#new rush pinball machine

[vistisenmelendez75]

Rush Pinball

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Avengers Infinity Quest Pinball Machine With Topper- Like New

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Secret Service Pinball Machine

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Godzilla Premium Pinball Machine By Stern

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[ruffboijuliaburnsides]

Can I just say that I'm truly actually loving the pace of this season of Hermitcraft?

Like, for one, we've got multiple super-long-term projects that are meant to be like. for everyone to play with eventually, and none of them are close to being DONE but no one's feeling rushed, they're just putting their all into making their projects good. Like yeah the TCG is live, but Beef's clearly got a lot of expansion plans to provide over time. Etho and Ren have their huge ice race course that they're doing but not like rushing, Decked Out 2 is like... maybe 2/3rds done? Since so much of the redstone work and excavation is done even if there's still a couple levels to build/decorate/hook up into the system. And then it's meant to be played over time. Joe's pinball machine is coming apace at a steady rate but it's SO huge and fiddly that it's not exactly a quick build. Scar's got like 2-3 more areas of Scarland that haven't even been started. But clearly the end of the season isn't anywhere near, because everyone is very comfortable with their pace.

Plus like... there's been room for people to go off the server for a few weeks or months and then sure they don't have anything as big as other folks, but they've still got plenty of time to come back and get back in the swing of things and get back to working on the things they wanna do. Mumbo, notably, was gone for nearly a year. Stress was gone for ages. I know nearly everybody's taken at least a little bit of time.

IDK it just feels nice. s8 was a nice crash course when I was new to everything (including the game of minecraft tbh) but this season has been, while obviously EVENTFUL, also been nice and slow-paced, and I think it's really working well, and it seems to be doing most of the hermits I've watched well, bc it's giving them a chance to do big things and not burn themselves out trying to get those big things done as quick as they can.

There's no point to this post, I was just feeling happy about this season and wanted to share <3

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

hii can i req an enemies to lovers jeremiah fic where the reader receives some bad news while they’re at the boardwalk and jeremiah is the only one that notices reader’s mood change and comforts her? thank you! :)

They're not quite lovers, but hopefully this is enough

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Although you had similar personalities, you and Jeremiah never got along. Every summer, you would come to Cousins for Belly’s birthday and the two of you would always get into silly arguments. Last year, the two of you got into a serious karaoke competition which ended with Steven unplugging the karaoke, sick of hearing your showdown of Grease numbers. 

‘’It’s your and Jeremiah’s turn,’’ Belly said excitedly, scanning the arcade for a suitable arena of rivalry. A mischievous grin crept onto her face. ‘’It’s a shame there’s no karaoke machine.’’ 

‘’I think it’s a relief,’’ Steven mumbled, not wanting to revisit that cacophonous memory.

You hit his arm, feigning offense. ‘’Hey!’’ 

‘’Oh, I think I know.’’ Taylor pointed at a Dance Dance Revolution machine near the pinball games.

This was perfect for you and Jeremiah. You preferred singing than dancing, but you were confident in your ability to win this particular dance-off. With a determined grin, you took your place at the machine, positioning yourself.

‘’Ready to lose?’’ Jeremiah asked, shooting you a cocky smile, his lips curving with unmistakable self-assuredness.

You met his arrogance with a knowing shake of your head, your eyes locked onto the screen in front of you. ‘’Don’t be so confident, Fisher.’’ 

Ariana Grande’s Side to Side began playing and colored arrows cascaded down the screen, urging you to synchronize your feet. You got this, you told yourself.

Beside you, Jeremiah was fast on his feet and initially appeared to have the upper hand. Yet, as the song progressed, a hint of strain crossed his features, starting to struggle with the speed. The concentrated focus was evident in the furrowed brow he sported, hearing more and more ‘excelent’s and ‘perfect’s popping on your screen. 

Belly and Taylor were cheering you, already calling the win while the boys pressed Jeremiah to do better. Unfortunately — for them —, they distracted him more than anything. 

Eventually, the last notes of the song echoed and you jumped in triumph, a victory grin plastered on your face as Belly and Taylor rushed over to hug you, adding a second victory to your team.

The competition continued, but first you made a stop for refreshers before braving the outside temperature again. 

You grabbed your raspberry lemonade from the counter and went to the side to wait for the others. A chim came from your pocket and you pulled out your phone, seeing an email notification that had just come in. You quickly opened it, and your winning smile fell. You had been waiting for this email since you got in the car with Taylor and Steven, hoping for a positive reply. Sadly, it’s not what you got. 

Seeing you frowning at your phone, Jeremiah came over and nudged your elbow. ‘’Why the frown?’’ he quipped, a playful glint in his eyes. ‘’You just beat me at Dance Dance Revolution. I thought you would be savoring your victory and rubbing it in my face for the next hours.’’ 

‘’I didn’t get accepted to the musical camp I applied to,’’ you explained without looking up from your screen, fighting the silly tears that were brimming your eyes. ‘’I worked so hard on my application and audition tape. I really thought I had this…’’ 

You expected him to laugh at you for applying to musical camp, but he didn’t. Instead, Jeremiah looped an arm around your shoulders and offered you a small hug of compassion. The gesture surprised you, but you didn’t push him off.  

‘’Don't let this email ruin your day, okay? It’s their loss,’’ he said, trying to cheer you up. ‘’You’re the best Sandy I even dueted with.’’ 

You managed to offer a faint smile in response to his sincerity. ‘’Thanks, Jere. You’re not a terrible Danny either.’’ 

He chuckled softly as he pulled back, the sound like a soothing melody. ‘’Shall we get back to the others, Sandy? Or do we ditch them and go on a ride?’’

—

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[ivanzplaid]

Could you please write Vance x reader (GN if that's alright) where reader is new in town and beats his high score in Pinball? Kinda like a enemies to lovers kinda thing?

✨Please and thank you ✨

this sounds so good omg, i really wanna make this a longer drabble bc writing for the enemies to lovers trope, esp for vance it seems more fitting, but tysm for this request!! i literally searched for vances record but damn i couldnt find it, so im gonna assume it was 1500, im sorry abt that💔

for some reason my writing has been feeling off for the past few days, so if this is unpleasant to read ill redo it🙏🙏 if it is good & ppl like it, i might do another part, or i may just keave it as it is, up to the imagination :)

requests r open! masterlist is up :)

Vance Hopper x Gn Reader!

Warnings: Slight fighting, Language

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

The sound of chatter around you was drowned out, your mind too focused to pay attention to anything but your game. Hands gripping the machine infront of you with precision, a steady breath accommodating you while you watched your numbers rise, hitting 1,400 from your last move.

The world that existed outside of your game began to get even louder, some kids crowding around you, it was quite odd, but you assumed that the kids here were just very enthusiastic, supportive of their peers. You didn't catch much of their talk, as if you lost focus, you wouldn't be able to make the next shots, hoping to set a new record, maybe having a chance to meet new people, and become a somebody in the unfamiliar town, but the words that you did catch had a pattern, the loud voices were shadowed, but each time the name was spoken, it was clear as day, the unknown yet popular kid kept popping up,

Vance Hopper.

Whatever, whoever they were you were sure you'd meet them soon enough. Their name was never being brought up in a positive light, which admittedly made your hands sweat & heart speed up, but as of now, you were interested in the metal feel that immersed your fingers, and the thrilling 'Ding' noise that informed you of your score.

Going unheard from your deaf ears, the door to Grab N' Go rang, a boot stepped in harshly. The aura shifted in the store. Where as before the cashier was lenient, she soon became alert, standing by the phone, the kids talk was demoted to a whisper, and an opening where kids stood previously started to form. Yet your mind was trained on the game, you'd already gotten to 1,500 points, and if you were to make this shot, you'd get another 300 points. Once again, unbeknownst to you, the footsteps were clearing their way to you, squeaking harshly on the tiled floor, shouldering kids who happened to be in the way. Two things happened, a moment after one another.

Your eyes stared at the ball as it coursed through the bumpers, striking each one, easily placing you as the new record holder. But you found yourself still holding your breath, if it were to roll of the holder it was on, it would set your score as 1,900, giving you the clear, reliable pinball holder. The nerves in your body ran swiftly, breathing hitched as you followed the ball in its final moments.

The boots pushed their way through the diminishing crowd, which was left of anxious & anticipating watchers. It was pitiful of how unaware you were, this was his store, his legacy, his pride. The boots soon stood right behind you, examining your work from behind your shoulder. He saw the way you thought out each move, body bent just so you could balance your weight & keep a stable figure. His eyes were glued to the ball, even more intensely than yours. But as he saw the score that you'd put in, the room became colder, his clothes tightened, putting a pause onto his hatred. The new fucker in town beat his score, and then some.

You were dead before he saw your face.

The rush of aggression soon pranced in, instinctively balling up his fists, and taking a step toward you, going in to fuck up your score the best he could, needing the release of anger that you instilled to him. In his mind, if you were to mess up now, he'd have a chance to reclaim his title, the joy that he got from being above everybody else, and you were no exception.

The moment you didn't even know took place was slowed, it all was coming at you quickly. Your body reacted to winning your next move by getting even closer to the machine, watching as your score replaced the older one, conquering it. Your eyes widened, laughing to yourself as you turned around, expecting to see the group of kids that hovered over you like fruit flies. However, what met your intense joy was a buzz killer, the pesticide to your happiness. None other than the top boy, Vance Hopper.

He was exactly like what you imagined, down to the hair & choker that added to his intimidating glare, his hands eventually finding your shoulders, slamming you to the wall that chipped and cracked under your pressure. The crowd around you two flooded back easily, betting on what would happened. The boy didn't look it, but he had the strength to lift your body weight up, feet grazing the dusty floor. Taking in his looks, you noticed how the veins popped out from his arms, but you couldn't decipher if it was from anger, or from the hold he had you in.

"Listen man, what's your deal?"

Not your classiest moment, but he would deal you one lower.

"No you listen, fuckface. Don't mess with my game, do you think your better than me?"

The words he spat were like fire, angry and violent, but you picked up that that was his whole demeanor, troubled and difficult.

Soon, you found yourself being dropped to the ground, your legs being caught by surprise as you well on your ass, closing the space between you and the wall once again. Dust shot up, obscuring your vision, and at that time, the boot that sat threateningly next to you connected to the side of your lower chest, causing a sharp wheeze due to the blunt force of the kick. Your breaths were sporadic and uneven, leaving you dazed. When your eyes worked their way up to the figure above you, you saw him just standing there, looking over your pathetic self. He towered there for what felt like minutes before bending down and shoving you towards him, emphasizing his already proven point.

"I'm Vance fucking Hopper, remember it."

What a douche.

//

Your ribs certainly bruised, you were sure of it. Pushing open the schools doors made you wince, and an accidental elbow from a passing student made you lose your breath. It was a sticking reminder of that cuntbag, the memory of Vance standing over you was ingrained to your mind like a warning.

Hallways were filled, the students worked their ways to their rightful classes, some clearly drained from the new school year while others chatted to their peers. It was all irritating, as when you finally reached your homeroom & 1st period, it was 3 minutes after the bell rang, and most seats were already stolen, leaving you singled out by the teachers rude observe. You offered a sorry smile, and looked at what desks were available, soon seeing what would be your current demise.

"Well? Going to sit down or would you rather waste more of my time."

You would've given more of a shit, if the only empty seat wasn't next to the only kid you were acquainted with, the bastard as you remembered. Your feet moved nimbly, but your gaze was hardened, you could feel the shit eating grin that Vance had on, ad much as he loathed you, he would enjoy making your life a living hell, looking forward to the rest of class. Vance would let no time go unused as you sat next to him, visibly upset.

"Just the kid I wanted to see."

He spoke in a hushed tone, but that soon was ended as well when the teacher assigned ice breakers to the class, deciding it would be best if the class went in pairs & spoke with one another. With a stroke of luck that you didn't have, you were lazily paired with Vance, as he sat next to you. The class was handed a sheet of paper that had prompts to questions, and while other kids started right away, you put your energy into sitting in silence, eyes on your desk, admiring the cold wood that would be your most familiar feeling for the next year.

Your peace would never last long, as a hand snapping to catch your attention came into your view, taunting you.

"What, Vance."

"Well are you just gonna sit there like a dick, or are you gonna introduce yourself? Have some spirit."

Of course he was mocking you, but it was better than getting yourself beat up. You angled yourself to put him in your line of sight, peering on how he holds himself, them you spoke.

"You don't already know me? You know I'm new, you know that I'm more skilled than you at arcade games, I feel we've already done pretty well."

The response was seeping with smart-ass, but thats what he deserved, the fair treatment. You could see his fist tighten like it did before, his smile dropping st the ends ever so slightly, you struck a clear nerve. While the class went on happily, you were trapped in what seemed like your own world with the boy you found intolerable.

"Of course I know who you are, I'm not a dumbass, but tell me something I don't know, like the fucking assignment says to do."

His teeth, while oddly perfect for a kid with a reputation, bared at you, like an angry dog. Another warning to you. Treading lightly, you decided to just give the basics, something to scrape the tip of the iceberg.

"I'm 16, I just moved here, I enjoy going out and having fun. Is that enough?"

Sneering at him was meant to make him back off, but you saw his eyes slightly light up, and his body leaned forward, arms supporting his weight while he calmly looked at you.

"How charming, thanks for the biography Einstein. We have some things in common, how shocking is that?"

While you could tell his tone was laced with sarcasm, he didn't make another advance to terrorize you, and for a moment, he seemed like you piqued his interest.

//

Your first school week was over, a week of living through hell was stopped kindly, giving you the brief days of the weekend to recuperate. It was a Saturday afternoon when you set up a casual walk, coming to know your new town in the ways you loved most, a quiet, sunny day. The chipped sidewalk gave you a nice path around the neighborhood, accompanying the long yellow grass on the sides, the scenery wasn't half bad. Your shoes brought you a ways away from your house, trying to submerge yourself in a good time to prevent the foreboding feeling that latched onto your back. Turning the corner, you reached a street with delicately placed stores aligning it, a diverse selection it was. Seeing how busy the street was, cars flying by with unpleasant smells following, you made the executive decision to trudge behind the stores, making yourself known by the way your steps were the only noise apparent.

The foreboding feeling only became stronger as you ventured on, and while it was nearly 80”, the alley still had a certain chill to it, making your hair stand up.

"Shit dude, I have to ask, how are you scoping out all of my spots?"

The agonizingly familiar voice rang through the alley, and you sighed, turning your back to look in the direction where Vance spoke. He stood there harmlessly, hands in pockets with his his head cocked slightly, staring right through you, he once again proposed his frightening manner, like a lion puffing its chest out. The shoes he wore made light sounds as he strode over to you, eyebrows raised while his dull blue eyes kept the eye contact. A sigh emitted from you, just trying to savor your last bit of tranquility from your Saturday evening.

"Just taking a nice walk, peacefully. Something you've probably never heard of."

He chuckled, swiping his golden hair out of his eyes.

"I haven't even done anything yet, don't be a dick."

Silence came over you, annoyed at his casual aura, you knew he wanted something, the question was what.

"Vance, what do you need from me. Are you gonna beat me up or something? You aren't mandated to track me down and talk to me."

You broke the eye contact, which internally made Vance even more excited.

"I just found you here in my area, not my fault. But since you are here, why not?"

You couldn't tell if he was bluffing, he did seem like a pathological liar, but you weren't about to instigate a fight. Nodding your head, you signaled for him to go on, the summers heat beating off of you.

"We have a project we need to do, did you forget? The partner reading project?"

Shit. You may've forgotten about it, but it wasn't due till next week, and you had class with Vance every day. What was his rush? It's not like he's a star student.

"So? We have time, why do you care?"

Rolling his eyes like you were the weird one, he went on.

"What a shitty question, you'd know why I care if you followed the icebreakers the first day, but thats your damn problem. It'll be better if we do the project sooner, so we have extra time in class."

It came out mockingly, but you didn't care. He made a point, and he wasn't bullying you, so why not get it out of the way, make it so class is easier without his idiotic questions.

"Fine, where do you wanna start it?"

His exterior was smooth, but on the inside, Vance was heating up all over. You were playing right into his charm. He knows your still getting to know him, but this was just perfect. He wanted you to know he isn't just a dickhead, he wanted to show you how kind he can be, but his first impression he laid out wasn't exactly boyfriend material. While he did hate you then, wanting to beat the shit out of you, treat you like every other kid here, your mutual hatred appealed to him, he didn't admit it, but he studied your pinball techniques, and adored your persistence. It was fun to have someone snap back just as he did, he considered you an equal, to him, a rare title. Something about you enveloped him, and he wanted to spend all his time with you.

"Why not your house?"

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

this was a cliff hanger ish, but i knew it was getting long and i just loved this idea sm🫶🫶 hopefully its alright to read :)

requests r open, masterlist is up!!

[penig]

Let’s hear it for Sims.

Let’s hear it for meticulously crafted, efficient lots built with love and perfectly designed and decorated for the family that lives there.

Let’s hear it for huge barns with with three pinball machines, two arcade games, a billiard table, and four bowling alleys, but no stove.

Let’s hear it for gorgeous, gigantic, replicas of real palaces that crash 90% of games when loaded.

Let’s hear it for neighborhoods played in strict rotation; for neighborhoods where one family is played for three generations before another household is ever loaded; for neighborhoods still being used after 15 years of doing every Very Bad Thing under the sun; for neighborhoods that vanish inexplicably after being played once.

Let’s hear it for Maxis Match, for vanilla only, for palettes that are used exclusively for six months and then scrubbed in favor of a new one, for players who don’t know what any Maxis items, hairs, or clothing actually look like anymore.

Let’s hear it for unmodded games and for games modded into unrecognizability.

Let’s hear it for games in which each neighborhood has its own separate folder so it can have its own specific set of downloads and the player has to sit down and think about whether they want to play medieval, regency, fantasy, the 70s game, the BACC, the Test of Time,or the zombie apocalypse; and games in which the technology and fashion of all eras cohabit unselfconsiously in the same household.

Let’s hear it for non-supernatural heteronormative nuclear sim families; for  werewolf/vampire/plantsim polycules; for queer utopias; for dictatorships that Big Brother would think too restrictive; for rigidly “realistic” games; for unabashed nonsense.

Let’s hear it for perfect worlds with no injury or sickness or fire or death and for hellholes of unending drama and danger.

Let’s hear it for defaults that make even aliens, plantsims, and robots conform to the range of current real-world skintones; and for those in which all colors of the rainbow are available except for those seen in the real world.

Let’s hear it for players who create neighborhood after neighborhood, setting them up perfectly, and never ever have a household open and unpaused long enough to see a welcome wagon.

Let’s hear it for players who build and build and build and never take the game out of build/buy except to playtest their build.

Let’s hear it for players who create CC for games they never play anymore.

Let’s hear it for players who have never made a thing, but toss in families, houses, clothes, objects, and businesses made by Maxis or other players, and play the stuffing out of them.

Let’s hear it for storytellers who never turn on free will and set everything up with poseboxes.

Let’s hear it for storytellers who never turn free will off and are continually surprised.

Let’s hear it for those who document their games and share them, and those who keep their games to themselves.

Let’s hear it for players who rush on to the next new thing.

Let’s hear it for players who doggedly maintain the tech to play their favorite iteration in the face of all difficulties.

Let’s hear it for no-cheat games, and all-cheat games, and every game in between.

Let’s hear it for the sandbox, and all the players therein, playing exactly the way they like to play.

Let’s hear it for sims.

[angelofthenight]

Cardigans in August Pt.1

(Bruce Yamada x Fem!Reader x Vance Hopper)

Summary: During the summer after a fight, (Y/n) cheats on Bruce with Vance. When school starts again Vance thinks he finally has (Y/n) until she tries to win Bruce back.

Warnings: Love triangle, Brief mention of underage drinking, Unreciprocated love, Jealousy, Eventual angst, Like this is gonna get sad most of the time, (Y/n) isn’t a very good person

Word Count: 2.1k

Parts: 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

(This is based off Taylor Swift’s Folklore love triangle with Bruce as Betty, (Y/n) as James, and Vance as August)

“Chase two boys, lose the one”

“Slept next to him, but I dreamt of you all summer long”

“'Cause you weren't mine to lose”

When you’re young, everyone assumes you know nothing.

But Bruce Yamada knew it was real; his love for you and your love for him. He knew it was true love. He just knew it.

He knew by the way he felt when you shared your first kiss in his sophomore car. He always felt a twinkle when with you but after that moment the twinkles amplified into fireworks. Your kisses was all the motivation he needed in life; the stepping stones to just simply waking up every morning. Because every morning was just the start of a brand new day to spend with you. To spend the passing periods kissing under the stairs, to spend the weekends attached at the hip, to spend the nights drinking in the trunk of your car with the tailgate open. And with tipsy flushed cheeks glowing under the streetlights, you two would lean in and share sweet kisses as your hands would slip under each other’s shirts.

But then there was the “other man” that Bruce would have never suspected pining after you this whole time; Pinball Vance Hopper. The bad boy of North Denver. The guy who sent two kids to the hospital for just simply bumping into his beloved pinball machine.

Despite his aggressive persona and violent reputation, you two were close friends. No one knows why or how, you just… were. Not exactly best friends, but it's not as if you didn’t have the potential to be.

Once the bell rang everyone in your history class practically jumped out of their seats before your teacher could even pull the stupid “the bell doesn’t dismiss you, I do”. You slid your books off your desk and into your bag so you could spring to your feet and join the crowd of classmates trying to pour out of the room through the small doorway. You eventually got out as well and as always, Vance was leaning against the wall beside the wall as he waited for you.

You smiled as you stood in front of him, he always waited for you after the last class on Fridays to walk you to your car since Bruce had Baseball practice. “You are always the last person out of that class.” Vance commented which received a roll of your eyes.

“Wow, sorry you have to wait like 12 seconds after the bell. Your life is just the worst.” You humorously pitied as he kicked himself off the wall to begin walking at your side. “I know. It’s hard being me.” Vance stated which successfully received a giggle from you.

The melody of your laugh made Vance secretly smile to himself, glad he was always able to get them out of you. He had a thought at the back of his mind that wondered if Bruce could make you laugh as much as he could.

That thought gave him enough confidence to speak without thinking, “So, you thinkin’ of going to-” He cut himself off from asking if you and Bruce were going to the weekend dance together when he saw the whole baseball team rush down the hall toward the two of you. You both stopped in your tracks as the group of smiling boys in matching uniforms reached you. The front two stepped to the side to allow Bruce to walk through the group and up to you.

A smile spread across your lips in surprise as Bruce revealed the small bouquet of flowers he was hiding behind his back. “(Y/n). Will you go to the dance with me?” Bruce asked with a toothy grin, holding the flowers out toward you.

The baseball team looked at you with waiting eyes and all the girls present in the hallway watched in jealousy over the gesture from the gorgeous popular boy. What you didn’t see was Vance’s stone stare set on your face watching your reaction, a part of him internally begging that you’d decline even though he already sadly knew your answer.

“Of course!” You exclaimed while grabbing the flowers then throwing your arms around his neck for a tight hug. The whole baseball team erupted in cheers and obnoxious clapping behind Bruce. You departed from the embrace to smack a warm kiss on Bruce’s smiling cheek as his hands rested on your back. You both smiled at each other gushingly and connected hands to walk down the wall. You turned to look over your shoulder once remembering about your friend, but completely forgetting he wanted to ask you something. “Oh, bye Vance!” You hollered before turning to look back at Bruce as you two walked hand in hand.

Vance raised his hand as a goodbye as he watched you go with a deep frown and furrowed brows. The painful reminder of his torturous reality creeping back up his neck in an attempt to strangle him, and sometimes he wished it just would to put him out of his misery.

He hated being the second choice. He hated wondering if he had to love you from afar forever. He hated that he loves you harder everyday yet everyday you break his heart easier and easier. But even though he was utterly hopeless, he was still hopeful.

~

You honestly don’t know why on earth you let Bruce woo you into coming to the dance. You hated crowds, they were overstimulating and you had itching social anxiety. You loved music and dancing with Bruce… in privacy and when it just consisted of the two of you. Your back was bumped into by multiple different formally dressed teens which made your miserability spread to your frown.

Bruce still shimmied and swayed in front of you with the brightest smile plastered across his face. His brows crinkled at the sight of your clear unhappiness. “Are you alright!?” He yelled over the loud music. You still stepped side to side to the Bee Gees as you just couldn’t bring yourself to fake a smile. “I’m gonna go get some fresh air.” You said to him, stepping closer to his shoulder so he could hear you.

“I’ll come with you.” He said, slowing his dancing down to a stop and resting a hand on your lower back to guide you out. You grabbed his arm and returned it to his side. “I’ll just be a second, stay and keep having fun with your friends.” You said, nodding over to his dancing group of friends with their dates beside the two of you. He looked to his friends then back at you with an unsure expression but you had already slipped off into the crowd.

You walked through the gymnasium doors into the small dome shaped area where some teachers and students were talking with friends away from the noise. You walked past them all to the hallway that led to the exit doors. The further you walked the more you could finally hear the sound of your heels clicking as you stepped. You pushed the doors open and instantly took a relieving inhale as the cool night air hit your sweaty face, chills spilling down your exposed skin. You took a seat on the curb of the sidewalk and rested your hands on your knees to gather yourself, the music from the gymnasium faintly being heard.

Bruce danced with his energetic friends, keeping a patient eye out for you so he could return to dancing with you. Three songs from Foreigner, The Runaways, and Heatwave had passed and still no sign of you but he was too caught up in enjoying the music to let his worries wear him down. It wasn’t until the band started playing the intro to his favorite song, Edgar Winter Group’s Free Ride, where an excited smile exploded on his face and he whipped his body around to look for where you were. You should’ve been back by now, so why weren’t you back? His smile slowly melted away as you were nowhere to be found no matter where he looked.

“Hey Bruce, it’s your song! Why aren’t ya dancing?” A girlish voice said from behind him. He turned to one of his female friends rocking her shoulders to the beat of the music as her hands swayed her yellow eyelet lace dress. “Looking for my girlfriend!” He said to her over the catchy beat, mindlessly moving to the music. She shrugged, “I’m sure she’ll be back soon.” She continued dancing and he soon joined her, not wanting to put his favorite song to waste.

The sound of a familiar guitar melody made your ears perk up and your head turn to look behind you. Bruce’s favorite song was playing! You got up to your healed feet and rushed back to the doors to down the hall and back to the gymnasium doors. You stopped at the doorway and tilted your head up to look for where Bruce was now. The smile you didn’t realize sprouted dropped when your eyes caught the sight of Bruce dancing with another girl. A really pretty girl.

You knew they were friends but you also knew, from the knowledge of one of your gossip friends, that she used to have a crush on Bruce until she found out you two were a couple. You never once thought illy of her since of how sweet and polite she was but just the sight of her sweet smile being reciprocated in an equal style by Bruce made your stomach turn. Unwanted jealousy stuffed you as you watched how they danced with each other.

You couldn’t bear to look another second as your insecurities embodied into salty water over your eyes. You turned away and allowed your feet to quickly carry you back to the hallway as you bit your lip to prevent it from quivering. You couldn’t even make it to the doors as you slowed to a stop and let your back fall to the wall and your body sank to the floor, bringing your knees to your chest. You knew your face resembled one of those sad clown paintings with your eyebrows curving up and your frown deepening. Your eyes were glossy with tears but yet they didn’t fall from the confines of behind your lower lash line.

Your throat felt like there was a rock stuck in it and you felt a tight rotting pain in your chest as you soaked in your own pathetic, pitiful misery. You heard footsteps approach you and you had the mind that it was a teacher coming to check up on you so you swallowed the lump in your throat, sniffled and blinked away the watery substance coating your iris’.

You looked up only to make eye contact with Pinball Vance. He was dressed sloppily formal with his everyday brown boots, dark blue jeans and a long sleeve white dress shirt with the top three buttons undone. His hair was the same as always and he had one hand shoved in his pocket with the other holding a black suit jacket slung over his shoulder by the collar.

“Vance? I didn’t know you came to dance’s.” You said partnered with another sniffle. Vance gave a half shrug, “I don’t but my mom forced me to come to this one.” You nodded before looking back down to the floor in front of your feet. Vance slid his jacket off his shoulder as he squatted to take a seat beside you. A moment of silence passed before Vance broke it, “Crowd too much for you?”

A small smile slipped over the endearing fact that he remembered your dislike of overwhelming crowds. “Yeah, it just…” your mind drifted back to Bruce and the girl, “got a little too much for me.” Vance nodded in understanding. “Where’s Bruce?” He asked without thinking. A bitter scoff escaped past your lips before you subconsciously remarked, “Ask Michelle.” Your eyes widened over your snotty tone and words and you clapped your hands over your mouth in embarrassment as if that would take back what you said.

But Vance didn’t judge or criticize you, he could never bring himself to, and that was one of the things that made you feel comfortable with him. Vance stood up to his feet and offered you a hand. “Let me walk you home.” He said. You stared at his face for a few seconds before taking his hand and letting him effortlessly pull you up.

Once standing, he threw his jacket over your shoulders and you felt your skin immediately relax into the smooth fabric. With the light jerk of his head, you followed Vance down the hall.

[seasonsbloom]

congrats on 500! very much deserved ☺️ i want to get my ask in early for…..fake dating with bradley. i feel like he’d oddly get really into it, man is a showman thru and thru

♡ pairing ; rooster x female!reader

♡ wc ; 1.2k

♡ warnings ; a creepy dude tries to hit on you?, mentions of alcohol consumption

♡ note ; thank you so so so much for requesting jordan :(( you're so right!!! if this was longer, i definitely would have gotten into rooster pulling out all the stops. that man would buy couple looks for him and his fake girlfriend, change my mind.

The guy is there again.

You spot him across the bar the moment he comes in, so attuned to it by now that it’s all you do. Like there’s some kind of radar newly installed inside of you. You look for him around corners and in supermarkets and especially at night when you do the five-minute trek from your job to your apartment in the dark of the night, only intercepted by flickering streetlights. 

It was fun in the beginning when you met him at the bar: A bit of harmless flirting, a few winks, a number scribbled on a napkin. But then you didn’t call him, too busy and too shy and honestly not interested enough, and suddenly it wasn’t all that fun anymore.

Suddenly, it got scary. Every time you arrive for drinks with your friends, he lingers somewhere at your periphery. By the toilets, by the jukebox, by the pinball machine. Always keeping an eye on you. Always glowering, always nursing a drink, only disappearing outside for periodic breaks and then coming back reeking of cigarettes.

It’s not like he ever does anything, and so you’re too embarrassed to tell your friends about it, to ask them to change locations for your Friday post-work drinks, when the Hard Deck has been a firmly cemented part of the routine for years. What if they laugh at you? What if they think you’re overreacting? What if they tell you not to act like the whole world revolves around you, not to be so full of yourself that you think any guy that looks at you in crowded bars might be a stalker?

So nothing really bad has happened - but the fear is there. Lodged firmly in your chest, sinking its ugly, icy claws into you at every turn. The fear that something could happen, something really, awfully, truly bad. You don’t want to end up on Dateline.

And tonight, you’re alone. One of your friends just canceled, citing a cold, and the other two are stuck in San Diego’s rush-hour traffic. So you’re alone at your usual table in the corner, in a new dress that suddenly seems too short, fidgeting with the glass of gin and tonic in front of you, drawing shapes into the condensation that do nothing to calm the racing of your heart.

You glance at the guy again, just to gauge how far he is from you. But when you spot him leaning against the wall, he’s already looking at you. Your eyes meet, and ice-cold, instantaneous panic trickles into you.

Oh god, you think as he pushes off the wall, as he grins at you, oh god, no. That wasn’t intentional. Oh god.

He pushes his way through the crowd, and you look around, frantic, both hands gripping the table’s edge, heart in your throat, eyes burning, and then… You spot a flicker of something colorful.

“Rooster!”

You rise half out of your chair, waving frantically.

Rooster turns around, genuine confusion on his face. You remember him vaguely from a drunk night a month or two ago when your friend’s friend Phoenix introduced her fellow Naval aviators to you. He’d been nice enough, a little absent-minded, drinking beer and bobbing his head along to Springsteen tunes. Wearing the same fading Hawaiian shirt.

Mostly, you remember his face from a rather embarrassing, rather steamy dream you had about a day or two later. What can you say? The mustache might look like it’s jumped right out of a 70s porno, but it sorta works for you.

Which makes you seriously worry about your taste in men, but that’s beside the point.

He raises an eyebrow but comes over anyway. Smiles at you. Says, “Hi.”

“Hi,” you answer. “You remember me?”

Rooster nods. “Phoenix’s friend, right?”

And then he even repeats your name, and it shouldn’t matter, but it sort of makes your heart stutter. You wish you could indulge in the giddy feeling, in the oh my god, he remembers me of it all, but over his shoulder, the man is still approaching, something unreadable, something dark, something frightening on his face.

You don’t know what you look like, but Rooster’s brows furrow as he looks at you.

“You alright?”

“I…” You pause, wonder if maybe you’ve read too many romance books, wonder if you’ve watched too many Hallmark movies, but then you think fuck it, who cares, whatever. “The guy behind you… he’s been bothering me for some time now.”

Something like anger crosses Rooster’s face. His mustache trembles a little bit. 

“Did he hurt you? I can…”

“No, nothing like that, just….” You shrug, suddenly helpless. “Can you… I know this sounds insane, but will you just pretend to be my boyfriend? Please? Only for like five minutes….”

Your voice starts trailing off towards the end of the sentence. Nerves set in, tingle up your spine, turn your insides liquid. God, this must be the worst idea of all time. You don’t even know Rooster, can’t explain why you’re asking him this.

Just… There's something about him that makes you feel strangely, inexplicably safe. You want him to stay with you a little longer.

Rooster’s throat moves as he swallows, looking down at you with something searching in those brown eyes. That gaze almost makes you squirm on the spot.

And then suddenly, Rooster’s arm is sliding around your waist, his nose is buried in your hair, and he’s whispering, “Sorry for not asking first, I’ll stop touching you in a second.”

In your chest, your heart flutters like a robin. You don’t even want him to stop touching you.

He withdraws, turning both of you to face the guy. He’s stopped just a step or two from your table, brows furrowed over dark, glinting eyes, an expression on his face as if he’s just bitten into a lemon. Your first instinct is to shrink back, to hide behind Rooster, but he gives your waist a reassuring squeeze. 

Suddenly, it’s not so difficult. Suddenly, you don’t feel so afraid. Not with Rooster there.

“You got a problem, pal?” Rooster asks, and you can feel the echoes of his voice rumbling in his chest.

The man’s eyes flicker towards you just for a second, then he looks back at Rooster. Seems to gauge his chances. Deem them relatively low.

He shrugs, jerks his head, disappears into the crowd.

You let out a shuddering breath, letting go of all that fear that’s been building for weeks, that’s been weighing you down more than you’d like to admit.

“Thank you,” you whisper, stepping away from him, leaving the circle of his arms reluctantly. “That… I’m sorry. But thank you. You helped me so much.”

Rooster throws another glance in the direction the man disappeared in, something vigilant in his eyes. Then he looks down at you, and the steel in his gaze dissolves. Eyes, once again, like molten chocolate.

“No worries,” he says, smiling softly. “I’ll leave you to it.”

You nod dumbly, watch his retreating back as you slowly sink down into your chair again.

And then Rooster stops, halfway to the counter, turns around, says your name.

Once he’s sure he has your attention, he smiles, almost bashfully.

He delivers the killing blow, the thing you’re sure you’ll think about for years to come, that will crawl beneath your skin, into your bloodstream, and settle there, live there, grow there.

“I’ll be your boyfriend anytime. Real or fake.”

[where-dreamers-go]

"Summertime" Leon Kennedy x Reader -- Part Two

(A/N: Finally the next part in the lifeguard! Leon au. We continue with the Reader’s vacation with much more Leon~. I might have forgotten to mention that this is a tiny series.

Warnings: Use of (Y/N).

Word Count: 2,345 words)

Previous

~~~

A new day of vacation. New hopes of fun times and relaxation. Maybe some good conversation.

Heading to the game room of the beach club was first on your list for the day. Breakfast was already scratched off the list. So you thought it would be a good start since your friend was still getting ready for the day.

There was no rush. No need to be anywhere or do anything. It was vacation after all.

You heard someone’s quick steps approaching from behind.

Huh. Don’t bump into me. Don’t shoulder pas—

“Hey.”

Looking over, your heart skipped a beat at the bright face greeting you.

Oh.

Leon Kennedy in a cotton blend shirt highlighted by the morning light.

You could thank destiny later.

“Hey. Uh, how are you?”

You hoped beyond hope that you wouldn’t trip.

“Not bad.” Leon walked in-step with you. “Getting an early start on the day cleaning debris. How about you? How’s your knee?”

“It’s fine.” You swallowed. “Thank you. Thought I’d start the day with some gaming. My friend’s on a phone call.”

He hummed, low and beautiful. “Smart. Get in there before the kids hog it up.”

“Yeah. That’s the plan.”

“Be careful. Those kids can get territorial.”

“Could you help with crowd control?” You joked back.

“I’d do my best, but with those kids, we might have to climb out a window.”

That pulled a laugh out of you. His easygoing one liners tended to do just that without much failure.

Your laughter only doubled upon seeing a kid walk into the gaming room.

Leon must have followed your line of sight because he asked, “Do you need backup?”

“I might.”

After opening the door for you, Leon followed your lead into the room and towards the air hockey table.

“You’re up for some friendly competition in the morning?”

“If you’re up for it?” You activated the table.

Leon’s lips pulled up into a playful smile. “You first.”

The game went on for several minutes. The small puck zooming back and forth as you both did your best to win. Any taunting was barely concealed encouragements of where to angle a strike.

Even as Leon won victoriously, the laughter you two shared rung throughout the room.

“Excellent game, Leon.” You reached out your hand.

“Same to you.” He shook your hand firmly for a moment. “Up for another round?”

“Uh.”

You eyed the pinball machine as the kid left it unattended.

“Better claim it before someone else shows up.” Leon advised, ever the observant one.

The quarters were in your grasp before you made it to the machine.

I’ve been wanting to play this again, you thought as you inserted the quarters.

Being in front of the familiar machine had you in a serious stance. You had played pinball before, especially this very machine. Many summers were spent inside the gaming room as others sheltered from a thunderstorm.

Already engrossed into a game with tapping fingers, your mind grew more and more focused on doing one thing: beat your previous high score.

Leon stood close beside you. His body heat a contrast to the air-conditioning against your skin.

“Darn,” he breathed out. “You’re good at this.”

“I do my best.” You answered without looking away from the tiny metal sphere as you sent it flying across the system.

“You’re still on the first one.”

“For now…”

Focus. Come on. There! Okay, you thought as you continued playing. He’s only a step away from standing behind me or leaning closer. Keep going.

So you did. Minutes ticked by and the score on the screen only added up. The man by you cheered you on with encouraging words even when a sphere dropped. It fueled your desire to do better. Better than your past self.

Did you also want to impress Leon? Yes. Absolutely, yes.

“Crap.”

The second pinball escaped you.

“It’s okay. Shake it off.” Leon placed his hand along the edge of the pinball machine as he leaned in. Gaze on the pinball launch area and not the lit up score. “Last one.”

He’s really into this. At least he’s not bored. Thankfully.

Every second with Leon Kennedy proved to be an eventful morning. Not the least bit boring. The both of you were thoroughly enjoying one another’s company. Neither of you noticed nor paid mind to a couple of other kids sliding into the room and playing at the other gaming machines. As far as you two were concerned, you were the only two there; everything else faded.

Until it wasn’t so.

“There you are!”

Startled by your friend’s voice, you fingers fumbled and you missed your shot at saving the last pinball.

Darn it! You thought and looked over your shoulder to your friend walking inside.

“I was kidding about getting ice cream,” you said.

Straightening to his full height, Leon looked between you, your friend, and his watch.

“I should get out there.” He then turned his attention to you and added, “Great score.”

“Thanks.”

“See you later.” Leon gave a smile before walking out into the sunlight.

Like he’s walking back to the heavens or something.

Sighing, you eyed your friend and rose an eyebrow. You said nothing.

“Sorry,” they apologized. “My timing can be awful.”

“It’s fine. No harm done.” You took a peek at the scoreboard. “Although, I could say differently there… Just needed a few more.”

* *

A beautiful day and soft breezes called many to the beach. To you, however, you were heading off of the sand to freshen up indoors.

Bag hanging off of your shoulder, you made sure your shoes were back on properly after a stumble.

Good thing I haven’t lost them. This sand is hot.

“Hi again.”

You looked up.

“Leon. Hi.” You stopped as Leon walked further onto the sand in his lifeguard attire.

“Hey, if you’re not busy later after my shift, would you like to go get some ice cream with me?”

You blinked, your brain doing its best to register everything as real, save every detail to memory, and form a response. Also to remember to breathe. That was important.

“Sure.” You swallowed. “I’d love to.”

“Meet you by the gaming room around seven?” Leon asked.

“Yeah. I’ll see you there.”

“Great.”

His grin highlighted the world around you. With a short wave, he jogged down to towards the lifeguard tower.

All the while everything felt so much warmer.

I’m not calm about this. Should I be calm? It’s a date. Water, I need water.

* *

“Pick what ever you want. It’s my treat.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.” He repeated. “Except the store. That’s a little bland.”

“Oh darn. I really wanted to nimble on that door,” you snickered.

Before walking over to get ice cream down the street from the beach club, Leon had met you by the gaming room as agreed upon. It was clear that he took an opportunity to clean up and change into something not intended for swimming. Care put into his appearance, no question.

As promised, Leon did pay for your dessert and his. He was more than happy too. Even eyeing your flavor of choice with great interest. The only downside was that there wasn’t any seating inside. So you two decided to take a stroll.

It was much quieter and private. A comfortable way to spend time together. Get to know one another more than random small talk surrounded by others.

“Hear me out. Vanilla gets a bad rep by being called boring.” You stated.

“People like their mixture of flavors and toppings until its overflowing.”

“Sure, but everything’s already added to it. Vanilla starts out just fine and then you can turn it into cookies n creme or add caramel.”

“Make an ice cream sundae.” Leon added before eating more of his treat.

“Exactly.” You gestured widely.

“A banana split.”

“You can be creative with vanilla ice cream. It’s a great foundation. It doesn’t always have to be overflowing with toppings and stuff. I mean…if it’s well balanced. Sure.”

He smirked and asked, “What about adding a brownie? Not a tiny one.”

“Oh,” you pretended to clap while holding the last of your ice cream. “That, but make it a warm brownie.”

“Fresh out of the oven?”

“Either way.”

Leon chuckled. “I think we’re just making ourselves hungry.”

“Oops.”

Finishing off the last delicious spoonfuls of ice cream, the both of you tossed the trash responsibly.

Walking a bit further, you two found your way back to the beach. A familiar setting. Sunset still lingering on the horizon.

“Funny. I always find my way back here. Year after year.” Leon mused as he walked beside you, heading for the shoreline. “It’s not exactly what I pictured doing with my life.”

“Really?”

“Well, you know. You’re on track for one thing, but you get pulled into something else and…you stay with it.”

“Do you like being a lifeguard, Leon?”

Blue eyes looked out over the water.

The beauty of the image made you smile fondly.

Was he happy?

“I didn’t expect to like being a lifeguard. It’s tough some days, but I’m good at it. I want to help people and this is my way of accomplishing that.” Leon turned to offered you a smile. “I guess I’m lucky. Some people hate their job completely. I work where people come to get away.”

“And you’re happy. That’s really important.”

“It is. What about you? Are you happy with what you do?”

“I am. I guess. Some days are better than others.” You considered your words. “It’s just…some days can go from amazing to bizarre or terrible with one interaction or something from someone already having a crappy day. But, hey, it could be a lot worse.” You shrugged. “Or boring.”

You shuffled your shoes into the sand as you reached the wet sand. Shells and more in sight with the disappearing sunlight.

“That’s life. Never the exact same.” Leon walked on your side opposite the water. “Oh, boring can be dangerous.”

“What?” You looked at him, puzzled at his words.

“People can do some pretty stupid things if they’re bored enough. I’ve seen it.”

“On duty?”

“Fortunately for them.”

Oh, buddy. I bet they were given a talking to. For sure!

“What do you do when you’re bored?” You asked, slowing your pace. Something caught your eye.

He shrugged his shoulders. “Sleep. Watch some TV. You?”

Bending down, you brushed away some sand a dark shape.

A shark tooth! Finally. I lost some the other day out here. You thought happily.

Picking up the tooth, you let the soft incoming wave rinse it. A nice surprise for the evening. Not that the date wasn’t a great surprise.

The man standing near you chuckled warmly.

You glanced up.

“Found something?”

“Oh, yeah.” You stood up and offered him a glance at the small shark tooth.

“Neat. I figured most were dug up this morning.”

You groaned, “I know. But I’m not getting up before dawn to look for shark’s teeth. The runners and joggers are out.”

Blue eyes peered to the horizon line then back to you.

“We still have some light left if you want to find some,” he offered.

Leon’s offer could not have been more sweet.

There you two were, scavenging the beach-line for shark teeth amongst broken shells and sand. Two people smiling and literally digging were their bare hands before in grew darker.

You figured it was safer to search now that the beach was closer to empty and you were with Leon. Less of a chance of getting hit by a stray volleyball.

“Oh. Here we go,” Leon shifted through the sand and handed you a large shark tooth.

“Whoa.” You both inspected the tooth covering your palm in curious awe. “If I got up earlier, I’d be searching for these.” Squinting, you tried making out more details.

“We should head back.”

“Yeah.”

Carefully, you kept your pile of shark teeth cupped in your hands.

Leon didn’t take a step until you started walking away from the water.

“You like sharks?” He questioned.

“Yes, I love most sea creatures.”

He took your answer into account silently.

“Do you like sharks?” You asked in return.

“If they’re nice. Sure.”

You smiled.

Back to the condo by the beach where you and your friend were renting an apartment for the week was a sign that the evening was over.

Leon stood by the door as you fished out your key.

“Thank you for inviting me. It was really fun.”

“Thank you. I had a great time.” Leon smiled at your handful of shark teeth. “See you tomorrow?” He asked, hope lining his features.

“Rain or shine. I’ll be here.”

His lips pulled into a full grin. “Alright. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He nodded.

“Tomorrow.” Your cheeks burned with the continuation of your smiling.

Ducking his head for a moment, Leon took a step away before meeting your gaze again. “I hope you have a good evening.”

“You too, Leon.” You turned to go indoors with a smile still remaining on your lips.

Closing the door behind you, there was a squeal from your friend.

Here we go.

They opened their mouth to speak, but frowned in confusion at the sight of you holding a bunch of teeth.

“I thought you two went for ice cream?”

“We did,” you confirmed happily.

“Then what’s with the fossils?”

“We went to the beach. Talking and looking around.” You began searching for a bag or something to put the shark teeth in for safe keeping.

“Okay….and….he liked it? He wasn’t bored with you digging through the sand?”

“Oh—Leon helped. He found this one!” You held up the large shark tooth proudly.

“Darn. He’s more perfect than I thought.” They chuckled. “Did he pay for the ice cream?”

“Yup.”

“Did you get his number?”

Your smile dropped.

“(Y/N).” Your friend whined, hands on their hips.

“I’m sorry. We were busy having fun.”

They only sighed. “I’m happy you did.”

~~~

Best wishes and happy reading.)

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coffee

~~~~~

DreamerDragon Tags: @cubedtriangle

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[indigosabyss]

Kamala Pinballs Through the XCU: DoFP

(I wanted to do these all in order but I really had to get this out first pls forgive me.)

Charles was tired. He had been tired for the better part of a decade now. The strange man who had refused to help them back in '62 suddenly rushing into his school house and demanding his help to save the world did not make him any less tired.

And now Erik's little friend was back here, too. Still as tiny as before. Still seeming to be looking for her Monica.

"Listen, kid, between you and me. I don't think she's going to be in this tweenaged kleptomaniac's house." He leaned over to mutter into her ear, because really, why hadn't he thought to ask this before? Why was she following them around?? Charles wasn't any use to her anymore.

"Yeah, but I got curious." She replied, brushing him off to join Peter Maximoff at the arcade machine, "Dude, you gotta let me play a match. I love retro games."

"Sure!" He grinned at her as he pressed the New Game button, "Retro, huh? Really committing to the time travel bit, I see. I respect it."

"It's the truth!" Kamala insisted, jamming a button sharply and earning a goal before Peter could even think to block it.

"Okay, Future Girl." He grinned, "Where am I in the wonderful world of 2026?"

"Under a gravestone if you don't help us." Logan growled impatiently.

Kamala reached forward and grabbed his shoulder, before Peter could distract himself with annoying the man further, and smiled at him, "You're a hero, Quicksilver."

For some reason, that was what jolted a decade-old memory in Charles' brain, back from the first time he had crossed paths with Kamala Khan. Which, according to Logan, was just going to be the first of many.

Not just any memory. It was a memory he had taken from Kamala's mind, trying to find out what Monica's mind felt like from the imprint left in Kamala's mind by the interrogation machinery.

It was a confused garbled mess of voices and images and painpainpain. A young man who looked nothing like Peter except for the silver hair and the memory insisting it was Pietro Maximoff falling to the ground, riddled by bullets. Superimposed over another image.

Their Peter. Older now. Sitting on a haybale, wearing a shoddy costume. Sirens screaming because this was a fake, it was all fake, Pietro was dead and gone and never coming back-

"Charles? Charles, are you okay?" Hank was holding his shoulders, as Charles slowly came back to reality.

Dammit. Why was this happening again? It was an old memory. He was meant to be safe, now. It was all supposed to work out.

"I think- I think I need some more of the serum." He choked out.

"Are you sure? It's too early. Even with your tolerance building up a little, it should still be working at this poi-"

"The serum, Hank." His voice was cruel and desperate, but he couldn't bother to apologize as he headed for the car where he knew Hank had to have stashed some.

Thoughts and memories and nightmares from decades ago were still trapped inside his skull. If he had to bear with anymore-

He'd break. Even worse than he was already.

(The rest of the ficlets are under Unexpected Baggage Parts 1-3. Probably will write more. They detail Erik and Kamala teaming up during First Class.)

(In case you don't know, Kamala and Monica (and Carol) briefly had a telepathic link when they shared memories to see the starchart Dar-Benn was using. That link caused a transfer of other traumatic memories between the three. But what neither Charles or Kamala know is that Monica's mind has been rewritten a few times by Wanda Maximoff, leading to memories of Wanda's extreme grief being transmitted over. Such as the flashbacks Charles just got)

[supernovasilence]

The Song Stuck In My Head

Late, but I'm determined to keep going with Futuristic Four Week. Prompt 2 was Role Swap, so please take this offering of time traveler!Hiro, actor!Wilbur, superhero!Penny, and scientist!Violet. I just want to get this posted so this is rushed and wildly unedited; I might clean it up before posting to ao3.

Summary: Something is wrong with the timeline. Gen/friendship, drama, mention of injuries but nothing super graphic.

Hiro’s hands shook, but he gulped in a deep breath and forced them steady. He couldn’t afford to spill any fuel.

He only had enough for one jump left as it was. If he ran out mid-travel…

Well, one way or another, he wasn’t redoing this.

He finished loading in the fuel, triple-checked that he had everything packed, quadruple-checked he had the right coordinates punched in, and drew in another deep breath.

A photo beamed at him from the dashboard: an old-fashioned polaroid, faded and crumpled now, the faces of the four kids in it starting to blur. The energy from repeated jumps was corroding the film. Sometimes it felt like it was doing the same to Hiro’s memory.

He pushed activate.

~

Flash!

Wilbur grinned into the light bursting across his face. He waved, paused for another storm of flashes, and kept weaving through the crowd. Flash—flash—flash; it seemed to take forever for him to reach the sanctuary of a bathroom.

Thankfully, it was empty. Wilbur exhaled hard and leaned on the sink. Looking up, he saw his reflection staring back at him. He was still grinning widely.

He shook his head like a dog shaking off water, grin dissolving somewhere along the way.

“Come on, Wilbur, keep it together,” he told himself.

He didn’t know why he felt so off tonight; premieres were easy. No acting to do except act like a cool, handsome TV star, and that Wilbur Robinson didn’t have to fake. Smile and wave and make sure to be seen by all the cameras, and don’t say anything rude to anyone. Easy peasy.

He was just…tired of events right now. He’d just come off a flurry of interviews to promote the new season, and now had bunch of premiers to attend (movies from the same studio they wanted to drum up publicity for), and after that they were jumping right back into filming for next season—Wilbur couldn’t remember the last time he’d been home.

One of his family members was always with him during shoots, of course, and he called the rest regularly, but it wasn’t the same. And just hanging out at the mall or park or chargeball court with friends seemed like a dream anymore.

For a moment, it really did seem like a dream. The mirror in front of him shimmered, and instead of pretentious tile, he saw funkily patterned carpet and neon lighting. A retro-style arcade, a Japanese boy with a robot hoodie leaning against a pinball machine, the redheaded girl playing scolding him not to make it tilt, mouth moving silently across the glass while the boy laughed just as silently, and the black-haired girl walking up to them with bags of gummy frogs and popcorn turned and looked back at—

Wilbur was standing in a glitzy bathroom staring at his own reflection. He felt dizzy for a moment, and then he had a headache, but by the time he rubbed at his temples, it had already gone.

“What the—”

He tapped the mirror. A second later he looked frantically around, but luckily the bathroom was still empty.

“Okay, I think that’s enough soda for one night. There’s no way I actually…”

Actually saw…he’d seen something right? He couldn’t remember what he’d thought was so strange about the mirror now.

Shrugging, Wilbur splashed some water on his face, checked his hair was perfect (it was, of course), and went back to rejoin the paparazzi party.

~

Penny climbed in her window and closed it as quietly as she could. It was harder than usual; her shoulder throbbed angrily. Peeling off her supersuit, she saw a nasty purple-black splotch across her upper arm.

She groaned—quietly; her mom did not need to know Penny was sneaking out to fight supervillains—and dug around for the first aid kit she kept under her bed. Crouching down and stretching out her arm didn’t play nicely with her tired body, and she teetered. A wave of vertigo swept her.

She fell, and while she fell her hands rubbed antiseptic into a cut on a girl’s arm, serious scarlet-and-black supersuit tied about her waist to reveal a cheery bubblegum pink tank top and a circus of bruises across her skin.

“Ow,” yelped one of the boys beside her, the one in the purple armor, as the one with hair like a black cockatoo’s crest tried to pull the armor off without jostling the other’s sprained wrist.

“This is exactly why you need our help,” complained the crested boy. “If you let us fight with you, you wouldn’t come home all banged up.”

“You don’t have any powers.” The armored boy shook his head. “It isn’t safe.”

“Neither do you!”

“I have genius intelligence and high-tech armor.”

“So why can’t you make us armor?” Penny asked.

“Do you really want to go through this every day?” the girl said, gesturing at her scraped up arm, as sarcastic as she was kind. “You two should—”

And then Penny slammed onto her bedroom floor, breathless and stinging with rugburn.

She just lay there, her shoulder aching and her eyes watering, but a moment later she realized her mom might have heard the thump and come to check on her. She grabbed the first aid kit and jumped under the covers with it.

When fifteen minutes had passed with no sign of her mom, Penny decided she was safe, and climbed out of bed again.

It took a bit of willpower; her bed was soft and she just wanted to go to sleep. She wasted no time changing fully out of her costume and into pajamas. Something flicked inside her head as she opened the first aid kit, pressed against the inside of her skull as she scrubbed dirt from her skinned palms and raw knuckles.

Crime-fighting would be so much easier in a team, she thought—and then was struck by how familiar the question was, like she’d asked it a dozen times before. Whatever it was pressed harder against Penny’s thoughts.

She almost had enough energy let to be curious about it. But the feeling came with a sense of vertigo, and she’d already fallen enough tonight. She shook her head, and was surprised to find her eyes wet; they shouldn’t still be stinging from her fall. She wiped them and pulled out ointment for her aching shoulder. A thought tried very hard to get into her head as she rubbed the ointment into her arm, but it wouldn’t come clear, and she was too tired to chase it. Maybe it wasn’t a thought at all, only exhaustion.

Shoving the first aid kit back under the bed, Penny climbed back under the covers. This time, she didn’t fight her weariness.

~

Violet rubbed her eyes, then looked at her worksheet again. The numbers refused to come clear. She glared at them.

“Oh, sure,” she mocked her past self. “I’ll just do a quick little investigation into the weird readings, even though Mr. Harrington told me it was just the sensors glitching. How long could it take? It’s not like being a teenager in college is hard enough.”

She sank back in her seat and sighed in frustration.

The thing was, the sensors were getting weird readings. And these weren’t the local weather station’s thermometer and windsock. These were state of the art pieces of equipment from a college science department—and a pretty good college, too; Violet’s scholarship afforded her that. Atmospheric pressure, gravitational shifts, a dozen other things that shouldn’t all be interconnected but were, somehow, in some pattern Violet could not figure out: they all said something was strange about the world.

Violet was pretty sure they said something was wrong.

But she couldn’t prove it, and if she didn’t do her actual homework, she was going to flunk right out of her scholarship. Shoving her hair angrily back from her face, she turned to grab her calculus notebook.

The cover shifted as she reached for it. It shook again, and again, harder each time, and then it flew open. The pages flipped past at high speed and the papers she had shoved inside it went flying. Violet shrieked and grabbed for them, but the whole room was suddenly filled with papers and empty chip bags and clothes and everything else light enough to be swept up by the wind buffeting the walls. Violet leapt for the window only to slam into cold glass; it was already closed. She whirled and stared at the room, clinging to the windowsill.

There was a flash of light—a deafening silence that left her ears ringing. And then everything was still. Lying on the floor in the middle of the room, where the chaos had been worst, was a small, metal object.

Violet walked over cautiously, waiting any moment for the laws of physics to go haywire again. They didn’t. She crouched down and peered at the object. It looked a little like a cellphone, and a lot like a prop from an old sci-fi TV show, assuming that prop had spent the last few decades being dropped and tossed in basements and dug out by kids who repaired it with duct tape and aluminum foil so they could use it to play space invaders. The cracked screen was blank and dark.

“You better not be giving off radiation,” Violet muttered, and picked it up.

The screen flickered to life.

“…ome in…nny? Wilbur? Anyo…Guys, if you’re there, please come in.”

Violet yelped and almost dropped the whatever-it-was (a communicator, apparently).

“Hello?” The crackly, compressed voice came again. “Is someone there? Hold on—”

The static covering the screen jerked, wavered into a different pattern of static, jerked again, and cleared enough for Violet to see a boy her own age looking out. He had either ash or a bruise smudged over his cheek, and around him Violet saw glimpses of tangled wires and control panels askew in their settings in…what? A machine? A lab? Wavering, distorted images moved nauseatingly on a glass panel behind the boy’s head.

He looked up from whatever buttons he was worrying over and at the screen with a rather desperate expression. His entire face lit up.

“Violet?” He laughed in disbelief, then whooped, pumping his fist in the air and directly into the glass overhead; it must be a dome, because the entire thing bonged ominously. He flinched away, looking fearfully at it, but nothing happened. He shook his hand. “Ow… Violet, are you okay?”

“Who are you, and how do you know my name?”

He stared, and then his frantic look came back.

“No, no, you have to know me. It wasn’t supposed to be this long—you should still remember—”

“Remember what? Who are you?”

The boy looked at her, and for a moment she thought he might cry. She was left breathless at how much it hurt. Something inside her sat up and whispered inaudibly along as the boy said:

“Hiro. I’m Hiro Hamada. I’m your friend.”

“I’ve never met you before.”

“But you should have; don’t you get it?” Violet just stared at him. He shoved his hands into his hair. “We’re best friends—us and Wilbur and Penny. But something happened, and now everything’s wrong.”

He stopped to draw in a breath. This was Violet’s chance to tell him whatever he was mixed up sounded dangerous, and if he kept stalking her, she was going to call the police. And then turn off the communicator. But he looked so upset, and the communicator had appeared in her room in the middle of indoor storm. And something was wrong. She knew it was.

Hiro was the first person who’d believed her.

She sat on her bed and tightened her grip on the communicator.

“What do you mean, ‘wrong’?” she asked.

“I don’t know exactly.” Hiro gestured in frustration. “I think the timeline got changed. I just keep getting weird readings on everything, but I don’t know what they mean! I think maybe time travel’s not actually my field, so I don’t really know what I’m doing. Except I don’t know how I know that, and—”

“What’s the tensile strength of steel?” Violet blurted.

“Uh—” Hiro blinked at her. “It’s, it’s not a constant. It depends on the grade of the steel and thickness of your material.You want to consider yield strength and elongation percentage, too, so depending on what you’re building…”

He trailed off, then drew in an uneven breath. He looked at Violet with wide eyes. She looked back with a hammering heart.

“Let’s not go off in a spiral,” she said, snarky tone rather shaky.

“How did you know to do that?” Hiro asked.

Violet shook her head.

“I don’t know.”

They stared at each other for a moment, and then she watched determination spark in Hiro’s eyes.

“Something’s wrong with the timeline, and now I have to put it right. We have to put it right.”

“Who’s we?” Violet asked, even though part of her felt she already knew, lost names on the tip of her tongue…

“You and me, Wilbur, and Penny. I—” Hiro suddenly looked sheepish. “I don’t really know who they are, or you. But the anomalies all center around the four of us, so either we did something in the original timeline, or someone else was messing with time travel and we’re involved. Does that makes sense?”

“None of this makes sense.” Violet’s head was spinning. “How do you even fix a broken timeline?”

“I think we can if we put things back the way they were. There are rules about time travel—key events? I’m kinda guessing here. I was hoping you’d know.”

“I don’t know.” Violet hesitated. “Maybe one of the others does.”

“You see what I’m dealing with?” Hiro cried. “I know things, but I don’t know how I know. I definitely think one of you knows more about time travel than I do. I was trying to fix things, but I messed up. The last jump stranded me…whenever this is, and now I don’t have enough fuel to get out. I barely managed to get the comm out.” He looked around at the swirling colors. “I think I’m between whenevers, actually.”

Violet realized the wavering scenes weren’t on the glass, but behind it. A shiver of horror went down her back.

“Is there anything you can do?”

Hiro looked back at her, and the fear in his face softened away again. He grinned at her.

“I have a plan. But I need your help—Wilbur and Penny, too, if we can find them.”

Violet hesitated again. This was insane. And if it wasn’t insane it was wildly dangerous, not just to her but potentially to the entire world—the entire time-space continuum. But she liked Hiro’s grin. She felt like she could take on the world with that grin at her side. Maybe the four of them had, in the old timeline.

“I’m going to be grounded for a decade if we destroy the universe, you know,” she said. “What do you need me to do?”

[this-loser]

Through the Motions

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Author's Notes: I deleted my last story. Main reason: I had no idea what I was doing and where I was going with it. I'm gonna rewrite it but it will take me some time. So I'll start this little chapter work instead. I'll be updating slow so please don't be upset. You can also read on my AO3 account!

────────────────────

「WC: 1,449 」

「Summary: It took one mistake of going to a party and another with you being in an alley watching utter chaos unfold with a guy that's called, Red Hood.」

「Warnings: Cursing, some mentions of alcohol and drugs with slight mentions of an abuser. Nothing too in depth just minor mentions is all.」

────────────────────

「Chapter: Two Mistakes」

───────────────

God, the music was loud. Too loud. Being able to feel the bass in your chest and body isn’t entirely fun and the fact that you had only come to the party was because your best friend had guilt tripped you into it. For now, one mistake has been made and that’s coming to the party.

Second mistake was about to happen in approximately 35 minutes.

Voices, men and women. Laughter and the stench of sweaty bodies close together, alcohol, and- Christ, that guy doesn’t know how to keep his hands off that girl’s ass. You bring your cup up to your mouth at the sight, mind now pulled from the depths of thought before you glanced down at your drink, half tempted to go chunk it at the guy then leave. I’m going home… You thought. Quietly, you made your way past people. Sometimes needing to push by them and given the occasional annoyed glare or scoff from someone.

It didn’t take long for you to make it into the kitchen, dumping your drink into the sink then tossing the red plastic cup into the trash before rushing out of the kitchen as a woman walks in, her friend behind her and she passes her a lighter. Really? You could hear the thought bouncing around in your head like a ball in a pinball machine, the little “ting ting” over and over.

The music started up again. Rock. Loud and causing more people to be hyped up.

Stupid Girl

The irony of the song lyrics that were loud enough to make out. How that alone made you roll your eyes, moving past more people and unable to find your friend. Your ride for the night is now gone.

Annoyance had started to build along with a headache as you finally made it to the door of the room, grabbing the knob and twisting it open then letting the door slam shut behind you. The loud music muffled along with all the people in that damn party. You spared a glance at the door once more before letting out an exasperated sigh then taking the stairs out of the building.

Best place to hold a party where cops or nosy people couldn’t be found, go find a relatively quiet and isolated abandoned building in the worst part of Gotham City. No. Scratch that. Any city but especially not Gotham.

This place wasn’t that good. Too many wacked out loons running around. Some dressed as clowns, a literal scarecrow, and that weird guy- Mad Hatter? Was that the name he went by? Who cares, just stay away.

You shook your head as your feet hit the first floor. Somehow you could still hear the bass from the new song playing, maybe some people in there needed a doctor to poke around their ears. Make sure that no one’s eardrums get busted. You crossed the main area, footsteps echoing throughout the empty room before making it to the backdoor of the building, the same one you and an asshole of a friend came through.

There was practically no noise outside that could be truly annoying. The downtown streets busy with the nightlife of Gotham while here in this more isolated area was the breeze and-

Your head turned to the left, eyes widening as a man was thrown, hard, against a wall. A loud cry leaving his back came in contact with said wall. He slid down the brick wall, letting out grunts and breathing deeply, trying to regain balance.

“No, no, shitbag. You’re not passing out on me yet.” The voice carried throughout the alley before a guy took long strides to the other man. Dim lightening aside, you could at least make out his height and this guy could easily punt you across the damn city.

Your stomach dropped and you swallowed back saliva, sweat gathering on the back of your neck. Yet your feet stayed planted on the ground. Keeping you there and forced to watch the whole scene play out.

He leaned down, grabbing the man’s shirt collar and pulling him up then slamming him against the wall. Compared to last time this wasn’t as bad but it did knock what air the man managed to catch out of him. “Keep those eyes peeled. Ears open too. I’m giving your worthless ass a change to live,” He leans forward. The light from the street lamps made the red on his helmet noticeable. “If I ever see or hear that you can’t learn to keep your hands to yourself then you’re going to have to learn the hard way.” He reaches a hand to his side, out of your view, pulling out a pistol and pressing it against the side of the man’s head. “Ever hit your kid again and I won’t be as merciful.”

The man struggles before going still as the gun is pressed to the side of his head. Any retort he had was gone as sweat started to roll down the side of his face before he nodded. “Okay! I-I swear! I won’t-” “Not a won’t. Make it never.” The guy interjected. “NEVER! I’ll never do it again!” The man blurts out without hesitating, voice shaky and filled with dread. “Good. Now,”

He doesn’t waste another second, dragging the man off the wall then shoving him towards the alley exit. “Get your worthless ass out of my sight.” The man stumbled, nearly falling on his face but scrambling to his feet and rushing off.

You still stood there. Next to the backdoor. Eyes wide and mouth gaped open. Not only did you just watch a man get the shit scared out of him but the same guy who tossed said man now turned. He was standing straight, head facing you.

You had made jokes before. Six foot tall man is something you’d swoon over but this? Maybe under different circumstances and not in an alley while he’s still got his gun out. Well, it’s at his side but the point still stands.

There is a silence that fills and for a brief moment you could swear he’s just hesitant now. Unsure of how to address the fact that you were just standing there, staring at him while he did the same. With a shake of his head, a clear sigh - what sounds like one with how scrambled his voice sounds in the helmet - as he puts the pistol back into the holster before turning his body completely to look at you. “How much…” He trails off, thinking before taking a single step forward. “Did you hear?” He took another step.

You watch. Forced to since your whole body is frozen and your feet feel like someone trapped you in cement. Your mouth moves, nothing coming out. In an instant your body betrayed and abandoned you.

His body was tense, shoulders and upper body hunched slightly. It’s like he was getting ready to pounce at you. Whatever god was watching, if any, you were already praying to. Every fiber of your being torn between screaming at your body for being stupid and just standing there like a deer in headlights while the other was already making a last will.

“I’ll ask again,” His voice lowered, he wasn’t aiming to hurt but to simply figure out but that still wasn’t comforting by any means as he took more steps to you. “I-I saw the guy fly against the wall!” You finally managed to get out, mind racing as the world was almost spinning. He stops. About less than half of the way to you and making the alley feel like it’s shrunk around you and is forcing him to be closer.

It’s like he’s thinking on what to say next or do. Maybe he’s not that scary because he just stands there then straightens himself, standing up and arms at his sides, looking at you. “What’s your name.” It wasn’t a question. He wasn’t asking.

Your brain short circuited as you stare at him, bewildered.

It takes you a solid three minutes before you finally blurt out your name next. He simply stares at you before turning around, pulling out a smaller gun from the belt that hangs tightly around his waist, the ends of his jacket moving with his movements. “Go home. Last thing you need is getting into trouble.”

That’s all he said before aiming the gun at a rooftop, a hook and line shooting from it while another line wrapped around his wrist, dragging him up from the ground floor and into the shadows of the buildings.

Second mistake of your night. Staying in the alley then telling the guy, Red Hood, your name.

[pirateprincessjess]

I am going to the Midwest Gaming Classic convention in Milwaukee soon! They have a massive exhibit of pinball machines to look at. Are there any tables I should look for while I am there?

I adore MGC! It’s my favorite Arcade/gaming expo. I’m unfortunately not gonna be there this year, but I do have some great recommendations for games to check out!

Try and Multimorphics booth, and play their P3 pinball machine. The P3 is the most unique pinball machine I’ve ever seen tbh. It has a screen under the playfield and it’s modular so you can install different games into the machine. Their new Princess bride game should be at the show and available to play. I highly recommend it. (Also play final resistance if that have it there)

Secondly, try to play Galactic Tank Force, and Barry O’s BBQ challenge from American pinball. The folks at AP are the only pinball manufacturer in history who have never put out a bad game. Every one of their machines is an absolute banger.

At the Marco Pinball/Stern both play everything. Stern makes great games and they’ve been killing it lately. Godzilla, Foo Fighters, Jaws, and Rush are some of the best games ever made, and they will likely all be there. (I used to work for Marco Pinball, so if you see any Marco employees tell them I say hi!)

If BoF is there then check out their new labyrinth pinball machine. It’s their first game and I’ve never seen one in person so I have no idea if it’s good or not, but a new pinball company is an exciting thing!

There’s also usually a big selection of older pinball machines that at the show which are super fun to play because you don’t see those machines as often these days. The old 90s Sega Godzilla machine and the Lost World Jurassic Park machine are stand outs for me.

And lastly, MGC has a huge area for homebrew games. These are one of a kind machines made by individual people who love pinball. Play all of them. They are u pique and incredible, and you may never see these games again. Playing homebrew games is a really special experience.

[aufdemzauberberg]

when yer head gets twisted and yer mind grows numb when you think you're too old, too young, too smart or too dumb when yer laggin' behind an' losing yer pace in a slow-motion crawl of life's busy race no matter what yer doing if you start givin' up if the wine don't come to the top of yer cup if the wind's got you sideways with one hand holdin' on and the other starts slipping and the feeling is gone and yer train engine fire needs a new spark to catch it and the wood's easy findin' but yer lazy to fetch it and yer sidewalk starts curlin' and the street gets too long and you start walkin' backwards though you know its wrong and lonesome comes up as down goes the day and tomorrow's morning seems so far away and you feel the reins from yer pony are slippin' and yer rope is a-slidin' cause yer hands are a-drippin' and yer sun-decked desert and evergreen valleys turn to broken down slums and trash-can alleys and yer sky cries water and yer drain pipe's a-pourin' and the lightnin's a-flashing and the thunder's a-crashin' and the windows are rattlin' and breakin' and the roof tops a-shakin' and yer whole world's a-slamming and banging and yer minutes of sun turn to hours of storm and to yourself you sometimes say "I never knew it was gonna be this way why didn't they tell me the day I was born" and you start gettin' chills and yer jumping from sweat and you're looking for something you ain't quite found yet and yer knee-deep in the dark water with yer hands in the air and the whole world's a-watching with a window peek stare and yer good gal leaves and she's long gone a-flying and yer heart feels sick like fish when they're frying and yer jackhammer falls from yer hand to yer feet and you need it badly but it lays on the street and yer bell's bangin' loudly but you can't hear its beat and you think yer ears might a been hurt or yer eyes've turned filthy from the sight-blinding dirt and you figured you failed in yesterdays rush when you were faked out an' fooled while facing a four flush and all the time you were holdin' three queens and it's making you mad, it's makin' you mean like in the middle of Life magazine bouncin' around a pinball machine and there's something on yer mind you wanna be saying that somebody someplace oughta be hearin' but it's trapped on yer tongue and sealed in yer head and it bothers you badly when you're laying in bed and no matter how you try you just can't say it and yer scared to yer soul you just might forget it and yer eyes get swimmy from the tears in yer head and yer pillows of feathers turn to blankets of lead and the lion's mouth opens and yer staring at his teeth and his jaws start closing with you underneath and yer flat on your belly with yer hands tied behind and you wish you'd never taken that last detour sign and you say to yourself just what am I doing on this road I'm walkin', on this trail I'm turnin' on this curve I'm hanging on this pathway I'm strolling, in the space I'm taking in this air I'm inhaling am I mixed up too much, am I mixed up too hard why am I walking, where am I running what am I saying, what am I knowing on this guitar I'm playing, on this banjo I'm frailin' on this mandolin I'm strumming, in the song I'm singin' in the tune I'm humming, in the words I'm thinking in the words that I'm writing in this ocean of hours I'm all the time drinkin' who am I helping, what am I breaking what am I giving, what am I taking

but you try with your whole soul best never to think these thoughts and never to let them kind of thoughts gain ground or make yer heart pound but then again you know when they're around just waiting for a chance to slip and drop down cause sometimes you hear 'em when the night times comes creeping and you fear that they might catch you a-sleeping and you jump from yer bed, from yer last chapter of dreamin' and you can't remember for the best of yer thinking if that was you in the dream that was screaming and you know that it's something special you're needin' and you know that there's no drug that'll do for the healin' and no liquor in the land to stop yer brain from bleeding and you need something special yeah, you need something special all right you need a fast flying train on a tornado track to shoot you someplace and shoot you back you need a cyclone wind on a stream engine howler that's been banging and booming and blowing forever that knows yer troubles a hundred times over you need a Greyhound bus that don't bar no race that won't laugh at yer looks your voice or your face and by any number of bets in the book will be rolling long after the bubblegum craze you need something to open up a new door to show you something you seen before but overlooked a hundred times or more you need something to open your eyes you need something to make it known that it's you and no one else that owns that spot that yer standing, that space that you're sitting that the world ain't got you beat that it ain't got you licked it can't get you crazy no matter how many times you might get kicked you need something special all right

you need something special to give you hope but hope's just a word that maybe you said or maybe you heard on some windy corner 'round a wide-angled curve but that's what you need man, and you need it bad and yer trouble is you know it too good cause you look an' you start getting the chills cause you can't find it on a dollar bill and it ain't on Macy's window sill and it ain't on no rich kid's road map and it ain't in no fat kid's fraternity house and it ain't made in no Hollywood wheat germ and it ain't on that dimlit stage with that half-wit comedian on it ranting and raving and taking yer money and you think it's funny no you can't find it neither in no night club or no yacht club and it ain't in the seats of a supper club and sure as hell you're bound to tell that no matter how hard you rub you just ain't a-gonna find it on yer ticket stub no, and it ain't in the rumors people're tellin' you and it ain't in the pimple-lotion people are sellin' you and it ain't in no cardboard-box house or down any movie star's blouse and you can't find it on the golf course and Uncle Remus can't tell you and neither can Santa Claus and it ain't in the cream puff hair-do or cotton candy clothes and it ain't in the dime store dummies or bubblegum goons and it ain't in the marshmallow noises of the chocolate cake voices that come knockin' and tappin' in Christmas wrappin' sayin' ain't I pretty and ain't I cute and look at my skin look at my skin shine, look at my skin glow look at my skin laugh, look at my skin cry when you can't even sense if they got any insides these people so pretty in their ribbons and bows no you'll not now or no other day find it on the doorsteps made out-a paper mache and inside it the people made of molasses that every other day buy a new pair of sunglasses and it ain't in the fifty-star generals and flipped-out phonies who'd turn you in for a tenth of a penny who breathe and burp and bend and crack and before you can count from one to ten do it all over again but this time behind yer back my friend the ones that wheel and deal and whirl and twirl and play games with each other in their sand-box world and you can't find it either in the no-talent fools that run around gallant and make all rules for the ones that got talent and it ain't in the ones that ain't got any talent but think they do and think they're foolin' you the ones who jump on the wagon just for a while cause they know it's in style to get their kicks, get out of it quick and make all kinds of money and chicks and you yell to yourself and you throw down yer hat sayin', "Christ do I gotta be like that ain't there no one here that knows where I'm at ain't there no one here that knows how I feel good God Almighty THAT STUFF AIN'T REAL"

no but that ain't yer game, it ain't yer race you can't hear yer name, you can't see yer face you gotta look some other place and where do you look for this hope that yer seekin' where do you look for this lamp that's a-burnin' where do you look for this oil well gushin' where do you look for this candle that's glowin' where do you look for this hope that you know is there and out there somewhere and your feet can only walk down two kinds of roads your eyes can only look through two kinds of windows your nose can only smell two kinds of hallways you can touch and twist and turn two kinds of doorknobs you can either go to the church of your choice or you can go to brooklyn state hospital you'll find God in the church of your choice you'll find Woody Guthrie in brooklyn state hospital and though it's only my opinion I may be right or wrong you'll find them both in the grand canyon at sundown

[mrmaybank]

Fandom: The black phone

Title: A fresh poison each week

Character(s): Finney Blake. (These four are there for like a second) Gwen, Matt, Matty, and Buzz

Request: No

Genre: Angst

Masterlist

As the weeks go past and no news about Vance you always seemed to find yourself here. In the grab n’ go, standing in front of the pinball machine. 1246 the colorful machine read in the bright, flashing, red letters. It was the same high score from the last time you were and the time before that, till the last time Vance ever stepped foot in the grab n’ go.

You had met Vance three years ago, this was the place where you and you’re brother, Robin would meet up after school. You shared a couple class with Vance and decided why not talk to him. It was the best decision of your life, you didn’t know why and neither did he. But someway somehow you two just clicked.

Then the next thing the two of you know, you’re more then friends way more then friends. It best decision until the night the phone rang, you’re uncle was quick to pick it up. The whole entire he was on the phone he looked towards you with a look. A look that was pure sadness, he hung up the phone and kneeled down in front of you. “Lo siento mucho, (Y/N). El agarrador, tomó tu..,” Your uncle didn’t need to finish because you knew. You knew what he meant, you were pulled from your thoughts by the bell which signaled someone was entering the store.

You turned expecting to see your brother only two find three idiots, who went by the names Matty, Matt, and Buzz. They all three looked at you and Buzz sent a glare your way, you just rolled your eyes and turned to look at the clock in the far corner of the store. You frowned when you noticed Robin was thirty minutes late.

Maybe he went home? You thought to yourself. You shrugged you’re shoulders and left the store. Only to get home and find Robin not there. That just added to mix of emotions that currently swelled throughout you’re body. It was mix of anger, sadness, hatred, and fear, they say you can only feel one emotion at time but at that moment you proved them wrong.

Time Skip

As soon as you saw the police cars rush past you on your walk home, you knew. You immediately knew that they found grabber, so you ran as fast as you could following the cars to the house. You looked expecting to see Vance or Robin but you saw no one, you looked around once more until your (E/C) eyes locked with chocolate colored ones.

Those eyes belonging to none other then Finney Blake, your brother’s best friend. He was sat on the curb next to his little sister, you couldn’t quite remember her name. He stared at you for a couple of seconds before standing up and walking over to where you stood on the other side of the police tap.

No one dared to stop him not even his sister, because at point everyone there knew who you were especially the police. You were (Y/N) Arellano, Robin Arellano’s older brother and Vance Hopper’s best friend, you were a bit more then that but you would never corrected anyone. You pulled the police tap over your head and met Finney half way.

“Finney, wheres…,” You looked at him and didn’t finish because that look on his face said it all. The tears that sprung up in his eyes and the look of dread on his face. You quickly wrapped your arms around him pulling him into a tight hug.

“I’m sorry,” he cried. You just shushed him and ran your hand up and down his back in a soothing manner.

“It’s okay kiddo, it’s okay,” you told him. You felt tears pool into your eyes and slowly slide down your face. Finney looked up at you from where his face was buried in your chest.

“They both really loved a lot,” He said. You stared at him in confusion, sure he would know Robin loved you, you were siblings but Vance? You decided not to question it.

“I know they did, Robin loved you a lot too. You were his best friend,” You told the dirty blonde.

He smiled at you as more tears rolled down his cheeks, he buried his face into your chest once more and began full on sobbing. “Shh, it’s okay. There both in a better place,” You told him.

Time Skip

It had been two weeks and yet as you stared at the names on the grave, reading them to yourself you still didn’t believe it. You looked to your left to where Finney was standing, since the day he killed the grabber the two of you had become incredibly close.

You two never seemed to leave each other’s side. People knew when they saw Finney, you were somewhere near. “Can I tell you something?” Finney asked breaking the silence that surrounded the two of you.

“What is it kid?” You asked.

“Promise you won’t think i’m crazy,” Finney didn’t make eye contact with you just staring at Robin’s grave which sat in front of him.

“Promise,” You assured him.

“When I was in the grabber’s basement there was phone. It wasn’t hooked up to anything but it rang and I answered it. I spoke to the victim, the ones the grabber took before me,” Finney still wouldn’t make eye contact with you but stared at the boy. You didn’t think he was crazy you couldn’t because something kinda of clicked in your mind at that moment.

“They both really loved you a lot,”

Maybe that’s how he knew some way or somehow he talked to Vance from beyond the grave. You heard the stories of Mrs. Blake and how she was some psychic, who saw something so bad she offed herself. You never believed it until this moment, Finney began talking again and you weren’t aware he had stopped.

“First I talked to Bruce Yamada, then Billy Showalter, then Bruce again, then Griffin Stagg, then Vance, and finally Robin. My mom was able to see things and so is Gwen, I never got that until that moment the phone rang and I answered. In the mets of Vance threatening me, he told me to tell you he was sorry.

That he didn’t want it to end like this, that was nicest I think i’ve ever heard him speak,” you felt tears gather in your eyes, “Then Robin told me to tell you he loved you and you were the best brother anyone could wish for,” Finally he looked up at you.

But you weren’t looking at him you were looking at Vance and Robin’s graves. “Mis malditos idiotas,” you laughed, “Even when your both dead, you’re always thinking of me,” you blew a kiss to both of the graves, “I’m gonna miss you two,” you told them.

You felt hand on your shoulder and didn’t need to look to know it was Finney, “Mierda, I loved them both so much,” You told him.

“I did too,” Finney replied. You two just stood there for the next hour or so not saying a word just basking in each other’s presences. 

[viscerax]

heyyy!!! i'd love to see a vance x gn reader where the reader is new to the town and finds out about the grab n go pinball machine, (note that the reader really loves pinball lmao) and happens to get there before vance and his friends do. but once vance gets there he notices how good the reader is at pinball and offers to show them a few tricks hes learned and shit. would love to see how u portray vance in this fic if u get to it!! thank u!!! <33

A New Champion

The cold of the early spring morning was the last thing on your mind as you rushed out the door. You knew the local market was going to open soon, and you wanted to be the first one there.

You had just moved to the small suburban town 4 weeks ago. You saw the pinball machine nestled into the corner the first time you went to the market. You wanted to play, but your father told you to go straight to the market and back.

After that, almost every time you went there, there was some kid using it. The same kid every time. He had curly blonde hair, and a tall muscular figure. Despite never even seeing his face, since his hair always blocked out his features and you were always to intimidated to approach him, you figured he was just as beautiful as John Travolta or some other heartthrob that all the girls were swooning over.

So now, you made it feel like a one-sided game to somehow beat this mystery kid to the Grab N Go. This was the one morning you managed to get out before the store opened. Usually, your dad kept in this early in the morning. "No kid has any business being out this early. All you'll do is get snatched up or catch a cold" he told you. But now was the perfect chance, because he was working a very early shift.

You had made it to the store 5 minutes after it opened. The jingling noise of the coins in your pocket and the beeline you made for the machine made the store clerk kind if nervous. In the past, Vance hadn't been to keen on sharing the machine with anybody.

You had at least 30 minutes of silence in the store before a few customers began making their way in. It was spring break, so there was more kids then usual.

When you first saw the high score on the machine, you just kind of stared at it, unsure of how you were even going to manage to beat it. You were pretty good at pinball, and almost beat the score on your second try.

There were many kids that were surprised to see someone else beside Vance using the pinball machine. At first, two kids had kind of stood at a distance, but you knew they were watching you.

Slowly, a crowd started forming. You tried your best to not get distracted. There were only a few kids in the crowd, maybe 10, but you still felt pressured. If you messed this up, everyone would think you were lame.

Everything was going fine until the bell above the entrance rang, and everyone began to look around and exchange hushed whispers.

"Its Vance!"

What will he do if they beat his score?"

"Dipshits, move!" You heard a loud voice shout from behind you, and you flinched, but kept your eyes focused on the game. The room felt tense, and it felt like time was frozen. You felt the bulky presence of the "pinball champion" as you called him, whos name was apparently Vance, standing behind you. You barely moved, your arms stiff, causing you to almost lose the game, but luckily you pressed the button just in time to hit the ball.

Vance moved to your right, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at you and the game you seemed so focused on.

"You're better then I thought you'd be. Whats your name?" Vance spoke next to you, causing you to jump a little bit.

"U-uh... its Y/n." You mumbled, trying to focus on the game as much as you could.

Vance smirked and watched as you panicked, and he thought for a second that you would lose. But then you pulled some kind of trick he'd never seen someone pull off before, saving the ball just on the very end of the paddle.

You felt Vance shuffle and move to stand behind you. You couldn't bare the awkward tension of being in such close proximity, which got even worse when Vance pulled some trick you couldn't have possibly predicted.

Vance leaned over you, reaching his arms around yours and resting on top of your hands over the buttons.

You blushed, and thanked God Vance couldn't see your face. The feeling of his chest pressed up against your back and his warm breath so close to your ear was enough to make anyone swoon, and you definitely were.

By now, most of the kids were complaining that they weren't going to see a fight go down, and dispersed, so it was just you and Vance standing over the machine.

"You're pretty good, Y/n. I suppose you're worthy of beating my high score, just this once. But don't think this makes you the new champion. I'll always be the pinball champion and ill fight for it to stay that way." Vance smirked and let out a quiet chuckle. "You can just be my right hand man."

You chuckled softly and nodded. "Yes, sir" your tone was laced with a lighthearted mocking tone.

"You've got attitude. I like that." That statement alone made your breath a little shaky. You couldn't tell if he was flirting with you, or just trying to distract you, or both.

You shifted your attention back to the game, as your eyes widened in shock. You were so close to beating the score, but the ball was just about to fall off of the left paddle.

You didn't have enough time to react, but luckily Vance was paying attention because he quickly pressed the button for you. You let out a silent sigh of relief, glancing to look down at his scarred and rough hands resting on top of yours. You felt your heart beating out of your chest, and a small smile played across your lips.

The game went on for another ten minutes. The small silver ball teetered on the tip of a wall, and whatever direction the ball decided to go towards would make or break the game. By now you were quite a few points over Vance's high-score.

You heard some kids giggling and shuffling around, dangerously close to the machine, and suddenly, some kid bumped into the side of the machine, causing the ball to fall down the wrong side and the game ended.

"Fuck!" You mumbled, glancing over to see who had done it.

Before you could even react, Vance moved over to the kid and shoved him. He pulled his fist back, but you quickly rushed over, grabbing his arm.

Vance looked back at you, and you just shook your head. "Its not that big of a deal, Vance. Its okay." You mumbled, trying your best to de-escalate the situation.

Much to yours and the kids surprise, Vance took a step back, grabbing your hand and grumbling, shooting one last glare at the kid. "Come on, let's get out of here." He huffed and stomped out of the Grab N Go, dragging you along, stumbling behind him.

Once the two of you were down the block from the Grab N Go, you noticed Vance seemed to calm down a bit.

Vance stopped walking and took a few deep breaths, turning to face you. "Whyd you stop me? He messed up our fucking game!" He grunted, hands balled up in fists at his sides.

"It wasn't worth getting in trouble for. Someone would have called the police or something." You looked around nervously. Was he upset at you for keeping him from beating up the kid?

"Those pussy police wouldn't do anything. They just drop me off at home or something." He rolled his eyes, taking a few steps and sitting down on a patch of grass. You sighed and walked over, sitting down next to him.

"Either way, you probably would've gotten hurt. And my dad would kill me if he knew I was that close to a fight." You smiled and let out a soft chuckle. Vance looked over at you, and for a second, you thought that you saw some resemblance of a smile. "Either way, its just not worth it."

Vance sighed, looking up at the sky. "Still, he totally deserved it. That asshole needs to watch where he's going."

You let out a haughty laugh and looked over at Vance, who noticed your movement and turned to look at you.

You felt like you had broke down past the walls he built up. Even though you had only known him for a few minutes, you felt more connected to him then any of the other people you had met since you moved.

You looked down and felt Vances fingers brush over your hand. You blushed and froze up for a moment. Vance looked up, then back to your hands, before starting to pull his hand away.

You quickly reached out and grabbed his hand, giving him a soft smile, trying to ignore the bright red shade that spread across your face.

Vance smirked and the two of you sat there, simply enjoying eachothers presence.

Sure being Pinball champion sounded nice, but maybe being his right hand man wasn't that bad.

[keeshya6]

Last Chance

Chapter 2 - The Last Time You Gave Out Your Number

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Chapter 1 Chaper 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Rating: M (Eventually will be E. 18+ only, minors dni!)

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: Our story continues with Reader processing the shocking news that Tommy has given her, and Tommy helping to plan the next step.

Content Warnings and general info: Not much to warn of here. Flirting again and alcohol consumption. I think that's it.

This chapter's a little longer. And I know I'm zooming along a bit here, but please don't always expect quick chapters. I write as the creative bug hits. Sometimes it's faster and sometimes it's slow.

Thank you so much to all of you for reading! And thank you for the lovely, supportive comments. You make my day!

Also available on Ao3

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Chapter 2 - The Last Time You Gave Out Your Number

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You know you're staring, wide eyed, lips barely parted with your jaw dropping a little. Lines crease your forehead as your eyebrows lift and knit together, your breaths shallow.

"Wh-wha…?"

The beer in its amber-colored bottle sloshes in your hands as they start trembling and you look down at the sound. Then, you nearly jump out of your skin when Tommy reaches out to take it from you and sets it on the bartop, his other hand coming to rest on your forearm, trying to sooth you. 

"Hey… hey, Eeps. It's alright. Take some deep breaths, okay?"

You clench your eyes closed, nodding and trying to do as he suggests. 

In through your nose. Count to four. Out through your mouth. Count to four. Repeat.

Repeat. Repeat. 

His words keep echoing, ricocheting around in your skull like the ball in a pinball machine. 

Joel's alive, Eeps. Joel's alive. Alive.

Your hammering heart is refusing to calm down and you finally decide to just let it continue its impromptu tap dance within your chest. Lifting your eyes back up to Tommy's concerned face, you swallow against the cotton that's taken up occupancy in your mouth before you manage to speak. 

"You're serious?"

The side of his mouth twists up slightly with a somewhat indignant expression. "You really think I'd tease you about something like that?"

It only takes you a brief moment of thought to shake your head 'no'.

Tommy's big hand pats your arm gently as he nods, and then he steps back to settle onto his stool again. Picking up his glass, he takes a swig of the whiskey before a wry smile touches his lips. "Honestly…he'll probably think I'm making some cruel joke, too, when I tell him."

Your teeth sink in hard on your lower lip, until the tender skin turns white and aches when you release it a moment later.  "He's here?" you whisper.

Tommy nods. "Yeah."  Then he pauses and cringes. "Well, actually, no. Not at the moment. He's out with a patrol group for a few days."

You're not sure if the breath that rushes out of your lungs is a sigh of disappointment or relief. Because you're not sure how you feel yet.

Everything in your head, everything you believed, just changed so suddenly.

You need time to process. 

Turning on your own stool to face the bar, your elbows rest on the bartop and your head drops into your hands, fingers buried in your hair. You close your eyes, trying once again to calm the staccato beat of your heart with a few more slow breaths. 

You can feel Tommy watching you for a few moments, before he starts talking again. Despite your near panic attack, you smile tightly. You remember that he used to do this when he got nervous about something: start yammering a bit, like the silence had to be filled.  

But his voice is nice –though not as nice as Joel's– so you try to use the sound of it to help ground you. 

"They should be back in a few days. He's always a bit…temperamental after a longer patrol. So, it'll probably be best not to spring the news on him too suddenly." There's a pause and you can hear Tommy take another swallow of his drink, then he's speaking again, quickly. "Now, I'm not sayin' we don't tell him. Just that we probably shouldn't show up with you at the door, ya know? Like some ghost outta the past." He gives a little chuckle at that and then sounds serious again as he continues. "Let me go talk to him. Break the news, gentle. Give him time to adjust to the idea." 

You're nodding as you listen. Your heart has finally slowed down, but soon the sensation is replaced by a vice around your chest. You turn your head a little, to look over at Tommy out of the corner of your eye. 

"You know, he might not want to see me at all, Tommy."

He's still for a moment. Then his head gives a real slow turn and he's looking at you again… with an expression suggesting you've grown a second head. 

A shrug lifts your shoulders as your temple rests against your clasped hands.

"You do remember that I'm the one that left, right?"

Tommy makes a soft scoffing noise, setting his now empty glass down across the bartop to wait for a refill. "Only 'cause you both agreed it was best…and possibly temporary. Not like you could've known the whole fuckin' world was gonna end."

Your shrug is noncommittal. "Yeah… I guess. But still," you say, pausing to lick your dry lips, "twenty years is a long time."

Nodding, Tommy reaches over to give your shoulder a gentle squeeze. "I know, Eeps, but I still think he'll be glad to see you.  Hell, when you left it was me that he was mad at."

Your brows pinch together again in a confused scowl at him. 

He smiles at you, shrugging. "Kept telling me that I should have convinced him what a dumbass he was being, before he ever let ya get on that plane."

You snort at him with a scoff. "'Before he let me'?"

His smile doesn't falter. "Oh, you know what I mean."

A faint chuckle passes your lips and you smirk, giving a rueful shake of your head. Then you finally pick up your beer again to take a sip, just as the bartender comes over to refill Tommy's glass. 

You're both quiet for a little while then, each lost in thought and nursing your drinks. 

You tilt your head at him after a bit "What made him think you could have convinced him? You Miller boys aren't exactly known for a lack of stubbornness."

The exaggerated face he makes at you suggests that you've hurt his feelings, his hand pressing over his heart. You just laugh in return and roll your eyes. He grins before taking a swig of his drink. 

"Well, I did help convince his stubborn ass to finally ask you out in the first place, after all."

You smirk at that, conceding his point with a faint shrug and a nod. 

—

It had been nearly a month since the party celebrating the completion of the hotel, and you kept trying to forget about Joel Miller and his warm eyes.

That was turning out to be difficult. 

After all, you had spent most of that evening within arms reach of him. 

The two of you had been chatting for about twenty minutes when you were joined by his brother, and then the three other junior level architects, like yourself, from your firm. The party was proving to be a bit too boring and lofty for those of you under fifty and a certain tax bracket. So, after lingering a little while longer (as a show of support), all of you ducked out and found your way down the road a few blocks to a pool hall and bar.

What followed was hours of games of pool that made no logical sense within any standard rules. That, and a lot of alcohol, and absolutely shameless flirting by most of your group. Tommy even disappeared at one point with Colleen, one of your sweeter co-workers. 

The night had ended long after midnight, with you tucking a cocktail napkin with your number scrawled on it into Joel's shirt pocket as he leaned down to give a sweetly chaste kiss to your cheek. His thin mustache and patchy beard had tickled your skin and you had beamed up at him, even giving him a final, flirty wink once he closed the taxi door. His grin as the car pulled away showed off that adorable dimple, and you settled back in the seat for the ride, butterflies dancing in your belly.

Then more than three weeks had passed and you still hadn't heard from him. 

You were disappointed, to say the least. You really hadn't thought the chemistry between you had been one sided. Maybe you were wrong though. Maybe a more sober Joel had decided you weren't quite right for him. 

So, you tried to forget about the sexy and slightly awkward contractor. 

The latest design project at work helped with that as you settled in to assist a senior architect with a new contract. You were planning out house designs for a new residential area on the east end of the city that was going to be developed soon. The client, a well-known developer in southern Texas, wanted twenty house designs for their customers to choose from. The lead architect had given you the assignment of designing five of them.

It was your largest project to date and you dove into it with enthusiasm. House design was your passion, far beyond office buildings, warehouses, retail locations, and skyscrapers. Houses were more personal to you. They were where people made their homes and lived out their lives, building their families and facing the troubles of the world together along the way.

You loved being an indirect part of that.

By mid-May, a month after the hotel party, you were so engrossed in reading a report from the new project that you almost didn’t see Joel Miller as you walked right past where he was standing inside the lobby of your firm’s building. Your heels clicked over the tiled floor until you stopped short several steps past him. Looking up from the paper in your hand and scowling softly, you stared towards the exit for a moment.

Was that…?

You slowly turned on your toes to look back and your brows arched up sharply at finding him standing a few feet away, a sheepish smile tugging up one side of his mouth as he met your eyes.

He was just as frustratingly good-looking as you remembered. His dark, chestnut brown hair was a little longer now, just long enough to be wavy and have a carefree, tousled look. His beard was a little thinner, like he’d shaved more recently than he had on the night you’d met. Those dark eyes were as warm as you remembered though. Hell, maybe even more. 

And were his shoulders really that broad a month ago or was his simple rust-red, button-up shirt a size too small?

Different emotions danced around in your head and chest for a moment. Excitement. Confusion. Annoyance. Hope. Anger. Attraction. It took a few breaths for your body and mind to settle on two to focus on: confusion and a touch of annoyance.

Your brows peaked together and your mouth opened and closed a couple of times as you tried to decide on what to say. Finally, you heaved a sigh and dropped your hand down to your side from where it had been frozen, holding up the report you had been reading.

“Joel?”

Well, duh…

He shrugged those stupidly broad shoulders and nodded, that sheepish look still plastered on his stupidly handsome face. “Yeah...”

For a breath you just stared at him and then you huffed a laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “Um… Hi,” you said uncertainly, the end of the word lilting up like a question. “What are you doi-?” Your words caught in your throat as your brows lifted upward again. “You brought me…flowers?”

There’s a hint of redness that crawls up his neck and touches at his ears, and you can see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows hard. He lifts the small bouquet of white and pink lilies up in one hand as the other rubs at the back of his neck. “Yeah,” he said again, his brows knitting together. “Sarah…my kid…she said I owed you at least that, if I hoped for you to talk to me at all after so long; much less say ‘yes’ if I ask you out.”

You pursed your lips together at that, nostrils flaring as you took a deep breath against the butterflies that leapt into fluttering action in your stomach. Silence hovered in the air for a few seconds as you debated over how to respond.

Eventually, your shoulders relaxed a little and you sighed softly, focusing on the flowers for a moment. They really were pretty. Lilies were your favorite flower,  after all. You couldn’t remember if you had told him that or not. Maybe he had just made a lucky guess?

Regarding him with a softer, but still guarded, expression, a little smirk tugged up the corner of your mouth. “Smart kid.”

His hesitant smile widened slightly and he nodded. “She really is.” With a cautiously hopeful look, he held the bouquet out to you.  

This time you hesitated for a moment, breath stilling in your lungs. Then you gave a soft laugh and a resigned sigh, reaching out to accept the peace offering and jerking your head towards the exit.

Leading the way outside, heels clicking again, you brought the flowers up to your nose and inhaled their rich aroma for a moment with your eyes fluttering closed. Then, as you heard Joel’s heavy work boots fall into step next to you, you glanced over at him.

“I’m parked a block and a half away,” you said, pointing down the street.  “You have until I reach my car.”

Joel swallowed hard again as he stuffed his big hands into his jean pockets and nodded. “Okay. Um…’m sorry,” he started, and then gave an embarrassed shrug. “I wanted to call, but… I lost your number.”

Your head turns back to him sharply and you give him an incredulous look. 

He chuffed a little with another embarrassed shrug. “Hand to God. I forgot to take it outta my pocket before Sarah started a load of laundry a couple days later. It turned into… mush.” His lip and mustache curled upward a little on one side as he said the last word with distaste.

Your lips pressed into a line as you looked straight ahead again, trying not to giggle. Of any excuse that he could have given you, that was not one that had made your list of guesses.

Joel’s faint laugh was a low rumble beside you and it was gone before it really started. Still, it sent a spark of interest lacing up your spine from your belly and you swallowed thickly.

“And I’m sorry I was… too embarrassed and stubborn to try coming by your office sooner,” he continued. 

You stopped short, partially because you had reached the corner of the block and had to wait for the walk sign to light up, and partially because you wanted to look up at him again without tripping.

“So, what changed your mind?” you asked, arching a slender eyebrow.

Joel cleared his throat as he looked down at his boots for a moment and then back up at you. “Well, Sarah and Tommy," he admitted. "I was told… I guess I haven't been the best company since then. 'Grumpy old man,' I believe, were my daughter's exact words."

A snorted laugh escaped you and you quickly turned to cross the street as the walk sign lit up.

He trotted after you and then fell into step beside you again. "Yeah…" he said, somehow drawing the word out into multiple syllables and sounding a little amused, too. "So, I had to at least try to fix it."

You fell silent then, licking your lips in thought before you sniffed at the flowers again.

To his credit, Joel fell silent too and didn't try to push for an answer. 

Finally, you stopped at your car and, after tucking papers under your arm, you glanced at him before you focused on digging your keys out of your purse. "Well, I'm busy this weekend…"

Out of the corner of your eye you could see his spine straighten, even as his shoulders dropped a little in disappointment.  

You let that linger for a moment until you found your keys and opened the car door. Then, you paused and lifted your eyes up to his face, finding him watching you with a serious expression.

After a second, you let a smirk pull up at your mouth and you arched an eyebrow at him again. "...but if I give you my number one more time, and my address, will you pick me up next Friday night? Say eight o'clock?"

There's a moment of uncertainty, and then a smile appeared on his face. "I swear, I'll be there with bells on, Darlin'."

A snicker passed your lips as those butterflies started up again in your stomach. Then you gave him a playful glare, pointing a finger at his face over the door of your car. "Better make it good, Miller."

That smile turned into a full grin with a sharp nod. 

"Yes, ma'am."