else to ever attempt to go down on you again after this. He was the only one whose head you’d want between your legs from then on.

His deep voice vibrated against your pussy as he groaned at your taste, his tongue now lapping at your clit. You whimpered and fought the urge to attempt to grind against him, not wanting to knock him off balance and end up on the floor. Instead, you tugged at his hair and tried to pull him closer.

“Please- oh-” Your toes curled as he sucked on your clit and your thighs squeezed tight around his head, earning another suckle and a long groan against your soaking cunt. “Mingi, oh my god- please don’t stop- fuck ‘m so close-” You babbled as the knot in your belly began to fray. Any further teasing and he’d ruin your orgasm. You needed him to see you through it.

“Cum for me, angel. Cum all over my tongue like a good girl.” He coached before leaning back in and sucking harshly on your clit, his tongue flicking wildly over the sensitive bud at the same time.

You couldn’t have held back even if you’d wanted to. Your back arched and your toes curled as you shuddered with your orgasm, white hot bliss filling your veins. You worried for a moment that you’d fall as he lurched backwards but he quickly countered your movements to steady you and continued his motions, guiding you through your orgasm.

Finally, he backed away slowly, letting one shaky leg down and then the other. “Good girl. You did so good for me.” He pressed kisses to your thighs before standing and pecking your lips. “So good. Think you can take my cock now, babygirl?” You nodded instantly, not wanting to even think about what would happen if you said no or even that you needed a break. You simply needed to be filled right then.

He instantly shucked his shorts and boxers, then lifted you from the floor and you gasped as your legs wrapped around his waist. You loved feeling small and taken care of and he was just strong enough, just large enough to make you feel so tiny and fragile. God he was large… His dick, so thick and long, was straining with interest and already leaking precum and your pussy throbbed at the thought of taking it all. You needed him.

The blunt head of his cock prodded at your entrance and you quickly shimmied down onto his length, earning a hiss. “Fuck, baby, you’re so tight…” He lightly slapped your ass and you whined softly, clenching around him. “Shit- don’t do that, I won’t last. It's too good.” He warned and you did it again, knowing exactly how to get him to lose control now.

He gave an experimental thrust and you knew this position wouldn’t work. “The table.” You looked over his shoulder, gesturing to the table positioned against the wall behind him. “Fuck me there.” It was by a window so it was risky but you didn’t care. You needed him to fuck you and you needed a stable place to do so.

As he carried you to the table, his motions sending him further into you, you peered out the window. All the children were long gone and it seemed only a handful of folks still milled about in the yard, including your friend and her parents. You let out a soft sound at the cool press of metal on your bare skin as he seated you on the table and gave a shallow thrust, letting out a low groan. “So fucking tight for me, babygirl.”

“You’re just so big.” You whined, tugging him in close with your legs. “Kiss me.” You whispered, grabbing a fistful of his royal blue shirt and pulling him down. He gladly obliged and you let out a weak moan at the taste of yourself on his lips as he snapped his hips forward.

The motion was enough to knock the air out of you and you made a pathetic noise as he set a demanding pace, his hips already slapping against your ass. He drank up your moans, muffling the sounds so as not to get caught - yet.

He fit perfectly. He was massive and the stretch was delicious. He reached places your fingers couldn’t and filled you in ways your toys never had. You’d never felt so perfectly full and cared for in your life.

Still, it wasn’t enough.

You slipped a hand between you and began to massage lazy circles on your clit. A moment later, though, your hand was gently knocked away and Mingi took over. That was a new one. No man had ever truly cared about your pleasure. No man had been so set on being the one to make you fall apart.

Until Mingi.

He pulled out suddenly and urged you to sit up. “Turn around.” He commanded and fuck if you were going to disobey. You loved taking it from behind.

You quickly complied with his orders and a moment later he was back inside, filling you in a whole new way. “Oh god-” You moaned pathetically as he reached around to toy with your clit some more.

“Not god, baby. Just your Mingi.” He crooned in your ear and you clenched around him involuntarily.

“Mine.” You agreed with a nod. “My Mingi. All mine.”

“That’s right, babygirl.” He nipped at your earlobe and your flesh puckered, your nipples tightening. “And I'm gonna make sure you never forget it.”

His words were emphasized by a sharp thrust that knocked you forwards, his thick cock abusing your dripping cunt. “I couldn’t forget this even if I wanted to, Mingi. It’s all I've wanted since the moment we met. Can’t forget it when I’m finally getting you.” You sounded breathless and whiny as you spoke.

A lewd squelching filled the cramped room as he railed you from behind and you felt the coil in your belly growing tighter with each thrust. You couldn’t help but lift your head and glance out the window to ensure you were still going unnoticed and found even less people in the yard, the group now down to one couple along with the rest of Mingi’s immediate family, who were cleaning the yard now.

“What do you see, baby?”

“They’re gone. Just a few left. Fuck-” He drove into you harder and your toes curled as your elbows buckled and dropped you back on the table. “Feels so good, Mingi!” You cried out quietly, careful not to be too loud lest you get caught.

“Yeah? You like when I fuck you like this?” His hips slammed against your ass and you heard the table hit the wall as you nodded.

“Love it so fucking much. Don’t you dare stop- oh-” He slapped your ass with his free hand just as he lightly pinched your clit and you felt your orgasm lurch closer. “Fuck, Mingi, do that again!” You gasped, fingers tightly gripping the edges of the table. Your knuckles whited in response to your death grip on the cool metal surface.

The table was now steadily knocking against the wall and you prayed you were far enough away from everyone that they wouldn’t notice. You weren’t sure if you could handle being caught.

“Oh god, Mingi- fuck ‘m so close! Please-” Before you could ask permission, you felt your orgasm washing over you.

Your walls clenched and fluttered around the thick cock inside you and you allowed yourself to fall forward onto the table, your cheek pressing against the metal as you came undone. It was intense. Your body jerked from the force of it and you continued to twitch even as you came down from it.

“Fuck- babygirl- tell me where you want it, baby.” His grunts damn near pulled another one out of you and you clenched around him intentionally.

“Inside. Want it all inside.” You whimpered, hugging his cock tightly with your sensitive cunt. The pressure was enough to drag him over the edge and he let out the most beautiful sound as he came undone, filling you to the brim with his cum.

He didn’t stop until you were so full you were dripping his release all down your thighs. When he pulled out you made a small, dissatisfied noise and stood straight. You walked on wobbly legs to gather your clothes, biting your lip when he caught you by the waist. “Let me clean you up some, baby.” His voice was roughened with sex and your head spun at the sound.

A towel was pressed against your thighs and he began to wipe up his mess. When had he had a chance to grab one from the shelf? It didn’t matter. What mattered was how his hands felt against your skin. He was so gentle with you and your heart swelled at the care he used.

When he released you, you quickly tugged your panties on and reached for your shorts. “Mingi?” You called softly as you dressed yourself. He hummed in response as you buttoned your shorts. “You know this means things can’t go back to normal, right? This changes everything.”

“That was the plan.” He grinned as he tugged his underwear and shorts back on. Once dressed, he made his way to you and helped you adjust your shirt. “I want things to be different between us, y/n. I want us to be more than acquaintances. More than friends.”

“I-I do too.” You bit your lip and looked up at him. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you from across the room.”

“Then I’m yours.” He smiled softly and pulled you against him. “All yours.” He whispered just before kissing you sweetly. You could still kind of taste yourself on his lips and it made you dizzy.

You were about to say something sweet in return when the door handle rattled. “Guys come on. Mom and dad are getting suspicious.” Your friend’s low voice came through the door. She knew you were in here all along?

[joelscruff]

feelings on fire (joel miller x f!reader) 18+ PART 8.5 (JOEL'S POV)

previous chapters | so after the last chapter there were SO many people who really wanted to understand joel's actions, and i thought instead of him simply explaining to reader what happened, why don't i just write a chapter entirely from his point of view instead? hopefully this answers some questions, enjoy! and here's my kofi if you'd like to leave a tip 💕 chapter summary: you're not the only one who has a busy weekend ahead of them. one text changes the trajectory of joel's relationship with you - for better or worse. (this is essentially chapter seven and eight from joel's pov) rating: 18+ explicit warnings for this chapter: age difference (joel is in his 50s, reader is in her early 20s), innocent/inexperienced reader, discussions of child abandonment, mental health & cheating, alcohol, allusions to past sexual encounters between joel and his ex, brief flashbacks to smut from previous chapters word count: 13k ao3

He thinks about you so much more often than he should.

Your soft skin, your smile, your eyes, your hair, your little giggles, your shy and breathless whimpers.... your body, pliant and sweet beneath his touch, open and willing and waiting.

You're so perfect. You're so young.

He's never been with someone so much younger than him before. He's not sure you realize that. But that day on his doorstep when you'd wandered down the sidewalk looking like a bit of a lost puppy, that little frown line prominent between your eyebrows that he's come to adore, something clicked. You brought out a side of him he'd long since buried; he knew he had to have you. He just knew. Could feel it in the pit of his stomach when those gorgeous eyes had come to rest on him. Wide and innocent and sad. Something he saw there that made him pause.

He'd have had you that day if you'd let him, a fact that he's still grappling with. Long gone are the days where he'd meet a woman and take her home within a twenty four hour span - long gone are the days where he's so much as been interested in a woman he didn't know well enough, someone safe and secure and familiar. But he hoped you'd be back, almost knew you would, could see it in the way you shivered under his gaze, the way your eyes lingered on his face, on his fingers. He hadn't felt like being charming in a long time; he'd genuinely surprised himself with the flirtatious comments, the sly smiles, double meanings. But he couldn't help himself.

He'd wanted you so bad. The moment you'd disappeared down the street he'd gotten in the shower and fucked his fist for only a few minutes before coming all over the tiled wall at the very thought of you. He didn't even know your name but had already memorized the curves of your body, the shape of your lips, the smell of your skin when he'd gotten close enough. He'd practically limped back to his bedroom and collapsed on the bed in a heap, staring up at the ceiling with nothing but shock and confusion. Where the fuck had that come from?

He's such a dirty old man.

Old being the operative word. He turns fifty seven in a few months and the thought makes him feel physically ill. It's not that he necessarily hates the thought of getting older, of being one step closer to knocking on death's door, but more-so the fact that he's almost fifty seven and has almost nothing to show for it. His life is a mess, has been a mess for as long as he can remember.

But now... you.

You... full of life and eagerness and kindness. A soft and gentle angel in his bed, on his couch, in his kitchen. So shy and quiet, telling him what you think about, what you worry about. Letting him whisper the filthiest things in your ear while you whimper and moan, letting him touch you the way you deserve to be touched, the way you've never been touched before.

You bring something out in him he can't explain. He'd invited you inside that first day looking for a quick fuck and he admits it was a moment of weakness, the whole thing. He knows Sarah and Mish would kill him for even considering treating you that way, like an object, something to be conquered. The past version of himself who briefly felt that way about you makes him angry now.

Because now he really wants you. Not just a fuck - he wants you. He thinks about you all the fucking time and it scares the shit out of him. What started as something dirty and frivolous quickly turned into something tender and sweet the moment you told him you were a virgin, and he doesn't know how to handle it. You're so fucking lovely but so fucking sad and unsure, full of apprehension, regrets, insecurities, things he sees in himself. You remind him so much of himself at that age and he just wants to take care of you, be the person for you that he didn't have.

But you're so fucking young.

He tries to push the feelings down. He's purposely distant to you, especially during the week. You send him sweet little messages, tell him about your day, ask him about his. He stares at them for so long without answering them, and when he does answer his replies are short and vague. Because how can he say what he really wants to say? I think about you so much, angel. I want you to be mine. I don't want you to chase after any college boys or have any college boys chasin' after you. I wanna be your first and I wanna be your only.

How can he put you in that position? You're having fun, you're learning things, but there's absolutely no way you see any sort of future with him. The fact that he can already see one with you is the biggest red flag in itself - what the fuck is wrong with him?

But you're just so fucking sweet. So lovely. So gorgeous. He wants you in his bed and he wants you to stay there. He knows he'll be the first person to ever fuck you and that thought is enough to keep him going, yet he can't help but want more. But it's so selfish - you're young and bright-eyed and pretty and perfect, the promise of an incredible future ahead of you. And he's just... him.

He's old. He's grumpy. He's washed up. Became a father in high school. Got married. Got divorced. Has had more failed relationships than successful ones. Has been working the same job since he was twenty years old, a job he fucking hates. Loathes it with his entire being. Still doing the same work for the majority of his life with almost no breaks, no stops. He knows he should retire, should have done it years ago, but he's afraid.

He's always been fucking terrified of change. Earlier this year he'd moved into a new neighborhood. He'd gotten sick of the house he'd once shared with Mish, then Mish and Sarah, then just Sarah - the one she'd lived in sporadically 'til she was twenty six and finally felt financially stable enough to go out on her own. He'd stayed there about ten more years out of convenience, had another failed relationship with a woman who deserved far better than what he could give her, then finally pulled the plug and got something new for himself a few hours away, hoping it'd change his perspective. He'd picked a place with privacy, good acoustics, thought maybe he'd play his guitar more - focus on his music and slowly phase himself out of the contracting business.

But months later, he's still working it. The thought of being unemployed after working this hard his entire life, just ending up sad and alone in this new house, still not even properly furnished or decorated, makes him want to throw up. What the fuck would he do with all that free time? He's always wondered exactly how he'd spend it, how life could be enjoyable without the structure of his livelihood, but then he shakes it off and just keeps going because he knows the alternative has to be worse. But now... you.

You - who if you truly knew what a fucking failure he is, the boring bag of bones he pretends he's not when he's with you - would leave his bed and never come back.

You - who if you found out about his ex wife, his daughter, both of whom live adventurous and exciting lives while he's done nothing but stay still in the comforts of familiarity - would probably find him beyond pathetic.

You - who can do so much better.

He just knows that it can't last.

--

He gets the text from Sarah on Wednesday morning:

Hey Dad!! Me and Mom are doing our annual road trip, thought we'd stop down there for a bit and have a look at your new house!!

He tries not to notice the excitement of seeing his daughter being slightly dulled by the promise of being accompanied by her mother. In a way it makes him sad, because he loves Mish, has loved her since he was seventeen years old. He cares deeply about her and has always wanted nothing but the best for her, has always enjoyed her visits in the past - for more than one reason. But now...

No. He has to shake the thought away before he freaks himself out.

Kiddo!!!! That's exciting, when were you thinkin?

We'll be there by Friday afternoon!! Sorry for the short notice but we weren't sure if it'd be possible til today. We're actually trying to stick to a schedule this time believe it or not.

That's ok, you know it doesn't matter to me. Wanna see you any time. Miss you a lot.

Aw Dad I miss you too, I can't wait to see you!!! We'll text when we're getting close. Gonna check into a motel that night and we'll be leaving again the next morning, gotta stay on track.

He almost offers his guest room. Almost. But then thinks better of it.

Sounds good kiddo, see you then :)

Mish texts him later that afternoon. He'd been expecting it, knew she would want to double check that the visit was alright, but her name popping up in his notifications sends a jab of anxiety to the pit of his stomach. It's one thing for Sarah to visit on her own, but both of them together always adds a... different layer to the situation. A layer that needs addressing. A layer that he'd usually have more than a little excitement for, some anticipation - but not this time.

Sarah's got me roadtrippin again

She loves to make you suffer.

Don't I know it

He can't help but chuckle to himself, but his smile fades quickly as soon as the next message comes in:

Gonna be stopping by on Friday. You good for our usual?

He stalls.

Thought you were still with Elvis.

ALVIN. And no that's over

Sorry about that.

Like hell you are

He purposely doesn't answer her question, and she doesn't send anything else. The anxiety doesn't go away though - it spreads throughout his body until he's an absolute mess, shaky hands and ringing ears at the job site as he tries to stay focused, but ultimately fails to. His crew flits here and there around him without much direction and they end up going overtime, leading to an angry call from the boss, a call that leaves his hands clenched into fists by the time he gets to the bar with the crew. Fuck. This. Job.

He drinks too much, tries to calm himself, keep his thoughts steady. He pretends he doesn't know why he's feeling like this, pushes down all the reasons he wishes Sarah was traveling by herself this time. But deep down, he knows.

He gets a ride home with one of his buddies, limbs aching in a way that they haven't for a while. He always has days like this, days where the physical labor catches up to his aging body and reminds him that he really shouldn't be doing this job anymore, but somehow it's worse this time; the mental load from Mish's texts are giving him a discomfort he can't really describe.

He remembers only as he crosses the threshold that he promised he'd call you. Shit.

He does, but he can't remember much of what he said the next morning, only that he vented a bit. He hopes with every bone in his body that he didn't mention Mish, that his complaints focused solely on work.

Your texts that afternoon from the church bathroom prove this to be the case, and he breathes a sigh of relief when you agree to come see him that night. He knows he'll feel calm in your company, that the anxiety will ebb away in your presence.

He tries not to think about the implications of that.

God, he's fucked.

--

You had a horrible day.

You show up on his doorstep with tears shining in your eyes and that soft little line furrowed deep between your brows, the line he adores, wants to smooth with his thumb. He pulls you in close and breathes you in and finds that the anxiety, the worry, the uncertainty, all of it disappears in your embrace. You tell him you don't want to do anything, just want to be with him.

You have no idea how much it means to hear you say that to him.

He lays you in his bed and holds you for a while, listens as you tell him about what happened, confide in him. You tell him more about your upbringing and your family, your school years and friends, the pressure and scrutiny you've felt suffocated by your whole life. And god if you're not describing him. You have no idea how fucking similar the two of you are, how much he wants to wrap you up and protect you from the world and from all the people who threaten to dull the light in your eyes. Don't become like me, he wants to whisper, you deserve so much better.

He could listen to you talk for hours. That soft voice lulls him into a state of nirvana he's never experienced, body practically going numb with how in tune it is with your words, like he's become some kind of plant absorbing all your emotions, thoughts, feelings, as you bare yourself to him. You're so lovely. Please never stop talking.

It all culminates in the removal of your crucifix. He barely even thinks about it, just knows exactly what he has to do to calm you, to make you feel better, to steal back some of those worries from you and lock them away for a little bit where they can't hurt you. It's the least he can do. He wants to do it.

It's a gesture he doesn't fully realize the importance of, the magnitude - not yet, anyway.

He backtracks while you shower. It's just sex. This is not going any further than you showing her how it's done, preparing her for the real world, for the future men who actually stand a chance with her. The thought makes him dig his nails deep into his duvet as he settles under the sheets and takes a deep breath. She's not yours. She doesn't want you the way she thinks she does. She doesn't know the real you.

He can't help but picture you in his shower, standing naked under the hot water, in the exact spot he's gotten himself off to your very image. His dick twitches in his pajama pants and he has to adjust himself, cursing softly at his dirty thoughts and reminding himself that nothing is happening tonight, that you don't want to. He's not even disappointed, doesn't care that the sexting from earlier isn't coming to fruition tonight; just laying with you is enough for him. And he hates himself because he knows exactly what that means.

His phone vibrates while he's waiting and he picks it up from the nightstand - a text from Sarah:

Gettin closer! We should be there tomorrow, probably late afternoon. Do you work Fridays?

Yep, he wants to say, Monday to Friday, every week of my entire life since before you were born, but of course he doesn't. Would never.

I do but I'll be back around 5:30 or so. I'll give you a call when I'm home.

Sounds good!!!

Also:

An image comes in and he taps it, squinting his eyes to figure out exactly what he's looking at. He can make out Sarah and Mish sitting atop some statue of a bull they must have encountered outside a gas station. Sarah's arm is thrown back as she poses with her signature killer smile, while Mish grips the bullhorns and sticks her tongue out, braids peeking out from under a cowboy hat. There's something about it that's familiar, something he can't quite place as his eyes strain without the aid of his glasses - the ones he never wears. He pushes his phone away from his eyes, brings it back and hopes to bring the image into focus a little bit.

Oh. It's his hat.

And fuck, if he doesn't know how that makes him feel.

"You need glasses," he hears you say softly, and he looks up from the image of his daughter and ex wife to see you standing at the edge of the bed, clad in nothing but a towel.

He locks his phone and hopes you weren't standing there too long.

--

He doesn't know how to tell you that he won't be able to see you tonight.

He spends the morning in complete and utter bliss, waking up to your bashful request to give him a blowjob. You're so fucking sweet, even when asking for something so filthy. Your mouth is soft and warm around his cock and he feels like he's died and gone to heaven, wants desperately to spill inside and watch you swallow but knows it's not the right time, not yet.

He wonders what your face would look like covered in his come.

Dirty. Old. Man.

You burn his breakfast and furiously apologize, cursing under your breath as you soak the freshly burnt pan under the faucet and frown at your failure. But he doesn't view it as a failure; for him it's just another thing to add to the mental list of reasons he thinks you're adorable.

You ride his thigh. He makes you come, the most beautiful little sounds escaping your lips as you ride it out. He loves how that little worry line between your brows always returns when he's making you feel good, like he really is taking some of that worry away and replacing it with pleasure. He only wants to see that line when he's making you come. He never wants to see you sad again like you'd been last night, just wants to hold you in his arms and protect you from the world.

But then it's time to go and he still hasn't told you about tonight. He does not want to lie to you. He refuses to. But what else can he say? Just that he'll be out late? What if you ask him why? And god, it's not like he's gonna do anything. He's not gonna entertain Mish's offer, not this time. He shouldn't. He won't.

You save him the trouble. Your friend from college is visiting, a girl named Tasha - she's taking you out for the first time ever. He supposes that makes things much easier; no explaining or giving excuses, no revealing things he's not ready to reveal. He dodged a bullet.

Right?

So why does he still feel like such a prick?

--

He gets home from work and calls Sarah, just like he said he would. He only has a short window of time to do a bit of sprucing - fluff the couch pillows a bit, do a quick wipe down of the bathroom - before the doorbell is ringing and he's jogging to the door with excitement coursing through his veins. The anxiety has dulled at the mere promise of seeing his daughter on the other side of that door.

"DAD!" she squeals excitedly as he thrusts it open, and he's immediately enveloped in the warmth of Sarah's embrace, sweet and familiar.

"Kiddo," he breathes into her hair, feeling tears prick in his eyes like they always do, "Missed ya."

"Missed you too," she says into his shoulder, muffled and quiet, "So much, Dad, you have no idea."

They have their moment together, eyes closed as they sway on the spot and smile tearfully - it's been almost a year since her last visit. It didn't used to feel as palpable, those long periods of time between seeing each other, but as he's gotten older he finds that he misses her a lot; his little pal, not so little anymore. Thirty eight now, a full blown woman with a loving husband and a freshly solid career as an author, the life he always wanted for her.

"How're things?" he asks softly, "You doin' okay? Need any money?"

She laughs, "Things are good. I'm good, I promise."

"How's Jude, he good?"

"He's great, and the book's been doin' really well."

"I'm so happy to hear that, kiddo, really. Happy for both of you."

"Thanks, Dad," she murmurs, sniffling a little bit, "Couldn't have done it without you, hope you know that."

And then she's pulling away, wiping the tears from her eyes and waving to the purple convertible behind her, gesturing for Mish to get out of the car.

Here we go.

She steps out and god, she's gorgeous. Age has done nothing but enhance her beauty. She's never not been the most stunning woman in a room, soft skin a glowing deep umber, supple long legs and playful smile and those dark brown - almost black - eyes that practically sparkle when she looks at him. Like the way she's looking at him now... fuck.

"Hey," she says with a sly grin, shutting the car door behind her and making her way up the front steps.

"Hey," he echoes back, "How was the drive?"

"Long," she groans, reaching him and going in for a hug. It's nowhere near as long or as intimate as Sarah's, but the feeling of her body against his feels just as familiar and comforting. It's so easy to fall back into their rhythm. Too easy. "You been good?" she asks as they part.

He nods quickly, "Yeah, you?"

"Can't complain," she replies with a smile.

"Oh please," Sarah scoffs beside her, "All you've done is complain," she looks to Joel with a grimace, "Alvin's out of the picture."

"Sarah," Mish admonishes quickly, brows narrowing.

"Yeah, I heard somethin' about that," he says, scratching the back of his head awkwardly, "Uh - that's too bad, Mish. He was, um... he was a good guy."

"No, he wasn't," she sighs, rolling her eyes and giving Sarah another look, "But that's a conversation for another time, right?"

Sarah puts her hands up in defense, "Sorry, sorry, my bad. We've been in the car too fuckin' long," she peeks past him with a curious expression on her face, "Can we come in? I wanna see your new house."

He shows them around, though there's not much to see, something which Mish points out almost immediately.

"Where's the character?" she asks, raising an eyebrow as she assesses the living room, "Like where's your stuff, Joel?"

"There's not even pictures of us anywhere," Sarah adds with a frown, scanning one of the bookshelves, "It's like we don't even exist."

He grimaces, hands on his hips, "I know, I'm sorry. I still have a few boxes up in the guest room but," he sighs, "You know me, I hate gettin' emotional over shit from the past. And half those boxes got your old school stuff, and-"

"Your Dad's a sentimental guy," Mish interjects with a soft smile, giving him those eyes again, "It's okay, we'll unpack 'em for you."

He scoffs, "We ain't got time for that, Mish."

"I always have time to be sentimental," her smile grows wider and she throws him a wink - his heart stutters.

"Well I always have time for a movie marathon," Sarah suddenly says, turning from the shelves with an array of DVDs in her hands, "Whaddaya say, Dad? Curtis and Viper? After the bar?"

He cocks an eyebrow, "The bar?"

"Oh? Didn't you hear? We're takin' you out, cowboy," Mish says with a smirk, "Or - I guess you're takin' us out. Whatever, either way we're goin' for dinner and drinks like the well adjusted wholesome family we are."

"And then we're gonna eat too much junk food and pass out on the couch like the good old days," Sarah adds, tossing the DVDs onto the coffee table, "Miller family fun."

"And do I get any say in this?"

They both turn to him at the same time with almost the same expression on their faces, and he knows he's already lost.

He wouldn't have it any other way.

--

They have dinner at their favorite chain, practically inhale their burgers and fries as Sarah and Mish catch Joel up on the trip so far, where they've been, what they've seen. He's grateful that the conversation is still on them by the time they get the check and start heading to the bar; he really doesn't want to answer any questions about himself tonight unless he has to.

The bar is louder than usual, much more packed than he's ever seen it. He grumbles this to Sarah and Mish but they just roll their eyes and order their drinks, cozying up together on their barstools and laughing hysterically over things that certainly aren't that funny. They're exhausted from their road trip and he can tell, tries to urge them to head back to the house after about fifteen minutes of being at the bar, but they resist.

"I like this place better than your old joint," Mish calls to him over the chatter, "Smells better too."

"Am I supposed to say thank you?" he calls back with a grin, and she just rolls her eyes and orders him another whiskey.

They don't stay too long, just enough for the girls to get their fill and toss back a few beers, continuing to tell Joel about their trip. Sarah scrolls through the pictures on her phone and shows him the tourist traps, the stops they've made here and there, the food they've eaten. Mish chimes in every so often to add her own anecdotes, bouncing off Sarah's stories naturally like she always has.

He loves how easy it feels to be with them, how comfortable, how safe. He's missed them so much. He wishes things could just stay like this for the rest of the night, simple and light, but every so often he catches Mish looking at him from under her lashes, those dark eyes searching his for something in particular, and he remembers there's still something they haven't addressed.

"Oh my god, Mom," Sarah suddenly says with wide eyes, pointing toward the front of the bar, "Do you see that girl's hat?"

"Where?"

"Those girls over there, look at that purple cowboy hat. Fuuuck, we should be wearing ours!"

Joel rolls his eyes, not bothering to look in the direction Sarah's pointing to and instead focusing on his whiskey, trying to think of ways he can get them out of this bar. Curtis & Viper is suddenly calling his name.

"They're still in the car if you wanna grab 'em," Mish says with a laugh, tossing Sarah the keys, "If you can walk straight."

"Oh please, I've had one beer. We're not all lightweights in this family, ya know," she presses a kiss to her mother's cheek before sliding past to head back to the front of the bar.

"Well, now that we have a moment alone..." she leans forward a bit on her elbow, hand cupping her chin as she tilts her head, "You didn't answer my question the other day, cowboy."

Here it is, the conversation he's been dreading, the one thing he's been putting off talking about the most. And why has he been dreading it? Why has he been filled with so much discomfort and anxiety at the thought of telling Mish that even though he's technically single, he can't be with her this time? It's not like she'd be angry with him, like she'd misunderstand or throw a fit over it. So why can't he just say it?

He knows why. It's because he doesn't want to tell Mish about you. It's because the second he says no, she'll see right through him; she'll know. She'll know immediately that there's somebody else, and she'll clock his feelings - the feelings he's been forcing himself to bury - and then he'll have to confront them, what they really mean.

And as usual, he's terrified.

He plays dumb, "What question?"

She inches the stool forward with a smirk, eyeing him pointedly as he feels her bare leg touch his jeans, slowly drifting up and down along his calf. Fuck. She tilts her head, eyes falling to his lips and then going back up to meet his gaze.

"Playin' coy, are we?" she asks softly, "Need me to say it out loud, huh?"

He feels goosebumps rise all over his arms at the sound of her voice like that, low and sultry; it's the voice she reserves just for these private moments together, fully aware of the effect she has over him.

"You gonna fuck me, cowboy?" she continues, eyes falling to his lips again, "Huh? You been missin' me in your bed?"

Fuck.

He doesn't say anything, just watches as her face moves a little closer to his, the hint of his favorite sly smile puling at the corner of her mouth. She assesses him quietly, gaze raking over his features.

"You're shy tonight, aren't you?" she says, fluttering her lashes, "You need me to take care of you, baby boy? You need your mommy?"

Only Mish could get away with saying something like that to him. He can't help but let a grin cross his own face as he shakes his head at the words, feeling his cheeks flush. He's still unsure what to say, what to think, how to feel. Under any other circumstance they would already be fucking in a bathroom stall at this point, and in a few seconds she's gonna realize that and wonder why the fuck he won't give in.

She kisses him then. Softly.

And it's right. It's so fucking right in all the ways it's always been. Her mouth is warm, lips plump and wet and sweet against his, capturing his bottom lip between hers in that seductive fashion she's oh so good at. Without any thought, as if on instinct, his hand comes up to cup her face, holding her there for a moment as he breathes her in. He realizes how easy it would be to just fall back into this rhythm, this old habit they've been indulging themselves in for years. It just feels so right.

But it's also so fucking wrong.

It's wrong. It's so wrong. This is not the mouth he wants to be kissing. For years, he's always found comfort and safety in Mish's kiss, never once felt like what they were doing was incorrect or some kind of mistake. But now it's like every fiber of his being is telling him to stop. To pull away. To end this as soon as possible.

So he does.

He takes a deep breath as they separate, pulls back from her on his stool a bit and takes another sip of whiskey. No, this can't happen. It's not going to happen. But he's gonna have to tell her that, otherwise she'll take the next step and he's not sure he'll be able to reign it in after that. The thought of her naked body underneath him in his bed is admittedly a tantalizing offer, the thought of being inside her again after so many years apart...

But she won't be the first naked woman in that bed. In that house. Someone else has already staked their claim, regardless of whether what he shares with you is real or not. And that thought is what pulls him out of it.

"Sarah's right," he says with a smile, "You are a lightweight."

She cocks her brow, "You think I'm drunk?"

He chuckles and takes another sip, "I think you're only here for one night and we should be spendin' that one night with our daughter."

She doesn't say anything for a second, just watches him thoughtfully until he finally meets her gaze again.

"Joel Miller, are you gettin' laid?"

He almost chokes on his whiskey, unable to stop himself from snorting as he shakes his head and peers at her with that fond look he's always given her, the one that lets her know that despite everything, he fucking adores her. She leans a bit closer, tilting her head a bit more with intrigue.

"Seriously, you seein' anyone?" she seems genuinely interested, eyes alight with curiosity, "You got someone new?"

Before he can say anything - before he even really knows what to say - Sarah has reappeared at the bar, hats in hand. He looks down at them and raises an eyebrow as Mish grabs hers, or rather his, the ratty old brown one he used to wear sometimes in the eighties. She grins and winks as if to say yeah, I stole it, so what?

"Okay well, purple cowboy hat girl is currently holding her friend's hair while she throws up on the sidewalk," Sarah sighs, placing her own atop her head.

Joel and Mish groan simultaneously, "Been there," they both say at the same time, catching each other's eye before Joel turns his attention back to his drink, almost gone now. She doesn't ask him anything else, but he knows this conversation is far from over.

--

Sarah drops them off at his place, promising to be back in a bit with the much anticipated junk food - no point in them all going together. Joel almost tells her not to go, his heart in his throat as he and Mish climb out of the car. He can't believe how desperate he suddenly is to not be alone with her. But he can't bring himself to say anything.

Coward.

She walks into the house first, almost like she's leading him into the lion's den. There's no escaping her questions now, no more running away from the inevitable. He has to tell her before it's too late. The front door closes behind them and they stand frozen for a moment, not speaking, not even really looking at each other. He could cut the tension with a knife.

"So how 'bout showin' me those boxes?" she finally asks, turning to give him a smile.

They make their way up the stairs to the guest room, Joel's anxiety reaching new levels when they pass by his bedroom. He not so subtly grabs the knob and pulls the door closed, tries to pretend he doesn't notice Mish eyeing him as he does it.

The guest room is still pretty bare bones, only a bed and dresser occupying the space, along with about half a dozen cardboard boxes. He's been meaning to do it up for when Sarah comes to stay, do some decorating, but he's never been good at that kind of stuff - Mish and Sarah were always the creative ones.

They crouch on the floor together and Joel watches as Mish pops open the first box, digging her hand inside and immediately coming out with a framed photo of Sarah's kindergarten graduation.

"Aw, look," she murmurs, thumbing the glass lightly and turning it toward him, "Little bean."

"She was so excited you came," he says with a smile, "It was all she talked about for months."

Mish smiles back sadly, eyeing the photograph one more time before placing it on the floor. She reaches in again and comes out with another framed photo, this one of an even younger Sarah being pushed on a swing by Joel. She's probably almost two, chubby legs poking out through the holes of the swing as she giggles in wonder, Joel standing behind, squinting against the sun.

"I've always loved this one," she says quietly, showing it to him, "Always wanted a copy to keep."

"We can make that happen," he takes it from her and looks down at it himself, feeling a mixture of emotions flutter in his heart at his much younger self - freshly twenty - pushing his little girl. He'd been on his own for a while at that point; he can see the tiredness in his expression, the loneliness.

"Still mad I missed all that," she murmurs, sitting back on her heels and sighing deeply, "Hate myself so much sometimes."

He's not sure what to say, just puts the picture back down and reaches in for another one - Sarah's high school graduation this time. It's a backyard photo, one taken at the barbecue they'd had with about thirty people all crammed into one frame. There are smiles all around, beer bottles raised, and Sarah in the center wearing that beautiful purple dress she'd spent almost a year working on. Mish and Joel stand on either side of her, frozen in a moment of laughter.

What the camera didn't catch was that behind that purple dress, they were holding hands.

"What a party that was, huh?" Mish glances up at him from under her lashes, those dark eyes sparkling with nostalgia, "You remember?"

He smiles softly, "I remember."

--

The arrangement started in '03.

They hadn't seen each other in about three years when she showed up on his doorstep in the summer of '96. She'd been in and out of their lives before then, usually called every other week to check in and talk to Sarah but rarely ever showed her face. Sarah barely knew her but had a love for her that burned so deep that Joel couldn't say half the things he wanted to. Couldn't tell his daughter that her mother was unpredictable and unreliable, that she'd disappeared for almost two years after Sarah had been born, hadn't checked in once, had only begun to show up again in 1988 when Sarah was almost three. And then one day the calls just stopped coming and he had no other choice but to tell her the truth. She was only eight.

Mish showing up again out of the blue when Sarah was eleven was not something they could have ever predicted. He was angry. She was sorry. She'd been to a facility, had been seeing a psychiatrist and a therapist for a solid chunk of time and was on medication. Sarah slapped her across the face and sprinted barefoot down the street until her toes were bloody and she couldn't run anymore. Joel found her and cradled her in his arms like he'd done when she was a baby, promised he'd make Mish go away if that's what Sarah wanted.

It was not what she wanted. She wanted a mom. She wanted her mom. She wanted them to be together.

After that, all they could do was try and heal.

And Mish tried. She did. She was ready. Joel was willing to listen. Sarah forgave, slowly. By Christmas of '97 they were living together again. They'd put their wedding rings back on.

But it couldn't last.

"Maybe this just isn't meant to work," she'd whispered to him tearfully on their back patio on a rainy day in March of '98, head in her hands, "I'm better in some ways but worse in others. I'm not meant for this kinda life, Joel. I just can't stay still anymore."

"Maybe we aren't meant to work," he'd told her firmly, "But Sarah needs you, Michelle. You can't just keep coming back into her life and then disappearing. If you do, you're never gonna see her again."

"I know," she'd whispered, quiet and scared, "I know, Joel. And I won't, I'll never do that to her ever again. But I just..." she'd hung her head, tears streaming down her face, "I just don't know what to do."

He'd suddenly felt a flash of deja vu, a reminder of a moment similar to this one twelve years earlier, when he'd held her just like this while she'd cried in his arms, hopelessness raking through both their trembling forms in the downpour.

"They'll kill me, Joel. They're gonna kill me. How am I supposed to be a mom? This can't be real. This isn't happening. What are we gonna do?"

"I don't know, Mish. But I'm with you, okay? I'm not goin' anywhere. You got me. I don't care what they think, what they wanna do. It's just you and me, you hear me?"

"You and me, Joel. Just you and me."

She left Joel and the life they'd cultivated in the year since she came back, but she didn't leave Sarah, not this time. She kept up with regular visits, called often, tried her best to be a mother in the only ways she knew how. Eventually Joel stopped worrying she'd disappear again, and she didn't. Sarah and Mish's relationship wasn't an easy one, especially during those first few years of being reconnected, but eventually they were mother and daughter again. The way it always should have been. They'd go on adventures together, road trips and concerts and trips to amusement parks, everything they could to make up for lost time.

As for she and Joel, they became friends. For the first time in a long time they talked again, really talked. They got to know each other from scratch without the pressures of trying to be people they weren't; she'd come to stay every so often and she'd be more than welcome in their home, a reassuring presence to Sarah and a comforting one for him. There were times he almost kissed her again, almost embraced her the way they used to embrace, but then he'd remind himself that they didn't work. Couldn't work. He'd push the feelings down and love her from a distance, the only way he could.

She came to stay for Sarah's graduation in '03. They had a big party, invited everyone they knew, got very drunk. The inevitable finally happened, something they'd been skirting around for the past few years every time they saw each other, the attraction and tension building and building the longer they went without admitting that they still wanted one another. They'd been through the ringer together and came out the other side and still looked at each other like they had in high school. It was only a matter of time.

They fucked all night and into the morning.

"Oh my god," he'd groaned into her ear, naked bodies splayed against each other in bed, entwined together for the first time in almost seven years, "I missed that. Jesus fuck, I missed that."

It was only meant to be that one time, a celebration of some sort that happened unexpectedly but never again. That was the case until she came back in '06, still single, still beautiful, and he couldn't help himself. They both couldn't help themselves.

The arrangement was simple: whenever they reunited with each other and they were both single, both wanted it, they'd have sex.

It worked. And it was good, so fucking good. Every time. They were wild with it, felt younger than they'd ever been whenever they were tangled up in Joel's bed, on the couch, in the shower. They tried new things together and had more fun than they'd ever had when they were actually in a relationship. Each time it was like they were playing pretend; pretending for a short while that their everyday problems didn't exist, nothing else existed but them. Just them - just this moment.

The last time he saw Mish was four years ago. He'd been fresh out of his last relationship, the only relationship that had really meant something to him since his marriage. Tess was lovely, beautiful and funny and exactly the person he'd needed after those tumultuous years with Mish; someone calm and collected, stable and secure. They were just friends first, for a while, but eventually developed a sexual relationship that was only ever meant to be casual. After about a year she'd confessed her feelings and he'd thought, what the hell, I might as well try. Unfortunately, his what the hell attitude had been a steady feature of their entire relationship, and he'd never been able to fully be what she'd needed.

It was his fault it ended, but that hadn't stopped him from feeling heartbroken over it. And when Sarah and Mish had visited she'd dressed his wounds in the only way she really knew how - sex. The sex was always good with Mish, regardless of the situation. It was always what they needed. But it could only ever be sex because their personalities were never meant to blend; she was flighty and wild and needed space - he was steady and serious and enjoyed the comforts of home. And those early years were something he'd never get back, something he still blamed her for, and she knew it. It could never work, as much as they may have tried early on.

She'd been on the cusp of a new relationship, this guy Alvin who she'd met in Philadelphia, but nothing was set in stone yet and she wanted Joel to feel good.

"Nothing else matters right now," she'd whispered in the darkness of their old bedroom, the one he'd shared with her countless times over the past twenty years, "It's just you and me, Joel. It's always been you and me."

"You and me, Mish," he'd repeated, hands firm against her bare back as she slowly began to ride him, "Just us, just you and me."

--

He's still staring at the picture of their younger selves when her hand slowly comes down to touch one of his. He swallows tightly, feels her eyes on him, senses her moving closer.

"Mish," he whispers; an acknowledgement? A warning?

He feels a finger on his chin, tilting his head up to meet her gaze, and then she's kissing him again. It's different than it was at the bar, much less soft, less reserved. She moans into his mouth as the picture falls to the floor, pushes him down so he's laying flat and then throws a leg over his thighs. She situates herself in his lap in the span of about five seconds and he barely has any time to register what's even happening.

But when he does... he's not happy.

"Stop," he mumbles against her mouth, bringing his hands down to grab her hips and carefully pull her off of him. Her brows furrow in confusion as he slides her away and sits back up, kneels and then stands with a groan. His fucking knees.

"Why?" she asks, peering up at him from the floor.

"'Cause... 'cause nothin'," he lies, shaking his head and sitting down on the edge of the bed with a sigh, wincing as his bones crack from being on the floor in such an odd position, "Nothin', I'm just tired."

She follows him up from the floor and onto the bed, seats herself beside him and leans in to mouth gently against his neck, hot and wet, "That's okay, baby. I can do all the work."

"I said no, Mish," he repeats, standing up again and walking away from the bed, "I don't want to."

"Why?" she repeats, adamant now.

He splutters, kicking his feet and not meeting her gaze, "Sarah'll be back soon, there's no time."

"Time has never been an issue before, you know that more than anybody."

"I just don't want you right now, alright?" it comes out much louder and angrier than he'd intended, "Jesus Christ, Mish."

That stops her short, the room plunging into silence as she stares at him from her place on the edge of the bed. Her lips begin to tremble, hands coming to wring together in her lap uncomfortably. She shakes her head slowly, tears welling in her wide eyes.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, voice shaky, "I'm sorry, Joel."

God dammit. He hadn't meant to make her cry.

With a sigh he walks back over to the bed, sitting down beside her again - but not as close this time. She continues to stare forward, still tugging at her hands as tears slowly start to make their way down her cheeks. He feels a familiar pang of pity in his heart, the urge to comfort her like he always has, hold her close and kiss her softly. But he doesn't do that; instead, he places a hand on hers to halt her movements, squeezes them gently.

"You wanna know why it didn't work out with Alvin, Joel?" she asks quietly.

"Why?"

She takes a shaky breath, "He had a wife. A fuckin' wife and three kids. Young kids, still in school, still livin' at home."

"Jesus," he mutters.

"And you wanna know how I found out? Because one night he was sayin' her name when he was fuckin' me; Sharon. Fuckin' Sharon. Repeatin' it over and over without even realizing. And then he had the audacity to act like he didn't know what the hell I was talkin' about." The tears are flowing steadily now, staining her cheeks and dripping down onto their locked hands, "I did some diggin', found out his real name, found his whole other life. I've been a fuckin' mistress for four years and had no clue."

"Michelle..." he breathes.

"Don't call me that," she snaps, turning her face away from him and trying to reign the tears back in but failing miserably, voice coming out in sobs now, "You know how long it's been since someone wanted me, Joel? Actually wanted me? I get that I'm a shitty person. I know I fucked up a lot in my life. I mean, maybe I don't deserve love, 'cause why the hell can't I fuckin' find it? Why does nobody want me?"

"Stop," he says firmly, squeezing her hands tighter, "Don't say shit like that, don't think that way."

"But it's true," she cries, pulling her hands away and bringing them up to her face, "I just needed to be wanted again, Joel. Just for a night, and now you don't even want me."

"That's- that's not true, Mish, come on."

"You literally just said the words two minutes ago," she's suddenly inconsolable, tears streaming down her face as she sobs beside him, "You don't want me, no one wants me."

His arms come up to wrap around her, pull her close to him as she cries harder. He doesn't know what the fuck to do, how to be what she needs without being what she needs. It's an impossible position to be in; how can he just walk out the door and leave her sitting there like this? Leave her so sad, so broken?

"Joel, I need this," she whispers, peering up at him through her wet lashes and leaning her head forward to rest against his shoulder, "Please. I need you."

God. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. What the fuck is he supposed to do? How the fuck can he say no when she's looking at him like that, begging for him?

"Please," she repeats, turning her head and pressing a wet kiss to the skin of his collarbone, "Please, Joel, please," her kisses slowly move up to his neck, warm and safe and familiar. His eyes start to close, lips parting as she keeps going, "It's just us, it's you and me."

Just us, you and me.

"Stay here," he finally breathes, thumbing the skin of her hip reassuringly, "Just - just stay here, okay? I'll be right back."

He finds himself thirty seconds later just standing in his bedroom, unmoving, unsure, thoughts going a mile a minute. He breathes in and out slowly, tries to calm the anxiety threatening to burst through the seams of his very being. What the fuck am I doing? What the actual fuck am I doing right now?

He goes through the motions without really feeling or understanding them. Goes to the bathroom and relieves himself, splashes cold water on his face and stares at his reflection for too long. Heads back to his bedroom and just stands there again, heart pounding. She's waiting for him. Time is passing and he's just standing there.

"Joel?" he hears her call out, voice still thick with tears.

He does not want her to follow him in here. He does not want to have sex in this bed.

With shaky steps he walks over to his nightstand and tugs it open, sees the box of condoms. Stares at them. Stares at them so long that she calls out again.

"Joel? You comin'?"

He feels like he's underwater, ears ringing as his hand trembles on the handle of the drawer, itching to just slam it closed again. What am I doing? What am I doing? What am I doing?

And then he sees it.

He'd completely forgotten it was there, has been doing his best this entire night to not think about you that he's already managed to forget what happened last night. But he remembers now. He reaches down, hand suddenly completely steady, and pulls the gold chain to entwine around his fingers. It's like he's touching you in a way, feeling you, sensing you - your tears, your sadness, your anger, your insecurities - all wrapped up in this one little cross.

He thumbs it carefully, eyes softening, anxiety ebbing away as the seconds pass. He pictures your lovely face this morning, all sleepy and pretty and perfect in the glow of the early sunrise, the way your hair framed your face, the way you bit your lip shyly when you told him what was on your mind.

He hears footsteps in the hall, knows she's coming, but he doesn't care. Just keeps standing there with his hand curled around your crucifix and warmth filling his chest.

He hears the door open, hears her step inside.

"I can't," he says softly, before she can speak.

Silence. Then -

"What's that?"

"It's..." he closes his fist around the crucifix and then shuts the drawer slowly, still looking down at it. When he finally brings his head up he sees Mish standing near the side of the bed, looking at him with confusion in her eyes.

He swallows tightly, "There's someone else, Mish."

He watches the realization dawn on her face, the confusion fading and acceptance flooding her features. She nods slowly, bringing a hand up to wipe the tears still trickling down her cheeks. "You coulda just said that," she breathes, closing her eyes, "Why didn't you just say?"

He doesn't reply, doesn't know what to say. Or rather, knows what to say but can't say it because then it'll make it real. And he's still so fucking scared for it to be real.

Mish slowly walks forward and sits on the edge of the bed, taking a few steadying breaths to calm herself. "Feel like a fuckin' idiot," she mumbles; she seems okay now, nowhere near as hysterical as she'd been before.

"You're not an idiot," he murmurs. God, he should have just fucking told her. He should have said something.

"So, who is she?" she asks quietly.

"She's..." he swallows again, taking a seat on the other side of the bed, facing the opposite direction, "She's a girl I met a little while ago." A few weeks ago, he mentally corrects. Almost a month. Barely any time at all.

She clocks that. "Girl? Or woman?"

"....Girl."

"How old?"

"Twenty one."

"Jesus," he's not sure what she's thinking when he can't see her face, not sure if she's angry or disgusted or just surprised, "I mean, wow. That's... that's young, Joel."

"I know."

"Never known you to go even ten years lower."

"I know."

Silence again. He's waiting for her to ask the question, the one he knows is coming, the one he's been dreading every since he got that text from Sarah on Wednesday. The one that will force him to admit what he's so desperately been trying to bury.

"So... is it just sex? Or is it..." she trails off for a few seconds, "Is it more?"

There it is.

"I don't know," he murmurs, putting his face in his hands and hunching over the side of the bed with a groan, "I don't know what it is but she's... she's in my head, ya know? She's everywhere, can't stop fuckin' thinkin' about her." The crucifix digs into his cheek, probably making an imprint in his skin, "She's so fuckin' young but, God, Mish, she's so fuckin' sweet. I wanna... I wanna take care of her, ya know? But-" he feels the tears flooding his eyes, tries to swallow his feelings as best he can, "I'm just.. I can't..."

"You're in over your head," she acknowledges softly, "You don't know what you're doin'."

"I don't."

"And that scares the fuck outta you, huh?"

"Pretty much."

They don't say anything else for a few moments, both absorbing the revelation in silence and neither really knowing what else to say about it. This night has gone in a direction that neither were prepared for and he's not sure they'll be able to fix it before Sarah gets back. Which reminds him...

"You'd think Sarah woulda been back by now."

Mish snorts, a welcome sound in the middle of so much tension. He turns around to look at her, finds her doing the exact same thing.

"I told her to give us forty five minutes to an hour, tops," she says with a half smile.

Of course she did.

--

Mish decides to get a cab back to the motel she and Sarah booked. He doesn't argue. He knows it's for the best, knows there will be another, better conversation some time in the future and that despite everything, they'll see each other again.

"She's lucky to have you," she tells him softly at the front door, wrapping her arms around him in a warm embrace. He can hear the sincerity in her words, knows she means it. "You'll take care of her, Joel. Like you take care of everyone."

He just closes his eyes, pulls her in closer and lets the tears fall.

--

Sarah gets back with the food, doesn't question where Mish is; she must have texted her and told her she wouldn't be here. There's no awkwardness or questions, just the same old familiarity and love as Sarah pops the first DVD into the ancient player they've had forever and settles in beside him on the couch. They only half-watch it, continuously getting distracted by each other's dumb commentary and random anecdotes about the past. This is what he wanted tonight to be. Just this.

He tries his best to be present with Sarah, but by the time they're halfway through the second film he can't stop thinking about you. He'd spent so much of today trying to push thoughts of you away and now your face is suddenly all he can see whenever he blinks, your soft giggles and whimpers echoing in his ears. He wonders what you're doing, if you're having a nice time with your friend, if you're being careful like he'd told you to be. You'd said this was your first time going out and he just hopes you're safe. Your crucifix sits reassuringly in the pocket of his jeans, almost like a part of you is still here with him.

He excuses himself to use the bathroom and sends you a quick text:

Hope you're having a good night, babygirl. You deserve to have some fun. I'll see you tomorrow. Be safe.❤️

He feels the urge to press a kiss to his phone and wonders when the hell he got so damn soft. He can practically hear Mish's voice telling him you've always been soft, dummy. She'd be right.

--

They both wake up the next morning still snuggled up on the couch, Sarah on one end and him on the other. He yawns and stretches, groans when he feels a searing pain in his lower back; fuck, he shouldn't have slept on the couch.

"Old man," Sarah mocks quietly with a glint in her eye, and he playfully slaps her leg.

He checks his phone when Sarah heads to the bathroom, hopes maybe you'll have replied to him when you got in last night, but there's nothing there. He frowns but lets logic soothe him, reminding himself that you were probably too tired when you got back and fell asleep right away. He sends you another text, just to be sure:

You get home ok? Let me know x

He'll see you soon for your lesson anyway.

After breakfast he walks Sarah out onto the front step, hand holding hers tightly, almost afraid to let go. She smiles up at him sadly and squeezes back, a silent promise.

"I'll visit again real soon, Dad," she says quietly, "Sooner than last time. I'll bring Jude too, y'all can watch football together."

He smiles with watery eyes, "I'm countin' on it, kiddo."

"You're not lonely, are you?" she suddenly asks, expression one of love and concern, "You got people here, right?"

Your face crosses his mind again, your lovely smile, that little line between your brows, "I'm not lonely," he reassures her softly, "Promise."

He means it.

They hug each other tenderly, basking in one last moment together before they inevitably have to pull away. She walks to her car and turns back with one final wave, tears glistening in her eyes. He waves back and then heads back inside the house quickly before she can see what a mess he is, hands coming up to cover his eyes on the other side of the door as he pulls himself together.

And then, just like that, he's alone again.

--

You don't show up to your lesson.

His first thought is that you're still asleep, probably hungover from last night and desperately in need of some rest. He doesn't blame you, has had more bad hangovers than he can even count. He checks in with you anyway, hoping he'll hear back soon when you wake up.

Another hour passes; he's already cleaned up the kitchen, vacuumed up the popcorn lining the couch and living room floor, rearranged the DVDs, and suddenly the boxes upstairs in the guest room are calling his name. Anything to make the time pass, anything to distract himself from the fact that he still hasn't heard from you.

He texts you again after two hours, after he's finished unpacking two boxes. He just sends some question marks this time. It's around noon now and he keeps trying to convince himself that you're just sleeping, probably still passed out in bed with leftover alcohol buzzing through your veins. The thought makes him wish he was there with you, taking care of you, bringing you glasses of water and cuddling with you until you feel better.

It's mid afternoon when he starts to question whether or not you even got home. He knows you're not home home, that you'd gone to an Airbnb with your friend for the weekend, but he has no idea where it is and if you're even there. What if something happened on the night out? What if you got lost or got too fucked up to figure out how to get back? What if someone you didn't know took you back with them?

He feels sick to his stomach. This time he does the only rational thing he feels he can do - he calls you. He sits on the edge of his bed, toes tapping against the hardwood floor as he waits for you to pick up, but you don't. It goes to voicemail. He hangs up and tries again. Same thing.

He texts you again, but something tells him you won't be reading them any time soon.

--

He leaves the house to clear his head, anxiously tapping on the wheel as he drives around the neighborhood. He passes by your parents' house a few times, eyeing the property and trying his best to see past the ridiculous fence they have blocking off the place. He makes out a police car in the driveway and almost has a panic attack before he remembers that your father is a cop and that's just the vehicle he drives.

He calls and texts you a few more times as the evening comes around. He pours himself some whiskey and tries to calm himself down, breathes in and out, practices the exercises he's had to depend on throughout most of his life. He's always had an anxiety problem, has been on and off medication for it for years. He briefly considers popping an Ativan before realizing that he probably shouldn't mix it with alcohol.

The alcohol messes with his head a bit as darkness falls. He starts to wonder if maybe you did get back safe, just with someone else, someone new. Maybe you met someone, had a connection, took them home and let them be the one to fuck you for the first time. Maybe the reason you're not reaching out is because you're afraid of what he'll say, afraid he'll be angry.

While the thought makes him feel sick and sad, he's even sicker and sadder about not knowing where the fuck you are. He sends you a text to reiterate this, hoping you'll read it and understand:

Just a text is all I need honey. I promise. If you're not feeling this anymore that's okay. Just wanna know you got home safe last night.

He's already unpacked all the boxes, peppered photographs and music memorabilia all over his house as the day came to a close, and now he has nothing else to do but just sit and wait. So he waits. And waits. And waits.

You still don't reply.

He calls you over and over again, wondering what the fuck he's going to do. He can't in good conscious just let this go on, just stop contacting you and let you come back to him on your own. What if something bad really did happen? What if you're really fucked up somewhere? What if someone took advantage of you? He can't just sit idly by and wait.

He lays in bed and stares at the ceiling, feels tears sting his eyes every time he comes up with a new concept as to where you are, what could have happened. All he wants is to have you here with him, warm and soft in his bed, close in all the ways he needs you.

I don't know what to do angel. Can't stop thinking about you. Wish you were here in my arms. Please be safe.

He's scaring himself the longer he thinks about where you could be, knows he has to take action. He decides that if he still hasn't heard from you by tomorrow morning, he'll tell somebody. Whether it be the police or your parents, it doesn't really matter - they're one and the same.

He sends you one last text before the whiskey puts him to sleep:

Please.

--

The doorbell wakes him up. At first he thinks maybe he's hearing things, especially when he tiredly unlocks his phone and sees that it's three in the morning, but then it rings again. And again. Over and over like someone is pressing the button repeatedly. He sits up in bed with a jolt and swings his legs over the side, heart racing as he practically sprints down the stairs.

He turns on the light, squinting with tired and bleary eyes through the frosted glass along the side of the door. He can make out something pink and his eyes widen. He grabs the handle and tugs the door open, only for his body to immediately collide with someone else's, a beautiful girl in a pink dress.

It's you. His beautiful girl. His angel. Standing there almost completely unable to hold yourself upright as you lean against him, arms coming up to wrap around his middle. He holds you close, momentarily frozen in shock.

"Are you okay?"

You're so out of it. He takes you to the couch and you can barely open your eyes, can barely get words out as you flop drunkenly against the cushions. He can't tell if you're drunk or high or both, trying his best to get your attention, desperately asking what you took, where you've been. It's terrifying to see you like this, so completely not yourself, loose and uninhibited in the worst way. You tell him you came here with Tasha and he waves her inside, hoping she can help shed some light on what the fuck happened to you.

Tasha is something else. She stands her ground, doesn't back down when he clearly tries to intimidate her, consistently tries to get past him and reach for you despite his attempts to block her. He's angry, so fucking angry that she could let this happen to you. How long have you been like this? How long has this "night out" been going on? Did it turn into a fucking bender?

"She knows what you've been doing, you asshole." The words mean nothing to him, he has no idea what the fuck she's even talking about. They're clearly both wasted - you more than her - and have somehow wound up at his house at three in the morning by some miraculous volition. He's not letting you leave with her, that's for sure.

Then you say the same thing to him and he's beyond confused, waiting to be let in on whatever sick fucking joke is being played on him right now. What do they think he's been doing? What do they think they know? What have their intoxicated brains convinced themselves of?

And then the other shoe drops.

"We saw you kiss someone else."

That feeling he'd had yesterday - that sensation of being underwater - returns in full force. He stares at you; not Tasha, you. Because as soon as she says it your eyes tear away from him to stare at the floor, lips trembling in sadness, hands shaking beneath Tasha's arms. He can see it in your expression, in your body language despite the alcohol - you're fucking heartbroken. You can't even look at him.

He tries to explain but the words aren't coming out right; he's sure he sounds absolutely pathetic as he just stands there in the middle of the living room, stumbling over his words like the absolute fool he is. You still don't look at him. You don't say anything, and it kills him.

That's when he realizes that Tasha is not the one in the wrong here. It's him. He's the one who deserves to be shouted at, intimidated, made to feel small. He's the one who fucked up. It's him.

And then - if the situation hadn't already been bad enough - Tasha informs him that you'd seen Sarah leaving this morning. His eyes go wide, heart racing like a steam engine in his chest as he shakes his head and wonders how the fuck this could be happening right now. The past few days he's been so unsure about letting you know the real him, didn't know if he'd ever be able to tell you - and now he has no choice. No choice but to drop a bomb on you in this sad and drunken state, otherwise leave you believing that he's been doing god knows what with god knows who.

"That was my daughter."

You register the words and finally look at him, and his heart swells three sizes in his chest when your gazes meet. Just for a moment you don't look as sad, don't look as broken. You peer into his eyes and he thinks for a moment that maybe you see him, really see him, for the first time. It's both terrifying and incredible and he doesn't know how he manages to get the words out, but he does.

He knows now what he has to do.

He has to tell you. He has to tell you everything.

Tasha apologizes and helps you back out to the cab. He watches her place you carefully inside, watches as you turn your head to look out the back window, still peering at him with that look on your face that he can't really explain. He stands and waits until you've disappeared down the street before going back inside, where he immediately collapses onto the couch, exhausted.

He reaches inside his pocket and tugs out your crucifix, brings it up to his neck with trembling hands and manages to latch it around his neck. He palms the cross, presses it into the bare skin at his collarbone.

She's safe, he thinks to himself, she's safe and that's all that matters.

--

In the morning, as soon as he wakes up, he sends you a text:

I'm so sorry. Words can't even describe how fucking ashamed and embarrassed I am. I can't imagine how horrible that must have been for you. I understand if you don't want to see me anymore, but I want to tell you everything, if you'll let me. I hope you're feeling okay today, angel. Drink lots of water, stay with Tasha. Text me whenever you're ready.

He wants to cry, thinking about how much he hurt you. He wouldn't blame you for wanting this to just be over now, to move on and pretend like you never even met him that day on his front step. He feels so fucking ashamed of himself, angry for not telling Mish the truth from the beginning, horrified that you'd seen him in a moment of weakness like that, a moment of cowardice.

The crucifix stays on his neck throughout his shower and breakfast. He's never been one to wear jewelry, and god knows he's never been one to wear jewelry with religious imagery, but somehow it calms him to have it on, soothes him. His anxiety feels better despite the circumstances, and he's grateful.

His phone buzzes around eleven and the force at which he picks it up almost sends it flying across the room. His brow furrows when he sees a text from an unknown number:

hey it's tasha. sorry about last night. that was a shitshow. she's awake and feeling better, just wanted you to know.

She didn't have to do that and he knows it.

Thank you. I'm glad she has you. I'm sorry for the way I spoke to you, I was just really worried about her.

that's ok. i know you're a good guy. she knows it too.

Do you, though? Do you really still think of him as being someone you can trust, someone you can talk to? Someone you can give yourself to completely?

i'm gonna send you the address of the airbnb. i think you should come talk to her.

The address follows and he puts it into his maps app; it's not too far, he can make it there in about forty minutes.

Thank you so much Tasha

text when ur here, i'll let you in.

--

He sits in his truck for a lot longer than he needs to after pulling up to the house. He knows he has to tell you everything now, that you're going to want answers and that he'll give them to you. But he's made a discovery in the past twelve hours that has his head reeling:

He wants to tell you. He wants you to know all about him. Suddenly, he doesn't mind that he's old and washed up and pathetic. He wants you to know that, wants you to see the real him, who he really is. The unpretty, uncharming reality of his mediocre life. He isn't sure that you'll want it, that you'll want him, but what he's sure of is that he's tired of pretending.

What Mish had said on Friday night - "You know how long it's been since someone wanted me, Joel? Actually wanted me?" - it had resonated with him in a way he hadn't been expecting. He knows that feeling, has been feeling it for years without actually saying it aloud because admitting it was too painful, too scary.

He's been putting on a front for his entire life. First, to his parents, then to Mish, then Sarah, then the select few women who'd come in and out of his life, then Tess, and now you. And he's tired. He's so fucking tired of pretending to be someone else. For the first time in a long time, he actually wants to be him.

I'm here.

Tasha opens the door to let him inside. The house is pretty cozy, probably one of the more inexpensive ones you both could find. He notes the leftover snacks littering the table and couch, the empty wine glasses. He hopes you had fun here, at least for a little while. Before he fucking ruined it.

"She's asleep," Tasha says, closing the door behind him and ushering him inside, "I wanna talk to you for a sec, before you go in."

He nods and she gestures toward the couch for him to sit. He takes his place on the edge, knees together as he looks up at her and waits for her to speak.

"I'm her best friend," she says firmly, hands on her hips - she means business, "I've known her for three years now and I know her better than anyone."

He nods slowly.

"She's really coming into herself right now," Tasha continues, "She's making big discoveries, figuring out who she is and what she wants. You know that."

"I do."

"And... well, we both know that what she wants most is you."

He swallows then, feels his heart begin to pound, clenching his fists at his knees.

"This thing with your ex, is it over?"

"Yes," he says immediately, "She'll always be my daughter's mother, she'll always be my friend, but that part of our relationship is over."

"And you mean that?"

"I mean it."

She assesses him and slowly nods, then curls her finger and urges him to stand back up. He does, suddenly towering over her in the small living room.

"First door on the left," she tells him, then walks to the front door, "I'll give you some space."

She's gone before he has the chance to thank her.

He slowly makes his way down the hallway, step by step. He reaches the door, heart pounding in his chest as he closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and lets the promises he made to himself flood through his mind. His past, his present, and his future... the future he sees with you.

He touches his pocket, feels for your crucifix.

I can do this, he thinks to himself. For her, I can do this.

[causenessus]

love notes

part 0.1. I KNOW A GUY

"being stupid and being fifteen, the simple mania of no responsibility"

from the gaping mouth by lowertown, left at inarizaki high, hyōgo

° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . three years ago. ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .

“huh? sakusa, why do you have a stick in your bag?” she watches in surprise as he pulls out a light brown piece of wood

they’re sitting under a tree (on a cloth, of course, they both agree that sitting on the grass would be unsanitary) unpacking their lunches. it’s their first year at itachiyama, only a few weeks in, and they’re still getting situated in their new setting. but the fall weather is nice, and they welcome the nice breeze from the wind. inside is far too noisy for them.

however, when she looks over, he has yet to pull out his food. instead, he’s wielding his stick like a weapon.

“i just have a feeling…something bad is going to happen soon,” he answers, turning his head to scan their surroundings as if something will come leaping out at them any second. perhaps the wooden stick will come in handy if anything pops out of the blue, like two high schoolers.

putting it like that, it didn’t sound that strange. sakusa and her were high schoolers as well, after all. the difference was that they weren’t supposed to be here. they were from an entirely different high school. she had thought nothing of their discolored uniforms until they started coming closer and closer as if they were heading straight for them.

sakusa had noticed them well before her. she had looked towards him to find his head turned away from her, looking down the field towards two small figures in the distance. from that far, neither of them could make out who they were, but as they neared his face contorted. his jaw clenched and his lips were pressed into a thin line as they approached.

“do you know them?” she asked still watching them while sakusa turned back to look down at his food. they looked identical besides the fact that one had gray hair and one had blond hair, their bangs swept in opposite directions.

“omi! are ya happy to see us?” the blond one calls out with a big grin on his face, his other half following behind with a smile that only spelled out trouble.

“what are you guys doing here?” sakusa doesn’t even try to match their enthusiasm, continuing to pick at his food.

“aw, don’t be like that,” the blond continues to whine, “we’re here for our game of course! our school let us out early.”

the two boys both sit down in front of them and she decides to copy sakusa’s posture, paying attention to her lunch instead.

she sees sakusa shift out of the corner of her eye, “no way they let you out this early. it’s like noon.”

she hears a sigh, “yeah, you’ve seen through our little facade…we skipped school and came early, suna’s really pissed we didn’t bring him.”

she’s focused on trying to piece together who the boys in front of her are when suddenly one of them is leaning forward, yellow hair coming into her sight as he tries to peek at her face, “who's the pretty girl here?”

she’s reflexively repulsed backward while sakusa pushes the blond’s face away with his stick. she internally thanks his sixth sense and talent for being overprepared.

“her name is y/n. she’s a photographer for publicity. she’s a good friend and she’ll be taking pictures of the game later today, so back off,” sakusa’s tone is nothing short of hostile, yet she can’t help but give him a smile when he calls her his friend. they haven’t known each other for long, but they’ve bonded quickly over a shared distaste for people and physical contact.

she learns in the next few minutes that the blond’s name is atsumu and his twin brother with him is osamu. they’re both volleyball players for inarizaki, the team sakusa will be playing after school. although initially she was convinced atsumu was the only troublesome one, she quickly learned they were both equally destructive. they'd bickered at least four times in the span of their lunch break, each time being uniquely different and entertaining.

one of her only contributions to the conversation had been making sure the twins had eaten, in which they nodded enthusiastically, explaining that they had stopped at a convenience store before coming here. sakusa had only rolled his eyes, “did you guys even go to school? or did you just come straight here to plague me?”

soon after, she noticed that other students in the grass were starting to pack up and she checked her phone, “oh, lunch is ending soon.”

she’s quick to put away her things, zipping up her bag as she turns back to look at the two boys in front of her. she seems to be thinking the same thing as them, and sakusa is the one to bring it up, “since you guys completely thought through your plan, what are you planning to do while we’re still in class? i’m not letting you into our gym.”

they both place a finger under their chins, looking identical as they ponder the question. “hm, ‘tsumu, i think i have an idea.” osamu wears the same grin she first saw them with and she’s already bracing herself for the kind of plan he’s thought up.

“i think i’m thinking the same thing, ‘samu,” atsumu returns the sly look.

they pause for a moment before they speak at the same time,

“i’m going with dollface.”

“you’re going with omi-omi.”

“come on, ‘tsumu. you’re making her uncomfortable. let her breathe a little before she has to deal with your stinky ass on the court,” osamu scoffs, sticking out his tongue at his brother.

“how dare you! i use deodorant and those hours on the court will be great. besides–” atsumu’s gaze slides from osamu to her, “you’ll get all the good shots of me, won’t ya?”

his stare is intense and it makes her want to curl up. she looks away, trying to cover how red her face is.

“aw look, she’s blushing– FUCK! OMI–” she looks up again and atsumu is holding his forehead while sakusa is once again brandishing his stick. osamu immediately bursts out laughing and has his phone out, taking pictures of his brother.

“you guys aren’t even wearing the right uniform. you’ll get kicked out immediately,” sakusa chides, beginning to stand up and she follows after him, dusting off her skirt.

“don’t worry,” atsumu is quick to recover, bouncing up with a grin on his face, “i know a guy.”

sakusa quirks a brow, but when atsumu doesn’t let up, he groans. “fine, whatever. maybe it’s better that you guys aren’t left unsupervised. but i’m not handling you both. osamu, go with y/n. atsumu, i’ll leave you behind if you can’t catch up.”

the twins share a cheer and high five each other before atsumu runs after sakusa whose already walking away, “don’t worry, ‘samu, i’ll get a uniform and find you!”

he leaves her and his brother standing alone under the tree, and she can’t be bothered to feel surprised anymore at what just happened. sakusa seems like he’s already used to their antics, and she’s starting to feel the same way after one day. when osamu turns to her, she lets him follow along as she walks back towards the school. 

separated from his brother, osamu isn’t that bad. she’s like how he initially perceived him to be, calmer and more observant. as soon as they step into the school, he’s keeping in step with her as he talks, “don’t worry about supervising me. i’m not pushy like my brother. i hate him, and i’ve vowed to never be like him. you know, this may come as a surprise, but no one likes him.”

he smiles when she lets out a laugh, unable to keep it to herself, “you seem like the complete opposite of him when you’re not with him, i was starting to think you guys were just mirror copies of each other and twice the trouble–you bounce off of each other so well.”

he shrugs, hands stuffed in his pockets. he doesn’t seem bothered by the looks some people are understandably throwing his way. his uniform stands out in the sea of green they’re walking through. “it’s a curse and a blessing. depends on the day. hey, by the way, do you make your own lunches? it looked like you were eating tamagoyaki, I couldn't tell.”

she nods, “yeah, now that i think about it, i guess i always like having something to do with my hands. if i’m not taking photos, i like to cook.”

“a woman after my own heart!” he slaps a hand to his chest dramatically before he gives her a grin when she looks at him, “just kidding. i promised not to flirt with you, remember? i think omi would kill me anyway. but i do love cooking, and it’s nice to talk with other people who enjoy it as well.”

she hums in agreement. for how similar he and his brother are, she’s not sure she could ever imagine atsumu cooking something edible, but it fits well with what she knows about osamu. “so, there’s one more of you guys coming?” she asks, trying to keep up their conversation until they reach her class.

he doesn’t answer immediately, seeming to think about her question. “oh, suna? i mean yeah, the whole team will be here later since we’re playing omi’s team. but you’ll definitely meet suna soon. we drag him along everywhere.” 

she doesn’t doubt him. if they skipped school just to wiggle themselves into an entirely other different school, it doesn’t sound out of the question that they could force a third person to come along with them on their adventures. her phone buzzes once they sit down and she’s thankful that the seat behind her is empty, hoping that maybe she’ll be able to block most of osamu from her teacher’s view.

much to her surprise, osamu had gone the entire class without getting caught. he’d taken notes as if this was one of his actual classes and even tapped her on the shoulder to show her a text of atsumu getting his phone getting taken away. she’d had to cover her laugh up as a cough. when the bell rang, she almost left immediately out of habit before remembering she had someone following her.

“i need to stop by the yearbook room real quick to grab my equipment for your guys’ game tonight, is it okay if you follow me there before we go to the gym?” she clarifies.

he nods and she starts to lead him out the door. “and you remember suna, right? how he was mad at ‘tsumu and i for accidentally leaving him behind? he wants food in return…is it also okay if we stop by a vending machine?” he asks, walking alongside her.

“oh, sure,” she answers, “did you want me to drop you off there first instead? honestly, the vending machine with the best snacks is by the gym so we’ll pass by it either way.”

“no, that’s fine. i can follow you to the yearbook room,” he shrugs and she keeps walking. it’s nice to have company as she walks through the halls.

“do you know what he wants? i can pay for it,” she looks at him from the corner of his eyes.

“oh, don’t worry about that. he wants atsumu to pay,” he replies and she snickers. in her head, she can already imagine how atsumu flipped out upon being told that. osamu reaches a hand up to rub the back of his neck. “and he uh…he wants jelly sticks.”

she tries to stifle her laugh with her hand but can’t completely muffle it. “sorry, i don’t mean to laugh. that’s just adorable. your friend sounds cute.” atsumu and osamu were both quiet childish as well. when she tried to imagine what suna might look like, he just looked like another version of the twins. if he hung around them, he was at least probably just as silly as them. 

how wrong she was.

she first meets suna rintaro in the middle of a fight. she’s barely pulled back by sakusa before she gets caught in the crossfire.

it started with osamu and her arriving at the vending machine after picking up her equipment bag. she had said something about buying something for herself too and was digging through her school bag for her coin purse when osamu stepped forward. “here, let me pay. what did you want?”

before she could respond, footsteps came stomping down the hall, “no way in hell you’re paying for her, i am!” atsumu had come out of nowhere once again, sakusa trailing a few paces behind, his face mask doing nothing to hide how severely annoyed he looked.

osamu clicked his tongue, “you have to pay for suna and i know for a fact you’re broke as shit! it’ll be a miracle if you can even afford to buy him jelly sticks!” they began to wrestle, osamu pulling at atsumu’s hair while the blond pulled at his brother’s cheeks,

that was when sakusa had pulled her back just in time for a third voice to enter the picture, piercing through all of them and making them freeze in their tracks,

“seriously? you guys couldn’t even buy me food by the time i got here?”

atsumu and osamu are quick to break up their fight, osamu rubbing his cheeks grumpily. “i have no idea what you’re talking about,” atsumu purses his lips as he turns to face the vending machine again, “i’m buying them right now. see? here they are. your jelly sticks.”

her eyes follow atsumu to the boy he’s handing the plastic package to and her mouth goes dry. he’s nothing like the image she had in her head. what did she even imagine him looking like? surely not this pretty.

shit, he was really pretty. 

the collar of his red jacket hides the edges of his face, but when he turns towards her, she sees his entire face and instinctively shuffles back towards sakusa under the weight of his stare.

“suna! this is y/n. y/n, this is suna,” atsumu follows up, for once (in the few hours that she’s known him) seeming to read the social situation.

“nice to meet you,” she says, not moving a muscle because he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to do handshakes.

“yeah,” he replies, holding her gaze for a moment longer than she expects him to, “you too.” then he turns around and walks back the way he must’ve first come from.

she wants to bury her face in her hands and overthink everything she’s ever done, his yellow-gray eyes still prominent in her memory. osamu’s voice pulls her out of her thoughts, “well, that’s suna.” he states the obvious and no one replies. “anyway, what did you want from the vending machine, y/n?”

“you’re paying for her over my dead body,” she looks up to see atsumu shouldering osamu away from the front of the machine.

“oh yeah like it’s gonna be hard to kill you–”

“you’re both making a fool of yourselves,” sakusa cuts them off and they both immediately straighten at sakusa’s grim tone. 

“you guys don’t have to buy me anything, really,” she tries to add before all three boys look at her and she shuts up.

“no, they won’t let you go until you let them pay for something,” sakusa sighs, and she feels drained. she hasn’t even picked up a single piece of equipment or put her bag down, yet all she wishes she could do is go home and fall asleep, pretending atsumu and osamu were just figments of her imagination. 

but this was reality, and she continued to see atsumu and osamu quite frequently after their first appearance. sometimes they’d show up after school, or visit during school breaks. other times, she saw them during their frequent matches with itachiyama, and she couldn’t help but suspect they were manipulating their coach; there was no way the amount of games between itachiyama and inarizaki was just a coincidence. but their matches were also where she saw suna the most. she had never been able to warm up to him the way she had with atsumu and osamu, but then again, the twins had basically forced themselves into her life. nonetheless, she still talked to him sometimes, and he became part of the reason for the small habit she had formed.

atsumu and osamu complained the most about being starved after games, and she had never realized how draining volleyball must be until she started taking pictures of it up close. it made sense, seeing how attentive everyone had to be 100% of the time, and they were always jumping or running. she saw how it wore even omi (a nickname she had stolen from the twins) and suna down, despite how much they tried to remain their neutral faces.

as a result, she had decided that maybe it was a good time to flex her cooking skills, and to give herself peace of mind that none of them would pass out on their way home. she often made sure to bring food for omi and his cousin komori, but she always made extra when they had a game with inarizaki.

and none of them complained, it was second nature for osamu to come stumbling towards her after every game, looking like a sweating mess unable to even keep his eyes open as he asked her for food. she’d force him to patiently wait a few more minutes as she took shots of the teams packing up which also gave atsumu and suna time to come over as well.

she had told herself she was making food for all of them, but in reality, she knew it was for suna most of all. she was too scared to talk to him as often as she did the rest of the boys, yet she still found herself pulled to him. food had instead been the mutual connector between them. it was something they exchanged without many words, but she reasoned that it was a good thing that they weren’t very close. as much as she tried to play it off, she couldn’t keep her camera off of him. she knew she was supposed to be taking pictures of itachiyama–and she did make sure to take good shots of them–but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t find herself always turning towards the other side of the court every chance she got, following one middle blocker in particular. 

it was always embarrassing to think about, and she tried to push the thoughts away as she rustled through her bag for her container. 

she almost felt like a mother, really. she'd taken in three insatiable foxes plus whatever omi could be considered as–something more passive than his sly opponents. she'd fed them all once and now they'd become attached to her for life. they definitely played the part, looking restless and grumpy while she tried to do her job. eventually, she'd give up trying to take any more pictures and rustle through her bag, finding the rice balls she'd prepared earlier that morning for them. they weren't sufficient as a meal, but something she deemed good enough to last them until they got home.

"y/n, I could kiss you," osamu would confess as he stole the first ball and she'd laugh, seeing atsumu nod eagerly in agreement and the look suna threw their way. neither of the twins ever noticed, too invested in their food to care about anything else.

"back off, she's not yours." omi came to stand beside her, nodding in thanks when she offered the food to him.

"oh whatever," osamu shrugged, "i'll open a restaurant and hire her, then you won't be able to say anything."

"y/n made food for us all, omi-omi. you're just jealous you lost~" she’d grown accustomed to how much trouble atsumu got himself into, seeming to never learn from the beatings omi would give him. she watched the two fight before suna approached her, making her freeze up.

"do you have any food left?" he asked.

sometimes it took her a moment to respond, too caught up in admiring his eyes before she forced herself to respond, "oh, yes. I have a few more. take as many as you want," she held out the box, laughing when osamu snuck in next to her to steal another ball as well. she sent up a silent apology to komori; she had technically made enough to feed him too, but if suna wanted a rice ball meant for him, she was definitely giving it to him.

she was glad he liked her cooking, it was always a worry in the back of her head if he would like what she made. osamu and atsumu would eat anything, and she knew what omi liked. he was the only one she wasn't sure about. whenever he seemed to like something she brought, she made sure to write the recipe down so that she could make it again. she may not have been able to talk to her with words, but if she could show that she cared about him with actions, she was going to make the most of it.

that was how their time through high school had gone, all the way up until graduation. when suna had decided it was time for that to change.

prev. | m.list | next

extras <3

just a little bit of backstory between the friendships of most of the characters! i thought it'd be cute <3 hopefully this wasn't too long and this chapter was pieced together over a few weeks so i hope it flows alright

doing something a little different with song reccs this smau!! i don't think it's very clear although i tried to make it easy to understand, these are basically lyrics that suna left written on a wall in different locations <3 they range in how specific they are and nothing's really important about them! i just thought it was cute to include <3

y/n was put in charge of taking photos for the boy's volleyball team since the yearbook program was stretched thin

inarizaki’s coach, seeing how she took a lot of photos of inarizaki too (bc of suna but he doesn’t need to know that), asked her to send the photos to him

she was so intimidated she made sure she edited them and then sent them his way. he was impressed with her work and asked her to take pictures for inarizaki’s team too whenever she had the time ofc

which also meant she was always cooking to bring something for suna & co. <3

when she got into college, she was offered a job as a photographer for a sports magazine but she declined because she realized it was just not the kind of photography she wanted to do for the rest of her life

this is important for next chapter 😭 but suna is on y/n's private!! most of her friends are, because it's where she posts everything since her main account is dedicated to photography. so that also includes atsumu and osamu ofc

they're all also second years in college in present time

NEXT CHAPTER HAS NO WRITTEN PARTS I SWEAR AND PROMISE ON MY LIFE I'M SO EXCITED FOR IT I JUST NEEDED A CHAPTER TO WARM UP TO THIS SMAU

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[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller 90s AU: Lily's Rental

This came to me in a dream. I don't know how much of it I'm going to write, but I love the late 90s as a setting and couldn't resist.

Masterlist

tw: hypnosis, kidnapping

September 12, 1998

Lisa shook her can of Mountain Dew, dismayed that there didn't seem to be any more in it. She'd had three sodas tonight and was still struggling to stay awake.

She was working the late shift at the video store again, and she was really more bored than she was tired, the endless preview reel playing on the TV above her head doing little to hold her attention. She'd grown tired of the book she brought with her, she'd already restocked the candy and cleaned out the returns, and as she lived in a city that very much slept, there weren't a lot of customers so late on a weeknight.

Maybe no one would notice if she rested her head on the counter for just a few minutes and…

The sound of the door sliding open had her jerking back awake. "Welcome to Blockbuster, can I help you find anything?" she said on instinct.

"Well, you're a helpful one!" said the customer in an annoyingly cloying voice. "But we're just looking to browse the movies. Don't mind us."

She was wearing a floral sundress and tights, and looked a little too put-together for someone looking to rent a video at 11:40pm on a Tuesday. Trailing behind her was a man with a purple flannel shirt, a long blonde ponytail, and sunglasses perched on his head for some reason.

Far from the strangest people she saw in this job, of course.

"I'm feeling something with a lot of action," said the man as he walked deeper into the store. "What are you thinking?"

"I was thinking of -- ooh, no one told me Titanic was out on video!" The woman had stopped in front of the cardboard Titanic standee, apparently having lived under a rock until today.

"Did you somehow miss the nonstop ads on TV?" said the man, echoing Lisa's thoughts.

"I don't have time to watch that much TV. Some of us work for a living, you know," she said. "We have to rent this."

"Isn't it supposed to be four hours long? You know my attention span sucks."

"It'll be fine. I'll let you know when the interesting parts are happening."

Normally Lisa would mind her own business and not be especially interested in the usual chitchat of customers picking out movies, but right now it was the only thing keeping her alert. She idly flipped through a catalog as they talked.

The man picked up one of the many rental copies of Titanic and flipped it in his hands, a dubious look on his face. "I guess. And Lex might like it, he loves tragedy. It's cute when he's trying not to cry."

"I don't know, does Lex watch movies with color? You might blow his mind."

"I'm pretty sure he's still getting used to talkies."

"Anyway, I'm definitely getting this," said the woman. "And I think there's something else I'd like to take with me…"

Her tone of voice was a little strange. Lisa's brows furrowed in confusion as she pretended to be interested in winter fashion.

"Oh, right," the man said. "Brian wanted some video game. Ah, shit, what was it? I should've written it down. Final something."

"That's not what I'm talking about. Come on, Fitz, I want to show you something."

The two disappeared behind the rack of horror movies, their voices too low for Lisa to hear what they were saying. She was starting to get uneasy now. They were probably planning to shoplift, which was not at all the kind of excitement she was hoping for. Lisa ran her hand over the panic button on the underside of the counter, just in case.

The two split up and seemed to be browsing the movies. Lisa was keeping her eye on the man -- Fitz, what a goofy name -- who was over by the video game rentals, watching if he tried to slip one under his shirt. At the moment, he was staring at the video games as though they were some puzzle he needed to solve. This guy really didn't seem clever enough to get past our security, so maybe he was a distraction while --

"Hello, I had a question!" said the woman cheerfully. She had walked up to the front desk without Lisa even noticing, because she was too focused on the other customer.

It was probably part of their scheme -- the woman would distract the clerk, while the man stole video games. Lisa made a point of keeping her eye on Fitz while talking to her. "Sure, what do you need?"

"I was wondering if you have any good movies to help me sleep at night. Something calm… relaxing…" She yawned, and Lisa had to fight not to yawn along with her. "I have a hard time sleeping, and I take medicine that makes me so drowsy, so I could really use videos that will help me sleep."

"Um…" Lisa blinked slowly, feeling like her head was stuffed full of cotton. "We have some, um… some nature videos. Over there in the nature video section. Those are relaxing." God, she was way too fucking tired for this. She couldn't even think straight.

"Nature videos do sound relaxing. So, so relaxing." The woman's voice was very soothing, and her eyes were soothing too. "I think I might be able to fall asleep to a video of rain or waterfalls. Do you have anything else that would help me sleep? I get so tired this late at night."

Lisa yawned wide, and as oxygen hit her brain, she realized that she was being super unprofessional (not that she would get in trouble or anything) and that she had completely lost track of Fitz. Instead, she was gazing into this stranger's eyes, like that was a normal thing to do. "Well… uh…" she said, trying to tear herself away. "I think we probably have… like, lullaby videos for babies? In the kid videos. And we probably have some meditation videos over in the self-help section."

"Lullabies sound perfect," said the woman, a comforting smile on her face that made Lisa feel warm inside. "Lullabies are perfect when it's time for you to go to sleep. Don't you think so, Fitz?"

"I think you're right, Lily."

Lisa's hand was grasped by hands that were cold but incredibly soft. She realized that Fitz had also come up to the front desk, and was holding her hand for some bizarre reason. Before her sluggish thoughts could catch up to her and she could try to pull away, he began to rub a slow circle into her palm, and Lisa…

…just couldn't…

"There we go, sweet girl. You're so tired, aren't you? Tired and sleepy," said the woman. Lily.

"Mmm, she looks so drowsy. Like she could nod off at any second," Fitz agreed, as he stroked the palm of her hand so gently, a motion that seemed to steal away her focus and muddle her thoughts.

"Drowsy and docile. You'll be drowsy and docile for me, won't you?"

Fitz used his other hand to run his fingers down her jaw and tip her chin into his gaze. "You heard her. Drowsy and docile. Isn't that right?"

Lisa felt herself nod slowly. "Drowsy… and docile…" she said, her voice sounding like it was coming from a million miles away.

This wasn't right. There were alarms going off in the back of her mind, warning her of the danger. They were going to rob her. She was going to be in so much trouble. Why was she acting like this? Why couldn't she wake herself up?

"Shhh, shhh, just relax, dear," said Lily. "Everything's just fine. You're tired, aren't you? You just want to sleep."

"Go to sleep." Fitz's fingers traced down her neck. "Just go to sleep."

"I… I don't…" Lisa's vision was blurring, the buzzing fluorescent lights slipping in and out of her mind as her eyes began to close.

"It's okay, dear. Just have a little nap. You're safe with us. You can sleep."

"You look so, so tired. You want to shut those eyelids, don't you?"

"You do. You want to shut those heavy eyelids and go to sleep. It's time to sleep, dear. Sleep…"

Lisa, making a last ditch effort to resist whatever was happening here, pulled open her leaden eyelids. The new releases shelf was at an angle -- no, her head was tipped over, almost sinking onto the counter. Why couldn't she snap out of it, stay awake? It all felt like a dream -- not even the strangest dream she'd had about the shop.

"Poor sleepy girl," Lily whispered in her ear. "You're going to fall asleep now, all right? No more resisting, no more fighting, just a comfortable deep sleep."

The drowsiness was pouring into her from her hand and face where Fitz was touching her, like she was being drugged. Her thoughts strayed briefly to the panic button under the counter before her eyes shut and she slumped over completely. She just couldn't seem to stop herself from falling asleep…

"I've got her." Hands wrapped around Lisa's waist, and Fitz's voice was much closer now. "I can see why you wanted to take her. She smells delicious."

"I know good merchandise when I see it," said Lily.

Delicious? Merchandise? Lisa tried to stir.

"Shh, don't worry about it," said Lily, brushing hair out of Lisa's face. "Sleep tight. Pleasant dreams."

Lisa could feel herself being lifted in the air and carried, but she was too much asleep to protest or do anything about it.

"So I'm guessing we're taking her to the auction house, then?" said Fitz. "D'you think the Blockbuster's going to charge us a late fee if we don't return her?"

"Very funny, and yes, let's take her to the auction house. We can run a background check to make sure we haven't picked up anything too dangerous. I'm thinking she's going to fetch a nice payday," said Lily. "Oh, is this the video game your thrall wanted?"

"Hell if I know, but it's probably close enough. Could you grab that for me? Thanks."

Cool night air hit Lisa's face, waking her up just slightly as she realized she must be outside. Someone needs to close up the shop, she thought in a bleary daze. She heard a car door open.

"Stay with her in the back and keep her asleep, okay?"

"You're better at keeping thralls asleep. Are you sure you don't want to do it?"

"No, because I'm also better at driving. It'll be easier to keep her calm if we don't have you slamming the brakes and pounding the horn --"

"Oh c'mon, I only do that to people who deserve it."

The next thing Lisa knew, she was laying down. Her legs were only halfway on the seat and her head was in someone's lap. A chilled hand stroked her forehead and combed through her hair, and Lisa couldn't help but sink into it, losing herself.

"…could just take her home, you know."

"…don't think she's…"

"…don't you think she'd be a good match for…"

"…but she'd be worth…"

The voices slowly faded away as Lisa slipped deeper into slumber.

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@fuckcapitalismasshole @slightlydisturbedbeans @paperprinxe @demetercabingreen-thumb

[descendantofthesparrow]

i had a realization at work on tuesday

descendants would...not actually work as a multi-episode series, IF following the same timeline/plot...at least by the time d2 rolls around.

hang on lemme ramble/cook.

D1 would work the best as a episode series, as it spans over...what a month? two weeks??? who knows, but that movie would work best as a episode series to be able to explore the whole core four, the auradon kids, having the vks explore and learn about auradon, and giving time for Mal to fall in love with being good and Ben. we could see jay grow and learn that he doesn't have to be alone, we could see Carlos actually learn dogs arent so terrifying over a series of episodes and not in just a few minutes, we could see Evie's discovery of her love for chemistry AND fashion design, AND learn that Doug is actually kinda funny cute and geeky instead of everything just kinda-happening. d1 is easily the best-paced of the 3 movies, but imagine if D1, just D1, was an episode series, we could have a whole first episode just about the isle that ends with the vks going to Auradon, and the 2nd episode starts in Auradon with the climax being the vks trying to get the wand but failing.

and you may ask 'hey rose why does d2 and d3 not work as an episode series?' because they're all linear, short timelines, d2 is only 3 days, maybe 4, and d3 takes place over about 2 weeks but we only see 4 days of those weeks, in my head, they really only work as movies, not as multi-episodes; just due to the fact that they're very fast paced-if they were seasons, they'd be like, maybe 4-6 episodes long while d1 could be a 10 episode season.

anyway yeah, d1 COULD work as a episode series, while d2 and d3 work, pace/story wise, better as a movie.

thank you for coming to my ted talk

[whorediaries-09]

say it's unforgivable

pairing- sirius black x auror!reader warning(s)- hurt/comfort. a/n- heads up, maa and papa refer to james' mum and dad :)

little train. series masterlist.

the moment he gets up from the metal chair, he realizes he's doomed. his heart aches. he has nowhere to go. with maa and papa dead he's stuck, stranded upon the lonely crevice of life. as the minutes pass by, he stands, watching as the others leave. dumbledore sits still, physically calm.

'is there anything you need to say dumbledore?' he watches as the old man slowly creeps from the chair, descending near him. he stands before sirius, his icy blue eyes hovering over his ragged form.

'the man you are sirius, i expect you'll go and try to track down harry?' he asks him, his voice low. 'i save you trouble, harry is within the safe realms of his aunt and uncle.'

'aunt and uncle?'

'lily's sister and husband.'

'WHAT!'

'calm down, he's safe. that's the only way to keep him safe. the blood connection between petunia and lily. petunia knows about this, always has known about this. she's promised to not hurt harry and keep him within safe and secure conditions until he turns into an adult.'

'i don't care dumbledore. i need to see harry potter. he's my godson, i am his legal guardian. not petunia, not her husband.'

'i know.' dumbledore's eyes twinkle for a few moments before he runs his bony hands through his long beard.

'you can join hogwarts as an assistant healer. with all the incidences you had with remus lupin, i'm sure you've got a trick or two up your sleeve.' sirius gulps.

'what?'

'you can see harry in 5 years when he joins hogwarts.'

'no. i need to see my godson now.'

'you will, when you get yourself together. take some time off for yourself sirius.'

'i don't care. i need to see him and check whether he's okay. i need to know. i don't trust petunia with how she treated lily. i need to make sure he's okay. the last time i trusted you albus, i was thrown into prison and my freedom was stolen away from me. not again will i let this happen. i'm leaving, albus.'

*-

he sits beside the coffee counter, shimmying through newspapers. ever since he'd been released, the press was after him. not wanting more attention than he'd already gotten, he decided he'd keep to the muggle world for the time being. that meant being closer to spotting harry and staying away from attention.

for the time he'd been in the wizarding world, within the creepy turns of diagon alley, hagrid had returned him his motorbike. he'd hugged the giant man, thanking him. within the span, he'd also found his mother had died a year back, leaving him to be the heir of the noble house of black. when he'd been left alone with the information of his death mother, he left a pang of joy in his heart, followed by guilt.

he loved his mother, but his mother never did. it wasn't his fault, but he couldn't help but love her. or perhaps it was pity he felt for her, for she had been through the same as him. but it was him who felt the need to break free from the abuse. he hated he had to make her feel like a failed mother. while he felt guilty for feeling joy for losing her, he certainly didn't miss her. no, he was the one who got away.

he crushes the butt of the smoked cigarette, ready to explore the city of london after years of being shrouded in darkness. the need to escape from the darkness still gathers him into a haze of melancholy. he wanted to feel the cold air ripping through his locks, nipping at his skin. he wanted to see the city lights pass by as he fulfilled the need of fresh air filling up his flesh. he may not have yet found a place to stay, but he didn't feel the need to be confined within four walls.

the bell chimes again. a thursday evening didn't see many customers, the cafe deprived of hustle, resulting in a quiet cafe. the bell caught his attention, so he turned his head, watching at the door. his heart skipped a few beats, as a familiar face walked into the cafe. it was his savior.

'a salted caramel latte and a butter cookie, please,' you said to the barista, passing down the bills to fulfil the payment. he walked up to you, his heart bleeding with gratitude.

'hi,' he said, catching your attention. you brushed strands of hair behind your ear, smiling at him.

'hi, mr. black.' he knitted his brows together.

'psst! don't call me that, call me sirius.' he bent down, leaning into your ear, 'i'm out of azkaban solely because of you.' you smiled at him picking up your latte and cookie that the barista slipped across the counter.

'trust me, mr. - sirius i stand for justice.' he crumpled his fingers together, putting his hand into his pockets.

'i agree with you. uhm... fancy a walk perhaps?' he asked. your eyes brandished slowly over his features, your mind seemingly reeling with questions.

'i never thought the sirius black would walk. didn't you drive a motorbike?' he grinned, his eyes lighting up. this was the first time he'd felt the joy after so many years- he allowed himself to relish it, because there was no darkness to shroud his joy into melancholy.

'i do drive one. how did you know?' pushing open the door of the cafe, you walked into the fresh night air, as he followed you. taking a sip of your latte you replied vaguely,

'that, sirius is for me to know, and you to guess.' he grinned, seemingly enjoying your teasing behavior.

'so, you don't fancy a walk,' he stated, putting his hands into his pockets. your eyes raked over him, taking in his starkly contrasting appearance from the day you'd last seen him. within the glow of the streetlight, his high cheek bones and razor sharp jaw underneath porcelain skin rubbed with a soft stubble reflected upon his features. he was wearing a black t-shirt paired with beige slacks. he had cleaned up well within the few days. the air had already been of great favor to him.

'don't you have anyone waiting for you, sirius?' his gray eyes stared into yours before he whispered a quiet no.

'are you sure sirius? or are you too eager within your emotions of gratitude?'

'i hate how you can read through me so easily, sweetheart. but you're partly incorrect, i actually have been sitting alone here, shimmying over the things i've missed.' he moved closer to you.

'i don't think you should spent time alone, sirius. you need other people's company. human's are driven by the presence of other humans, you should be reminded of your roots, of your presence of mind. you'll go insane if you sit alone, secluded.'

'and here you are declining me a walk with you. you're human aren't you? we can interact. either ways, i've asked remus to meet me tomorrow. he says yes.' you laughed, the sound echoing amongst the cars and motorbikes which honked along the streets of london.

'so, what do you say?'

'i'm sure i could also do with a little bit of company,' you replied. your voice was low and soft, like a cool breeze amongst the salty waves of the sea. he smiled at you, wrinkles of a chronicle scarring beside his eyes. he moved closer, standing by you.

'so where shall we go?'

'where ever the city takes us.'

the city reeked of driving him crazy. till it was one hell of a drug, so he could use it up.

****************************************

original idea posted by - @lilwnet

taglist - @reggieisfit @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader @jamespottergf @eternallybipanicking @fictional-magic @iamgayforyourmom1510

taglist (for series) - @urbansaint

(if you want to be tagged please send a request through my inbox.)

****************************************

[ficthots]

Tracking

A/N: Wow, just yeah. I know it's been a long while since I posted for Peter, but like I promised, I was working on things for him and here it is! Now, I'll crawl back into my cave until my next writing is ready. As always let me know what you guys think and enjoy!

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence

Word Count: 6.4K+

Time is a fucking thief. Really, it is. Waking up with the rising of the sun, getting ready to go to a job you despised, remaining in a windowless cubicle for eight hours, making dinner, then time to sleep again. Watching the clock as each passing minute was taken from you over and over again. Now when you throw being a superhero into the mix, it makes it even worse.

Holding down relationships, careers, any and all of the important things in life were always seemingly snatched away when it came to the personal life of crime fighting vigilante Spider-Man. That’s why when you entered his life it was like getting another opportunity to engage with time he had never experienced before.

Looking forward to coming home and eating dinner, stopping by on patrol nights to give you a goodnight kiss no matter what, to Peter Parker, he would do everything in his power to devote as much time as he possibly could to you.

Perhaps you were the time thief in his life now. Either way he didn’t mind when it came to you.

Were there times when it just simply wasn’t possible to shovel all of his waking energy towards you? Of course! The problems came when it had been that way for months. Yeah, you read that right.

In the span of four months, Peter had become so ravaged with his other entities responsibilities that his time with you was drastically rescinded. Unanswered text messages for days, not a peep from him for a week at a time, no more windowsill kisses. It was like he had vanished into thin air.

You understood at first. Hell, you had been dating the man for three years! What was happening, though, was unlike anything he had ever dealt with before. A group of men, identities undisclosed, were wreaking havoc throughout New York City. For months on end, like clockwork, every other week a crime would occur.

Each more gruesome than the last.

Peter had never really been on a deadline like this. Knowing that with each ticking second it was growing closer to the next attack. Spending all nights on the streets, trying to spot whoever could be responsible for this.

The worst part was that he had no leads. A few locations that were all pointless distractions. No semblance of an inkling as to who was committing all of these atrocities. In the span of time since their starting, over eight lives had been taken. A mind boggling number for such a short span of time.

Police were just as useless and he had decided to not take up any more time than necessary with them in tow simply because they weren’t taking this as seriously as they should have been. Instead of confronting the public, reminding them to be careful and not to wander alone past sunset, they were sweeping it under the rug.

Not wanting to cause a public disturbance. No need to fear monger they had told Spider-Man. Assuring him that all of those victims were tied to a gang in one way or another and it was criminal activity work. Something that he shouldn’t spend too much time dwelling on.

That was not a good enough answer for Peter. He didn’t believe them. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure it was a group behind all of this. It could have been a serial killer that was on one hell of a spree.

There was no pattern with their victims either. Randomly selected from the streets. What you didn’t understand was why Peter was involved with all of this. Of course, you knew he wanted to do all in his power to save as many lives as he could, but you warned him to be careful after the initial police warning.

Sticking his nose in places it didn’t belong was not going to end well. It had been the first time you two had argued to that extent. Shouting at the top of your lungs you weren’t ready to lose him and that’s what you were afraid was in the works.

He called you silly for thinking such things. That you needed to have more faith in him than you were giving. It still didn’t answer why he was so invested in this. You knew there were details he was purposely not giving you. Maybe he didn’t want to frighten you or maybe he thought you wouldn’t be able to handle it, but to you, you were a partnership, a pair.

All you wanted was to have Peter back around. Who knows, you might be able to actually help him if he came to you and showed you what he did and did not have. Instead, he hid it from you. Becoming cold and aloof. Distant and consumed.

If there was something you knew about Peter it was that he did not like being bested. Truly holding himself to a standard that was near impossible. Knowing he was above average intelligence, to put it lightly, when people tried outsmarting him, it was always a humorous effort. No one bested Spider-Man.

This time, they were.

Following that night of your monstrous bickering, you hadn’t seen or heard from Peter in over a week. Honestly, you weren’t making much of an effort yourself. Having no interest in being around him when he was in a head space like this. Knowing that there really was no way to help him if he presented nothing to you.

Peter on the other hand was not okay with you going dark on him. Despite knowing that the clock was dwindling down before their next attack, it was the first time in weeks you had been at the forefront of his mind. The little voice in the back of his head was telling him he needed to smooth this over with you or he would regret it.

Which is why he was climbing into your living room window with a bouquet of your favorite flowers, opting to take the night off even though it could be a crucial turning point. He ended up convincing himself it would be alright because if he didn’t have a direction to go in an hour before arriving at your apartment, then hunting tonight was pointless.

He didn’t have a direction.

Even though you hadn’t spoken to Peter, your thoughts were consumed by him as well. What was the bit of information he wasn’t giving you? Was there even anything he was leaving out? There could be the slim possibility he had actually divulged all he knew to you. But you knew better than that. Peter was hiding something, you just couldn’t figure out what it was.

The notes.

Discovered next to each of the victims he had come across. Given he was the only individual to find them and when he tried bringing it to the attention of the police, they had shrugged him off. They were trying to get to him.

Sheets of white printer paper, the typical horror movie fashion of assembly. Varying letters from magazines, newspapers, old letters, all taped and pasted on the paper in a note. Each one was different, but told in a fashion of a word problem. Some were like riddles.

Either way, with each new victim that appeared, so did a new note. It was one of the things he dreaded the most. Seeing what possibly innocent person had been selected in order to deliver the paper to him. His stomach turned just at the thought of it.

Tonight was not for that, though. Instead he chose to bury it in the back of his brain and spend some much needed time with you. So why weren’t you home?

If there was one thing Peter knew and loved about you was that you were a schedule person. Totally type-a, your day planned to perfection and given it was just after six o’clock that evening, you should’ve been in the kitchen plating your dinner.

Except, there was no you in the kitchen, there was no music or television playing in the background, it looked as though nothing had been touched all day. Until he stepped further into the kitchen.

When his eyes darted over to the corner of your counter, partly covered by your fridge, he froze. There it sat. An uneaten bowl of cereal. The milk on the counter next to it, the cereal box still opened and there.

As he approached it, observing the contents, you hadn’t even gotten a spoon out yet. It was filled to the brim, more so than you would’ve liked, but given it hadn’t been touched some of the cereal had inflated from the milk.

“Bug?” His voice, calm and collected echoed out into the quiet flat. Finally prying his eyes away from the alarming sight he had just seen, he was stumped. Everything else in the living room and kitchen was exactly as it should have been.

Maybe you were running late this morning and didn’t realize until after you had made your breakfast. Yes, of course! That’s exactly what it was.

Peeking into your bedroom, his heart rate decreased, a sense of relief and ease settling over him at the entirely bogus reasoning he had used to calm himself down. Until the most unusual sight of all was spotted.

Your phone sitting soundly on your nightstand, still connected to the charger. His hand rubbed at his closed eyes, trying to will his breathing to return to a normal rate. Tapping the screen, it lit up with dozens of texts. Some from Peter, some from coworkers, a few missed calls from work.

Never would you ever forget your phone. Never would you ever not put the cereal back in its place. Something was wrong.

His trembling hands removed his own phone from his pocket, before entirely losing any semblance of sanity, he dialed your boss’s number. It picked up on the third ring and Peter did his best to sound as normal as he could.

“Hey, Guy! It’s Peter Parker,” he was instantly cut off by his chipper voice on the other end. “Peter! How the heck are you?” He sighed, a shaky laugh escaping him. “Great, great. I just have a quick question for you,” as Peter asked if you had made it into work today, Guy responded fast.

“No, actually she didn’t today or yesterday. Didn’t even call. It’s not like her at all. I think a few of her team members tried texting her and didn’t hear from her either. Everything okay?” It was the worst thing he could have been told at that moment.

Clearing his throat, he tried to remain calm. “Mhm, yeah, yes. She’s just, uh, very sick. It might be a few days before she’s well enough to get back to the office. I didn’t call earlier because I wasn’t sure if she had or not.”

Guy’s laugh of relief was palpable. “Whew, thank goodness! Okay, well tell her to rest up and we’ll see her when she’s all better.” Thanking him and quickly ending the call, Peter tore your apartment upside down.

Any clues he could think of, any sign of forced entry, anything at all. But there was nothing. It was all still in the pristine condition it had been left in. Not a single thing out of the ordinary despite the two big red flags. Even going through every app on your phone, just in case, but it was fruitless.

Alarm bells were chiming in his head, he knew something was wrong. He knew you were in some sort of danger. He collapsed on your couch, wracking his brain for anything that could have given him something to work with.

Then he saw it. Out of the corner of his eye. A small piece of white paper stuck to the tongue of a running shoe you never wore. Turned on its side. He couldn’t remember if he had knocked it over during his rushed search of your apartment, but as he picked it up, his blood turned to ice.

Taped to the shoe were the letters he dreaded seeing. Had been haunting him in his sleep for weeks. When he could sleep that was. Unlike the others, it was almost a clue as to where to go next. His eyes quickly saw the time and knew they were going to strike again soon. Far too soon.

One step forward, three steps back, find her quick before she’s the next attack

It was an anger unlike anything he had ever felt before. Not when his parents had died, not when uncle Ben died, it was so overpowering, Peter truly didn’t know how to control it. Darting out of your window, knowing he was on limited time, he began his search.

A near pointless search. A pill that was hard to swallow. Knowing the chances of actually finding you were so slim. He had the list in the back of his mind, places he had scouted previously that he knew they had used at one point or another.

That was the only thing he could think to do. Which is exactly what he did. Searching one by one individually, spending no more than thirty seconds to one minute at each location before going down the list. Did he destroy some of those places during his searches? Absolutely.

He only grew angrier with each location he arrived at that you weren’t in. His hope was running out. Knowing he was at the last two possible places you could be at that he knew about. It was an abandoned warehouse by the river. The first place he had ever tracked them to, but it was far too late when he made his discovery. They had been out of there for over a week by the time he found it.

They were always just a few steps ahead of him and it drove him mad. His masked face searched the premises from what he could see. Through one of the partly shattered windows, there appeared to be a figure on the far end of the building.

A single light shining on them, their back facing where Peter stood. Sitting in a chair, only a wisp of a shadow, no identifying features to be made out. Assuming it was going to be a fight he was about to step into, Peter broke the remainder of the window and launched himself in.

Eerily silent. No noise in the entire building apart from the howling wind outside. It was beginning to become mid-fall in the city and it was always your favorite time of year. No one was enjoying the crisp autumn air that evening.

It was unbearably stuffy in there. No fresh air had swept through the place in years. The stale scents made that abundantly clear. Peter hesitantly approached the figure, the lighting just so he couldn’t make anything out until only a few hundred yards away.

The minute he saw the tied hands behind the back of the chair, his heart soared. “Bu-bug!” His voice shouted, relief flowing off of him in waves, but they came crashing down just as fast.

He wasn’t even sure if it was you. Incredibly deformed from obvious beatings, your face was swollen, bruised, and bloody like he had never seen before. The zip tie around your wrists had cut into the skin, pieces of flesh hanging from it.

As he looked down, the sticky floor was a deep crimson, continuing to pool from your countless open wounds. No shoes were on your feet, they too were cut and dangling from your seated position, totally limp.

He wasn’t entirely sure what was in your mouth as a makeshift gag, but whatever it was had been there so long, your skin was raw and bruised around it. It was the first thing he removed and as he did, your chipped teeth entered his view.

A blanket was draped over you that was covered in things Peter did not even want to begin to imagine. It was the next thing he went to remove, but he halted the moment it was off your body.

There, stapled to your bare chest, was his next note. The same haunting letters, covered in either your own or someone else’s blood. Based on the missing fingernails, he assumed it was a fight you had given which made him silently pray it was someone else’s, yours already spilled too much.

It took him a second longer than he realized to see that your toes were mainly all facing the wrong way. Your arms bruised from newly broken bones, legs in the same condition.

His trembling voice was the first thing you heard as he cut the tie from your hands, whimpers and choked cries trying to escape your hoarse throat. Immediately going limp, Peter caught you. Your body was convulsing in ways he had never seen, unable to open your eyes and see that Peter had found you.

His tears made heavy tracts on his sweat riddled skin. His gloved hands smoothed over the inflamed sections of your face. “I’m-I’m here bug, I got you. I found you, baby. I got you, okay? It’s okay now, baby.” Despite knowing how difficult and incredibly painful his next actions were going to be, he had to get you out of there.

Medical attention was the only way you were going to be able to survive. That meant Peter was going to have to carry you to the hospital. No possibility of emergency services being able to get to you before it was too late.

He was right. Had he waited for emergency services you would have died. You had been in the hospital for three weeks now. Finally in a state where you were fully conscious, despite the pain that never subsided, you were doing better than everyone thought.

It was unclear how long you had been in their “care” before Peter had found you. Based on the little memory you had from the snatching, it was assumed you had been with them for at least forty-eight hours, possibly more.

Peter hadn’t left your side since. Growing tired of hearing the nurses and doctors praise Spider-Man for having found you and saving you when he did. Hardly. He had hardly saved you.

In fact, this was his fault. It was the conclusion he had made. His careless and reckless behaviors had led them straight to you. He hadn’t spoken to you in a week and look what they had done. They thought they had killed you. There hadn’t been another attack yet. It meant nothing though.

No, the note left for him said otherwise. You’ve made it three steps back, how long until the grand final act?

Peter was frightening you. Since you had been awake and aware of what was happening, he had hardly spoken to you. The deep purple bags under his eyes were only growing worse, skin a sickly gray you had never witnessed in a human before, face hollowing out from lack of rest and food.

All he did was write in his notebook.

Curled up in a chair, he stared at the pages for hours on end. Occasionally writing and scribbling in it. His eyes never rested, constantly darting around the pages. It had been weeks of this. Total silence from him, not sure how to talk to him when he was like…this.

It was another late night in the hospital, having drifted in and out of painful sleep all day. Based on the lack of staff and visitors present, you assumed it was the middle of the night. The hospital floor just outside your door was quiet. An easy night for the staff, you thought.

Trying to figure out how to eat a pudding cup, one of the only things you could keep down, was your current task at hand. The tv playing with hardly any sound, it being the only main light in there, Peter silently re-reading whatever was in that book. That was the current mood of your room.

Eating was difficult. Only having three working fingers on your non-dominant hand, luckily one being your thumb, you struggled to pick up the spoon, also knowing you couldn’t move your arm to bring the spoon to you or bend over to get closer to consume anything. Just trying to move to secure the spoon in your mangled fingers had you on the verge of tears, losing your breath along the way.

You could do nothing without help. Not wanting to ask Peter for any assistance because of how poor his mood was. That was where you two currently sat with one another. Scared to speak to him more than absolutely necessary. Hardly speaking since being here.

His eyes briefly glanced at you before realizing what you were trying to do, throwing his notebook onto the side table. “Hey, hey, hey! What are you even trying to do, bug?” His voice was soft, a slight laugh in his voice, exhaustion evident with each word spoken. Taking the spoon from your hand, he pulled his chair closer to the bed, beginning to bring it to your lips.

It was silent until your eyes darted back at the book, deciding to take a leap. “Whatcha writing?” Your cracked, gravelly, and weak voice echoed through the silent room.

It made him want to revert to a blind rage attack. Your voice that was usually so full of life and excitement. Strong and loud that could command an entire room with only a few words. Now, he could hardly hear you, understand you, look at you. Jaw clenching at the question, his teeth grinded together.

When he closed his eyes, he saw visions of you beaten in that warehouse, left for dead. The immense pain you had been suffering through ever since then. Scars that would never fade, both physically and mentally meant he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat. Not until he found them.

Your face was doing better, still black and blue, but healing. Able to open your eyes and look at him despite the popped blood vessels. Bandages littered every inch of your skin, wrists tightly wrapped with special medicine for the skin loss.

“Notes,” he murmured, eyes darkening as you asked your question, obviously not wanting to speak about it more. Changing the topic as your pudding came to an end, his hand brushed through your hair, knuckles lightly brushing against your cheek. “What do you need? Anything?”

It was silly. A simple question to see if you really did need anything. It didn’t stop the tears from hurriedly falling down your face. “Yo-you, Peter. I need you. I don’t know where you’ve been, but it hasn’t been here with me. I feel like I’m healing on my own. Like you’re not even here. You sit in that chair, staring at that notebook for days on end. You’ve hardly looked at me, spoken to me, listened to me. Please, just come back to me. Please, Pete.” It was borderline begging, but months of pent up frustration had broken the dam.

Peter’s heart continued to crack with each additional word you said. Realization of what he was doing to you, slamming into him all at once. He nodded, chin resting on one of the side rails, sniffling himself. “I’m here, bug. Whatever you need. I’m so sorry.”

Your only non-fully broken hand you extended towards him, wincing in pain from the movement. Scared to touch you, he only placed your hand back down, removing the side rail to get as close as possible to you.

The rest of the night, you two sat chatting ,watching whatever movies you wanted. It was a glimpse at the man you had seemingly lost all those months ago. Peter was back.

You were released from the hospital just shy of a week later. Peter’s plan to nurse you back to health was his moving in with you. While it was just supposed to be while you recovered, you two ended up enjoying it so much, he was now permanently living there.

It felt like your relationship was shooting by leaps and bounds, spending time together like you had never experienced before. Him being there when you went to bed at night and his face being the first thing you spotted when your eyes opened was a treat you didn’t know you needed.

Feeling content, cared for, respected, and loved like never before. Peter admitted, with your confession to him in the hospital about how distant he had become, tore him apart. He had never seen you moved to tears in such a way, especially over him.

He didn’t realize how deep he had been sucked in until that moment. From then on, Peter swore to keep his other persona on the sidelines for a bit whilst you healed and needed him. Did that mean he was going to stop being Spider-Man in the meantime?

Of course not. It meant that side of him was reserved for the span of time from when you fell asleep to about forty minutes before you would wake up in the morning. Absolutely clueless as to the fact that he had been out all night.

Hunting. Stalking. Tracking.

It was the first night in which you didn’t need him to help lay you down in bed. Peter knew his sleep schedule was already fucked, each time his eyes would drift shut all he could see was you strapped to that chair, nearing death.

And the fact that he hadn’t caught them.

Keeping him up at night, when he could sleep it was plagued by nightmares. Peter knew that there was no opportunity for him to rest while these scumbags were still wandering the streets, looking for another prey to select for their sick games.

Which is why he was doing this without you knowing. Not wanting to worry you and cause you further stress. No, Peter could do this. Would do this. Had to do this. He had made amazing moves. Truly spectacular given the place he had been stuck in before.

They had no idea he had found them, watched their every move, plotted what he was going to do to them. Honestly, when he first spotted one of the three he had discovered had been involved in your…incident, it took every ounce of strength he had to not murder the man right then.

He had to remind himself that all he had to do was provide some patience and the reward would be unlike anything he imagined. And imagine he did.

It was what plagued his thoughts every single day as he watched you hobble around such short distances that only offered pain and tiredness from. His eyes would drift over your still bruised skin as he helped you bathe and it was like witnessing it all over again.

Your hand would tip his chin up, forcing him to lock eyes with you. It was nearly impossible to not see the sadness and hurt in his eyes. Disappointed in himself for letting this happen to you. It didn’t matter because what had happened was now in the past and all you were looking forward to was healing.

The emotional and traumatic scars left on you were not easy to mask. Perhaps that was another reason why Peter was so furious as well. If he moved too quickly behind you, you jumped and a small scream would follow. Trembling for upwards of an hour before settling down. Peter would have to tell you small things to gather your thoughts.

Feel my hand? I`m right here, bug. Here, I want you to use the remote and put on whatever you want. You feel the couch under you? You’re home, baby. You’re safe.

If it weren’t for Peter, you weren’t sure what you would do. He was your rock, your other half, offering reason for unreasonable thoughts. He was your Peter.

The rain was pattering against the window, a sort of white noise you weren’t expecting tonight, but were grateful for it nonetheless. It helped you drift off to a dreamless sleep, exhaustion from trying to do some basic things today taking too much out of you.

Peter was already out of the house before he knew you were soundly asleep. He couldn’t risk being late. Tonight was the night.

Weeks of following them, understanding and breaking their odd patterns, he watched as they went according to plan perfectly. A construction sight for a new high rise. This was their new rendezvous sight for the next attack.

There wouldn’t be another attack.

Counting silently in his head, as he saw a flicker of a small light near the top floor, his count was perfect. They entered exactly on schedule. Crawling down the side of the building and using the thunderstorm to his advantage, he shattered a window a few floors up.

There was no other way that he knew of other than how they had entered and that was far too risky as they had all other doors blocked. As he slowly descended the staircase to scout the floor and determine which room they were in, his hair stood on end as a voice hit his ear.

Three of them. All there. The monsters who were behind your attack. Simply waiting for him.

Except, they didn’t know they were waiting for him. No, tonight was a setup night. Preparation for the coming days of their next plan. Peter had determined fairly early on it was not going to be their final act like they had claimed.

The door was kept slightly ajar with a cinder block, no handles on them yet meaning if it closed, there was no way out for them. Which was their plan for their next victim. Leave the poor soul trapped here with no means of getting out alive.

Peter’s skin was crawling, every instinct shouting at him to just do it. End them now. It would be so easy. He shook off those thoughts, knowing his plan was the correct one.

He dropped to the floor behind them, one of them catching him out of the corner of their eye, a smirk taking over his face. “Spidey boy finally found us, boss.” The thick accent made him hard to understand. Peter kept silent. Very silent.

The other two turned to face him, matching looks on their hideous faces. “How’s your girl? You otta be more careful next time or she could get seriously hurt.” A chuckle escaped them. Peter still didn’t move, watching them from a few paces away.

Quickly deciding they weren’t a fan of the silent treatment, the largest man in the center who Peter knew to be their ringleader drew his gun. In the blink of an eye, web flew towards the gunman, pinning the weapon to the wall behind him.

“Come on now, you didn’t think I knew what you have on you? Just like how I know tweedledee over here is about to throw a knife at me,” Peter ducked out of the way as the blade hurdled towards him. “Now how about we all play nice and introduce ourselves?”

An over exaggerated sigh escaped Peter’s lips as the three men darted towards him, but he acted quickly, webbing them to the surrounding walls, letting one approach him to fight him. “Guess not. Okay, then. I guess I’ll be the one making the rules tonight then.”

Peter grabbed the three chairs from one of the corners of the room before leisurely strolling towards the door and pushing the cinder block from the opening. He whistled a made up tune as he removed them one by one, webbing them to the seats to the point of them not being able to move an inch.

“You know, it’s such a shame sometimes that I wear this mask because I would love you guys to see how big of a smile I have right now. Scouts honor, I am overjoyed that we finally get to do this!” He took his own seat directly across from them.

His head scanned them before pointing at the one on the right. “Let’s start with you bumblebee. What’s your name?” His black and yellow striped shirt was what appointed him his nickname. “You think we’re going to talk? I have nothing to say.”

Peter nodded at his words before looking at the other two. “Same goes for you two then, I assume?” When they didn’t respond, instead only seeing spit hurl towards him, he dropped his head, shaking it. “Such a shame. Alright, last chance. Just give me a name.”

Silence.

A shrug. “It brings me no joy to resort to this, fellas. I’m truly not a violent person. I pride myself on being as gentle as I can be. " He began pacing around, his chair discarded behind him now. “Igor, Viktor, Sasha.” He pointed at each of them individually as he divulged their names.

He gave himself a small satisfactory pump into the air at his success. He could tell he was correct by the little one on the lefts eyes growing slightly wider. It was just the start. As Peter continued on, he got tiny tidbits of information. Only when he presented to them what he knew. Which at this point was everything.

Names, date of births, addresses, spouses, children, education records, dental records, you name it, Peter had it. It still wasn’t enough to get them talking like how he wanted. Instead, Peter fell into the second part of his plan earlier than he had expected.

With seven toes, five fingers, three teeth, many beatings, and an ear, they were beginning to squeal. The leader, Igor, was suspended from the ceiling by his bound hands submerged in webbing. He was entirely nude, body cut up in ways that had blood spilling from him ferociously.

Viktor was webbed entirely to the floor, his entire body covered in fluid despite only one singular nostril. He was the one who cracked first which Peter expected after his reaction to his grandmothers home address in his tiny village in his home country. It was quickly discovered that he was mainly an action man, simply doing what he was told, not a mastermind of any sort.

The other one, Sasha, was who most of the beatings had gone towards once Viktor had divulged it was him who had mainly been the culprit in your beating. Webbed to the wall with no chance of escape, Peter mimicked all the injuries you had sustained on him and then some. Just missing a few fingers and toes now as well.

As the night drew to a close, Peter admired the work he had done. He wiped his gloved hands in a motion to signify he was wrapping up. They were hardly conscious enough at this point to understand what was happening to them. To understand the fate they had drawn themselves to.

There was just one final thing he needed to do. Grabbing the needle and thread he brought with him for tonight and tonight only, he walked slowly towards the nude man. “Did you know that I sew all of my suits? Crazy right! How in the world does he have the time to do this, you might ask. It’s a valid question, but you know what, if I took it to lets say a seamstress, I would be unbelievably broke. Not to mention, how does one drop off the Spider-Man suit without drawing suspicion. First world problems, am I right?” 

The man didn’t respond, but as Peter pierced the needle into his skin, his yelp rang in Peter’s ears. “Ah, ah, ah, don’t be moving around now, you’ll make my stitches go all out of wack here.” Peter took his time, but as he finished he admired the handy work.

Sewn into the man chest was a letter of his own. Crafted just for them. A message curated specifically for their enjoyment.

“How time flies, boys. Suns coming up here shortly. Time for me to be heading out.” He smashed a window, ready to crawl out, but he remembered one final thing he needed to do. Walking back over to Igor, he pulled his head back by the hair on his scalp, making him look into the bug eyed mask.

The whimper that fell from the grown man was laughable to Peter. “If you or your dogs come near anyone I love again, our next visit will not be as enjoyable as this one. If you get out of here, I mean.” Tears fell from the corner of his eyes as Peter released his head to fall back into its resting position.

“See you later, guys! Make better choices!” He called out behind himself as he crawled out the window, webbing it shut behind him before making his way home to you.

It was the first time in months that Peter felt like he could breathe. Taking in the fresh morning air, just minutes before the sun began to peak on the horizon, signaling the arrival of a new day. His lungs expanded with the deep breath of air, wanting to sob at the weight removed from his shoulders.

As he made his way back into the apartment, he spotted you in bed. Still curled up in the comforter, sound asleep, none the wiser of his whereabouts the night before. The brusing getting less and less noticeable by the day.

When he crawled into bed next to you, he refused to fall asleep, not tired in the least. No, instead as the sun began to shine through the curtains, he watched you. Watched as your chest rose and fell with each breath, grateful you were taking those breaths.

Because Peter knew that it wasn’t long ago where those breaths weren’t guaranteed. Now, he counted each one, to make sure you were okay. Of course you were okay now. Peter just needed to make sure.

It wasn’t too long after when you began stirring, eyes blinking open to see his golden eyes staring down at you with the softest gaze Peter had ever had. “Morning,” you mumbled, he whispered it back to you.

“You sleep okay?” He asked, to which you nodded, asking him the same. “Of course I did.” You smiled, getting up and ready to start your day.

You just needed to pretended you didn’t see the bruises adorning his knuckles. “What’s for breakfast?”

[starsandhughes]

Enchanted— Jamie Drysdale

request: “hello hello could i mayhaps request some jamie drysdale fluff to enchanted by taylor swift 🫶 “ by @whourfeyrac

warnings: drinking, taking shots, a few swears, mentions of making out, kissing, fluffy fluff fluff

word count: ~1.9k

there i was again tonight

forcing laughter faking smiles

same old tired, lonely place

you were not particularly excited to be in a bar right now. you weren’t in the mood, you hardly ever were, but sometimes when you faked a good time it turns into one.

you’d much rather be home, under your favorite blanket, watching Robin on how i met your mother obsess over the vancouver canucks and think “same. same, robin.”

but nope, your amazing best friend Anna decided it was a “put on your hottest outfit and go out” night. and you were going to murder her. politely because you love her, but murder nonetheless.

“y/n do a shot with me!” Anna shouted with glee.

“i can’t take shots without gagging you know that,” you sighed.

“ah yes, but this is a mixed shot. a cocktail shot if you will. it’s called a cement mixer, it’s got bailey’s, lime juice, and vodka and then it’s mixed to be kinda foamy and you take it immediately and it sounds gross but it’s really good, i promise!” she was practically begging at this point. you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but smile at her, and caved.

turns out, it was in fact very good and you have had three of them over a span of 45 minutes. and you have been gifted with being a lightweight, so those shots got you decently buzzed.

walls of insincerity, shifting eyes and vacancy

vanished when I saw your face

you quickly sobered up when you spotted a brunette boy across the bar. he was sitting a table with a couple of other guys and he had a mesmerizing laugh. he looked so good in a backwards hat and it was like sophie’s choice as to rather you want him to keep it on or take it off for you to get a better look at his locks.

“Anna Anna Anna Anna,” you repeatedly hit your friend each time you said her name.

“what?” she laughed.

“look at him!”

“there’s like four guys at that table which one are you talk-“

“holy fuck almighty he’s looking at me!”

your eyes whispered, "have we met?"

'cross the room your silhouette

starts to make its way to me

“looks like he’s bringing a friend,” Anna smirked.

“you can have him,” you quickly whispered to her as the two boys got closer.

“why hello boys, to what do we owe the pleasure?” Anna said playfully, putting her elbow on the table and resting her head in her palm.

“Jamie here caught this one’s eye and just had to come over,” the guy’s, or apparently Jamie’s, friend said. you were the “this one” in question.

“well that’s good, ‘cause i got physically abused by y/n over how good she says he looks,” Anna grinned at the friend. “let’s leave them, shall we?”

Jamie’s friend took Anna’s arm and allowed Jamie to take her seat across from you.

the playful conversation starts

counter all your quick remarks

like passing notes in secrecy

“physically abused her, huh?” Jamie grinned.

“if you would’ve smiled at me, i probably would’ve socked her,” you joked, and felt yourself heating up when he barked out a laugh.

“i can’t decide if i wish that happened or not.”

“guess we’ll never know,” you tutted playfully.

the more you two talked and joked and got to know each other, the more you wanted. but the night was closing, final call was in ten minutes, and yet it felt as if no time had past at all. he made you feel comfortable, and you never wanted to stop hearing his voice.

and it was enchanting to meet you

all i can say is, i was enchanted to meet you

“did you two kids have fun?” Jamie’s friend, Trevor you learned, asked as he threw his arm around Jamie’s shoulders. you looked over at Anna and saw that dopey look on her face she gets whenever she makes out with somebody.

“we did. did you?” you smirked at Anna who gave you a cheeky grin, “very much so.”

as Jamie was listening to Trevor and Anna speak, you quickly wrote your number on a napkin and hid it under your arm.

“our chariot has arrived outside my love,” Anna said to you in a posh voice. “alas, we must part kind sirs. i do hope we meet again sometime.”

“us too,” Jamie laughed.

you slid over the napkin to him nonchalantly as you stood to walk out with Anna, bidding your own farewells.

the night is sparkling, don't you let it go

i’m wonderstruck, blushing all the way home

i’ll spend forever wondering if you knew

i was enchanted to meet you

“how did you talk to him all night and not kiss him?!” Anna asked you when you two settled in your bedroom.

“i don’t know, but i didn’t really want to. i mean, i do, i really, really do— but he… i don’t know how to explain it. it was… enchanting. i got lost in his voice, and his eyes, and i never wanted to stop listening to his laugh. did you know they play hockey? i wanna to watch them, i wanna see how he moves on the ice, i wanna be his biggest fan.”

“ms. wonderstruck i think you already are,” Anna laughed. “i kinda wanna see them play too, but alas, sleep yearns for me.”

“do you ever plan on speaking normally again?” you giggled.

“haven’t decided yet. i bid thee goodnight!”

“goodnight!”

the lingering question kept me up

2 AM, who do you love?

i wonder 'til i’m wide awake

and now i’m pacing back and forth

wishing you were at my door

i’d open up and you would say, "hey"

Jamie would not leave your mind. at some point in the night, your spiraling thoughts ceased and sleep was granted to you. but your thoughts of Jamie still crept their way into your dreams. you dreamt of being in a relationship with him, you dreamt of kissing him, relishing in the taste of him. you never wanted to wake up and find that none of it was true.

this is me praying that

this was the very first page

not where the story line ends

my thoughts will echo your name, until I see you again

your ringer was still on from last night in case you and Anna got (not purposely) separated from each other, so your very loud text tone woke you up.

it was an unknown number, but the name that was signed at the end of the text brought a huge smile to your face.

‘good morning :) i had a great time last night, and just wanted to tell you i have morning skate soon and that i did not throw away your number and will not be ignoring you. in fact, my goal to talk to you at all times of the day until you’re sick of me. hope you slept good! ~Jamie’

he is the cutest boy to ever cute and you decided on blue and purple as your wedding colors and Anna will give the best maid of honor speech and Jamie will look so good you’ll want to kiss him and hit him for looking too damn good at your wedding ceremony.

Anna bursting through your bedroom door pulled you out of your trance and scared you, making your phone fly out of your hands and land across the bed.

“good morning?!” you laughed.

“did Jamie text you?”

“yes?”

“so you know about morning skate.”

“could you move to the point faster i’m a little confused.”

“still wanna see them play?”

Anna was practically shoving you into your clothes to get you ready to leave on time to meet Jamie and Trevor outside the area to be let in before practice started. but when you got there, it was just Trevor outside.

“good morning, ladies!” Trevor beamed, dragging out the ‘oo’ sound. he hugged Anna and kissed her cheek and caught you off guard by bringing you in for a hug as well. “you miss y/n, are a surprise to Jimmy. he did not shut up about you last night!”

“Jimmy?”

“that’s what i call him, keep up.”

you and Anna sat in the middle of the seats to watch the team skate. Jamie was beautiful on the ice, and you couldn’t help but be drawn back into your thoughts as you watched.

please don't be in love with someone else

please don't have somebody waiting on you

Jamie practically ran over to you after practice when he saw you and Anna, “y/n! i didn’t know you were coming!”

“i assumed you did when Anna dragged me out of bed but apparently it was a surprise,” you smiled.

Jamie, slightly wet from his shower, hugged you, another surprise to you, “it’s a wonderful surprise. want to get lunch?”

while you hoped it would just be you and Jamie, Trevor is apparently very codependent and invited him and Anna to join. Jamie told you so, but you found it kind of cute. you’d also be codependent with Jamie if you were in his shoes, and you desperately want to be in his shoes. maybe you can share him.

lunch was fun, and hearing Jamie laugh again was music to your ears. he kept looking at you with kind eyes each time you spoke and blushed whenever you would smile at him. you never wanted the rose to fade from his cheeks.

when you left the restaurant, Jamie slipped his hand into yours and walked slowly to create some distance between you two and the other pair holding hands.

“i really like you,” he rushed out. “shit sorry that was really forward.”

“nonsense,” you giggled. “i like forward.”

he stopped you two from walking and turned to face you, “yeah?”

“yeah,” you breathed. god he looked perfect in the sunlight.

“tell me if this is too forward,” he said low. he reached to cup your cheek and brought you face up to lean down and kiss you.

it was better than you imagined. it was soft, and slow. etches of your two coffee orders lingered on both your lips, and suddenly his order was the best thing on the planet. you’d forever associate the taste of caramel coffee with him.

“not at all,” you breathed out as you parted.

“yeah?” he smiled.

“yeah,” you smiled back.

“so can i do it again?”

“you can do it whenever you want.”

the biggest grin you’ve ever seen appeared on his face when he leaned down to kiss you again.

“wooo!” you heard Anna cheer.

“that’s my boy!” Trevor clapped.

you two parted laughing at your best friends.

“you’re ruining a moment here!” Jamie shouted.

“we’re making it better!”

you rolled your eyes at them and then grabbed Jamie’s neck to bring him down again. you heard the clicks of Anna’s phone snapping pictures and couldn’t care less. this moment was yours.

so maybe, he isn’t in love with somebody else.

it was you waiting on him.

and he came.

i’ll spend forever wondering if you knew

i was enchanted to meet you

[dirtysvthoughts]

𝓟 𝓡 𝓘 𝓥 𝓐 𝓣 𝓔 𝓓 𝓐 𝓝 𝓒 𝓔 𝓡 - CHAPTER THREE

pairing: prospective club owner! joshua x stripper! reader

word count: 2.2k

general tags/warnings: smut, pwp, worldbuilding before the dirty stuff (be patient 😉), female! reader, mildly cocky! shua, dom! shua, power play/brat! reader, full nudity for reader, use of pet names (love, baby, sweetheart), shua tries to get reader to fall for him but to no avail (or yes avail?)

playlist songs: special affair - the internet, give me head - sweet the kid, na na - trey songz

notes: chapter 3 baybeeeee! sorry this took so long, but it’s finally here! i’m gonna start working on chapter 4 and that should be done vv soon! hope you enjoy besties!

taglist: @im-gemmy @enhacolor @hooniewnderland @svtup @kawaiikels @weeevrse @diorsfxck @kyexvly @woozarts @ifuckcheol @marsstarxhwa @haoxiaoba

“and i’m telling you, i don’t need any help, take your service elsewhere,” your boss, mia, says over the phone, curtly hanging it up afterwards. “fucking nuisance,” she mumbles under her breath as you enter her office.

“somethin’ happen?” you say as you shut the door behind you, away from prying eyes and listening ears.

“shouldn’t you be getting ready, sage?” mia says not even looking in your direction, fiddling with whatever paperwork is in front of her.

you roll your eyes, “it’s 5 PM, i only came here early to practice my new routine. plus, i needed to ask you something, but then i overheard you. you know i’m one of the few people you actually trust here. so seriously, what was that all about?”

she stops messing with the papers and finally directs her eyes towards you, breathing a heavy sigh. “okay, so you know the club has a few more debt payments before i can solely own this place right? well, this man i was on the phone with can more than likely wipe away the rest of the debt with a snap of a finger.”

“so if he can do that, why would you tell him to fuck off? i don’t get it.”

“because he wants to own majority of the business! all of the creative decisions, finances, even down to the dancers’ employment would be his decision. i’m not doing that! i’ve worked way too hard to get to where illusion is today. and do you know how many strip club owners are women? not a whole lot. this is my pride.”

you both sit in a minute of silence, her words repeating in your mind. she was right, so much went into this club and those who weren’t on the pole proved that a club could run without a man’s help or approval. and you knew your boss wasn’t desperate enough to give in just yet.

“well no one but you is gonna run club illusion. fuck another owner or a co-owner,” you firmly say as mia shakes her head and smiles, now directing her attention at her desktop, moving her mouse around.

“why do i like you so much, sage?”

“i dunno, i guess i have that effect on people,” you smile as you push your hair back, opening the door so you could start getting ready.

“by the way,” you say with one foot out the door, “what was the guy’s name?”

“somethin’ hong, i kept forgetting the name, why? does it ring a bell?”

“nah, just wanna have a name in mind just in case he shows up, you know they like doing that.”

“well let’s hope not,” she groans as she stretches her arms out. “i really don’t need the extra stress - i can already tell tonight’s gonna be extra for no reason.”

and crazy enough, your boss was right. security had to break up two fights, one of the dancers ended up getting sent home (she was overly drunk), and a bartender ended up quitting - all in the span of four hours.

you look at the clock on the wall, readjusting your bodysuit straps and making sure your makeup was still intact. it was finally midnight, which hopefully meant the rest of the night would be better until it was time for the club to close.

“crazy ass night huh?” your closest friend and fellow dancer, hana (also known as chardonnay) approaches you. she finds her makeup kit and grabs a brush, dolling up her face.

“who are you tellin? and it’s only thursday! if heads into the weekend,” you say but hana finishes your thoughts.

“oh hello no, do not manifest that energy. this weekend can be busy, but not crazy,” she puts her kit back in her corner and checks herself out.

min then walks into the dressing room, hastily scanning the area for one person. “hana!” she calls out, slightly panicking. “you have a whole party waiting for you and you’re talking in the dressing room?”

“i know min, i just had to make sure i was ready, sheesh,” hana rolls her eyes. “gimme five and i’ll be out. they can wait.”

“you better hurry up,” min says walking away, “mia already has had to deal with a lot of shit and i’m pretty sure the last thing she wants to deal with is y’all acting out.” she closes the door behind her and the music becomes muffled again.

“lemme head out there before even more hell gets raised,” hana sighs as she switches her clear heels for her champagne-colored ones. “i guess i’ll see you out there in a bit.” she and a few others leave the room, leaving the space nearly empty.

——

after checking yourself out, you finally head back on to the scene, deciding to walk around and look for clientele since you already performed on the main stage for tonight.

as you get deeper into the center, you notice a figure at one of the small, standing tables. intrigued, you walked closer and your body can’t deny it’s reaction when you see how handsome he is. his dress white shirt had a few buttons opened, his black hair styled to where not all of it was in his face, and his eyes? oh you felt like you could melt in them.

when you finally get close enough, you place your hand on his shoulder and he looks up at you, putting his glass of whiskey down. “hey there,” you smile flirty at him, and he responds by smiling back at you.

“hey beautiful,” he says in the most soft, yet incredibly sexy tone. “i haven’t seen you around before, are you new here?”

“oh, so you’ve been here before,” you say going to the opposite side of the table, your eyes not leaving is. “that’s interesting, considering i’ve never seen you, i practically have a sixth sense when it comes to this place.”

“mmm, different days, different times, maybe,” he picks up his glass and takes a sip and when he puts it down, you reach for his hand and take hold of it.

“well that can’t stop us from getting to know each other better,” you rub his hands softly. “what’s your name?”

“hong. joshua hong, to be more specific,” he says. “and yours?”

you try to keep a poker face, but you fail drastically as your expression changes. “hong?” you think to yourself. “hong.. why does it sound so familiar?”

you mind then recalls the conversation with mia, and you slowly remove your hand from his. “w-wait a minute, hong? are you a club owner or something?”

“actually i am, how did-” you interrupt him by scoffing and shaking your head, not believing what could’ve happened.

“no fucking way.. you’re the man that called my boss earlier today weren’t you? about wanting to own this place?”

“yeah, that was me,” he says with all the pride he can muster and it made you a little annoyed. “this place has so much potential, and it’s becoming one of the most popular clubs in the area. with my help, it can reach that and more! everyone would benefit.”

“look, hong - whoever you are, this club is doing fine. mia didn’t need a savior before and she doesn’t need one now, especially from some cocky motherfucker who he thinks he can change everything just by walking into the room.” you walk away ready to find another customer, but he comes in front of and stops you.

“you’re bold as hell.. i love that in a partner,” joshus says grinning as he begins to kiss the side of your neck teasingly, his lips feeling like a soft pillow. your body and your mind are now drastically confused. yes, he was trying to take over the club and you didn’t want that, but you couldn’t deny your physical attraction to him either.

after a few more seconds, joshua pulls away and smirks at you, clearly enjoying the fact that you were starting to break down your walls. he takes something out of his pocket and slides it into your hand, and when you feel it - it’s a thick wad of cash.

“let’s go upstairs baby,” joshua says as he pulls you towards him, having you lead the way. watching your surroundings, you firmly grab his hand and you lead him to the vip rooms, walking up the steps and then finding the closest, empty room.

unable to hold back anymore (and away from any other eyes), you sharply pull him closer to you and smash your mouth against his, hands roaming his hair as he walks backwards. when he reaches the edge of the couch, joshua gently sits down and pulls you onto his lap, his hands now palming your ass. you lowly moan at the feeling as you begin to roll your hips into him, his touches becoming more firmer as he squeezes your cheeks.

“you couldn’t resist me, could you?” joshua laughs to himself. “just a second ago you were telling me off, and now you’re like putty in my hands.”

“fuck you,” you moan out when he starts playing with the crotch of your bodysuit, dragging two fingers over the cloth. he continues the motion until he can start to feel a familiar dampness.

“awww cute, you wanna fuck me,” he gloats, dragging his fingers into your bodysuit, playing with your inside lips. he continues the motion for a few moments and then you muster every good bone left in your body, to pry his fingers away from your now dripping core.

“fuck, i shouldn’t be doing this.. i really shouldn’t be doing this,” you say hesitantly.

“well why not? we’re already here aren’t we? no one has to know, baby. this’ll be our little secret, m’kay?”

and that was all you needed to hear. this was definitely something you’d be carrying with you to the grave.

“fine. one round and then that’s it-” you can’t even finish your sentence before joshua slams his lips once again on yours, this time with more vigor and fever.

——

for the millionth time tonight, your body and your mind are in two conflicting states. how could something this bad be so incredibly good?

“m-mmm, sh-shua,” you moan into his ear as he thrusts into you, your bodysuit completely off and his pants pooling down at his ankles. “you feel amazing,” you continue to feel him up, pressing down on his shoulders. joshua hisses at the feeling, guiding your hands down to his waist so you can see and feel what he was doing to you.

“that’s all you,” he smiles as you move a bit to match his pace, almost moaning with you at the new intensity you both set. “with me here, you could have this every night, hmmm, maybe even more than that to be real with you.”

he was really trying to get you over, but for your sake - it couldn’t happen.

“and with you here, you’d probably take out 20% of my pay,” you chuckle but it’s immediately cut off when joshua thrusts sharply into you, causing you to hunch over and moan, almost loud enough to where someone could hear you.

“i thought you needed to be quiet? you’re fucking the new potential owner, can’t have everyone finding out, right?”

“fuck, fuck, f-fuck,” you whisper, joshua not sure if that was from the sex or if you were still frustrated that your morals have gone out the window.

you feel a tightening in your core, and you knew any minute that you were about to come. as he continues to thrust into you, the coils in your become smaller and more detailed.

“joshua, shua, i- mmmm, i-!” you call out for him and moments later, you juices leak on him. you relax into his chest, regulating your breathing to a slower pace.

——

“this doesn’t mean anything you know,” your back facing him as he helps you fix the strings on your bodysuit. “i’ve already crossed some lines that i can’t return from.”

“i keep telling you sweetheart, no one has to know. you’re making it seem like you have to tell the whole world.”

several thoughts run through your mind, including ones of him railing you from behind in one of the secluded vip rooms. you try and push them out of your head when you finally speak.

“and if i did want to see you again, how would i go about that?” joshua then hands you a business card and pats your back, signifying that he was done.

“just gimme a call love.”

you both walk out the room, and he turns to face you again, leaving a kiss on your forehead. “see you soon, baby.” he walks away, leaving you dazed and in suspended motion. you almost don’t hear your name being called out.

“sage!” hana calls out to you and you walk over to her.

“who was that? he’s so fucking hot! how’d you bag him?”

you sigh as you lie through your teeth, “he’s no one special. just another customer.”

[horsetailcurlers2]

a rough, addison-centric timeline of grey's anatomy/private practice

an anon sent me an ask about when greys/private practice took place and a rough timeline for addison. then i went to edit the draft and accidentallly deleted it. so, i'm sorry, anon! i hope you find this post lol.

okay, so, the grey’s universe contradicts itself multiple times when it comes to the timeline so this is my best approximation/what makes the most sense. i’m putting this in bulleted list format lol bc initially i had a long rambly paragraph that was me basically doing the math as i went. i also got way too carried away and this may be more detailed than you needed. 

Pre-show/establishing age

addison is 39 by the end of season three. this makes absolutely no sense considering her extensive credentials but shhh dont worry about it. in my head i justify it bc she canonically graduated college early, and in my head she skipped a grade or two

she and derek are heavily implied to have met their very first semester of med school. they married in 1994. So there is no official timeline on what years she completed her undergrad, when she graduated med school, or when she completed her residencies and fellowships. 

GA seasons 1-3 

the first three seasons of greys are all one year (they span meredith & friends' intern year)

i initially thought season one took place in 2005 (when the show airs) but in order for everything else to fit it must be 2006. the show contradicts itself about this a few times. personally, i think 2005 makes more sense because addison and derek were married in 1994 and they were married for 11 years at this point. but, they must have made allowances for the fact that three seasons spanned one year.

season one runs from summer to fall 2006. meredith spends two months with derek before addison shows up. addison spends those same two months with mark in new york. so her whole pregnancy/abortion/blonde-hair-for-a-minute all happens in late summer/fall, then she shows up in seattle at the end of season one and by her fabulous fur lined coat, we can gather that it’s fall.

season two picks up directly after season one with no time gap. We get christmas and thanksgiving episodes, and it stretches into spring 2007 (the hospital prom takes place during actual prom season for richard’s niece)

season three once again picks up directly after season two with no gap. addison and derek’s divorce is finalized pretty quickly into the season but i couldnt get the date. the season ends definitively around mid june, because that’s when cristina and burke’s wedding was meant to take place. the two part backdoor pilot for private practice spans the two episodes directly before the wedding/finale, so addison presumably visited L.A around late may/early june 2007 and then came back before the wedding

PP season 1 (+GA season 4)

season one of private practice aired concurrently with grey’s season 4 and the timeline runs directly parallel. there are only nine episodes and they make very very few references to time, so we have to extrapolate from grey’s.

they say that there's a short gap between cristina’s wedding and the start of their second residency year so, season four picks up around early/mid july, meaning private practice also starts around this time. 

grey;s has a halloween episode early on (episode five or six) and presumably runs through the rest of fall and winter. PP season one ends after the ninth episode, which aired before the ninth episode of grey’s. then, addison comes to seattle in GA S4 ep 13. in the episode directly after this, the article comes out about burke winning the “2008 harper avery award”, so i believe this visit is already early 2008. 

PP season 2 (+GA season 5)

seasons 4 and 5 of GA take place over one year, so pp seasons 1 and 2 must also be one year. there are very few time references, so we have to extrapolate from grey’s again. there is a few months long gap between seasons 1 and 2 (bc of the time during which grey's was airing but pp was not)

episode five of grey's takes place in october (so ep 5 of pp must also be around october)

GA 5x14 and PP 2x15 run parallel to eachother. addison calls derek at the end of these episodes. i'm pretty sure this is meant to take place in january or february 2009 (at this point the air dates are closely lined up with the in universe dates). this whole crossover arc spans two episodes of PP and one episode of GA and i’m pretty sure its meant to take place over just a few days.

2x18 of PP takes place over three months so im guessing its at least early summer 2009 by the time the season ends

PP season 3 (+GA season 6)

season three picks up directly after season two (violet’s attack). season 6 of GA also picks up directly after their previous season (george's death). but then GA 6x1 and 6x2 take place over forty days and PP 3x2 picks up a month after 3x1. So theres a lot of futzing and messing with the timeline to make up for gaps and cliffhangers between seasons already. 

they mention that seattle grace mercy west is established in 2009

PP 3x3 is a direct continuation of GA 6x5, for reference

the grey's holiday episode this season (6x10) spans from november 2009, to january 1st 2010. and then PP 3x11 is a direct continuation of GA 6x11. i am assuming it's still january 2010 at this point. (this is also directly after addison finds out the truth about bizzy and susan)

there's a valentines episode of greys (ep 14), so pp 3x14 is probably also february 2010

3x16 to 3x19 take place over two months but then i'm not entirely sure on the timeline of pete and violet’s custody battle

the two part grey's finale/shooting episode takes place some time in late spring or summer 2010 (the next residency year starts in july)

PP season 4 (+GA season 7)

i couldn’t catch the date on dell’s headstone but his death was definitly late spring 2010.

7x1 of GA takes place two months after the season six finale. The episodes where they have to treat the casualties from a college campus shooting (7x10 and 7x11) take place around christmas 2010

4x6 of PP takes place before halloween (pete and violet talk about lucas’s costume) so its october 2010

the musical episode (7x18) is sofia's birthday, which is in may 2011. the PP episode 4x18 runs exactly parallel to it.

callie and arizona’s wedding is 7x20 and its stated that sofia is 3 months old, thus this is three months after both GA 7x18 and PP 4x18

So to recap: private practice season four takes place from around late spring/summer 2010 to spring/summer 2011

PP season 5 (+GA season 8)

here where it gets more tricky bc they do some time jumps around amelia’s pregnancy 

the first episode of season 8 of greys takes place on july 1st 2011. the three episode arc in which teddy’s husband dies (eps 8, 9, 10) take place around mid january i think, based on what she says in the valentines episode (ep 14). the plane crash (the final ep of the season) takes place around mid may 2012.

season five of pp picks up right after season four (pete’s heart attack). the second episode jumps to a month later

episode 5x8 (amelia’s intervention) takes place 12 days after 5x7. assuming this lines up with greys, her intervention, ryan’s death, and her admission to rehab probably take place in late december 2011. then her episode in rehab (5x9) spans the course of fifty days, so the next episode (5x10) likely takes place in mid february

amelia is 20 weeks pregnant in 5x16. i’m going to assume that christopher was conceived very close to the night of ryan’s OD, so i’m guessing it's late spring at this point

5x19 is the episode where amelia gets the horrible news about her baby. There is a time jump. she is six months pregnant at the beginning and seven months pregnant at the end. She gives birth in the season finale. i'm guessing it's already late summer at this point, though somehow addison and amelia did not know about the plane crash. 

so based on the timeline of amelia’s relapse and pregnancy, plus the grey’s timeline, i'm fairly certain season five of private practice take place summer 2011 to summer 2012.

PP season 6 (+GA season 9)

this one's gonna piss me off bc they do so many time jumps in an attempt to tie up loose ends before the show ends

there is a bit of a time jump before season 6, but in the season premiere, amelia celebrates one year of sobriety. so it must already be late 2012. i’m leaving wiggle room with my guesswork for last season, because imo the canon timeline they’re establishing of the last season is a little iffy.

its implied that addison and jake have been together for these past few months between seasons

pete’s memorial happens in 2x2. addison gets the call that mark has been taken off life support, so this episode must run parallel to greys 9x1. there has also been a time jump between GA seasons. it’s unclear whether or not addison visited mark while on life support, but it had likely been a few months so it's possible. they state that mark died in 2012 so it's not yet 2013.

they jump back and forth in time too much over the course of charlotte's pregnancy, henry’s adoption, and vivian carlsmith’s death. the entire season was meant to be a finale, so a lot of episodes focus only on one or two characters and have events that happen concurrently with the events of other episodes and it gets all muddled. but i'm pretty sure episodes 1-12 span a little under nine months (charlotte discovers she's pregnant at the beginning of the season and gives birth in ep 12). so her pregnancy serves as a backdrop to all these other storylines that overlap in these 12 episodes.

there is some kind of time jump between the triplets birth in 6x12 and addison’s wedding in 6x13 but not a very long one.

there is a thirteen week time jump between addison’s wedding and naomi’s ultrasound, then a little longer before sam and naomi’s second wedding.

so from what i can gather, season six took place over the course of around a year, starting in late 2012 and ending in late 2013 (potentially early 2014?? at some point this season the timeline diverges from greys so that they can utilize all the time jumps)

[twink-between-worlds]

pond

got impatient. woe, fic be upon ye

the format is fucked up (read; not indented) because tumblr was pissing me off. and i cannot fight with it at 2am. we might fix it later

ao3 ; x

Legend is a man of many talents. He has a lot of hobbies and skills, all picked up over his many years of adventuring. ..but sometimes, he surprises himself with what he can do. It’s a little intimidating, to think you know what you’re capable of just to be informed you can do something you’d never even considered, but…it is what it is. It’s best to just accept it when it happens.

That being said, Legend isn’t used to the fact these strange, rabbit-like creatures in Wild’s era seem to like him. A lot.

Rupee stuck around, following close behind Legend whenever they walked anywhere—as if he was afraid Legend would disappear if left alone for one minute. For a little while, this was cute—Rupee would even trail after Four, sometimes—but eventually ‘cute’ became ‘annoying’, and Legend kind of wishes the rabbit-creature would stop toddling after him all the time.

“Ledge, your lil friend is trying to get your attention,”Four spoke up quietly, not looking up from whatever book they’re reading. Wild had given it to them as a birthday gift, when he’d learned Four’s birthday had passed without the smithy saying anything. He also made Four a cupcake, despite the smithy’s protests.

Four shared it with Legend and Rupee later on. Rupee seemed confused at the idea, but had eaten his third of it after Legend had. Legend noted that it was carrot cake, and that he absolutely needs to get that recipe from Wild before this adventure is over.

Sometimes, Rupee will run off and find things to bring Legend, and other times he all-but-drags Legend with him to show the veteran something. It’s a little endearing, and sometimes Rupee finds some interesting stuff. That’s only sometimes, though.

In the span of a few weeks—he thinks, anyway. It’s a little hard to tell—he’d gained the attention of three more bluepees, none of which stayed too long but were present enough to have been named Koholint, Puddles and Blueberry (that last one came from Four. He’d let the smithy name her when they were upset one night) respectively.

Much like Rupee, however, they fussed over Legend too much. He’ll say he doesn’t know why they do it, but he does, and he hates it.

Just because his bunny form is a little…smaller than the average bunny, doesn’t mean he’s a baby.

Legend sighed. “What’s up, Rupee?”He tilted his head at the creature, groaning in annoyance when Rupee pawed at his leg before turning and hopping a small distance away, before stopping and turning to see if Legend was following.

Looks like he wants Legend to follow. Reluctantly, Legend stood up. “If the others ask, I’m just taking a walk. Rupee wants to show me something.”

“Okay. Be careful, vet.”

“Will do.”He hums, turning and following Rupee as he began to lead the veteran somewhere.

Belatedly, Legend realises that his sword is still with Four, but he doesn’t think he’ll need it. Not really. Rupee doesn’t drag Legend anywhere dangerous—hell, half of the time they don’t even go too far from wherever the chain had set up camp anyways.

Rupee kept going, occasionally slowing down to see if Legend was still following and allowing him to catch up before hopping off in front again. How considerate.

Honestly, Legend doesn’t know why he bothers entertaining it when Rupee leads him away; but no matter how much he questions himself, he still chooses to follow. If asked, he’ll deny the fact he questions himself on it. Nobody needs to be inside his head, except the ones already there. “...you’re not serious here,”Legend sighed out, watching as Rupee disappeared, appearing in a puff of blue smoke at the top of a nearby cliff. “You want me to climb up there? With these bones? No way in hell.” …he climbs up the cliff anyways. He’s admittedly curious about why Rupee wants him up there in the first place. Once he’s safely made it up, Rupee begins to lead him along again, stopping every so often so Legend can catch up. They don’t travel much further, as Rupee leads Legend into a clearing with a pretty tree and a pond in the centre. Vaguely, Legend recognises that this place reeks of magic. It doesn’t feel hostile, though, just…curious. “Okay, Rupe. What’re we here for?”He kneels down to the bluepee cautiously. In return, Rupee nudges his hand, and Legend belatedly realises that Rupee was trying to comfort him. He’s not leading Legend anywhere else, now, just sitting with him and nuzzling up to him. He still seems to think Legend needs to be comforted. Legend would be mad if it wasn’t Rupee. But it is, so he doesn’t, and instead settles onto the grass with him. He has to admit, this place is calming. It’s quiet, and absolutely soaked in protective magic. It’s safe. Even if the magic here feels curious, like it’s trying to figure out who and what Legend is, it doesn’t seem like whatever it’s coming from seems to be hostile. The veteran relaxes, running his fingers through the glowing blue fur of his little companion. Rupee seems to appreciate it. Legend doesn’t relax like this often. At home, he does. He has plenty of animals back home that he can do this with, he just…doesn’t do it while adventuring. His ears twitch. Something blue moves near the pond, but it’s too small to be a bluepee. It’s…a horse, he thinks. But it’s…not a horse. He knows what a horse looks like. He has one of his own at home. Twilight’s got his horse, Epona, with them. This is a horse, but it’s…not.

It has a similar glow to the bluepees, and Legend registers that the magic he felt earlier is coming from this being. How weird. The horse-thing seems to stare at Legend, and all he can do is stare back. He swears this thing has more eyes than it should. It has antlers, too, sort of like the ones that the bluepees have. After a solid, uncomfortable minute, it takes a step closer. And closer, up until it’s right in front of the veteran. Legend stares at it, before slowly standing up. He never takes his eyes off of the creature, and doesn’t even think about moving too quickly. Once he’s standing, he offers a hand out to the creature. He can feel the aura from the thing. It’s curious. Protective. “I’m gonna call you Pond,”Legend decides, once the…horse (he’ll keep calling it a horse, for now) nudges into his hand. “I don’t have any food with me.”He mumbles. “I’m sorry.”He does feel a little bad about it, but how could he have known?

Pond seemingly doesn’t mind. He spends a while just,,,sitting there, in the presence of a fluffle of bluepees and Pond. It’s…nice. Their presence almost feels healing, as he doesn’t seem to have a single complaint about how his body feels. Eventually, though, he realises that he did sort of leave without telling anyone except Four, and they might be getting worried now. “Rupe, we have to go,”Legend sighs. He doesn’t want to. He sort of just wants to stay here. Rupee hops up, though, and Legend pulls himself off of the ground. He turns to Pond, and runs his fingers through their mane. “I have to go now, Pond. It was nice to meet you.” Pond doesn’t seem happy. Makes a sound of protest that Legend’s only ever heard from Pepper, when he does something that she doesn’t like. “I know,”He frowns. “I’m sorry. I would stay if I could.”And he would. He would spend so much longer here if he was able. Pond seems to make a decision. Starts trotting away from the body of water, towards where Rupee is sitting. Legend, confused but needing to go that way anyways, follows. This is how he finds himself walking down a beaten path with a bluepee and a strange, horse-like creature who feels like a deity. This is how he finds himself back at camp, still with the two in tow. “Hey Ledge, enjoy your—”Wild cuts off, staring behind him. “This is Pond,”Legend informs. Then, “Do you know what it is…? I think it’s a horse? But it’s not.” “That’s—Legend, that’s the lord of the mountain.”Wild blinks rapidly. “That’s basically a minor god. How did you..” “Oh. Pond just kinda followed us back.” “Pond.”He wheezes, and Legend thinks he might be dying for a second. “You somehow befriended a minor god, and you named it Pond?” Legend pouts. “I think it’s a good name.” “For a pet, maybe.” Legend frowns and turns to Pond. “Do you like the name I gave you, or do you want something else? Nudge once for you like it, twice for you want a new one.” Pond nudges him once. “See? Pond likes it!” “Vet. You’re back.”Four hums, wandering over to scoop Rupee up into their arms, tilting their head at Pond. “Made a new friend?” “Yeah. Named ‘em Pond. Wild says they’re a minor god. Cool, right?” “So cool.”Four nods, petting Rupee. “Is that what Rupee wanted to show you?” “Yeah.”Legend fetches an apple from his bag, feeding it to Pond as he speaks. “There’s a little pond up on that hill. Pretty tree. There’s a lot more bluepees there, and that’s where Pond was.” Four hums, still holding Rupee as they step a little closer to Pond, tilting their head curiously. Legend notes that Four stays behind him, as if Pond might get spooked by Four’s very existence. “So creepy…Pond is so cool. Can we keep them?” “If they’re a god like Wild says…we shouldn’t, no. Pond really didn’t like the idea of me leaving their side, though. Like. Got so upset when me and Rupee went to leave that they followed us all the way back.” Four whistles. “Damn. Hey, can we swap Epona out for Pond? Pond looks cooler.” “Four!”Sky scolds with a frown. “I’m joking~ Relax. We can have both.” “You can’t keep the lord of the mountain!”Wild whines. Despite Wild protesting it, though; Pond hangs around the group for the rest of their time in this era, hovering over Legend and Rupee. Wild accepts this.

Later, he tells Legend that he’s lucky to be able to befriend Pond—who, Wild reveals, is actually called Satori—so easily. Legend doesn’t get it, though. Never does. He’s not really that lucky. Animals just like him. Wild throws something at him when he says that. Genuinely throws his soup ladle at the veteran, while the others laugh about it. Distantly, Legend wonders why animals trust him so easily. It can’t just be because he’s sometimes a bunny. It’s weird, but welcome. He does need to look into it, though. Preferably before he accidentally befriends another deity.

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Friends To Lovers + Smut/PWP Masterlist

7 Minutes In Heaven - interrupted-by-fireworks

Summary: Dan and Phil have to play 7 Minutes in Heaven at a party.

A Koi pond, love, sex, and all the crap that comes with it (ao3) - winstonlives

Summary: Dan can't sleep, but Phil can. Dan thinks too much. What happens after the tour?

A Sleepless Night With Dan (ao3) - cockwhoredan

Summary: Dan and Phil live together, and they’re just friends. One night Dan can’t sleep. Naturally, he decides to give Phil a blowjob.

Break Me Down (ao3) - gayestever

Summary: The tour bus breaks down and Dan and Phil struggle to find a hotel room- or at least one that has two beds.

Can't Help The Itch To Touch- To Kiss (ao3) - thescienceofphan

Summary: Phil is deaf and Dan is a manwhore. When people see them together, they worry about Phil’s emotional well being and shame on Dan for targeting a deaf boy, but it’s not like that. Not at all.

Craving Control (ao3) - starwatersong

Summary: Phil is intrigued by the hypnotist at the YouTuber Summit in 2016 and finds himself oddly fascinated by hypnotism. Is Dan helping him find one for a video for Phil’s benefit… or Dan’s? Some timeline mixing where Phil’s fortune telling video takes place in an earlier time. They’re living in London apartment #1 in this story.

drop your heart I'll save it for you (ao3) - Anonymous

Summary: Tenderness isn't part of the deal, nor are soft words, or feelings, or kisses that don't lead to fucking. It's not what Dan asked for, and it's certainly not why someone would choose to fuck their friend slash flatmate slash colleague who they absolutely don’t have any feelings for.

How do you Sleep? (When you Lie to Me.) (ao3) - CactiPhan

Summary: Dan is about to be married to his longtime boyfriend Henry, but plans change when he walks in on him cheating on Dan. The only person he can run back to is his best friend, who he was blind not to see was perfect for him.

If You Don't Love Me, Pretend (ao3) - phantasticworks

Summary: All his life, Dan has wanted to have the chance to be a parent someday. He would be the best parent that ever existed, he was sure of it. Fostering might not be the most traditional way on the road to parenting, but Dan's dead set on doing it anyway. But, well, it would be easier with a co-parent, right?

the bed-sharing, fake relationship, friends-to-lovers, parent fic i was desperate to read; when i shouted into the void and was met with silence, i decided i'd do it myself

No They're Not (ao3) - bandhoez9194

Summary: Against Phil's better judgement, Dan goes to a small house party with friends. He had been assured by both Dan and the party host that there would be no alcohol after all.

Unfortunately, someone else has a change of plans and gets Dan drunk anyway. Which makes him start talking about buttholes and storage places.

When Phil picks him up though, things get soft, steamy, and bendy, just like the spaghetti he left on the stove.

Very sexy, very smutty, very random, very cute. Also, drunk Dan so who doesn't like that?

Read It and Weep (ao3) - phansomedevil

Summary: Dan's feelings toward Phil are nothing but platonic, or so he thinks before stumbling upon some actually decent phanfiction and falling face-first into the abyss.

Something New (ao3) - benotafraidofwriting

Summary: Dan wants Phil's help when trying something new, but can Phil keep his feelings for his best friend at bay?

stuck on you (ao3) - watergator

Summary: dan finds himself in a rather awkward predicament and phil ends up having to helping him

The Parent Project (ao3) - ATEEZpresent (orphan_account)

Summary: Dan and Phil get paired to take care of a realistic baby doll for a few days. Feelings arise.

The Sun, The Snow, And Everything In Between - chocolatesaucelester

Summary: A lot can happen in the span of one year, or a cycle of four seasons, 8,760 hours, 525,600 minutes and 31,536,000 seconds. In that common amount of time Phil met Dan at bonfire night in the fall and over the course of a year, realizes he found a person he would’ve never guessed he’d found that night.

Two Man Team (ao3) - Nefertiti1052 (Succubusphan)

Summary: This is the story of two struggling friends who after many trials and tribulations find their way back to each other and build the life they’ve always dreamed of.

Or how Phil changed his life by talking to random strangers on the internet.

Unspoken Rules (ao3) - jestbee

Summary: They have rules.

1. They don't kiss 2. They don't talk about it 3. They aren't exclusive 4. They don't get attached 5. It's over when the tour is

As long as they abide by the rules, no one gets hurt. Simple, right?

Want (ao3) - yoidnp

Summary: It was a rare night alone in a hotel room away from the confines of the tour bus. Dan and Phil discover a few things about each other.

Watching You, Watching Me (ao3) - Spring_Haze

Summary: Dan accidentally discovers his best friend and roommate pleasuring himself in the early hours of the morning and can't look away. In fact, he can't keep his hands off of himself. Phil is surprised by Dan's reaction, and two best friends make long-time confessions.

[the-tmnt-ficfinder]

Ficfinder finds: The Lemonade Leak

Chapter 18: The Noun

Chapter 18 Summary: No summary

The Noun: Appraisal and Ratings

(Don't know what fanfic "Appraisal and Ratings" means? Check out my explanation on my Main Masterpost! Looking for a different fanfic to read? Head on over to my Fanfic List Masterpost!)

Disclaimer: This fanfic is only available to those who have an Ao3 profile. This fanfic is written by @turtleinsoup, so go show them some love and support!!

The fanfic ratings are not based on quality, favoritism, or how good I think it is, but rather, how intense a subject may be. Like a movie review, or the tags on Ao3, letting the readers know what to expect.

Plot: 💛💛💛💛💛

"Plot is five out of five!! So many things are finally explained in this chapter!! Secrets revealed, misunderstanding clarified, but only for the readers, and theories put to rest. The plot for this chapter is very heavy, a huge lore drop if you will. Quite intense."

Suspense/Mystery: 💛💛🖤🖤🖤

"Suspense/Mystery is two out of five!! The suspense and mystery level for this chapter isn't as high as the others, as in this chapter, many things are cleared up. Don't get me wrong, its still suspenseful and full of its own brand of mystery!! The mystery we had been hung up on, is cleared up, to make room for new drama and mystery ^^"

Angst/Hurt: 💛💛💛💛💛

"Angst/Hurt is five out of five!! Oh this chapter is its own special brand of angst and hurt all in of itself. Now that we know what's going on with Donnie, the interactions the disaster twins share, are even more painful. This stuff hurts the soul y'know!!"

Fluff/Comfort: 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

"Fluff/Comfort is zero out of five! No comfort, no fluff, no happy feelings. This chapter is packed with cold hard truth and realizations."

Emotions Conveyed: 💛💛💛💛🖤

"Emotions Conveyed is four out of five!! I'd say this chapter really exudes a strong sensation of "OH CRAP, NO LEO!! AUGH, NO DONNIE!!" Basically panic, and realization lol"

Drama/Tension Level: 💛💛💛💛💛

"Drama/Tension Level is five out of five!! I'd absolutely say this chapter had a lot of drama!! A lot of events were covered in a short period of time, and a lot of things were revealed. The most tension in this chapter, for sure happened between Donnie and Leo, which is only made even more prominent after realizing that they're totally misunderstanding each other."

Triggers: 💛💛💛💛🖤

"Triggers for this chapter are four out of five. As this chapter spans multiple events, we revisit a few triggers that happen in past chapters, and see new ones from Donnie's POV. Read the tags to stay safe!!"

Legibility (Reading): 💛💛💛💛💛

"Legibility (Reading) is five out of five!! Absolutely stunning!! Once again, Donnie thinking in calculations and codes, is just so unique looking, so very atheistic!! I love it!! This chapter for sure is one to read!!"

Legibility (Audio): 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

"Legibility (Audio) is zero out of five! On the flip side of having such unique and beautiful formatting choices, this chapter isn't really a good one to listen to. All that hard work gets lost in audio book form, and its really hard to understand. Read this chapter for sure, don't listen to it!!"

Length: 💛💛💛💛🖤

"Length is four out of five!! Chapter 18 of The Lemonade Leak takes about 57-58 minutes to listen to!!"

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The Lemonade Leak: Story Ratings and Chapter List

Personal thoughts on chapter below cut (Contains Spoilers)

But once the haze of mind-numbing agony had died down, and his service bots had wiped up the mess, Donnie had forced himself re-calculate. It had led him here: His laboratory, at 01:12 AM. EST, committing something that would, by every definition, subtract the last [human]hood from his self. But oh, I can’t get away from inside my own body. - I can run, but like code, I’ll always return to the calling function

Donnie’s mind is built to operate like a computer. He always has a command, he follows a main code, and he always has a return point. If any of that is broken, he basically malfunctions.

She spiked the Histamine and Glutamate levels of his central nervous system, igniting pain sensation through his body. Donnie tried to gasp for air, but she sat in his lungs, forcing his breath slow. She crawled through his throat, her output vibrating through his lower skull: [THE CAUSE OF “YOUR” SENTIENCE] she said [IT SERVES OR SUCCUMBS.]

The Krang has a ton of control over him!! A lot more than what you usually see. Rather than just controlling him as a whole, she controls his individual bodily functions. Which, if you ask me, is scarier than entire bodily control. Because, she could, at any moment, just make his liver stop working. She could make him throw up. She could force him to breathe, make him sleep, any of those things. 

To become [Krang], and therefore, logically, become my own [Leader].

This is so massively clever!! It honestly blew my mind when I read it. Because Krang has more power, Donnie has to follow it. Just how Leo is able to overpower Donnie through manipulation, that makes him his “leader”. However, when was had the designated position of power, Donnie, while he still followed him, recognized that Leo had more authority than Raph. I dunno, I’m going off on a tangent, it’s just so wonderfully fascinating and interesting!!

Donnie inspected his new, too-sharp fangs in the reflection of a black screen. His teeth looked disgusting, too animalistic in ways that didn’t fit the room of his mouth. He stumbled backward from the monitor.

Both Donnie and Leo have sharp teeth now. Sharp and animalistic teeth, changed by their “deaths.” Leo died physically, while Donnie died mentally, then they both came back. 

Donnie carved chunks of tissue from the drone’s meat. He winced at the wet sounds, as he dropped the tissue into his vials. But he could do it, He could! “So gooey, so fascinating, so enlighten– ugh yup, I hate it,” he muttered. “You know, this would be less disgusting if you’d be less alive, hm.” The Drone watched him with beady milk-yellow eyes. It twitched, but it stayed on its knees. Donnie cringed, packing away his vials. “Nothing this big has a right to be this ineffective,” he muttered. “This is not going to do it. I need a higher quantity. Or concentration.” He eyed the parasite. “You don’t happen to have any friends?” It was hard to sense more meat through the thick metal walls around here. “No? No mothermind nearby? Sweet second brain. Who’d have guessed, with how good of a listener you are,” he clicked his tongue and turned to scan the darkness of the tunnel for more flesh.

It’s interesting to see this from Donnie’s POV. Leo watched this from the corners, tense, wild, hardly breathing. He thinks his brother is planning horrible things. Yet from Donnie’s view, this is a gross necessity. A something to do, to be back in control. 

Donnie started: “I… fixed the locks. It doesn’t open so easily anymore.” Donnie clicked his tongue, fiddling with his staff. “You think it’s… I don’t know, somehow lacking?” Leo studied him. “No. Why?” “I put thought into it, you know. Into most... things I do.”

Once again, the contrast between Leo’s POV and Donnie’s POV is astounding!! Leo takes this as threatening words, and complicated statements to pick apart, while in reality, Donnie is just struggling for words. He’s scared, upset, and is limited. 

Imagine we could circumvent your programming! You’d be free of Draxum’s orders! We’d be equals, we’d become unstoppable! “Imagine what we can do if we’re free, Nardo. Who pray to tell could stop us?!”

So many unsaid thoughts! Donnie thinks Leo understands, and he’s so overwhelmed, that he’s jumping to conclusions, just like Leo. 

He changed and it hurt, hurt, hurt in ways and concepts he couldn’t grasp inside his little meat-mind-matter. He felt his dwindled muscles changing their molecular structure, too much potential energy contained in his too-slim mass. He felt new limbs grow inside him, small-needle like arms, that he could press outward if he wanted to – He never did.

Donnie’s got a what?!? More limbs?! I wanna know more about this. 

Leo’s head hit the breakfast table and Donnie thought: I’ll have to give him the sleeping pills I made to keep [Dad] down.

0~0 

Donnie knows that Splinter would get to the bottom of his transformation, possibly faster than his brothers. But the fact that he’s using those on his dad? Goodness…

In a private nook of his mind, Donnie thanked the laws of ontogeny for the information. Fermi, Imagine I’m suddenly getting the need to enslave humans. April would have my tail for that. Donnie carefully took the basket from Mikey’s hands and placed it on top of the shelf.

I enjoy how Donnie uses a wide variety of scientists and mathematicians in his exclamations. It’s fun!

A painful laugh punched through Donnie’s throat. “You think my grand evil Krang plan has anything to do with you?!” You seriously think I was gonna- Are you- “Little full of yourself, Nardo,” Donnie said weakly. Leo gave him a rough little giggle. “Yeah.” Leo’s smile was one he used for enemies. “Vain of me, huh? Thinking putting a Krang in the prison dimension will get me a place on their- I dunno,” New swells of blood shook from Leo’s arm, with every little laugh, “top ten list of people to kill?”

I have never seen such a perfect example of how sentences and words can be misinterpreted. I see it in writing all the time, but this example just takes the cake!! Leo sees Donnie’s sentences as villains triumphant words. As winning sentences. Donnie however, yes horrified and scared, with no other way to express that than through anger. 

[waywardstation]

I'm a little sad to see this blog mostly shares polls nowadays... I miss the AU talk and random chatter about ideas or headcanons, your opinions on things and the wip wednesdays I'm still happy to see your art in between all those polls. (before forgetting: you might have already lost but to me Train of Thought IS and WILL BE my favorite submas AU. No contest. Nope. Never.) But yeah, missing the old days here. Dearly. Verrrry much. Don't get this wrong, you're either probably still recovering, you're insanely busy or maybe even moved on... either way wishing you have fun with wherever tracks take you! I was happy to be on this blog in it's prime.

Hey Anon! I will be honest with you on this cause I do want to explain what has happened with this blog lately, and where I plan to go with it. (It’s not going anywhere, don’t worry!!)

There are a few reasons for the inactivity. Part of it is just me recovering from university work. I pushed myself way harder than I should have for way longer than I should have, and now I’m kinda trying to just recalibrate my brain and mental health. It’s really foggy and I struggle with concentration and comprehension a lot currently. (And this is also why I haven’t really answered asks, when I tried to answer Papa Ingo AU asks while like this, it really only led to getting confused and correctional asks in response, because I kept getting things wrong, and that made things really overwhelming.)

AND SECOND! Most of my free time right now is not being spent on this blog, because most of it is going into writing and editing. Concentration and comprehension issues are making it take a lot longer than I’d like it to right now, but I have a lot of content on the way!

- four new chapters of HFBE

- three chapters of IWLYB

- a five chapter, 25k+ word fic titled Rain Check

- another fic titled Entropy Syndrome

None of these are out yet because Entropy Syndrome’s narrative covers a concept that spans across all of these other fics and chapters, and it’s adjusted a lot of content that’s making me rewrite things several times over to ensure it’s properly written in and connected ^^;

And lastly, sadly a lot of it is just irrational anxiety. I stopped posting for a while for university, and anxiety makes me irrationally scared to start again because it always makes it hard to start back at something once I’ve stopped ^^; (I’m hoping dumping all these fics will alleviate this when I’m done with them though! Fic posting is what diminished my anxiety enough to start this blog in the first place!!)

BELIEVE ME I miss how this blog used to be as well, but my mentality is still sort of recovering from what I did to it for four years straight, and I can’t really force it to keep going more right now. It’s certainly a process, but I’m recovering!

Lots of stuff is coming soon! I have a few minutes drabbles on hand, I will attempt to start posting those while I keep working on these fics.

Thank you for the ask anon!! It means a lot that you liked this blog so much. I still love it, and I’m taking care of myself as best I can so that I can get back to running this blog at full efficiency!!

Thank you again Anon!!! ^^