#now chuck crew where you at

[gutsby]

Who’s Your Daddy?

Pairing: Stepdad!Joel x Reader

Summary: You get stuck in the washing machine. Thankfully, your stepdad is around to help you out.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected piv. Deadbeat-Perv-Peepaw LOVES corny porn tropes and women over half his age. Stepcest & dubcon technically bc Reader’s locked inside an appliance, but she’s into it (getting fucked, not stuck). One (1) kick in the dick. Spanking. Brat-taming. Choking. Daddy issues. Size kink. Praise kink. Infidelity. Creampie.

Note: Saw this post by @ovaryacted and started BARKING. For my Old Man lovers/daddy issues crew, this one’s for you.

Word count: 8.3k

It was the closest thing to porn you’d ever done before.

Still, you weren’t quite ready to call it that.

And why should you? Financial straits were no anomaly to a girl your age, especially in this economy, and almost everyone you knew had a side gig of some kind. It just so happened that your job required slightly skimpier attire. And a webcam. And some very special…accessories that would likely send your grandmother into cardiac arrest if she ever took a peek inside your bottom dresser drawer.

Okay, it was definitely porn.

But you never showed your face, so it didn’t really count as the same kind of stuff that your family condemned.

You scampered out of your room the second you heard the front door to the house slam closed all the same. Arms laden with G-strings, stockings, satin bralettes, lace and tulle bodysuits of almost every style imaginable, you ran a quick, perilous path to the living room window and made sure to keep your head ducked low as you did. You peered out through the gap in the curtains and had to squint hard to see anything in the midafternoon sun.

Then you saw it and felt instant relief—they were leaving.

Your grandma for one, your mother for second, and wherever the latter was headed, you knew her shadow would be soon to follow. You saw a thick plume of smoke outside and surmised that Joel was somewhere around the other side of the SUV, smoking and droning on about how he was perfectly fi-i-i-ne to drive, don’t be like that.

By ‘like that’ he meant sensible. And by ‘perfectly fine’ he meant two Miller Lites shy of completely shitfaced. You could already imagine the wry smile on your mother’s lips as she tried prying the keys from his hands. Your stepdad would probably plant a wet, sloppy kiss on her cheek to win a ‘yes’ in return—and when she shyly reminded him that he couldn’t afford to get another DUI, he’d get pissed and yank them out of her fist anyway.

Fucking loser.

Fucking triple-the-legal-limit dumbass motherfucker.

It didn’t bother you as much today because you knew they were only driving a couple blocks away to get to the farmer’s market, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t hope he’d get caught. Again. Maybe blow a 0.25 this time and land his old, ungrateful, law-breaking ass in Travis County Jail, where his little brother Tommy was likely keeping a cell bench warm for him, per usual.

At any rate, you didn’t have time to be fantasizing now. It was your turn to embody some guy’s grossest wet dreams for the next two to three hours. Stripping away layer after layer of your latest, tightest ‘costume’ while catering to whatever requests happened to float in your inbox, you knew you’d be up to your eyeballs in work. Though almost routine by now, you had to hurry up.

If you could just get the rest of this ridiculous gunk out of your clothing, you’d be all good to go for the job.

TRMAN22: Pour honey on your tits in the next vid???

TRMAN22: Milk too. All over you.

Looking back, you probably shouldn’t have obliged that request. Now you were facing the consequences—forced to throw all your clothes in the washing machine because the milk and honey you’d dumped on yourself for that video had gotten everywhere, and then swiftly congealed while wasting away in a pile of laundry for over a week.

The whole heap smelled rancid. Still felt sticky, too. Presently, you chucked each one inside the washing machine while holding your breath, and as soon as the last was discarded, you sniffed the shirt you had on.

Tolerable. With the rest of your stuff in the wash, you hoped to get at least one request off the checklist:

TRMAN22: Bet you’d look sexy in a schoolgirl outfit!!

TRMAN22: Why don’t you try one on for me?

It was gag-worthy and gross. Slightly alarming for a man who was more than likely twice your age and old enough to remember Watergate, but you agreed to play along. Your old school uniform was, after all, the only clean clothes you had left, and ‘TRMAN22’ was, unfortunately, your top subscriber. He’d paid $300 for this video alone.

TRMAN22: Wear some NEON pink panties for me too ;)

You squatted in front of the washing machine and stuck a hand inside. You sifted around, furrowing your brows.

The brightest undies you owned were in there, soiled, but you figured you could get away with one gross article of clothing, all things considered. You reached a little further and continued to dig. When you couldn’t find it by feel alone, you peered inside the circular, metallic cavern of the washing machine and craned your neck.

Not here…not here…not—

You tilted forward, venturing a closer look with your head, then shoulders, pushing into the machine.

—here, not here, not—

“EW!” you shrieked.

In your search, you’d inadvertently brushed up against a mildewed piece of clothing that had gotten wedged between the grooves of the washing machine’s interior.

A pair of boxers, it seemed.

You recoiled as soon as your fingers grazed the wet and smelly thing. Your skull went crack against the low-sloped ceiling of the appliance, and a jolt of pain was quick to course through you at the contact. You groaned.

Of course Joel had forgotten some old, cum-stained scrap of fabric out of his last load. Always leaving his shit around for you or your mom to pick up like he owned the place. And here you went, again, angrily plugging your nose and pulling as hard as you could on the shorts to get them free from the washing machine. You hardly thought twice, just made a face and then yanked on it.

The boxers wouldn’t budge.

You tugged even harder. The fabric stayed put.

Something akin to a grunt and a whimper, only far more pathetic, slipped out of your mouth, and you slapped the half-hollow steel wall in frustration. Surrounded as you were—fully encased in metal—the sound just echoed.

“Fucking…CUNT.”

You weren’t sure if you were talking to the shorts, the machine, or Joel Miller in the abstract. Or maybe all three. You just hated the thought of washing your lingerie with your stepdad’s skivvies, and no amount of rational thought or practical reasoning could hold you back now.

The tip of your index finger sank deep beneath the same ridge of the wall where the boxers had gotten stuck. You curled it inward, trying to loosen the material up a little. You wriggled your knuckle even further. And just when you managed to get a hold of the cusp of the tangled fabric—just when it seemed the green plaid cluster was about to give way—you heard a low pop. You felt it, too.

Shortly, your finger was pinched inside the deep, blunt valley of steel that had similarly snagged Joel’s boxers. It seemed you’d pushed the tip of your finger so far that you were caught straight down to the second knuckle—trapped between two grooves of unforgiving alloy inside the washing machine tub with no clear means of escape.

You jerked your arm back, panicked. When the metal sank its teeth even deeper, you didn’t stop. Completely heedless of the pain, you operated on impulse and by the feeling of needing to get the fuck out of that little space, quickly, and instead yanked your hand back even harder.

To your horror, your finger was stuck.

“FUCK!”

You stared down at the poor digit, only half-visible inside the wall at this point, then glanced down at the heap of sweaty, sticky, slutty pieces of clothing that were presently strewn about you, and felt an even deeper stab of dread. Stuck inside your family’s washing machine with every bit of damning evidence one could hope to have—and wearing your old school uniform to boot—you realized at once you were fucked if you didn’t get out.

You slammed your palm against the nearest wall once more, shaking your other wrist like an unruly child.

“FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK!”

You weren’t good at solving problems. In point of fact, you sucked at all things prudent resolution-related and regularly made it a habit to capitulate whenever you sensed loss inevitable. You were a little like your mother in that way, quick to give in to life’s uglier challenges. The only way you could conceivably claim to be stronger, the only place you always had the strength to say ‘no’ was—

“Aw, shit.”

—Joel.

Your throat tightened as soon as you heard the voice. Your eyes went wide, and the rest of you went numb.

Bent at the waist and kneeling with half your body inside the washing machine, you remained there, motionless. Back arched and ass out. Thanks to the way you’d rolled your old plaid skirt, the fabric covered almost zero cheek.

Someone behind you cleared their throat. Then coughed.

And coughed again, again, and again. Evidently trying to clear the smoke out of his lungs and the surprise from his eyes as he drank in your sight from the doorway.

“What in the—wh—th—” You could hear Joel wheeze, beating his chest with his fist, “What— in— the hell?!”

“Help me,” you hissed.

You weren’t sure why you chose that as your go-to. It just sounded like the right thing to say, and frankly, you weren’t sure how else to distract from the fact Joel was probably gawking at your ass as he coughed up a lung.

“The fuck do you mean ‘help’?! What are you doing?”

The coughing subsided, if only momentarily. You tried pulling back on your finger again to get out, but couldn’t.

“I-I’m…I was just…” you stammered, heart racing.

You heard the tread of heavy footfalls. You felt them.

“Just—trying…” you ventured again, suddenly at a loss for words and breath alike as you felt a presence draw in.

You could smell him.

That realization alone made you want to stop taking in air altogether. It happened out of instinct, really—feeling the shift of two huge boots settle behind your feet and then flinching inward, further inside the metal tub for…safety? A pang of abject humiliation? You were far past the point of civility with the man, caring what he thought, or fearing for your modesty in a position like this, but something about the proximity now just made you itch.

You wished your finger wasn’t jammed inside this appliance so you could give that feeling relief, somehow.

At length, Joel’s voice dragged you back:

“What’s stuck?”

Too calm. A second passed. Then he added, more stern,

“This some fuckin’ joke’a yours or somethin’?”

“No!”

“Then what—”

“My finger. My finger’s stuck.”

You tried to crane your neck to see behind you, but all your eyes had to feast upon was denim. Bluish-grey stonewashed denim, faded with years of use. Joel stood back for a second, as if considering what to do, and then you saw two hands descend to brace themselves against his knees. He bent at the waist to get a better look below.

When his eyes locked with yours, you got the same twist in your gut as you’d felt before, only sharper. Shameful.

The look on Joel’s face was abnormally bright.

“And how on earth did that happen, dumbass?”

Your shame morphed into chagrin in a blink, seeing the ghost of a smile bleed into your stepdad’s features.

“‘Cause of you, leaving your shit in here!” you snapped. Your chin jerked toward the green fabric, “I was just trying to get your boxers unstuck—and my finger…”

Your finger was kind of fucked.

Joel cast a look inside at the source of your frustration. He extended his left arm and reached over your torso, and as he did, you felt the slightest, albeit solid, sort of warmth press in. The man let out a low groan of exertion—likely at the strain the movements placed on his joints.

The warmth got worse. You weren’t sure where it started.

Vaguely, you were aware of Joel’s thumb pressing into your hand. Gliding down your finger, stroking across the spot where your knuckle had gotten caught, he circled over it, slowly, and made another sound in his throat.

“Well that ain’t…good.” Not one to mince words.

By now, your whole body was on fire. You barely had the strength to keep kneeling, much less speak to the man thumbing your hand and pressing his heat so close—

“Just get me out!” you shrieked.

You heard your mother’s voice in that. A shrill, impatient lilt in her speech that came out, invariably, around Joel. Normally, he would have done something to deserve it. But today, with his hand splayed over yours and his breaths as calm and even-keeled as he could hope to have them while he tried to help, he was blameless.

Evidently, he heard a trace of your mother too, because you heard him laugh. You felt the reverberations of his amusement travel up from his belly all the way to his lips.

“Cool your pits, kid.”

For that, you would’ve loved nothing more than to reach back with your free hand and hit him in the balls. But, as it was, this man was your only hope for escape, and he was being tolerably polite, anyway. He pinched your finger between the tips of two of his and gave it a tug.

“Okay, lemme just—” Joel started.

“Why are you home, anyway?”

The question came out more clipped than you meant it.

“Why are you dressed like that?” Joel countered evenly.

“I asked you first.”

“I asked you second.”

You reckoned he could probably feel you roll your eyes, even if he wasn’t able to see you do it right now. He waited another moment, then leaned back on his haunches and withdrew his arm from the tub.

“Mama don’t like me drinkin’ and drivin’, you know that.”

With that, the warmth was gone. Joel retreated.

“Like that’s ever stopped you before.”

You heard him exhale a little harder through his nose. When he’d steadied himself against the washing machine, gave his knees another second to prepare for getting up again, you could feel his eyes back on you. Maybe he lingered longer than his legs really needed.

Maybe if he hadn’t stayed crouched like that, he wouldn’t have gotten the chance to give your surroundings a second look. He wouldn’t have stopped to watch the rate of your breaths pick up or the way your skin startle to bristle with some strange, unknown sensation. He certainly wouldn’t have felt for himself the fever leaking out from the base of your spine right then.

Today just wasn’t the day for keeping secrets, it seemed.

“And what’s this?” You could feel Joel lean back in.

He was looking again. Peering inside. Steadying his weight with the edge of the washing machine gripped in one hand, while the other snaked its way back inside.

You’d already squeezed your eyes shut by the time Joel got a hold of something. You didn’t know what it was.

But it became painfully clear that it wasn’t just one ‘thing’ that had grabbed his attention at all, but rather a series of items that his hands were just now getting to explore. You didn’t have to see his broad and tan, callus-streaked fingers to feel them roaming over your clothes.

Gross.

Gross.

“Gross,” Joel agreed, as if he’d read your mind. Grinning.

If you thought the embarrassment was bad before, you really only knew a fraction of what humiliation could be. Your finger throbbed along with the pulse in your skull.

Your mother’s husband whistled and lifted something.

“Darlin’, this is just…disgusting.”

You winced. You tried not to pry an eye open, to steal a covert look through the frame of your lashes in that dim and crowded spot, but the inducement was too great—Joel was dangling one of your lime green G-strings like it was a fish he’d just caught out on the lake. Boasting it.

Doting, almost.

“Well I’ll be—”

“Will you quit?!” you snapped.

You grabbed the thing out of his hand and threw it aside.

“Can you be serious? For one fucking secon—”

“Oh, I’m bein’ serious, sweetie,” Joel cut in. Cool as ever, “Serious as the business end of a .45, I swear.”

He paused. Then he reached for a white nylon bustier, drenched in a layer of honey that was as hard as a rock.

“Do you always keep your little…skank tanks so filthy?”

That was it. You kicked your heel back—and up—and made a pass to hit your stepdad square in the balls.

Your aim wasn’t the best it’s ever been, seeing that half your body was trapped inside a home appliance at the moment, but what your jab lacked in accuracy, it made up for in force: your foot plunged into the seam of Joel’s jeans full throttle. From the way the back of your heel plowed into his crotch, and the sound that clawed out of his throat the same instant, you reckoned you did okay.

What you weren’t expecting was a smack in return.

An answer in kind—delivered by the palm of Joel’s hand.

A taut, thoughtless THWACK on the swell of your ass.

Your mouth fell open. Your body barely had the chance to recoil when, shortly, another blow landed on your cheek.

Joel spanked you.

Spanked you.

“Fuckin’ brat,” he spat. His palm had slid up with the weight of his last slap, and now his fingers were clenched in a fist in the back of your skirt. You couldn’t see it, but you could feel him gripping fabric. It was firm.

He was firm—unrelenting in his hold.

Kneeling behind you, yanking back a handful of tartan skirt like it was nothing, then sidling up behind you.

And just when your attention was drawn to some other firm thing, it was shortly diverted by another sensation.

“JOEL!” you shrieked as he gave you another spanking.

The bare skin of your cheeks was on fire. Joel hit hard. Just when you feared you might legitimately whimper with the sting of that last blow, and while the imprint of his palm was still fresh, you felt it move again. Lower.

“Joel.”

That came out more like a whine than a cry of protest. And how could you, now, when he was soothing the raw bite of his hand with a touch that was kneading the skin?

Working the soft, supple flesh of your ass in his hand like he’d never dream of being anything else but gentle to it.

“Good?” Joel said.

Your head flinched to nod, but your brain thought better.

It did feel good. So good, in fact, that your eyelids were starting to droop just a bit and your back was subtly arching into the touch, but those were only instincts. Stupid, useless, brain-rotted reflexes born of years of paternal neglect and replete indifference, the likes of which could bring a grown man to his knees, begging—

“Please.”

But the entreaty was your own, and the voice that spoke it was hoarse. Your belly sank into the circular aperture of the washing machine, and you could feel your ribs scraping close to metal. Nevertheless, you didn’t mind. That ditzy lizard brain of yours was starved for physical touch, and who were you to deny her at a time like this?

No, not when Joel was squeezing like that.

Groping was the more appropriate word for it, really. Notwithstanding the decades of sexual experience that no doubt preceded the man that was standing before you—behind you—today, Joel was unduly coarse. His broad, weathered hand made as if to cool its former sting, but the motions themselves were jerky. Desperate.

He needed this worse than you, the fucking pervert.

Just when the realization had begun to settle over your mind and your legs were getting to feel a little less like jelly, knowing you weren’t the only weak one here, Joel’s palm slowed down. He pressed the heel of it into your flesh as if to force himself to stop, then he took a breath.

“Now use your words.”

“But—” you sputtered.

“I said,” Joel resumed, and you could sense it was through gritted teeth. His movements came to a halt.

“We use our words when we want somethin’, hear?”

It was the first you’d heard Joel attempt to enforce anything close to discipline with you in your life.

That had to warrant a little defiance, no doubt.

Under your breath, quiet: “So ‘we’ includes ‘you,’ too?”

Beneath that one, seemingly innocuous question was lurking another, and both of you knew it: Remember that time you put a fist through the kitchen wall? Was that a good example of what it means to ‘use words,’ Joel? Whether it was adequate provocation or not, you could sense what was coming next before you’d even finished. When the spank landed on your right cheek so loud that it echoed, you didn’t flinch. You did snag your lip between your teeth to keep a sound from spilling out.

“A dad makes rules. Ain’t his to follow,” Joel growled.

You blinked and bit down harder. Watched the broad, amorphous shape of the man’s reflection shift along the back metallic wall in hues of grey and blue and wished you had the strength to turn around and face him then.

“You aren’t my dad.”

“Said ‘a’ dad, didn’t I?”

“You’re not that either.”

Heat was rising to your cheeks again, this time for different reasons. For a cause you were far better acquainted with to date—annoyance at Joel.

“So that means I’m—”

“Nothing. You’re nothing to me,” you finished, tone wry.

Nothing to anyone, you wanted to add. Not with a shiny gold band latched onto your left hand to tell the world that you’re married to my mother, a pack of smokes tucked away in the jeans she washes every week, or a couple years spent under the same roof as me. Nothing.

Your teeth clamped back down—and almost sank clean through your lower lip this time—when next you felt a touch at the plush, covered mound that was normally shielded between your legs. The spot that was hardly ever tilted up in a position like this, exposed to the air and a man’s hungry gaze, now invaded by the press of a single thing: a warm and soft middle finger at your core.

Joel brushed the tip of it against your entrance, through your panties, and sucked a breath through his teeth when both of you felt a tiny squelch at the pressure.

He pressed harder, and the wetness only spread.

You didn’t have to be in Joel’s position to know what he was seeing, but the feeling from his finger overpowered any better sense to speak—or tell him to stop. He traced his slow, cruel circles against your warmth and moved it up to where he knew he’d find your bud, and when you whimpered, he simply added his index to the mix. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind you were leaking heat at that point. You could feel it seeping beneath his touch.

“Nothin’, huh?” Joel breathed, voice low. Your arousal made a sickening hiss beneath his fingers as he rubbed you even harder, “This feel like nothin’ to you, honey?”

You couldn’t speak. He knew you weren’t capable of it.

“‘Cause this sure don’t feel like nothin’ to me.”

Wet and tacky beneath his touch, your warmth supplied the answer that your mouth couldn’t form. It came out in more of a tap, tap, tap, punctuated by breaths that were toiling in earnest not to turn into moans too soon. But, as hulking and clumsy as his hands had once shown themselves to be, the old man knew where to put them, at least. He made circles on your clit with practiced ease.

“You can try lyin’ to me, but she can’t.”

He was right. ‘She’ was a traitor.

You could deny it all you wanted, but the proof was there.

Indeed, she was crying. Aching. Bleeding with desire. Throbbing beneath the pads of Joel’s fingertips and growing only more desperate as he increased the speed of his touch. When he notched the drenched cotton to the side, you had to grit your teeth to keep in a whimper.

Joel whistled.

“See? Seems like she likes me just fine right here.”

Your jaw stayed wired shut with the weight of your own humiliation. Instead of answering aloud, you hummed. Made a sound low and soft in your throat like, ‘Uh-hmm’ and tilted your hips, as if you didn’t know how else to ask. Joel couldn’t see inside the washing machine, but he must’ve felt the gesture, because he greeted it with a motion of his own: he chuckled, and he puckered his lips.

And when you felt the warmth of his spit hit you between your folds, your shame should’ve tripled. Should’ve made you flinch away from his touch and tell him that was so fucking gross, Joel, stop, but then he smeared it up your slit. He pressed in and mixed it with the rest of your arousal; any reproach died on your tongue in an instant.

A part of him was on you now. Trickling in, sticking to the most sensitive part of you, and settling into your skin like a glaze. With his other hand, he found your skirt again.

“Who’re ya wearin’ this for, sweet pea?” Joel murmured.

“No one.”

Another glob of spit landed between your cheeks. Now, the man used the lubrication to sink two fingers inside you—pushing them in until the rim of your cunt met his knuckles. You whined at the stretch, felt him coax your walls open with a consciousness and a carefulness that felt almost mean, but then he stroked down the base of your spine with the hand that still held onto your skirt. He soothed your startled cry with a curl of his fingers.

And he found the soft, spongy patch of flesh inside that made your eyes roll straight to the back of your skull, quickly. Working his fingers in and out, flattening the base of his free hand over the skin exposed by your flipped-up skirt, and watching your body give way to the force of his fingers, he was uncharacteristically patient. Exacting in the way he worked your body open to him.

“What do you care?” you groaned. You winced when you felt a squelch signal that he’d stretched you even wider.

“‘Cause,” Joel started, slow. Pumping his fingers through your folds and likely wondering when he’d add a third, “You got your hand stuck in a fuckin’ washing machine, a treasure trove of this slut stuff piled in a heap…I mean…”

“They’re just clothes!”

“Just clothes?”

In the wake of those terse, incredulous words, you tried your best to match his tone—call his bluff—but the only sound that came out of your mouth was punctured by a pitiful whine. He tried another finger but couldn’t fit it in. As wet as you were, and as strong as he was, your cunt wasn’t quite ready to accept all three of Joel’s thick, probing digits inside. You’d fit more than a thing or two with a girth even greater than that in the past, but you figured your nerves might have something to do with the way you were tightening around the man’s fingers now.

Why you couldn’t take more of him in, as much as you wanted him there, felt, at present, like something of a shortcoming, and a pathetic one at that. You let out a breath, and a second later, Joel slowed his motions.

You didn’t expect him to stop. Didn’t hold out a hope he might curtail his pace and talk you through a quiet, gentle arrangement for fitting a third finger inside you—that just wasn’t him. You didn’t have to share a paper-thin bedroom wall with your mother and her husband for the last however many years to know that Joel Miller was not a tender lover. It simply wasn’t in his nature to care.

So when you heard the clink of a belt coming undone a moment later, your senses strangely flooded with relief. He wouldn’t care, wouldn’t inquire, wouldn’t coddle with false, romantic ideals of how a woman should be treated.

In that way, Joel shared something in common with your father after all: he set standards as low as they could go.

“Just clothes?” he repeated, snapping your underwear against your ass and jerking the fabric further aside.

Then somehow send those expectations even lower.

There was a hand splayed out across the small of your back. Another fiddling with the front of his pants, wrestling the button and zip of his jeans in little more than one, two, three careless seconds, before he drew in closer to your rear. Your slit was messy, wet, and exposed to his eyes once again. For a second, you almost took comfort in the fact that your hand was still wedged inside a groove of steel and you couldn’t meet his gaze.

That was, until Joel slid his bare length along the seam of your cunt. When the inability to see him made it so you had no other choice but to be surprised when he finally touched you was unnerving, to say the least.

And when the head of his cock blended seamlessly between your folds, was drenched in less than a blink and nearly notched straight into the place you needed him most—well, that had an effect on him, too. Joel moved his flat and sweaty palm up your back, found purchase in the hem of your blouse, and gripped it. Tugged it down a little more and let a low groan billow out of his throat while he rocked his hips back and forth.

Desperate, clumsy, pussydrunk Joel was back before you’d even realized he’d left. Only now he was keen to put the disquiet and hesitations to rest; he needed to fuck you before either one of you wisened up just then.

Your parts and his commingled again. First, with the lethally warm trail of precum leaking out from his tip. Then the intrusion that followed, inevitably, glossed with self-indulgence and desperation—soiling any semblance of platonic affection or parental attention—as he fed you the first inch of him. Barely half the head got fitted inside and your grip on that was like a vice. Joel’s was bruising.

Suddenly firm on your hips, carving crescents in the skin:

“When’s the last time you got fucked, baby?”

You reckoned Joel had a guess—and it wasn’t correct.

“Last…week,” you whimpered, words punctuated with a sigh as his cock tried to make room for more of him.

Joel sucked in a breath that almost sounded like a laugh. He’d barely gotten an inch past his tip, facing more resistance than he’d felt in a long, long time, and you were wet, but so tight. He was big but not so massive as that. He couldn’t fathom what you were saying was true.

“That…fratboy fuckstick you went out on a date with?”

“Didn’t think you even saw me leave.”

Joel withdrew, gripped your hips even tighter, then drove his cock to nestle three solid inches inside your cunt. It was extra snug, but he made sure to try to loosen you up with a couple short, shallow thrusts and a hand gradually drifting down between your legs. Of course he saw you.

The circles on your clit and slow-growing movements may as well have been kerosene in your veins. With what limited range of motion you had in that grey, compact space, you let out a sigh and dug the fingers of your free hand into the closest scrap of fabric beside you. Joel’s own touch gradually moved from your hip to drag your hand behind your back, clasping his. He fucked in deeper

“So that’s who this is for?” Thumbing your skirt.

“Y-Yeah,” you lied.

“Wanted to send naughty pics in the schoolgirl getup?”

“Yes,” you lied again. You closed your eyes when Joel sank his cock even deeper and made you stretch inside.

“‘Atta girl,” he praised.

It might’ve been the first he’d validated you in your life.

“Grippin’ this cock extra tight, ain’t ya, sweet girl?”

Never in a million years would you have imagined it’d come this late—or leave Joel’s mouth in a way like that.

‘Elastic’ wasn’t a word you’d ever used to describe your body, either. Frankly, there was no need for it to be; every one of your partners before had been average-sized, and every other object that went inside you, too, had almost always been a comfortable squeeze between your walls. Outside of maybe your first time and a once-off awkward hookup now and again, you were never forced to feel a stretch to this degree. Joel felt huge moving inside you.

He was nearing your cervix and still nowhere close to the base of his cock. Meanwhile, you were stuffed to the brim, saturated with arousal and his spit, and practically keening at every stab of his hips. You couldn’t reach back because Joel’s fingers were still enmeshed with yours, gripping them hard behind your back. As wore down, fucked out, and desperate as you already were, you were less than only a second away from asking him to ease up.

And then he stopped.

Joel pulled out, let go, and pressed onto the old washing machine, where you heard his touch echo through metal.

He was leaning against it. You were about to turn around. Before you could, though, you felt his form mold into yours—this time not in it, but on it, as he drew closer and once more reached into the space where you were stuck.

“Can you be brave for me, baby?” Joel murmured.

“Wh—” you started, soft, only to feel the words plucked straight from your lungs as Joel leaned his body inside. Carefully, and with concerted effort, it seemed, he was trying to squeeze his way into the O-shaped hole of the washing machine, snaking his arm around your torso.

Pinching your finger again. Breathing just gently enough for his exhales to tickle at your shoulders and your neck.

“Can you be brave?” he repeated, and you weren’t sure you’d ever heard him so soft-spoken, or felt him so close.

You nodded, not knowing why.

Without another word, your stepdad pinched the digit even tighter and yanked it out from where it was stuck.

It all happened so fast. Joel freeing your finger, squeezing it tight, helping you out of that hot and crowded space while your legs gave way like mush beneath your weight—and your hand throbbing in pain. You’d never thought a single finger could cause a feeling as strong as that, but it stung like hell. You almost raked your nails through the man’s arm when he tried to hold you back, holding you up just as well as you stood.

“Joel!” you screeched, like the whole thing was his fault.

You flexed your hand and wanted to sob. You could feel the streaks of pain start to claw up your wrist, were just about to shove Joel aside and wallow in agony, when at length, he did something strange and unexpected again.

This time, he lifted your index to his mouth and kissed it.

It wasn’t a sensual kiss. Coming from Joel, it hardly even seemed affectionate. His lips were so warm and firm and decidedly unacquainted with anything approaching a threat of tenderness that his act read almost aggressive. He let your finger rest loosely against his mouth, and he kissed it again, while his eyes burned holes into yours.

‘You’re okay’ came out muffled against your hand.

“You’re okay—hey—baby, you’re good. Don’t cry.”

You hadn’t even noticed the tears had started to form. You blinked and felt one trickle down your cheek. With the hand that wasn’t holding your wrist, Joel brushed his thumb against that lone trail of moisture. He didn’t cup your face, hold you close, or stroke your cheek in the seconds that followed, though he did keep kissing you.

Or, rather, it—your finger.

Joel didn’t have to care for you at all. He just feared he might’ve pulled on your hand too hard in getting you out.

‘You’re okay’ was being mumbled away like a fractured refrain, touch descending gently to your hip, and his eyes grew softer by the second, surely he had to be thinking it.

Sinking inside you, again. He was standing; your hips were tilted to his, and your ass was pressing flat against the front of the washing machine. All it took was an inch or two off the ground and your limbs hanging limply around his hips for Joel to fuck back into you. He sucked on your finger so hard you feared the skin might actually bruise—a hand hickey, of all fucking things—and when his grip tightened on your side, you knew he felt it too.

His teeth succeeded his lips in an instant, and he was biting, gnawing pathetically as a groan shuddered through his chest. If you didn’t know better, you might’ve said the sound was veering perilously close to a whimper.

Fully sheathed inside you, Joel Miller didn’t seem to care. His lids fell like lead across the upper half of his brown, glossy eyes, and the expression behind them was blank.

Safe.

“‘S’alright, baby,” he grunted. Maybe he’d just seen you wince, as he cradled your hand and withdrew another inch, “Keep squeezin’ me, it feels real good. Right here.”

Out of instinct, your gaze drifted down to the spot where his body joined with yours. The sight was hardly a shock, but the feelings it evoked were not—he had you split along two-thirds of his dick, a pretty shelf of belly protruding beneath and gleaming with the arousal he’d drawn out from your body. Tufts of silver and grey littered his skin in every direction, aged muscles tensed with the weight of each thrust, and the warm weathered hand that hadn’t dared touch you once before today was now cupping your chin. Tilting your head closer to him.

“Right here, baby. Look at daddy.”

Wild, unbridled heat flooded your brain in a second. The thing seared the insides of your skull with all the force of a fire and stole the air from your lungs just the same—still, you couldn’t refrain from making a face in disgust.

“What the fuck, Joel?” You shouldn’t have liked it.

His hand ascended your throat in a blink.

“Ain’t that what you want, sweet pea?”

“I—”

Just as you started to answer, though, his cock took a dizzying plunge, hitting exactly the right spot inside you. Like clockwork, your mouth fell open, a whine tumbled out, and Joel took that as his chance to grip your neck even tighter and push your hips against the washing machine, where his height afforded him an easy hold.

“What you want—”

He squeezed harder.

“—what you need—”

You gasped, starved for air. It wasn’t every day a man took your breath away. Not like Joel could, anyway.

“—is me, ain’t it?”

The gaze fixed on your face was alight with desire.

“Bet you miss him somethin’ awful, huh? Been needin’ a man to fill that spot ever since he left, haven’t ya, baby?”

‘He’ required no further clarification. The words stung. You communicated as much by wriggling your hips back and pressing your hand against Joel’s chest, just quit it.

Keep fucking me, but shut the fuck up about my father.

“I don’t miss shit,” you sniffed. Felt the head of Joel’s cock carve a shape somewhere deep inside your body and couldn’t pretend it wasn’t filling a metaphorical void someplace else. You hadn’t got this much attention from a man as many years your senior since…well, ever, really.

You preened beneath his touch. Wanting to feel. Wanting to please. Wanting, more than anything, to be needed.

Joel sated each craving with a simple hand smoothed over your face. His palm moved from your throat to your chin to the hinge of your jaw before coming to rest at the nape of your neck. This time squeezing lightly, bringing your face in close while he fucked you. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, and your stomach tightened inside you.

“That’s alright,” he said, words hardly above a whisper, “No need to miss that man at all, ‘cause I’m right here.”

For once the assurance came as somewhat of a comfort. You suspected it had something to do with the fact he was balls deep inside you and pushing you closer and closer to the brink of release with each painstaking stab of his cock. You fisted his flannel, holding him there. Spreading your legs, accepting his thrusts, taking each movement with ragged, shallow breaths and moans that blended with his own, you felt your body grow warmer.

Almost febrile beneath him as he tilted your head again.

“Who’s your daddy now?”

You winced, shaking your head. You hated that word.

“Who’s your daddy?”

Joel lowered his hand and began to thumb at your clit. Hot pleasure coursed through you, made you whine at the contact and dig your heels even deeper in his back.

“Who’s your daddy, baby? It ain’t that hard to say.”

But it was. Joel stroking your clit, stuffing you full, ghosting his lips against yours without ever furnishing a kiss, just goading you on with: ‘I know you wanna say it.’ Tough grey stubble teased your mouth with each word.

“I know she needs to cum, sweet girl. Know that poor little pussy’s taken a beating—and she’s done so good for me—but she needs to let it out now. All over me.”

His gaze held yours. You couldn’t turn away.

An unmistakable tenderness pervaded that look, and it didn’t seem keen to depart. No matter how tightly you pursed your lips, made fists in his shirt, or choked his cock between your walls in fluttering, desperate pleas, the man remained calm. Attentive. The eyes didn’t stray.

“It’s okay to say it.”

“C-Can’t—”

“Sure can. Be the easiest thing you ever do—D-A-D-D—”

“Please. Please.”

You hardly even knew what you were asking for at this point, only beholden to that big, swollen something in your tummy starting to give way beneath the push of Joel’s cock. Tightening up, leaking out, practically drooling down the length of this man who seemed relentless in his current pursuit. Two more circles on your clit and you were keening, whimpering pathetic as ever:

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease.”

“Say it now. Who’s it for?”

Above you, Joel’s teeth gleamed in a smile—or a snarl, you couldn’t tell. All you knew was the pleasure, the concomitant pain of having to contain this desperation while his thrusts sped up. You were bouncing on him, getting fucked against the washing machine in the raw and terrible central Texas heat wearing a sheen of sweat and a set of clothes that no longer fit your body, but that was just fine. You were okay. Joel was here, and he was holding your head, lips hovering less than an inch away.

“Who’s. Your. Daddy?” His words were slow. Coarse. Spilling into your mouth with every short puff of breath.

You couldn’t take it. You felt a band of pressure come to a head in your belly and the brush of Joel’s cock making its rounds in and out of your swollen cunt, pushing hard, and you knew that you’d had enough. He knew it, too.

“Y-You.”

“Who?”

“Joel.”

“Who?”

Your wet, pearly slick rang a deafening pitch. Enough.

“You, daddy! Daddy—please, fuck—I-I-I’m gonna cum.”

“Gonna cum for me? Make a mess of your old man?”

“Make a m-mess— yes, daddy, yes—” you slurred.

Joel drove his cock, fully coated in you, down to the hilt. He captured your lips in a kiss and didn’t even mind your mouth was whining, hissing, whimpering its filthy pleas for him to fuck a nice, big orgasm out from your body.

“—want yours inside,” you added, without realizing it.

“Sweet girl…” Joel groaned.

You didn’t know what you were asking him for. How badly he wanted it, too. His cock dragged in and out of your precious cunt and was barely more safe from the threat of its grip when you spasmed, at the last. Joel should’ve expected no less, after all the time he’d spent teasing and edging, then begging you gently, in grunts, ‘Cum for daddy, baby. Let me have it, that’s it, good girl.’ Still, somehow, he wasn’t prepared in the slightest.

When you squeezed your eyes shut and kissed him back—that was all it took. When you clenched on his cock, gave the front of his shirt a tug, locked your ankles about his hips so you could more properly increase that friction by fucking him back, grinding in place, he feared he might fairly make an irreparable, unforgivable mistake.

And when the whites of your eyes appeared again—eyelids fluttering open while your lips were glossed with his spit and a lazy smile—and said what you said next, he sensed that his fate was sealed. The old man was fucked.

“Cum inside me, daddy. Please.”

Joel couldn’t have stopped himself if he tried. He shuddered, then flooded your insides with rope after rope after rope of his spend, burying his face in your neck and taking your hips in his hands like a looser grip might lose you to him forever. He fucked his cum deep, deeper, darlin’ don’t move, can’t lose a drop, baby, please, he let out a whimper that made your walls pulse again. You felt him fill you to the brim and keep rutting his hips. Your body and his were shaking by the last of it.

And when he was finished, Joel dropped a kiss along your limp, glistening lips. He slid you back on the metal. By the expression on his face, it was plain to see he was loath to withdraw, but he had to. That tender little hiss and the sounds of your shared fluids trickling out were all the impetus he needed to act quick. As soon as he’d pulled out, Joel was back leaning against the washing machine—tilting your hips back a little, then lowering his sweaty, handsome head to the spot between your legs.

The wrinkles to the sides of his eyes grew more pronounced when he smiled. A happy grin, plastered across his lips, would have struck you as almost smug, were it not for the look of sheer adulation that followed it.

Joel was enthralled, watching his cum leak out of you. He kissed your thighs, flickered his gaze to your own, briefly, then damn near sank his nose inside the place he was watching before your fingers stopped him cold.

It was your body, after all. He had already had his fill.

Hardly knowing what came over you in that moment, you sank two fingers inside your wet, drooling hole and watched the eyes of the man beneath you go wide. He soaked in that sight completely: you pushing his cum back in, drawing it out, using the viscous white liquid as a lubricant of sorts before releasing a pleased little sigh.

Joel closed his mouth reluctantly. It took him more than a second to tear his eyes from that place, but when he did, the motions were quick to grow assured, by turns.

As if remembering something.

In a second, the innocent smile you’d seen before was being infiltrated, slowly, by a look you couldn’t place. Joel’s grin morphed from gentle to contented to plainly enthused and beaming ear-to-ear with a conceited glint. With his finger, he tugged your panties back into place.

“Baby—” he started, only to be cut off lightning-quick.

“What? What is it?”

His smile stretched even wider. By that act alone, you were half-tempted to forget the events of the last hour and set your jaw in a scowl. You looked down, unamused.

“What?”

“It’s just…” The man trailed off, and as he did, his gaze descended with it—straight down to your bare pantyline.

You cast a look there too—“What the fuck is it, Joel?!”

At that, two brown eyes flitted back up to you.

“I thought I asked for neon pink underwear, baby.”

Your breaths slowed. His gaze didn’t waver. Your heart came to a standstill in your chest, and you were amazed you had even half your present willpower then to speak.

“Wait, Joel, wh—”

“Shame you couldn’t get around to filmin’ today. Had me hard as a fuckin’ rock with all that milk and honey stuff.”

You nearly choked on your spit. Joel kept grinning.

“You’re—”

The guy. That fucking subscriber. The one who’d paid almost $500 in commissions in the last month alone.

You stared at Joel with eyes as wide as saucers, and were about to press on, when you heard the front door to the house shriek back on its hinges. Two sets of footsteps followed it, and their entry inside was loud.

Immediately, Joel rose to his feet. It seemed that grin wasn’t meant to stay long on his lips, because the next thing you knew, he was dropping a kiss somewhere soft and sweaty on your face and flipping your skirt back into place, holding his index up to his lips and stepping away. Your mouth twisted into a frown but stayed zipped out of sheer necessity. Seeing this, and likely unable to help himself, your gross, depraved, grinning old man leaned back in and planted his hands on either side of your hips on the washing machine. His nose nudged into your own.

“Between us—” he began, slowly.

“Get fucked,” you finished for him.

Joel nodded his assent, smirk faint. He cast a look over his shoulder, and, hearing what sounded like your mother’s footsteps drawing closer, lowered his voice.

Rubbing his thumb under your chin, making you tip your head back to meet his for one final look—then a kiss:

“You keep my secret, I keep yours, alright?”

—

Note: I’ve never done a real writing challenge before, but hopefully this fic will work for #hotdilfsummerchallenge !!! @hellishjoel this is such a fun ass idea & i hope you enjoy❣️

[bluetimeombre]

ׂׂૢ Hugh and you are WIRED,

You and Hugh take part in the Wired autocomplete interview

[this has been sitting in my drafts collecting dust, enjoy! Not proof read, just the vibes]

'Hello, I am Hugh Jackman,' he smiled at the camera.

'And i'm Y/N.'

'And we're doing the autocomplete interview,' he said.

You smile at how he tried his best. 'The WIRED one,' you added.

Hugh looked back to you. 'Oh yeah.' he laughed and apologised to the crew. 'I'll hold, you peel and read and I'll answer,' said Hugh, taking the board that started with him.

You leaned back in your chair, eyes peering at him. 'So, I do all the work and you sit there, ok, yeah, that's fair.'

He chuckled as you peeled away the first question.

'Is Hugh Jackman Australian?' you read, screwing up the paper and chucking it behind you. 'Um, no, he's not. It's all a bit he does, it's incredible he's kept it up for years,' you answer for him.

Hugh laughed. 'I am, I am Australian,' he insisted.

You shook your head, nudging him friendly. 'Such a good actor. Is Hugh Jackman retired?'

'No, just old,' said Hugh.

You chuckle before looking at the camera. 'He said he was retired but that was a lie,' you poke fun at the amount of times he said he'll never do Logan again... but did Logan again. 'He's a lair like I said- a good actor.'

You rip the next one off. 'Is Hugh Jackman... a good singer? Uh yes!'

'Thank you, there you go,' nodded Hugh.

'He's such a good singer,' you boast, holding his knee. 'Les mis, Oklahoma, The greatest showman.'

'That's where we met,' he smiled. The two of you did meet during the filming of The Greatest Showman.

You smiled back at you. 'We did. Yeah, highly recommend having Hugh Jackman sing to you, it's-it's magic.'

You do a couple more questions before finishing his first board and letting Hugh break it over his knee before chucking it away. 'Oh woah. You know, people would pay to have that done to them.'

Hugh laughs. He takes the board meant for you and peels the first away. 'I've got it love, let me. Is Y/N dead?'

'Starting off strong here,' you said. 'Um, only on the inside.'

Hugh chuckled. 'That's horrible,' he said through his laughter.

'Don't worry babe, I'm still here. Alive and kicking,' you mumble off.

Hugh eventually peeled away the next one. 'Ok, is Y/N in Wolverine origins.'

'No, thank god,' you said as Hugh, again, keeps laughing. 'No, I do not appear in that movie. But a version of my character does for like ten minutes. And i'm sure it was the better ten minutes of the movie.'

'I won't argue with that,' said Hugh.

'So it wasn't me but another actress playing my character.'

'Right, not confusing at all,' said Hugh. 'Just don't think about it really. Yeah. Right, is Y/N a billionaire? If she was, I would've married her by now,' said Hugh.

You laugh, rocking back and forth. 'Now I really need to reach that billionaire status,' you said.

Hugh's board was next.

'Ok, how Hugh Jackman got jacked?' you read, looking over to him. 'How did the Jackman jack?' you asked, the question coming out a bit more on the naughty side than you intended.

The both of you looked at each other promiscuously.

You held up a finger. 'Maybe I should have worded that differently.'

'Yeah,' he chuckled. 'Um, I basically was miserable for six months. No I'm kidding, a lot of training and boiled chicken.'

'Yum! How tall is Hugh Jackman?'

'6'2- 6'3,' he hummed, thinking about it.

'Do you think people are asking cause they're angry you're not 5'3 like Wolverine should've been in the comics?' you asked.

Hugh's face straightened. 'Why'd you have to bring that up?'

You chuckle, peeling away another one. 'What is Hugh Jackman.., made out of?' he laughs as you whisper to the camera. 'Boyfriend material.'

'Is that actually what it says?' he turns the board, checking it. It really did. 'Oh woah. I assume the interweb means the Adamantium in Logan?'

You snorted. 'The interweb, is that what you just called it?'

'Isn't that what the cool kids call it these days?'

You shake your head and toss his board behind you without sparing a thought.

Hugh stared after it. 'Is that how you treat all yours lovers?'

You purse your lips, trying to hold in a laugh. 'It's just a board, babe, you're the real thing.' You picked up the next board for you and handed it to Hugh who was peeling the first one away immediately.

'How is Y/N... oh it ends there. Well, that's very nice, how is Y/N?' Read Hugh, answering before you got the chance. 'She's very well, er, cause she's with me. Next one. Is Y/N single? What a good question.'

Next to you, Hugh was grinning like a mad man, or a man who knew a secret. Or just like an idiot in love. Any of them worked as you just stared back at him. 'Um, you'd have to ask her,' you said, trying to do what you did best and avoid questions.

'We are asking you, c'mon, the people want to know, are you single?' Hugh teased.

You shook your head with pursed lips. 'You know, Y/N is...' you trailed off, mumbling incoherently under his breath.

Hugh chuckled before looking into the camera. 'His name rhymes with Pugh Ackman.'

'Ryan Reynolds, of course!' you say, peeling off the next one yourself. 'Ok, is Y/N in marvel movies? um yes, a few.'

'Most,' Hugh corrected. 'If not all,'

'Yeah, i've done a few in my time,' you answered. 'Started when I was like, sixteen now i'm,' you pretend to count on your fingers, freaking out when you realised the numbers were high. 'Anyway, Hugh's turn!'

'Ok, i'll peel now,' said Hugh, giving you the board.

'Oh thank you, give my poor nails a break,' you said.

'Does Hugh Jackman... smell nice?' he leant over to you and you took an inhale.

You shrug. 'Yeah, he's alright.'

He chuckled and made a gesture at you before going onto the next one. 'Does Hugh Jackman, my name is falling on deaf ears I think now, does Hugh Jackman do all his own singing?'

'Yes, he does!' you yell. 'He's a great singer guys, no debate.'

'No cap!' added Hugh.

'Oh jesus,' you hide your face and laugh into it.

'What?' asked Hugh.

Eventually you moved onto peeling the next one. 'Does Hugh Jackman have tik-tok?'

You laugh too loudly. 'No, could you imagine if he did? I have to help him out with instagram for gods sake.'

'That's true, I do not know what the tik, nor the tok is,' said Hugh. 'Ok, last one on this board. Does Hugh Jackman do all his own stunts? No.' he threw the board.

'That was an easy answer,' you scoff. 'Do you want to tell us why?'

Hugh thought about it. 'No.'

'Alright then, my turn,' you said.

Hugh took the board before you could, not letting you hold it or do your own peeling. 'Alright, ready? Does Y/N do all her own stunts, aw, we're matching.'

You laugh. 'Um, I try to,' you answer. 'I try to, I really do but some are just too dangerous. Like I'm legally not allowed to jump from a building into a dumpster or walk away from an explosion.' You give Hugh a look, referencing that scene in Wolverine origins which he cringed at.

'Does Y/N write her own songs in The Greatest Showman? Can I answer this?' Hugh asked you.

You lean back. 'Only cause I know you're going to gush at me, so go ahead.'

Hugh got his answer ready. 'So when Y/N came on the project, it was only a half developed idea- if that. And I'd seen her at an Oscar's party and we started chatting and I asked if you were interested in this little project we were doing, you immediately came on board and started writing songs for this. I think, in total you wrote, what was it four- five?'

'Five I think,' you nod.

'Five of the greatest songs on that movie. Honestly, hearing it live and in the workshops was just, the best thing i've ever heard,' Hugh looked back at you, a loving smile on his lips.

You pout and rest your head on his shoulder. 'God that Pugh Ackman is a real nice guy.'

Hugh laughed and pecked your forehead. 'Does Y/N enjoy being in the avengers?'

'I do yeah,' you answer. 'I think there's like a lot of talk that when you stop playing a role you're supposed to come out and say you hated it, but I loved it. And I still love it. And I'll always love it.'

Hugh held up a hand. 'That being said. She would love being in the X-men more.' He waited for you to reply but you didn't and just stared at him. 'Ok, never mind. Anyway. Does Y/N drive?'

'Absolutely,' you nod. 'I've got the speeding tickets to prove it.'

'Ok, so these are your last boards,' said the lady behind the camera.

Hugh frowned. 'Oh, i'm having fun,' he said, taking his board.

You shrug. 'We'll just have to google ourselves at home more often.'

Hugh agreed and peeled the next ones, these questions beginning with 'Why'. 'Why Hugh Jackman, returned as Wolverine?'

'Good question, liar,' you said.

'Well, at first, you know, I wasn't going to, I really wasn't,' he spoke, looking to you as if cameras weren't pointing at you. 'But then this Ryan... Gosling guy? I think that's his name. He just kept asking and asking, turning up at my house, he got my number, I don't even know how-'

'Yeah, sorry about that,' you added.

Hugh laughed before carrying on. 'Eventually you know, he waved a bag of cash in my face and I knew, just to get him off my tale, I had to.'

'Yeah, that sounds like a Ryan Gosling move.'

'Why didn't Hugh Jackman win an Oscar?'

'Guys, that's mean,' you tell the camera.

'Thank you, interweb for reminding me I didn't win an Oscar,' said Hugh. 'Well, listen, when you find out you're up against Daniel-Day Lewis, you kinda know not to prepare a speech. And then when your publicist the next day calls and says yeah don't worry, you- you don't worry.'

'You were robbed for Logan,' you mused.

Hugh agreed with a chuckle. 'She's my number one fan. Why Hugh Jackman ran naked?'

You perked up. 'Hello, he what?'

The crew laugh at your excitement.

'It was for X-men two... well, I feel like every X-men movie I strip down,' said Hugh. 'Thinking about it.'

'Got to get that watch rate up,' you said.

'Yeah, exactly. So I did a scene in X-men two where I was running the corridor after just finding the metal in my body and the claws,' he explained, again only looking at you.

You nod, like it was the first time you were hearing the story. 'As you do.'

'And then I turn the corner and the entire crew of women are just there waving dollar bills and I, on reflex, went to cover myself you know and then I cut myself.'

You seethed in pain. 'And then you did it for Wolverine one and two and the next X-men movie,' you listed.

Hugh nodded. 'Then I never stopped.'

'Why would you?' you asked, raking your eyes up and down him and winking.

The last board up was yours.

'Ok, let's go,' said Hugh, scraping at the board. 'Why Y/N is famous?'

You laughed.

'Because she's fucking talented!' said Hugh, 'why wouldn't she be famous?'

You shrug. 'It was gonna happen one way or another. I became famous because I wanted money. And Hugh Jackman, one of them i've got, the other i'm still working on.'

Hugh grinned, wriggling his brows. 'Why did Y/N win an Oscar? Oh, you won one,' he joked, glaring at you as you laughed. 'Lucky you.'

You read the question again. 'I mean- that feels almost condescending you know like oh she won an Oscar, why?'

Hugh stared and pointed at the camera again, repeating himself. 'Because she's fucking talented! Why wouldn't she win an Oscar?'

'I won best actress for a movie called Room, which was very tough, very well written annnndddd I deserved it,' you shrug.

'Why did Y/N marry Hugh Jackman?' he gasped. 'You married him?'

'I have not yet, but I am engaged to Pugh Ackman, so um, please, feel free to send us gifts,' you say causing Hugh to drop the board and laugh. 'Um, I really need a new toasted and he likes watches.'

'Oh, he sounds like a nice guy,' said Hugh.

'He is, he's great.'

taglist (thank you!): @oatmilkriver, @angstdaddy, @chronicallybubbly, @white-wolf-buckaroo, @th3mrskory, @wolfyychan, @chaimshelii, @wolviesgirl @haytchee, @aoi-targaryen

[henry7931]

Dealing With My Bullies

Asher:

These three right here; Kyle, Chase, and Jordan have spent majority of my life bullying me. I’ve put with years of name calling, being pushed down, and even having my head put into a toilet.

And I thought I was done with them the second I wrapped up with high school. But unfortunately, everywhere I turn— those assholes are somewhere.

I’ve tried to ignore them, complained to our school, even tried fighting back but for some reason they have it out for me.

So I’m deciding to take a more drastic measure— magic. Well I assume it’s magic, i don’t even know if this is going to work but at this point I’m desperate!

I found this old book of spells inside of a weird book store. The price on it was pretty steep and even the owner of the store warned me to be careful with it.

As I got home and into my room, I looked through all of the different spells that were available for me to plot my revenge. I mean I could turn them all into toads but where’s the fun in that?

Nah! I want something that’s going to shift the dynamics a bit. I want to hear at least one of them give me an apology.

I kept turning through the book when my eye caught this one spell called; ‘Body Transferal.’

My heart started to race a bit as I read what all the spell does, I can literally swap bodies and become one of them. Thats it!

I laid back in bed thinking about which one of the three I wanted to swap bodies with…

You have Kyle who I really think is only pressured by the other two to participate.

Chase who has been terrible to me could work but he’s not the real leader of their crew.

That leaves me with Jordan, the one who started everything. That’s who I’ll become, I’ll swap with Jordan!

I open the book back up and read all of the necessary things to complete the swap.

‘A stormy night, a silver bowl, plant seeds, a portrait of Jordan, and both of our names written down on a piece of paper that’s burned into the bowl.’

I pull my phone out and check the weather… it’s forecasting a big storm… perfect!

I gather all of the necessary things to perform the spell which was pretty easy.

I waited until the time recommended for the spell right around midnight.

I gather everything and start reciting the spell… I follow each step as listed and begin to burn both of our names into the bowl.

Lighting strikes close and I can hear thunder booming in background as I say, “Transfer our souls! I, Asher White and Jordan Gibson!” Over and over again.

Then a loud boom of thunder hits and the power goes off for a second. I close my eyes tight waiting for the spell to kick in.

That’s when the power comes back on and I open my eyes. I turn to my bedroom mirror and see my disappointed face looking back at me.

I take the Spellbook and I chuck it out my window since I’m slightly frustrated it didn’t work.

It was worth a shot I guess, I figured I might as well go to bed and just forget that I even tried something so silly!

As I fall asleep… I start having this weird dream. In it I find myself floating and somehow hovering over my body.

I start floating more and more away from it until I’m outside…

I’m passing streets for miles and I have no control of where I’m going at all.

I get a house and I see this other glowing ball shaped like a person floating right pass me. I can barely see what I’m looking at since I was still moving so fast. Thats when I get a window and see a bedroom with a male body sleeping face down.

Before I can even get a full picture of who it is, I’m forced into him.

That’s when I wake up…

My head jolts up and I feel so groggy. It takes a second for my eyes to adjust and my brain to catch up after that dream.

Almost an entire minute goes by before I can really take in my surroundings. Thats when it hit me… this isn’t my room!

I flip over on the bed and look down at my legs. They’re more tan than mine and my feet are bigger. I wiggle the toes attached to me just to confirm I now control them.

My memory of last night creeps in and then I realize— the spell, it actually worked!

I quickly get out of bed and rush to the closest mirror I could find. That’s when I see what I already expected. Jordan’s reflection looking back at me.

I pull of all of his shirt and start giggling to myself.

I say aloud, “I’m Jordan Gibson”

But then something else sinks in, the freaking Spellbook! I tossed it out my window last night!

I rush through Jordan’s room and put on some of his clothes quickly.

I grab his car keys and head out the door.

As I’m driving down the road, I can’t help but continuously looking at myself in the mirror. You see one of the biggest things I hate about Jordan is my secret lust for him. Actually my real lust for a lot of the jocks that went to school with me.

But in this moment, I don’t feel that same anger anymore. All I can think about is how after I find this Spellbook, I’m going to enjoy exploring his body.

I get to my house and I see my parents drive off. As they pull away, I pull up to the front.

I run over directly under my window where I see the Spellbook lying in the bushes. I quickly grab it and run off.

Before I get into his car I look up at the window and to my surprise I see myself looking down.

I grin up at Jordan who now learning that I have control of his body.

I see my eyes get big and screams. I almost walk away but instead I look around my neighborhood to see no one’s around.

I pull Jordan’s pants down and start shaking his surprisingly huge dick in front of him while sticking his tongue out.

He’s fuming and shouting but I can’t hear him the glass. I see him rush from the window and I bolt it to his car with his flapping all over the place.

I pull his pants up and star his car. He’s at my front door and charging for me (which is funny seeing my body that angry.)

I pull away just in time and head back to his place. I reach down and fondle his big bulge all the home.

I knew he was going to come here and I really didn’t need him to make a scene.

So I had to think fast, pull out the spell book and dig through until I find a ‘love spell.’

I go into his kitchen and I find all of the necessary things for the spell.

He hasn’t arrived yet so I pull his shirt off and start exploring his body. I grab on to his dick again when I hear a loud knock at the door.

“Oh you’re going to really love yourself Jordan.”

“You better open up!!” I hear my former voice scream.

I grab my new magical potion and walk towards the door.

I let him in and as he begins to charge at me, I lift up the magical potion and toss it right at him.

I close the door and turn around to see my former dazed. His face goes from straight anger to looking almost goofy.

“Asher… you look soo sexy in my body,” he says to me.

“Oh do I?”

“Can I please touch it?”

“Well Jordan you’re going to need to prove yourself to me.”

“Anything for you!”

He gets on his knees and grabs on to his former hands.

“Anything?,” I say with a mischievous smirk.

[starrvsn]

౨ৎ ּ ׅ ۫ ✧ 。BOYS IN THE BOAT ˚₊ ꒰ PRETTY LIKE YOU !

﹙ MOVIE/FANDOM ⠆THE BOYS IN THE BOAT ﹚

𝟒𝟏𝟏. some of the ficitonal characters from the boys in the boat, reactions to you giving them flowers :)

STAR LEFT A MESSAGE! hi friends! i know i haven't posted in a while but i just recently watched the boys in the boat and i absolutely loved it! especially the cast, full of fine talented men- so here's a little something about them with more to come! if you have any requests or ideas about them please let me know!

INCLUDES ⠆joe rantz, don hume, bobby mach, george hunt and chuck day (just some of the characters im partially attached to…)

BOBBY MOCH ⠆

after their first win of the season, you greet bobby with a bouquet of flowers themed after the school's colors— immediately giving him praise and compliments about their win today. you knew he had a rough past season with the last crew, now seeing him with a new crew he trusted, something he was so passionate about. you were excited for him!

when he asks where this all came from, you shrug the gesture off as if it was nothing. stating that the flowers just reminded you of him and just had to give them to him. a wide smile tugs on his lips as he accepts them, his hand caressing yours gently. he appreciated them more than you knew. pulling you close, he presses a kiss on the crown of your head. caring less about his damp uniform or the loud crowd around you, just you and him.

“thank you lovely, these are beautiful.”

DON HUME ⠆

he's absolutely speechless, it wasn't everyday a man would recieve flowers and don didn't think he would be one of them. his eyebrows jump to his hairline when he sees you at the entrance of the shell house with a bouquet of flowers in your hands. his breath hitches as he asks where you got them from and you reply kindly that they're for him, giving him a sweet smile which he returns. you wanted to congratulate him for making the team, it wasn't easy and all the effort he put in finally paid off. a faint blush falls on his cheeks as he takes them, a beautiful arrangement of daisy's and poppy's held by a piece of brown parchment. he takes your hand tugging you into a hug, squeezing you appreciatively. there weren’t enough words to describe how much he loved them,

"this bouquet might be just as pretty as you." now you blush, playfully slapping this arm as you continue to hold him close. he wanted to keep them alive for as long as he can and maybe get you a bouquet in return. later (few months) when he sneaks you into the dorms he see's the bouquet in a glass still thriving well, making your heart swell.

JOE RANTZ ⠆

he's gotten several bouquets from several girls after winning gold in the olympics. he's received a many of gifts from different people but none of them felt as special as yours. when he saw you for the first time since their win in germany, you had planned to go out on a date to celebrate so when he comes to pick you up with his own bouquet in hand. imagine his surprise and delight when he sees you walk out of the building with your own bouquet in hand. he lets out a soft laugh in disbelief watching as you. a proud smile on your lips, almost skipping towards him.

"ever so original rantz?" you jokingly say, fiddling with the fabric of your dress. holding the flowers to him— they're almost identical to his except, he has your favorite flower in the bunch making your heart swell.

"i didn't know you were gonna get me flowers." he replies, ever so charming smile gracing his lips. you tell him you wanted to surprise him— a token of your appreciation for all that he's done, all the hard work he and all the other boys put in. he thanks you greatly, exchanging your bouquets. he presses a sweet, chaste kiss on your lips before interlocking hands and walking to your date destination.

GEORGE HUNT ⠆

george didn't really take mind to trivial things of interest like that, what his favorite flower was but he made a great deal to what yours were and he never missed the chance to give you flowers when he could— after any occasion he would give them to you. if you passed your exam or got into a fight, he'd get flowers to make it up to you. he didn't really expect to get his own flowers, as it really wasn't a thing.

so one day when practice was particularly grueling and draining, the last thing your boyfriend had expected was seeing you; with a small bouquet of flowers in your hands waiting outside the crews dorm. you were speaking with roger, keeping you company. "who are those for?" george announces himself, now standing between the two of you. you chuckle bidding roger goodbye as he leaves, now alone with your boyfriend— a timid smile forming.

"pretty flowers for a pretty boy." you proclaimed, holding out the bouquet to him. he huffs a laugh taking them carefully, admiring them. he raises a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, cradling your cheek— caressing it gently.

"these a perfect darling, just like you."

CHUCK DAY ⠆

“a new admirer giving you flowers? giving me a run for my money?” chuck eyes the bouquet in your hands, noticing that there was none of your favorite flowers in them— what kind of admirer were they? you let out a soft giggle that sounds like music to his ears. he won't lie, a slight pang of jealousy hits him at the thought of another man giving you flowers but he'd ask you another day.

"no silly, they're for you." you reply, standing from the bench to give them to him. he lets out a small breath of relief, practically melting at the gesture. he takes a hand that was stuffed in his pocket to take the flowers from you, eyeing them carefully. you tell him that some of the flowers had meaning— like the red tulips and daisy's meaning love. his gaze softens as you continue to explain, a loving smile gracing his lips as he admires your face and the bouquet. lovingly, he plucks a flower from the bouquet and tucks it behind your ear

"you're so sweet you know that." his hand running down your arm, grasping your hand gently rubbing your knuckles. you almost swoon— tilting your head in admiration "well you deserve the best, i hope you know." he knows, with you around it's hard to forget.

ownership of starrvsn. please do not repost, modify or translate.

[youre-amazing-say-it]

A fic with rdj babying teen reader!

Papa-Bear Mode

Summary: The reader gets a tiny injury during her first fight scene, and RDJ goes full Papa-Bear Mode.

Warning: talks about stuntwork, swearing, little cut on the forearm

A/N: sorry these are taking so long. my bad!

"All Right guys, shooting in 30. Get ready!" You heard the Russo Brothers speak into the megaphone. You were off talking to the stunt coordinator, Meghan when you heard the announcement. You were about to shoot your first-ever fight scene and were terrified. The shakey breath you let out was evidence of it. "You got this girl, it's a very simple scene, no harnesses. just fighting," she spoke as she rubbed your shoulder, helping you relax. "Yeah, but what if-"

"So Pipsqueak! heard you are doing your first stunt scene today!" you heard a voice behind you say. Robert walked over and stood right behind you, placing both of his hands on your shoulders, giving them. gentle squeeze. "Yes, and I am FREAKING OUT!" you shouted as you pushed his hands off you.

"Hey hey calm down kiddo, okay?" he spoke softly as he turned you around for an embrace. With your head on his chest, he mouthed to Meghan that he got it, sending her on her way. "Now," he continued as you stood still, "why are you scared?"

"Look stunts can be scary, and I don't want to get hurt or injured because of something I messed up," you said looking at the brown-haired man in the eyes. "Well, do you know what you need to do for the scene?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. "I mean yeah but-"

Robert made a shushing sound before you could even continue. "And I'm sure Meghan and the rest of the stunt coordination crew have your safety in mind while working out this scene. So you will be fine, you got this, okay pipsqueak?" he spoke to you. You let out the breath you have been holding in. "Okay, I got this. You are right." You spoke confidently before embracing RDJ once more.

"Thanks, Robert, I appreciate you." You felt him give the top of your head and you squeezed him tighter. "And I appreciate you, Y/n. Now you ready to go kick some ass?" he shouted as he raised his hand for a high five. You easily returned it, "Hell yeah, let's go!"

TIME SKIP

"Alright Y/n, let's shoot that scene one more time, okay?" you heard Anthony Russo speak into the megaphone. You gave them a thumbs-up from up on the railing where you were fighting the villain of the movie (I'm too lazy to decide who it is). You looked to the side of the stage and saw Robert watching you and also gave you a thumbs-up. So far all of the takes have been great, and no one has gotten seriously injured. Once this take was done, you were excited to just go to bed.

"Okay, an ACTION!" They shouted and you and your scene partner got to work. You quickly dodged the punch, went in for a kick, and continued your routine. Everything was going great until you heard some rattling above you. you couldn't look up so you tried not to let your anxiety show through. It wasn't until you got to the part where your partner had you up against the wall that you heard the sound of a part coming undone. Before you knew it, two small boards came crashing down on you and your partner. You felt one of the edges scratch your arm before landing on the floor.

"CUT! CUT!" You and your partner let go of each other and quickly checked yourself over for injuries. "You okay Y/n?" they spoke. "Yeah, I'm fine, just a cut on my forearm. What about you?" you asked them, "Nothing I think I'm - " they were saying before you felt Robert crushing you with his arms. "Oh my god Y/n!" He shouted into your ears. He let you go and held out your arms. "Robert Im fine, I promise. You said as you chucked. You felt his eyes scan your body, checking you for injuries.

"MEDIC! WE NEED A MEDIC!" he shouted as he took your injured arm and tried to turn it into the light to get a good view of it. "Robert I said Im fine! It's just a cut, see?" you said as you tried to pull your arm out of his grip, but he wasn't budging. "Look it could be infected, or worse than it looks. So let's just be safe okay?" he asked as he looked at you with pleading eyes.

You chuckled at him before reluctantly agreeing, " Okay papa bear, I'll get it checked out." You could hear him say "I'm not a papa bear," under his breath as you too made your way towards the medics on set. "Yes you are, and it's very adorable. Thanks for looking out for me." He leaned down and kissed your head.

"I gotta look out for my cubs."

[mistress-amidala]

Way Down We Go

AJ x Private Security/Crime family reader

「 You 」

I sat up on the rooftop of the building next door of the club my brother was currently at. With his friends… If you could call them that. More like work acquaintances, without the work. His little thief friends, Takers. Is what they call themselves, the dorks.

Was I spying on my brother? Sure. But in all fairness, he isn’t always a good judge of character. Hence why I’m here now. Because the knuckle head and his stupid plans are going to be the death of me.

I pull up my laptop, that had been running background checks on my brothers new crew. Alderige, Alexander James. Cute… perhaps my brother doesn’t have bad taste after all-

Ping!

I jolt, picking up my phone hastily. To see a notification from my brother, speak of the devil.

Thorn in my side

Need help.

No hi how r u?

Usually u leave me on read. Anyway hurry up and get ur ass here. We r waiting.

And where would here be exactly? And whose ‘we?’

Christ how dumb do you think I am? Actually don’t answer that.

I snicker at his response, before typing mine.

Fine, I’ll be there. Tell ur boy band I’ll be there soon.

Thx sis x

eww don’t ever call me ‘sis’ again

ok… sis

I leave him on read, maybe he does have a point. Chucking all my equipment back into my duffle bag, slinging it over my shoulder. Making my way to the stairs as I head to the club my brother and the rest of the Takers were at.

「 Narrator 」

Meanwhile…

Aj was lounging on one of the various couches while Gordon and your brother, Alec were discussing the plan for the upcoming heist. Though he appeared to be in a world of his own, Aj was paying more attention than it seemed.

He visibly perked up after hearing your name, he knew Alec had a big family. He’d mentioned it before, from your two other sisters. Him, your parents and obviously your dog named Flash. But he never mentioned you, at least never around Aj. He couldn’t help the curiousness that crept up inside of him, Gordon was usually very picky about allowing outsiders into their plans.

So what was so special about you?

Aj jolts after taking an elbow to the ribs, grimacing at the feeling. “Have you been listening to anything I’ve said for the past hour?” John asks annoyed, though a small smile tugs at the blond mans lips. Not at all surprised by Aj’s brazen behaviour.

Aj picks up his fedora that had fallen to the floor, smoothing his hair back. Before placing it back on his head, “yeah man of course.” His gaze averts to John. His friend’s face held a look of disbelief, busted.

John chuckles at Aj’s obvious distraction. “You might wanna be a little less obvious when your eavesdropping man.” He grins, leaning back against the lounge. Crossing his arms over his muscular chest. The muscle of his biceps straining against the sleeves of his shirt.

Aj lets out a huff, “no clue what you’re on about man.” Trying to dismiss John’s eavesdropping accusation against him.

John raises a brow in amusement, clearly not believing a word that came out of Aj’s mouth. “Yeah, whatever you say.” He smirks, before standing up. Heading over to Gordon and Alec, giving Aj a teasing wink. Who just gave John a playful glare in response, before slumping back in his seat. Crossing his arms over his chest in annoyance. Looking like a toddler throwing a tantrum, making John chuckle.

While the Takers were distracted you managed to sneak in through the back entrance. Watching as they all bickered amongst themselves, oblivious to your presence. You decided to remain undetected for now, placing your duffle bag down on the countertop of the bar. Heading behind it to make yourself a drink.

Grabbing a cold martini glass, pouring in a shot of vodka. Filling the rest up with cranberry juice, before topping it off with three maraschino cherries. Hopping up, you sit on top of the bar. Cross legged, siping on your vodka cranberry. While looking through the blueprints of the bank someone had so callously left on the bar countertop.

Hearing the faint sound of heels clicking you turn your head. Lilli approached the bar, jumping slightly as she made eye contact with you. Sitting there sipping on your cocktail, the blueprints laid across your lap. Her jump scared expression making you giggle, she placed a hand over her heart. A smile tugging on her lips. “Hi,” you whisper.

“Hello,” she replies. Her voice soft, as her kind eyes bored into yours. She moved towards the counter, extending your hand for support. She takes it, propping herself up on the counter beside you. “I’m Lilli, and you are?”

You give her hand you were holding a shake. “Y/n, nice to meet you.” You see her eyes avert to the blueprints on your lap. “Wanna see?” She nods enthusiastically, making you chuckle softly in response to her enthusiasm. Picking up the blueprints, holding them out in front of both your faces.

“What are you doing here?” Lilli asks curiously, while scanning the blueprints.

“Alec asked me to come,” you shrug nonchalantly. Pointing at the best points of entry on the blueprints.

“How do you know Alec?” She asks, while you take another sip of your cocktail.

“He’s my brother,” you pick up a maraschino cherry. Popping it into your mouth.

Her eyes widen in obvious surprise, “Alec is your brother?”

“Unfortunately,” you grin playfully. “Speaking of which…” you pause, turning to face the group. That were still engrossed in conversation. “Earth to boy band can we get this show on the road? I have shit to do.” You raise your voice loud enough to grab their attention.

Watching in amusement as their heads snap in your direction, fast enough that they could’ve gotten whiplash. Making you and Lilli laugh, “so oblivious.” She chuckles.

Looking through the group, you see John’s familiar face. “Johnny boy, long time no see.” A soft blush adorns his cheeks in embarrassment.

“Huh?” The blonde man beside him, looks at him bewildered. Which you recognised to be Aj. John just looks back at you and chuckles.

“Y/n, good to see you again.” He waves, as Aj mutters something under his breath. Though your attention is pulled away by a soft tap on your shoulder. You turn to see Lilli with a sheepish smile on her face.

“Can you make me one of those?” She ask hesitantly pointing at the drink in your hand, making a smile tug at your lips.

“Of course,” you slide off the countertop. To behind the bar, hearing someone clear their throat. You look up, meeting the familiar hazel eyes of your brother. “Hey big bro.”

“I didn’t ask you to come over so you could drink.” He quips, with a sly smirk tugging at his lips. Causing you to narrow your eyes at him playfully.

“Well I was bored,” you retort. Ruffling his dark hair, making him let out an annoyed grunt.

Lilli leans a little closer to the both of you. “To be fair, she was sitting here for a while. Not that you guys noticed.” She added in your defence, as you mixed up the vodka cranberry.

“Do you want the cherries?” You ask, raising a brow. She nods in response, “yes ma’am.” You say with a salute. Making her let out a soft giggle.

Alec clicks his fingers in front of your face trying to get your attention, “uh hello? Back on topic please.” Making you roll your eyes at his behaviour.

“You’re so dramatic big bro, relax. Take a breather,” you tease. Hearing a chuckle from behind Alec, then a mop of blond hair peeking through. A big toothy grin on his face, as he steps to the side of Alec. In front of you, holding out his hand. Gently taking yours, bringing it to his soft lips.

Placing a gentle kiss on your knuckles, “it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Aj.”

A soft chuckle befalling your lips, amused by his irregular behaviour. “Let me guess, you have a thing for the Godfather?” You tease, looking up at his fedora. Alec’s hand immediately shoots to his mouth, muffling his snort. Aj bites his bottom lip gently, giving your hand a soft squeeze. Before you pull it out of his grip, popping the cherries into Lilli’s drink. Sliding it over to her, she whispers a ‘thank you.’

“I do actually, have you watched it?” He leans onto the bar, practically looming over you. The low lighting in the room reflecting off his blond hair. Making him look almost… angelic. Though his playful smirk suggested otherwise.

“No, though if you like that thing you should come to our family reunions. The resemblance is impeccable,” you quip. A wheezy laugh erupting from Alec. Aj seemed undeterred from his friends reaction, leaning even closer. His long lean fingers gently brushing a strand of hair out your face, tucking it behind your ear. With the utmost gentleness, as if you were made of porcelain. His eyes so transfixed on his movements, it was like he was in a trace. So were you, not that you’d admit it. Alec and Lilli observed quietly, aware of the tension. Eyeing the display of affection with curiousness. It was no secret that Aj was a flirt, but this was something that even your brother hadn’t witnessed from him. After a moment you pull back snapping yourself out of your trance like state, withdrawing from his gentle caress. Clearing your throat, “well… Let’s get on with it. We have a lot to do.”

[hannahbarberra162]

Can't Fix Fix A Broken Heart - Chapter 5

Now on Ao3

Chapter 4 Chapter 6

Chapter 5 - New Beginnings With Newgate

18+, MDNI.

I realized “Moby Jr” is not canonically in OP. It's from “Oh, Sweet Child of Mine” by mamamittens on Ao3. That story got me down the OP yandere rabbit hole in general. I’m not caught up with current OP yet so sometimes I get things wrong. Please feel free to correct me.

Also, there will be more smut eventually. Just not quite yet. We’re sailing in the right direction. 

You walked down the road robotically, not thinking about where you were walking. You had said your teary eyed goodbye to the Brothers - you really would miss them. Walking, you were flanked by the four men, who were slowing down to match your shorter stride. Ace was holding your things at his insistence. You didn’t feel like talking and they weren’t asking you anything. You were already tired and wanted to nap - you didn’t have much stamina. You’d run through a gamut of emotions and fixed all those tables. Normally the fixing alone would have you snoozing. But you had a feeling there wouldn’t be a chance to sleep for a while to come. After all, it was only early afternoon. 

“Cariña, would you like me to carry you? You look like you could use a rest,” offered Thatch. You blushed a little. Carry you? Like a baby? Were you that pathetic? You still had enough pride to walk even if the offer was a little tempting. 

“Ah, no? Thank you though? We’re almost at the wharf,” you said, pointing down the road. And indeed you were - you saw the Moby Jr. gently bobbing on the water. Once the cobblestones of the street ended and the boardwalk to the docks began, your hands started to shake. It was just a lot. You couldn’t even separate all your feelings of sorrow, loss, nervousness and trepidation from one another. 

Vista, Thatch, and Ace all continued walking while Marco stopped you for a moment. He put his hand on your shoulder and turned you towards him. You looked up at him, feeling unsure and weak. He chucked your chin with one large index finger. “Chin up, it will be OK yoi. You’ll be among friends. Oyaji is intense but he means well.” You nodded silently. You weren’t sure about friends but it did make you feel better that you already were acquainted with a few crew members.

Marco moved his hand to your shoulder and you saw some blue flames leave his arm for yours. You screeched in surprise - was the fire going to burn you? Marco looked down and only smiled, keeping his arm where it was. “Don’t worry, those are just small healing flames from the Phoenix. I forget to control them some of the time.” He tilted his head and asked “are you injured somewhere? They don’t appear indiscriminately. I’ll check you out when we get back to the main ship.”

“O-oh, that won’t be necessary, I’m completely fine,” you said nervously shifting your shoulders under his arm. Marco hummed but didn’t say anything else.

Everything blurred together as you set sail on the Moby Jr. Since the visit to your island was for supplies and partying, you weren’t far from the Moby Dick itself. You felt your eyelids drooping - the afternoon sun was so warm and the sea air so pleasant. You had forgotten that being aboard a ship could be relaxing. You knew you were at your limit and needed to rest. You had a hard time sleeping in front of other people - let alone people you didn’t know that well. And the boat was rather small - it would be hard to find a spot where you felt secure enough and out of the way enough to actually sleep. You poked around a little bit and decided to rest between two of the supply crates they were bringing back. Just a quick little refresher and you’d be all set…

You didn’t know how much time had passed before you heard footsteps stop in front of you. You immediately woke up with a start, in full fight or flight mode. You had always been a light sleeper but now were attuned to any noise approaching you when you were sleeping. Marco was crouched in front of you, giving you a relaxed smile. 

“We’re here yoi. Let’s not keep everyone waiting,” he said while ruffling your hair. You took a deep breath and got up, stretching your legs.

You two were the last ones on the boat and you followed Marco to the deck. The Moby Dick was…immense. You had never seen anything like it. It made the Marine ship you had been on look like a skiff. Marco was waiting next to a rope and wood slatted ladder, motioning for you to climb first. You went up to the ladder, frowned slightly, and made the hand gesture for Fix Fix. Only then did you start to climb the ladder.

“I didn’t think the ladder was broken yoi,” Marco said conversationally while you two were climbing.

“It wasn’t yet. But the rope was deteriorating between the second and third rungs of the ladder. It’s been in use for a while and was getting worn down.”

“But if it wasn’t broken, how did you fix it?”

“Oh, um. I can sense when things need fixing, even if they haven’t completely broken yet. I prefer to fix things before they actually break if I can. Like, I can tell that the screw in the left arm of your glasses is stripped and may fall out soon. It’s an awareness I can tune into. It's really not that interesting. And, um, I can also fix your glasses when we get to the top. If you want.”

Marco laughed and said “Thank you. Such a sweet offer.” Suddenly, he let go of the ladder completely and fell as if in a dive. But before you could blink, he was rising above you in his Pheonix form. You could do nothing but stare. It was absolutely breathtaking. He was the most amazing creature you’d ever seen - or would see -in your life. The rippling blue feathery flames, his golden accents, the elegant way his body soared through the air…He was utterly and completely magnificent. You wanted to watch him fly for hours and you knew you’d still want to see more. He stretched his mighty talons as he flew by. You saw their razor sharp edges and cringed at the thought of being at the wrong end of those weapons.

He landed at the top of the ship, partially transformed himself, and offered you a hand to come over the side of the ship. You were still watching his resplendent form and took his hand. He then changed back completely into a man and said simply “Welcome home.”

You wanted to talk to him about his Phoenix form, but it was hard to focus on any one thing when you were finally aboard the Moby Dick. People were milling about, working, people were calling and waving to Marco, Thatch was already drinking and laughing with Ace…there were so many people moving around, so many things to look at, and your devil fruit was calling for you to fix a million different things. And everything was so…large. You felt like you were a kid again, sitting at a chair that was too big for you and swinging your feet. You didn’t have much time to ponder, because Marco once again put his arm over your shoulders really, a simple tap on the shoulder would do and said “c’mon. Oyaji wants to meet you.”

Marco POV

When you looked up at him at the wharf with your big sad eyes, he almost scooped you into his arms up right there. You needed someone looking after you, and he was ready for a new project. You were like a little wounded bird he could nurse back to health. And just like a wounded bird, once he earned your trust and healed you, you’d be thankful and loyal to him. 

When he saw you tucked away, sleeping on the boat? Oh, the things he’d wanted to do to you. You looked so innocent and serene - and calm for once. He loved seeing you at peace, but it brought other thoughts to mind. How would you react to waking up with his head between your luscious thighs, holding them apart, licking and nibbling as a good morning surprise? Would you mewl quietly like a little kitten or would you be loudly moaning his name as you came on his tongue? Would you taste as delicious as you smelled? He knew he’d find out eventually. 

He loved how awe struck you looked when you first saw his Pheonix form. Like he was a God come to life. He didn’t feel bad about pulling out all the stops, he knew the kind of impression his Phoenix gave. He wanted you to see how powerful he was and yes, maybe to intimidate you a little bit. A healthy dose of fear might help you remember that might makes right on the seas, and you needed someone like him.

He knew he and the others were touching you a lot and that you didn’t like it. It did break his heart a little to see you flinch every time anyone came near you. But touching you was the first step of making you comfortable with their attention. And he needed you to be very comfortable for the kind of attention he was going to give you.

Y/N POV

Obviously, this was Whitebeard’s ship. You knew that. It wasn’t a surprise. But you just didn’t think through the idea that you would have to actually meet Whitebeard himself. Marco calmly walked you towards the rear of the deck. You were nervous, naturally. You were meeting a Yonko and requesting to be let on his ship, who wouldn’t be? You saw a dais surrounded by nurses wearing pink uniforms…and thigh high leopard boots. They were fussing over the largest man you had ever seen, who was sitting nonchalantly on a regal looking armchair. He was powerful even at rest. You wanted to stop moving closer but Marco still had an arm over your shoulders, so you were propelled along with him.

“Marco, welcome back my son,” boomed Whitebeard. “I hear we have a new child coming on board.” Whitebeard turned his attention to you - it felt like being in the center of a hundred flame dials. You started fidgeting, and Marco patted your shoulder with the hand that was already there. You briefly turned your head to the side and saw that other people had started watching the conversation from the sidelines - making you feel like you were being watched in an arena. It seemed news traveled fast on the ship.

“Thank you Oyaji. We found someone in need of assistance working with Vista’s brothers. She just got her first bounty.”

“GRARARARARA, what did you do, child? Congratulations” laughed Whitebeard.

Still fidgeting - pinching your fingers, you answered “I, um, didn’t do anything. They said I was part of a pirate crew but I’m not. I think they just want me back. I didn’t do anything, um, bad.”

“Well, there’s always time to change that,” Whitebeard remarked with a smile. Even though he was large enough to squish you like a bug, he gave you a warm feeling. You felt comfortable speaking to him, even in front of the growing crowd.

“What’s your name, child?”

“Y/N”

Marco added “she’s also a devil fruit user. She has the Fix Fix fruit. Maybe could help us out if we ask her nicely.”

“Is that so, child?” Whitebeard said to you with an indulgent smile.

“Ah, yes,” you said, gaining a little bit of confidence. “I can fix almost anything. I’ve worked on ships before so I’m familiar with the kind of repairs they usually need. But I’ve never been on a ship like this,” you said gesturing in a motion indicating the ship as a whole. 

“GRARARARARARA no one has, child. Welcome aboard.” He tossed his head towards the nurses. “Tate can show you where the women’s quarters are. Settle in, and we’ll celebrate gaining another sibling.”

The crew raised their voices in a raucous cheer, which startled you. You had been focusing so much attention on your interaction with Whitebeard you had almost forgotten they were there.

You were astonished at Whitebeard's words - new sibling? You didn’t know that you were going to stay here on board! Did that mean you were in the crew? Or just that you were allowed to stay? Your head was spinning and you didn’t know what to say, so you said the first thing that popped into your mind.

“Um, thank you Captain Whitebeard. Would you like me to fix your chair?” 

You heard Whitebeard laugh again as Marco took his arm off your shoulders and sauntered over to Whitebeard. They started talking in low tones, with Whitebeard laughing intermittently. Tate stepped down off the dais and approached you with a broad smile.

“It’s nice to have another woman on board, Y/N! I'm Tate, the chief nurse on board. Come along with me, I’ll show you where to put your belongings. And as long as we’re going that way, we might as well give you your introductory physical.”

“Physical? Like, a doctor’s visit?”

“Oh yes. Everyone gets one when they first join. It’s standard practice. And you’ve already met the doctor, Marco.”

You gulped - this was not something you had anticipated.

[fanaticsnail]

Fic authors self rec! When you receive this, reply with up to five favorite fics you've written (include links, and if you want- a few thoughts about each one), then pass on to at least five other writers if you're up for it. Spread the self-love ✨\o/

Hi Quin! Thank you for this! I have been thinking about these for a little while, and I am grateful for the opportunity to talk about them!

Last One Laughing

This platonic fic was for a mutual going through a hard time, and I wanted to give them something to laugh about. This is also where I truly fell in love with the Heart Pirates enough to want to put an OC in there with them. If you like stupid jokes, this is the fic for you.

Play Stupid Games, Win Stupid Prizes

One of the closest fics I've come to enemies to lovers. This fic was one of my favourites to write, simply because I enjoyed the idea of making Doflamingo a love-sick, yandere, subby mess. Chuck in the pollen trope and I'm just in love.

Shameless

A three-part series that was only meant to be a mini fic for Eustass Kid. This was where I first fell in love with the big guy and I began slipping away from the love of the Red Hair pirates. Of the fics I've written, I actually reread this one because I enjoy the second-hand embarrassment from the reader character I created. I don't think I've made a reader I've felt that internal shrieking at as much as this one.

Hey Doc

The way this was meant to be a silly writing exercise for an exhausted and exasperated doctor and their crew, it has now dived into something completely unexpected. I love writing this series so much, it's like a little bit of joy all wrapped up in a mess of silliness. The Kid Pirates need someone like this gn!reader, and I was happy to fill the spot. Just purely platonic shenanigans with a crew full of unhinged idiots.

Daughter of the Sea

Benn Beckman needed a small fic about what it was like to aid Shanks in raising baby Uta. I really wanted that softness from him, and I remember exactly how I was feeling when I wrote this in one sitting. I remember I started this at 6am with just a general idea, wrote various parts throughout the day between my duties and my job, and sitting in the bath until about midnight getting it all done. It played out like a movie in my head, and I adored the company it kept me.

[archerdork]

spoilers for ofmd s2e8 - a discussion of the decision to do That to You Know Who

i guess my biggest issue is that you should have seen the end coming because it makes sense narratively, so in a way you did see it coming, but the show has spent two seasons subverting expectations and chucking logic out the window, so in the context of the universe they've created it fucking doesn't make sense.

I know it narratively makes sense to tie Izzy's arc off like this, but this show has gone to great fucking lenghts to show it doesn't give a toss about sense or how you're supposed to tell a story. The plot armour has been so thick for two seasons it's genuinely ridiculous, but that's the show and now this is the audience it's amassed. You think I've spent all this time watching these idiots strut around an ocean the size of a bathtub powered by nothing but spite and a gaydar because I value logic above all else? You think I like the show despite it's narrative insanities, not because of it?

Spending a season on Izzy's emotional and mental journey only to kill him off in the end does makes a certain literary sense. Him dying surrounded by the family he finally accepted and who accepted him in turn makes literary sense. His death allowing Ed to let go of the last of Blackbeard makes literary sense.

In the real world.

But we've spent two seasons in Pirate Muppet Land, with it's bathtub size ocean where everyone can find anyone, where wounds heal the moment they're patched up, where crocs and paparazzis paperazzis exists in 18th century. I'm not here for realism, I'm here for the insanity. I'm here for the workplace romcom where this community of queer idiots can laugh and cry and have their drama and, yes, a boatload (ha) of angst but it's fine because it is about them, the plot only there to further their personal journeys no matter how unrealistic that plot turns out to be. They created Something, something new and different and hopeful, and then made a single decision that went against everything they'd built so far because? Logic? I genuinely don't know.

Ultimately I'm happy with this season. I had so much goddamn fun. I enjoyed the ending, though for the personal journeys it concluded rather than story it actually told. This season was way too rushed, for which I assume we should largly blame HBO. The cast and crew did what they could with what they had.

Still though.

I said at some point during this season that I "genuinely can’t see a scenario where they kill off any of the crew, it’s just not that kind of show". Turns out it decided to be that kind of show, with the worst decision they could make. Killing off Izzy does make literary sense. Which, in context of the show so far, makes it goddamn unrealistic.

It's not a good plot twist to pull the rug from out under the audience if the rug is actually a carpet floor you've spent the whole season nailing down.

[rollinouttahere-writes]

Aaaa I'm glad you liked my rambling couple of headcanons!! The image of reader and cora just in the background while law is doing his scary surgeon of death thing cheering him on and offering potential new crewmates is so funny actually. And I agree there is nothing funnier to me than the idea of getting forced to join a pirate crew like doflamingo's just because you have a vague amount of childcare experience and were nice to a couple kids. I'm obsessed with baby dellinger (I know you haven't met him but he slays) and I like the idea of reader thinking his sharp teethies and horns are adorable and just kind of rolling with their new job and baby talking a bloodied toddler dellinger lmao. Maybe reader is a bit more deranged than everyone thought!

Yeah thank you for sending it in, it's a very fun AU to play with! I thought about it way too much at work today, so I'm dumping all of those random thoughts into this.

I've seen pictures of Dellinger, so I know who you're talking about.

Angel has a tendency to baby all of the kids, so of course that's going to apply to the actual baby. She's always cooing over how cute his little horns and teeth are. Even when he's being a terror, she's excusing everything with: he's literally a baby. You got bit? Well why were you putting your hand so close to his mouth? He isn't even walking yet. If you're getting injured by him, that's just a skill issue on your part. Angel doting on him so much turns him into a major mama's boy.

Anyways onto my random ideas

Angel and Corazon's first interaction is a trainwreck because it happened after Angel saw him chuck Law out a window. Her first order of business is to go get Law and treat him, but the second she's done, she's out for blood. By the time she tracks down Corazon, she's so mad that she grabs the back of his coat and yanks on it so hard that she actually manages to make him fall flat on his ass. The instant he's down, she's grabbing him by the collar and laying into him like, "You are a grown ass man! In what fucking universe do you think it's okay for you to throw one of my kids out of a window?! Law is already sick, and now you're trying to kill him too?! If you so much as look at him again, I'll skin you alive and turn you into a coat!" She shoves him as she leaves, and Corazon just sits there in stunned silence because that was actually terrifying. He thought she was just a nanny, he didn't know she was capable of that. Doflamingo saw the whole thing and it just makes him like Angel more. Maybe she isn't so different from the rest of them after all.

Doflamingo gets all of the kids (excluding Law's stubborn ass) to call Angel 'mom'. Partially because he's so hung up on his whole family shtick, but mostly as a manipulation tactic to guilt trip her into not wanting to leave.

When it's time for Corazon and Law to leave, Angel promises to meet up with them when it's time to go. She says she has some last minute packing to do and will be right back. The "packing" is just smuggling the kids out in a crate (except for Dellinger who just gets stuffed in a purse because he's so tiny) because there isn't a chance in hell that she's leaving her kids to get raised by Doflamingo. Now Law has two embarrassing parents and also three siblings to annoy the hell out of him. He suffers even in the good AUs.

Doflamingo is irate when he realizes what happened and where like half of his damn family went. The betrayal is the worst part, but he's also pissed because he was starting to have a thing for Angel and he's mad that she's with his brother and not him.

[muddyorbsblr]

you deserve better

See my full list of works here!

Summary: When all the plans you'd made for today go down the drain, the last person you expected shows up at your door to try turning the night around

Pairing: James Conrad x Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: angst; language; craptastic friends [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: simp Conrad, that is all 🫠

"Fucking dammit!"

You gripped your phone tightly in your hand, resisting the urge to chuck it into the sea right where the ship's rotor blade was located. Tears burned behind your eyes as every message you'd missed in the last week while you were on this research trip with Monarch trickled in at a steady pace now that you and the rest of the crew had signal again.

Where your fellow scientists were calling up loved ones on FaceTime with bright smiles on their faces and assurances that they were on their way back home, you had an influx of messages from your friends telling you that no, they wouldn't be making your birthday dinner tonight after all.

"Doctor Y/L/N?"

Oh fuck not him, doesn't he have a pool bar to get to so he can snap his fingers and get tonight's lay? you snidely thought to yourself, steeling your stance at the sound of former Captain James Conrad's voice. Taking a deep breath, you turned to face him. "What's up, Conrad? Looking to split an Uber and Brooks doesn't wanna--"

"Are you alright?"

His question felt like a shock to your system, making you blink your eyes repeatedly as if you were trying to get your bearings back. "Of course," you lied through your teeth. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well…" he trailed off, motioning toward your hand. "You're gripping your mobile so hard your knuckles are turning white, for one."

You glanced at your hand, sighing when you saw your skin stretched taut over bone and trying to relax your grip somewhat. "Fine," you gritted out. "If you really wanna know, it's my birthday today. I had plans to spend tonight with my friends once I'd unpacked and washed that goddamned island off of my skin. But some people in that group can't seem to let petty high school shit go, and today when we finally got signal again I got a metric fuckton of messages from one of said friends calling me either a bad friend or a dumbass for extending an invitation to my friends because it's inconvenient for her, which then led to a domino effect of if she's not going then I'm not going and now…" you trailed off, chuckling sardonically to yourself. "Now no one's going."

Something akin to pity crossed the tracker's eyes, making you look away. The last thing you needed right now was the most jaw-droppingly unfairly handsome man on the face of God's green earth to look at you like a sad wet little puppy left out on the side of the road.

"Anyways I'm off," you said a little too chipper it even made you cringe a little inside. "Got a date with a pizza box, fridge full of wine, and my Netflix account. 'Till the next one, Conrad."

Before he could say anything else, you were already walking to your Uber that just pulled up, finally letting yourself let go of all the hot air you were running on and quite aptly feeling deflated. When you were finally far enough from the port that Conrad wasn't even a speck in your line of sight, you felt the tears start to roll down your cheeks.

You felt exponentially worse when you got home, most of the food that you'd placed an order for before you left on the trip to be delivered today already waiting on your porch.

"Fucking dammit," you repeated, albeit this time with a whimper rather than a roar. You propped your door open and started bringing the food in, deciding to set aside a couple of days worth of meals for yourself and then giving the rest to a nearby food bank so that it would at least do some good.

It took a few hours but you were finally perched on your couch, wearing a comfy pajama short set, Kate & Leopold playing on your TV, and tucking straight into a tub of mudslide ice cream just letting the night pass. This definitely wasn't how you pictured spending your 30th birthday, but you strived to remember that there could have been worse ways to spend tonight.

You could've been mediating between spatting friends because they couldn't manage to keep civil for one night, or you could've been on the receiving end of Deena's tirade about "how duplicitous you were to drag her into a gathering with Shana". The island would've been a better alternative than dealing with that all night.

About 30 minutes into the movie you heard a knock on your door, causing you jump in your seat. "I didn't order anything!" you hollered toward your front door, wincing at the pins and needles starting to prickle at your feet and lower legs from the motion.

Whoever was outside knocked again, this time a bit more persistent with the sound booming across the living room. Your visitor, whoever it may be, wasn't here by mistake, and they weren't about to be waved off with a simple 'go away I'm pissy'.

"I told you, buddy, I didn't order any--" Your words stopped short on the tip of your tongue as you saw nothing but broad shoulders clad in a familiar tight and worn blue t-shirt stretched tight over well-defined pectorals, only this time with an off-the-rack casual blazer draped over it. Your eyes slowly traveled upward to meet the oceanic blue eyes that quite frankly you constantly tried and failed not to dream about whenever you drifted off to sleep at night. "Conrad…" you said his name slowly, as if every part of your brain was fighting against accepting the reality that he was here now, looking like the human embodiment of Lust on ridiculously long legs. "What're you doing here?"

There were quite a few thoughts that crossed your mind in the last few hours, scenarios that you'd conjured up on how the rest of the night would go, each of them dwindling in their respective probability as the hours ticked on. Former SAS Tracker James Conrad being at your door, however, was definitively not among those scenarios.

"Erm…I thought I would come over to check on you. You were visibly…understandably…upset when we parted ways at the pier," he answered, shifting his weight to one leg as if trying to make it all sound so casual. He looked over at how you were dressed, from the haphazard ponytail down to the fuzzy monster slippers covering your feet, and resumed his stance that you'd grown accustomed to with the squared shoulders and the ramrod straight back as if he was back on training grounds. "Get dressed, Y/L/N."

You jerked your head backwards, surprise and confusion flooding your system at the soft spoken order. "Why?"

"I'm taking you out for dinner," he stated plainly. "I know you had plans for tonight and they didn't pan out the way you intended. No one should such an important day alone unless they really want to."

"Conrad, please. I'm fine, everything's fine. You don't have to check in on me or take me out to dinner or keep me company out of--I don't even know, pity? You have your own thing and I don't wanna keep you from it or the hordes of women who would probably abandon all common human decency and trample over each other to get that blazer off of you." You finished your little lament with a wave toward the garment, already stepping back like you were about to send him off to better and more interesting company.

When he sensed what you were about to do, he reached out, putting your hand in a delicate hold. "The night has barely begun, and you're in pajamas, eating ice cream, and one of your comfort movies is playing on the screen." He motioned his head towards your TV, where Hugh Jackman and Meg Ryan were currently paused mid-waltz on a New York rooftop. He brought his hand up to cup your face, swiping his thumb over the corner of your mouth before softly saying, "This isn't fine. And I know that I'm not the company you expected or perhaps even prefer. I just--I wanted to come here tonight and just let you know…that I'm here. So…you could join me for dinner or alternatively I could join you here and you can talk my ear off with your movie commentary. The point is that you won't be spending your birthday alone."

His words left you stunned to near silence. "I uhm--I'll go get dressed then." You stepped back from his hold, an irrational part of you already missing his touch, awkwardly waving toward the sitting area. "I'll be out in a few minutes."

Once you'd started to make your way up the stairs, Conrad made his way to the living area of your house, a smile making its way to his face as he looked at the framed pictures you had on your shelves, your dimpled toothy grin on full display. "Oh, Y/N," he breathed your name almost reverently in the silence. "How the hell am I going to move on from you now?"

Earlier today when you'd all disembarked off the ship, he had plans to wash up and head off to a bar to look for someone to keep him company for the night, perhaps until Monday when you were all expected to return to Monarch for briefing on your next mission. All he wanted was to find someone who held even the faintest resemblance to you and lose himself in the chimera that you were the one he was with, that he held you in his arms as he woke up that next morning, and with that indulgence to tide him over for some time, perhaps he could maintain the professional, nearly friendly, relationship that he had with you without running the risk of putting that in jeopardy all because he couldn't keep his affections in check.

Those plans all went down the drain when he saw how you were fighting back tears explaining how your plans for tonight had gone off the rails. When his choices for how to spend the night were spending a few empty hours with someone he would meticulously compare to you or making sure that your birthday wasn't going to be spent alone and licking wounds that should never have been dealt to you in the first place, there was no choice to make.

Tonight's objective was simply to wipe the frown away from your perfectly enchanting face, perhaps even get you to smile. And maybe somewhere along the way finally get you to see him as someone more than just your colleague. Someone that cared. A friend, if he was really going to push it.

And maybe if he was going to entertain the moon shot that played in his most self-indulgent daydreams…a lover.

The sound of you clearing your throat brought him out of his thoughts, the sight of you in your simple pale blue dress with a slight teasing cutout by your waist stealing every bit of his breath away. "Too much?" you asked him, your tone shaky.

"Not at all," he croaked out, clearing his throat before speaking again. "You uhm…you look--You're beautiful." The tiniest smile played at your lips as you motioned for him to follow you to the door. "You always are," he murmured under his breath.

"What was that?" you called out absentmindedly, still steadily making your way to the front door.

"N-Nothing," he stammered. "I was just…admiring your home. It's lovely."

"It's too damn big is what it is," you scoffed as he passed you at the threshold before locking the door. "That's what I get for being perpetually alone, I guess. Just my luck that every guy I ever even tried to date fully expects me to hang up my coat and give up my research so I can play housewife." Your eyes misted over again as the next words came out. "Not a single soul on God's green earth that could deal with that." You turned the key with a little more force than necessary, the lock clicking into place with a resounding knock.

When the two of you made your way to his car, he opened the door for you, your disbelief at the gesture evident in your eyes. And when he was sure that you wouldn't be able to hear him through the car's closed door, he whispered to himself, "I could deal with that. If it meant that you were mine, I could deal with anything."

A/N: Happy happy birthday @liminalpebble!! I hope this puts a smile on your face today and that you have a spectacular year ahead of you, bestie 🥹🥹 Many many hugs from me and Grassy the Mango (even though the bub hasn't arrived yet but it will…today. I think…)

everything taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @unlucky-number-13 @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @evelyn-kingsley @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lovelysizzlingbluebird @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @gigglingtiggerv2

[literatecowboy]

Dr. Feelgood

10. The One Where Ghost Punches A Cop

Summary: You've been in trouble at work several times before for "lack of professionalism" but now you've gone too far. You've been reassigned to Task Force 141 as a temporary doctor to replace the ones they've made quit out of frustration. You must either prove yourself and earn your former position back at a prestigious military hospital in California or face dishonorable discharge. Author's Notes: This is my first fanfiction - please be gentle. Additionally, the reader's callsign is "Feelgood." I have done my best to write the reader as ambiguous regarding appearance, but she/her pronouns and AFAB anatomy will be utilized. I hope for this to be a slow-burn romance with Simon "Ghost" Riley.  Warnings: Hospitals, angst, police, arrests, punching

Masterlist

-----

You were up an instant, the tears gone from your eyes but worry still clouding your heart. You turned the corner into the lone bedroom and locked eyes with Price who gave you a weak smile. 

“Feelin’ better already,” he grunted, his eyes flicking behind you as Simon joined you in the doorway. “Son, if you don’t marry her, I think I might. Or at least, I’d like Soap or Gaz to. We’re keeping this one.”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed playfully, unable to stop the smile and the warmth that crept to your face. 

“You’re high, captain. Now settle back and relax, I’ll get you some water,” you said, slipping back out the door and heading for the kitchen. Simon stepped fully into the room, letting the door shut behind him as he took a seat beside the bed. 

“Think I’d like to someday,” he said. 

“What’s holding you back?” Price asked, trying to sit up in his bed but wincing at the pain caused by the exertion. 

“Think she’d ever want her old life back? A fancy doctor in California giving up that lifestyle for a soldier who could die any moment?” he asked.

“Think she’d laugh you outta this house if she ever heard you call her fancy, mate.” Price said. Simon snorted and nodded, shaking his head. 

“Don’t have to be a soldier forever, you know. Could make a life for yourself - something easier.” Price said, studying Simon as he sat staring at the bedsheets. This made the lieutenant sit up straighter. 

“Don’t think I’m made for that. Don’t think any of us could…” he trailed off, meeting the captain’s gaze once more. 

Their conversation ceased when you returned to the room, a glass of cool water in your hand.

—

Evac came several days later when the snowstorm had abated. A helicopter came to the field outside of the safehouse and retrieved all of you. Price was the first aboard and settled heavily into a seat near the back with your assistance. You sat beside him to keep an eye on him as the rest of the boys chucked the gear into the heli and hopped in. It took off before the door even finished closing. 

The flight back home seemed quicker than the one to the mission, most likely because you were busy the majority of the time tending to the Captain. Near the end, Gaz and Soap stepped in so you could rest. 

When the helicopter landed, the ground crew didn’t bother waiting until the rotors had stopped spinning to throw open the door. An unfamiliar medical team rushed to Price and, despite his protests, loaded him onto a stretcher and started loading him into the back of an ambulance. You leapt off out of the helicopter and jogged after him, attempting to climb into the ambulance with him, but you were held back back by a military policeman. 

“Ma’am, are you the individual who performed an authorized appendectomy on Captain John Price?” he asked sternly. Ghost, Soap, and Gaz had come to your side now and you looked back at them with a furrowed brow. 

“I am,” you said, folding your arms across your chest. “What is this about?” 

“You’re being placed under investigation for criminal medical malpractice. I’m placing you under arrest.” he said, producing a pair of cuffs and taking ahold of your arm with a rough grip. Without hesitation, Ghost shouldered his way between you and the officer, shoving him back and ushering you behind him. Soap grabbed his arm and held him back and Gaz came to your side. 

“Under whose authority? The doctor operated under the Captain’s own direction in order to save his life. To arrest her on such a charge would be inappropriate.” Gaz said.

“The order comes directly from General Shepherd - the very top. Step aside or I’ll have the rest of you arrested for obstruction of justice,” the officer ordered. Ghost bristled, but you lay a hand gently on his bicep. 

“I’ll go willingly,” you said softly, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You offered the officer your hands and he cuffed you immediately, your vision blurring. 

“Call Laswell,” Ghost said, offering Gaz his phone, who looked confused. 

“Why can’t you–”

Ghost took a step forward and dropped the military policeman with a single punch to the face. 

—

Later that evening you sat against the wall of your holding cell, snuggled as much as you could be into Ghost’s side. He had slid a bulky arm through the bars to wrap it around you and sat quietly, rubbing your side as you sniffled. 

“It was stupid of you to do that,” you mumbled, brushing away your tears with your sleeve. Ghost merely shrugged and pressed a kiss to your temple. 

“They wouldn’t have let me come with you otherwise.” he said softly. It was quiet for a moment. 

“I love you,” you whispered. Ghost squeezed you gently. 

“I love you too,” he said after a minute. The sound of keys jingling broke the romantic moment. 

“You’re out of here for now. Both of you,” the guard said, fitting the key first into the lock of your cell, then into the lock of Ghost’s. As you stepped into the hallway, Ghost took your hand again, and you walked together down the hall and toward freedom. 

“You’re not being charged, lieutenant. And despite Captain Price vouching for you, General Shepherd is insisting that you be court martialed for your actions. A date will be set soon and you will stand trial,” the officer said. You were offered your belongings back and took them - Ghost’s gear from the mission had been returned to the task force. 

Soap was waiting outside with a car and you pulled him into a tight hug the moment you saw him. 

“How’s Price?” you asked immediately, holding him at arms length and looking deep into his eyes for any indication of bad news. 

“He’s okay, lass. They took him in for a second surgery but you had done a good enough job. Gaz is with him now, they’re at the hospital. How are you holding up?” he asked. You shivered. 

“It was…cold in there.” you murmured. Ghost rested a hand on your lower back. 

“Kept ‘er safe. Let’s go see the captain.”

—

The ride to the hospital didn’t take long, but before you could enter and head up to Price’s room, your phone rang. The number was familiar. Ghost studied you as you shakily tapped answer and lifted the receiver to your ear. 

“What can I do for you, Dr. Klein?” you asked, leaning against the car as it stood parked in the hospital lot. 

“I’ve heard rumblings about you, doctor. You seem to have caused quite a stir during your time with the SAS.” he said, his voice not betraying any emotion. 

“You know me, sir. Did you expect anything else?” you asked, doing your best to put on your most confident voice. Were you about to be fired? Kicked out not only from your position with the 141 but also from your position working with the American military in California?

“I went over the progress report submitted by one Captain John Price, and I must say that I am impressed. I did not expect you to make progress with your professionalism so quickly. It has been recommended to me that you return to your position here in California and be taken off of your probationary period effective immediately.” he said. Your mouth went dry and your heart fell into your stomach, a cold sweat blooming across your body. 

“...What?” you asked, unable to control your emotions any longer. 

“Your captain has insisted that you return and resume your position here immediately. I expect you by the end of the week.”

You hung up the phone, tears pooling in your eyes as your hand flew to your mouth. 

“What is it?” Ghost asked, the concern evident in his voice as he took hold of your hands and gazed at you. 

“Price gave the order for me to go back to California.”

—

“What the fuck is wrong with you, John?” you barked, pushing past Gaz in the doorway and shouldering your way into Price’s hospital room, your furious gaze locking onto him the second you located him. He raised his head from his pillow and gave a weak smile. 

“Hello to you too, doc.” he said, sitting up slowly and settling himself in the bed. 

“You’re getting rid of me?” you barked, your hands flying to your hips. “You’re the one who gave me the order to operate on you. I caught a fucking court martial because of you. I–”

“You’ll be safer in California.” Price said, raising a hand to silence you. “Shepherd is up to something. I don’t trust him, and it’s obvious that he’s trying to get rid of you. If you were to go back to California, you’d be out of harm’s way.”

“I’d still be facing a fucking court martial. What is going to do, kill me? I care too much about all of you to go back. I-I love Simon too much to leave. I belong here, with the 141” you said, your voice cracking. It went quiet, and Price sighed. 

“I’ll help you fight it to the best of my ability. Laswell is working on getting the charges dropped already. If it’s really what you want…then you can stay.”

—

You left the hospital later that night with Soap and Gaz at your side. Simon had conspicuously disappeared not long after things had settled down and you hadn’t seen him since. 

“Broody fucker is probably off lurkin’ in the shadows. He’ll catch up - no offense, but ya need tae go shower, bonnie,” Soap had teased. The three of you had driven back to your barracks together and they had seen you into your room before heading off to their own. 

A long shower had you feeling better - it had been a long last few days, and as much as you wanted to collapse into bed and sleep your exhaustion away, you were starving. 

You padded down the hall and toward the kitchen slowly, your fuzzy slippers protecting your feet from the cold, concrete floor of the 141’s residence hall. It was quiet with the exception of snores drifting out of Soap’s room - you couldn’t help but smile at that. 

On your way back from the kitchen, snacks in hand, you noticed that the doors to your med bay were ajar. Upon poking your head in, you found that your normally locked office door was open too. Worry filled your heart and you padded inside to check for any intruder. 

As you emerged from your office, the sound of boots on the tiled floor startled you. Ghost met you in the middle of the med bay, hands in his hoodie pockets. He wasn’t wearing his balaclava. 

“Oh, you scared me, love. Where did you run off to?” you asked, offering him a tired smile as you moved to head back to your room. Simon held up a hand, stopping you. 

“Wait,” he said, looking away and fiddling in his pocket nervously. “I’ve never been good at these things,” he muttered, producing a little box from his pocket. Your heart skipped a beat, and you froze. 

“Sorry - didn’t know there were sizes. So I had to get this because I didn’t know yours,” he said, getting down to one knee and gazing up at you. There was no shake in his hands as he slid the box open, revealing a beautiful silver necklace with a small glittering stone set into it. 

“Simon,” you whispered, and his eyes found yours. 

“Would you marry me?” he asked.

-----

taglist: @iamaliceinwonderland, @itsmeamysworld, @ghostlythots, @oranoyaora, @keiva1000

[theangrycomet-art]

Sonic Underground Reprise: Hedgehog Family Tree Hedge

Here- the parents, the aunts, the uncles, the grandpa and grandma's and even some cousins.

Now, are most of these characters relevant to the main plot? No. But if you have followed me for any amount of time you should know of my love of expanding character's family trees.

COMMISSIONS OPENED

Kofi

Family Notes: (this gets kinda long)

Parlouzer Lore (paternal side)

Charlotte was a sailor who split her time exploring and fishing with her crew

she may or may not have been a pirate

Maurice was a skilled carpenter who worked from his home workshop in Port Mobius

he was just a humble, if a bit on the quiet side,

the two met by chance when Charlotte was exploring the area while Maurice was trying to get groceries

instantly charmed with one another, they kept in touch and she made it a point to always come back to see him every chance she could

after about 5 years of this she proposed to him and the two were married the next day

Chuck was born shortly after (honeymoon baby)

he mostly stayed on the mainland with his father while Charlotte continued working on the high seas

Julius was born when Charles was 12, and Pauline Pauli when he was 19

Chuck left for college early at 16, so he wasn’t particularly close with his younger brothers until they were practically adults

Jules ran away when he was 13 to join the circus, completely cutting off contact for nearly 5 years

At 17, he and several other members of the circus (including Argus) were arrested in Casino City after being framed for treason by a rival performance troupe. Due to their age however, the two were given an alternative to jail time: enlistment, which they begrudgingly accepted (this was HIGHLY illegal btw, as both were underage and therefore not qualified to be enlisted)

around 3 years into service, Chuck got wind of the bullshit charges placed on his brother and threatened to raise hell if the two were not brought back home immediately

Jules and Argus were then hired as a part of the Royal guard where they were charged initially with guarding King Max’s son, Crown Prince Nigel

Pauli avoided trouble growing up, having taken more after his father than his lovely, impulsive older brothers

Ihe developed a passion for piloting and decided to start his own delivery business, which would be how he would meet his future wife Bernie

Bernie

Nadim Lore

ditch the royal family part and exchange it for a powerful magic fam

Hatshe is the matriarch of a powerful magic guild, the Rising Sun, though she has retired from any official position

the Rising Sun was formed by Aman-Rapi long ago

Hatshe met Olgilvie when traveling through the Kingdom of Mercia when the then King requested the aid of the Rising Sun’s strangest magician (they had meant to request “strongest” but their had been a slight typo, luckily for them Hatshe was both)

Bastard son of a a duke, Olgilvie was knight renound for his skills with a blade as well as the strings

he was assigned to aide Hatshe in her assignment

the two did not get along initially, as both were headstrong individuals who had their own way of doing things, but eventually became friends, and later lovers

He ran off after her once her assignment had been completed and continued courting her back home

Layla is Aleena’s older sister, as well as the current leader of the Rising Sun

Though she may appear calm, collected, and regal, outside of official appearances she is a very much a dork who is not above a little mischief

she met Terios when the were children during the family’s travels

more specifically, she found his half dead body lie partway out of a river bank

he was taken in to the guild, where he showed strong promise in healing magic

childhood friends-> lovers, slowburn 160k words basically

everyone knew that they liked eachother except themselves

despite some initial mishaps, the guild has been thriving under her leadership

despite Robotnik’s efforts, their guild halls have remained hidden to him, as well as serving a safe havens for those trying to escape his reign

they work loosely with the Resistance, though Layla leaves it up to the individuals to come forwards and offer aid

[blueberrybladelemonade]

My Heart Cries for You, Will You Answer?

Summary: With your home needing to be repaired you find yourself needing a place to stay for a few days. Your friends couldn't help you so when Peppino offered that you could stay on his couch you were nothing short of being grateful. Although when you're together neither of you know what to call that feeling in your stomach when you're with each other. Must be something you ate.

Contains: Fluff, Uncomfortable sleeping arrangements, Cleaning out of boredom, Alcohol, Slight Angst, Domestic fluff, Tipsy Noisette, Oh look you're both in debt now, Oh, this isn't the couch...and that isn't your pillow.

Your lips became a fine line as you continued this dreaded conversation. A stale odor permeated the room, forcing you to cover your nose with your shirt collar intermittently.

"Yeah." You reply into the phone, a pit forming in your stomach.

Once more your eyes flick to the ceiling where a sizable hole had formed along with a ring of moisture surrounding it. Bits of drywall littered the floor, soaked to a paste. In your peripheral a fat drop of water plinked to the floor. 

It started earlier with your water randomly cutting off for just a moment as you showered. Seconds later the water had returned to it's normal pressure, though not before you heard a distinct grinding and pop. Then there was no water at all. 

Which brought your current predicament; On the phone at 8pm standing in one of many haphazardly cleaned puddles, to get not only your ceiling repaired from the damage, but also the plumbing, not to mention the floor was-"

"Yes I'm still here." You say a bit too quickly, beginning to pace the border of the room. As you listen to the person drone on, deducing the estimated total you feel yourself sweat. This was before anyone even came out, what if it's even higher? Any drywall that had been soaked would need to be cut out and from the hole above you, there was going to be a lot. 

Your phone almost drops from your hand as you were finally given an amount. "How much?!" You ask again in horror, legs feeling weak. Hearing the estimated price repeated you stoop to the floor. Despite feeling like you were hitting rock bottom, someone clearly had a pickaxe. 

Not only were you going to have a huge bill after the repairs -you dreaded how much more overtime you'd be working. Would you need to get a second job?- but you'd have to find somewhere else to stay for a few days until the repairs were finished. 

You're told briefly you'll receive another call to confirm when the water restoration crew could come in and begin. As you exchange your home details and a time to call back tomorrow you nearly slip in another puddle.

"Thank you." You mutter, regaining your balance. As the call ended you felt the urge to chuck your phone and scream. Instead you remain rooted in place, staring into the space as you attempt to calm your racing thoughts. 

After what feels like hours you heave out a long deep sigh and force yourself to return to where you had set the mop and bucket.  

You had to stay somewhere else for a bit, that was the first step. Despite it being necessary you still felt uncomfortable at having to possibly burden someone else with your request. The phone felt heavy in your hand as you unlocked it and scrolled through your contacts, stopping on the bright pink image. 

You decided you would ask your friends first

Would she be awake right now? Probably, if you were being honest. Noisette sometimes stayed awake until 1am doing God knows what.

"Y/N?" You hear Noisette's voice say something you can't make out to someone. "Are you ok"?

You briefly explain to her about your evening before dropping the question if you could stay at their house for a couple days. 

Silence filled the line before Noisette interrupted it and told you to wait. You could make out Noisette talking in a low voice to who you assumed was The Noise. 

"Sorry Y/N." Noisette cut back to you, "Theo is practicing for his audition and he said we would be too distracting". You knew that was a code word for "loud and obnoxious". 

"You can ask Red? I know she was sick earlier this week but I'm not sure if she's over it or not." She added. 

Red was the nickname of your other friend and she was your backup option if you couldn't stay with Noisette. She was sort of eccentric and really needed to stay away from what ever caffeine she always drank but she did mean well. 

"Yeah I guess I can ask her. Thank you Hazel, have a good night". You keep the disappointment from your voice and hang up.  As you scroll up to your 'C' contacts and find Red's picture, you pause as you consider Noisette's words. On the other hand, getting a cold might be a small price to pay even if you'd rather not get sick at all.

You shrug and click the call button. The phone rings three, then four times and you begin to wonder if Red would pick up at all. On the fifth ring you hear a small whine a sort of rustling. 

"Dude it's almost nine are you ok?" You could hear Red's voice cracking, as if struggling to speak. As you once again recount the events you sigh, popping your question as you make your way to the living room to grab the floor cleaner. 

"I would say yes but I'm still getting over a cold and trust me, you do not want to get this shit. Sorry Y/N". Red replies, to which you thank her, tell her to feel better, and tell her good night. 

I guess a motel it is. You grumble and set your phone onto the counter. Now left with your thoughts, you reenter the water soaked room and survey the damage. Wordlessly you grab the mop and begin to soak and wring the mess into the bucket, at least what you could to lessen any more damage. 

* * * * * 

You sit in the furthest corner of the pizzeria, away from everything. On occasion you'd glance over at Peppino as he worked, debating if you should order something but you weren't hungry.

If you just stayed frozen in this booth you wouldn't have to worry about your home repair problem, right? You sink further into the booth. There wasn't a motel or anywhere to stay for miles but at this point you might have to just suck it up. Or could you just stay here? How did forever soun-

"You ok-a Y/N"? The voice snaps you out of your thoughts. As you turn your head you look up you meet Peppino's concerned gaze. "You look outta it".

"Oh, yeah. I'm ok." You lie, giving him a weak smile. While you appreciated him asking you didn't want to burden him with your current dilemma. 

You momentarily regret living so far away from everyone else you knew that you could ask for help. 

"You don't-a sound like it." You watch as he takes a seat across from you, the corners of his lips turned down. 

"My home is having a plumbing issue, I'm just trying to figure out where to stay for a few days but I'm probably gonna just stay in a hotel." You could feel yourself grimace despite attempting to remain nonchalant. 

Peppino remained silent, looking down at the table before occasionally back to you. "How bad-a is it"?

"The ceiling caved in from the water." You avert your gaze to look at the wall and force a chuckle out. "Apparently the studs in the walls conveniently trap water and also prevent airflow. Pretty much anything soaked has to get ripped out. Mold and all that". 

You look back over at Peppino, eyes widened slightly as you explained everything from your evening. "It's kinda bad but everything will get fixed...soon".

You weren't sure what else to say as Peppino quirked an eyebrow and looked back towards the kitchen counter at Gustavo. He was currently pulling out a fresh pizza before replacing it with one that needed to be cooked. 

"You could-a stay at my house, if-a you want?" Peppino suggested, still looking across the room. You blink, shocked at his suggestion and shake your head. "No, thank you Peppino but I couldn't. I don't want to bother you with something like that". A flutter in your stomach had you shifting in your seat, maybe that was a sign you needed to eat even if you didn't feel like it. 

At that Peppino's attention was back on you, his eyes fixing you with an incredulous look. "Nonsense Y/N. It'd be better than-a staying at a motel." He urged. 

He wasn't wrong. Despite that, you simply stared blankly at him. You wanted to reply but the words were stuck in your throat. Instead you'd open your mouth but close it again. 

"I'll-a see you after work." Peppino slid out from the booth, getting back to his feet. "Come back here around-a six. And bring your-a things with you".

* * * * * 

"Here we are." Peppino unlocked the door and pushed it open, a pleasantly cool gust of air greeting you as you stepped inside. Beyond the doorway lead to the living room where a couch was against the wall. On the opposite side was a TV standing atop a small entertainment center. Aside from those, a few picture frames or shelves were dispersed on the walls. 

"You can-a have the couch and you can put your things in the closet over-a there..." Your eyes followed to where Peppino gestured, off to one end of the room was a thin door. 

You throw your arms around him in a hug and murmuring a soft "Thank you".

Tentatively he wrapped his arms around you, melting into your touch. Peppino couldn't recall the last time someone had actually hugged him, you were the first person in a long time. 

"Oh! -Sorry!" He stepped back, realizing you had loosened your grip, and rubbed the back of his neck. 

"The bathroom is-a down the hall to the right. You can put your bags in-a that closet".

Peppino gave you a small tour of his home, explaining where everything was along with a quip or two as you both talked idly. Feeling he had given you a sufficient rundown, Peppino left you to put your things away and get settled while he walked to the bathroom to get a shower then get ready for bed. 

As the water began to run you cringed briefly, remembering the sound yours made before the disaster. Shaking your head dismissively you sorted through what you would need for your own shower. Pulling out a bag you opened it to confirm the contents. Nodding to yourself you set it neatly to the side, zipping the suitcase back up. 

As you turned your attention back to the couch you pause and look back to your bag before deciding to pull out your pillow too. 

* * * * *

You rolled over onto your right side, pulling the blanket up to your chin and curling in on yourself. As much as you could anyways. A moment passed before you turned over again, onto your left. Seconds ticked by. With a huff you moved to lay on your back frowning up at the ceiling fan. 

Hours had passed and you had barely slept. You would nod off only to snap wide awake again, suddenly uncomfortable with your current position. As you squinted through the dimly lit room you could barely decipher the time. Sighing, you tossed over onto your side again, putting your head beneath the pillow. 

Your eyes snap open as music began to blare, yanking you out of your half conscious state. At least you think it was music. Was that the radio? You listen to where the muffled sound was coming from, realizing that it must be Peppino's alarm. 

A minute passes by. Then another. The last song had ended and a new one had begun to play, another indecipherable rock song. 

What if he was late for work? Should you go in there and wake him up? You debate with yourself to let Peppino sleep in but you knew he worked today. You didn't want to see him panic and rush around because he overslept. Especially if you could prevent that. 

Tiredly you get to your feet, stretching your sore back. You wouldn't have guessed Peppino was a heavy sleeper, especially with how easily startled he was. With a groan you shuffle your way towards his bedroom, slowly able to make out the lyrics the closer you got. 

Don't scream about. Don't think aloud.

"Peppino?" You lightly tap on the door. No response. You purse your lips, mentally debating if you should knock louder. Instead you slowly turn the doorknob and push the door open with a creak. If his alarm wasn't waking him that wasn't going to work.

Turn your head now, baby, just spit me out. 

You squint as you step through the threshold, taking in his sleeping form. He was dead asleep, somehow, face down in the pillow. You turn your attention to the nightstand where the music continued to play. 

Why follow me to higher grou-

After pressing pushing the snooze button your hand drops down by your side. Your gaze falls downward only to gasp and take a tiny step back as Peppino's tired eyes met your own.  

You shot him incredulous look. "But you wake up to that"?  "I was awake." He mumbled, face turned but partially still buried into the pillow. "I liked that-a song". "Oh". Was all you could reply with as Peppino began to sit up in bed. He scratched the back of his neck. "Did you sleep ok"?

"I slept great!" You lied. It wasn't as if Peppino could make the couch more comfortable. He raised an eyebrow but said nothing more. Besides, it was just going to be couple days of sleeping there. You could handle it.  You avert your gaze as you realized Peppino wasn't wearing a shirt. "Sorry, I just didn't want you to be late." You fidget with the sleeve of your shirt. "I'm going to go now." You say, awkwardly hitching your thumb towards the door. 

~

"Have a good day!" You call from the couch as Peppino grabs his hat, making his way towards the door. He glances at you and nods. "You too. If there's any-a problems call me, ok"? 

You nod, "I will. And thank you again for letting me stay here".  He paused and looked over his shoulder, giving you a smile. "You're welcome Y/N".

As the door clicked shut you were left alone. You wondered what to do with yourself since it's not like you had anywhere to be today. That and you didn't particularly feel like going anywhere. It was still early in the morning, a brief glance at the clock read a quarter past six. You click your tongue and pull the pillow into your lap. There's no way you'd be able to go back to sleep right now. Maybe tonight you would be able to get a more proper rest. At least you hoped you would.

Maybe there was something interesting on. You reach for the remote and the TV flashed to life. You idly click through the channels, pausing on occasion to see what was going on. Click. Click. Oh that's some medical procedure. Click. That's the news. Click. Animals. Sure let's go with that. 

For the time being your attention is glued to the channel, watching as a countdown starts and displays a number six on the screen. With a narration playing over a snapping turtle, sitting in the water luring a small fish to it with its tongue. You watch curiously as it snaps it's mouth shut, eating the fish. Interesting. 

As the credits start to roll you glance towards the clock. You purse your lips, contemplating if you want to sit and watch another episode or find something else to do. 

An idea forms as you notice a thin trail of dust along the table and you get to your feet

It was in the laundry room right? Or maybe you assumed it would be. You grin at seeing you assumed correctly, pulling out a small hand-held duster and set it beside you before opening the drawer beside you.

You set the cleaner and sponge on the counter and took the duster with you into the living room, beginning to run it along the furniture tops. Every so often you'd glance back at the TV. Currently there was a platypus on screen, it's hind leg displayed as a way it can inject venom.

Having finished dusting you grab the sponge and cleaners, toting them with you to the bathroom. You spray some of the cleaner into the sink, watching the white foam bubble before swiping it and the counter clean. 

As you turn your attention to the mirror you gently wipe at the the smudges and feel the panel shift slightly. Curious, you feel for the corner that stuck out and nudge the panel open. The cabinet swings open and you're greeted with a large assortment of different medications. For a moment you simply stare at the bottles, some more full than others, some with faded labels versus a few with newer ones. 

The door clicks shut again, feeling as if you had seen something you weren't supposed to. You gathered up the cleaning supplies and flicked the light switch off. As you put everything away you recall the panic attack Peppino had last year. 

* * * * *

Lightning flashed followed closely by a clap of thunder, making you jump. You almost let out a shout before realizing the person that appeared beside you was Gustavo. 

"Y/N can you stay with him real quick? I'll be right back". 

Glancing back towards the kitchen door you give a tentative nod. "Uh, yeah sure". Before he could walk off you asked, "What's going on?" 

A look of hesitation flashed across Gustavo's features, as if he was internally debating something.

"Sometimes he has episodes like this. Please just make sure he's ok." He replied quickly. You watch as Gustavo dashes off and around the counter, disappearing before you could press further. 

White light lit up the room for a fraction of a second before another loud boom echoed throughout the pizzeria. 

Slowly, you made your way through the swing door, only poking your head into the room. "Peppino?" You called out his name received no response. The only sound you could discern was your own breathing and the rain pounding against the windows and roof outside. Behind you the door squeaked and swung shut as you stepped into the back room to search for Peppino. 

The worried expression on your face faded when you found him -sitting on the floor by the sink- but quickly returned when you took in his current state. 

Shallow shaky breaths left his mouth as Peppino tightened his grasp on his sleeves in a desperate attempt to control his quivering.  Another clap of thunder caused Peppino to yelp, pulling his legs up to his chest. His chest tightened even more, feeling a burning prickle in his eyes. 

Unsure of what else to do, you stooped before him, gingerly running a hand down his arm. "It's ok Peppino, you're ok." You whisper as you continue to trail your hand soothingly up and down. 

"Hey, look at me. Please”.

Peppino hesitated before lifting his gaze to you. Both his arms wrapped around you suddenly, pulling you to him. A feeling of safety washed over him as he buried his head in the crook of your neck. After a moment you felt a dampness pool there where his head was. 

One hand continued rubbing his back while your other cradled his head to your neck. "M sorry." He breathed. 

"Don't be, you can't control it. It's ok." You switch to circular motions and shush him gently. "You're safe. Just take deep breaths. Repeat after me." You draw in a deep breath. After a moment you feel Peppino draw in a shaky breath.

"Now breath out". His grip on you loosened slightly as he exhaled. 

You weren't sure how long you remained like this. By the time you heard the door squeak open, the storm had grown quieter with the thunder rumbling further away. A dark silhouette was making slow -almost cautious- steps to you. In your peripheral you could make out Gustavo's features in the dim light. 

* 

Peppino's movements were sluggish. You watch from the counter seat as Gustavo ushered Peppino into a booth, urging him take a seat. You watch as Gustavo leans down to whisper something and motioned in your direction. Peppino remained still but you could see his mouth moving as he stared vacantly across the table. Gustavo nods and pats him on the shoulder, turning around and making his way over to you.

Instead of you however, Gustavo holds the door open to the backroom, gesturing you to follow him. As the closes behind you, you open your mouth to ask the question that had been burning in your mind. You manage to get out the first breath but Gustavo interrupted you. 

"Do you know what PTSD is?" Gustavo murmured. You tilt your head curiously and give a nod. "I think so". 

* * * * * 

You never pressed Peppino about that day. As you looked back at the cabinet, you wondered how often Peppino had anxiety attacks or how often his PTSD was triggered. You frown as another thought crossed your mind. How often was he alone when he had to suffer through these episodes?

You snapped upright as your phone screamed at you. With a jolt you take your phone out of your pocket. "Noisette" was flashing across the screen. You swipe to answer and groan and you're immediately assaulted with questions. 

"Y/N! Are you ok? You never replied back to me yesterday! Did you find somewhere to stay? You're not sleeping in an alley are you?"!

Oh. You vaguely recalled going through your phone messages last night but never replied. "Sorry Hazel, I had a lot going on and forgot to text back. No I'm staying at Peppino's".

You raised an eyebrow at the sudden silence from Noisette. "His pizzeria?" She finally asked. 

"No Hazel," you sigh, "His house".

A shriek filled your ear and you yank the phone further away. At least you think it was a shriek, it might've been a cackle. You roll your eyes and bring the phone close again as Noisette composes herself. 

"You're still going to be going out with us, right? You're not going to be too busy are you"? 

You furrow your eyebrows, exhaling sharply as you hear her giggle to herself again. You briefly regretted telling her where you were staying. There was no doubt Noisette was going to bring this up at dinner, making it a bigger deal than it was. 

"Yes, I'm still going to go out with you guys." You snap, fidgeting with a stray thread on your shirt. "I'm literally just sitting here on the couch. Alone".

"Ok Y/N! I'll pick you up from Peppino's house then!" Noisette replied cheerily, knowing she had successfully riled you up. "See you tomorrow"! 

You exchanged goodbyes and hung up, setting the phone on the TV stand. "Ugh!" You let out a sound between a groan and sigh, glaring as you put the cleaning supplies away. Why is Hazel so immature? You grumble, wiping off the sweat that had formed on your neck. 

~

A heavy click echos from the door, making you blink awake and turn your head towards the sound as it's pushed open. You must've fallen asleep, you muse, rubbing your eyes, giving Peppino a lazy wave as he steps through the front door. 

"Welcome back." You stretch, wincing as a jolt of pain went up your neck. 

"Ciao. How-a was your day Y/N"?

"It was ok," you shrug " I just sat here..." You trailed off watching as Peppino peeled his tank top off and over his head. "Scusi?" It was in that moment it occurred to you that you had stopped talking and were staring at Peppino without realizing it. 

Well now you realized it, mainly because he was looking back at you with a raised eyebrow. Your eyes darted away, finding interest at the wall shelf. "I just dusted and wiped off a couple counters earlier".

"You...cleaned?" He quirked an eyebrow. "You didn't have to..."

You offer a small smile, peering at him from the corner of your vision. "I thought it was the least I could do since I'm staying here for now. Then I just watched TV for a bit." You toss your head towards the screen and look back up at Peppino, "How was work"?

"Just-a the usual. Noise didn't show up today, so there's a that." He replied with a shrug, taking a seat at the opposite end of the couch. You hear him let out a soft sigh as he unwinds from the day. 

A sudden pang of hunger digs at you, making you finally realize you hadn't eaten all day. 

"Do you want take-out? I know a good place around here?" You ask, already having your phone in hand looking up the restaurant's phone number. Peppino tilted his head, peering at you curiously. 

"Don't worry, I'll pay." you add on before he could protest. "Can you write down your address though"? 

"It's on-a the fridge, actually." He replied meekly, watching you walk to the kitchen out of sight. You duck your head back into the room, "Is there anything specific you want"?

Despite shaking his head you could hear him mumble out "Lo Mein" before being greeted by a voice on the phone. 

"Hi, I'd like to place an order. For delivery." Peppino watched as you returned with a strip of paper and walked passed him, towards the bathroom. "Can I get a large order of Lo Mein, Pepper Steak, an order of Rangoons..." Your voice trailed off and became unintelligible as the bathroom door closed. 

"Grazie..." Peppino mumbled. 

~

Empty cartons had been set on the coffee table, long forgotten, as Peppino remained on the couch with you. Finding nothing of interest on the TV it turned into background noise as you both talked idly. The glow of the television screen was the only thing illuminating the otherwise dark living room. Outside, a thin long trail of moonlight cut between the drawn curtains from the window. 

"Do you get lonely?" You ask, sinking low into the cushion as you scold yourself for asking something like that. Your knee was brushing against his now and had been for some time. Peppino hadn't seemed to notice and you had been too comfortable to be bothered by it. 

Peppino shrugged. "Sometimes. Gus comes by every-a now and-a again".Minutes passed and you worried if you had made him uncomfortable with the question before an exhale caught your attention. "I don't-a really talk to many-a people." He turns his head to face you and you meet his gaze. "I'm not-a that great to be around. I have a lot of problems. One you know-a about".

"That's ok. I mean-" you shake your head at your choice of words. "I mean that I don't mind being there for you, when it happens".

Peppino stares at you blankly. "I like being around you." You continue, grateful that the dark of the room hid the fact your face was starting to heat up at realizing what you had just said.

Your mouth had parted again to say something to back-pedal but stopped as Peppino suddenly rose to his feet. "Anyways, I'ma go to bed, it's getting-a late." He swipes the empty containers from the table, carrying them to the trash. "Goodnight Y/N".

You remain silent, puzzled as you watch Peppino disappear towards his room.

* * * * *

You peer out looking out from beyond the bathroom. From the window you could partially see that the sky had begun to be painted in shades of pink and oranges. 

Your hand came down to smooth out the creases of your shirt, inspecting your outfit a final time in the mirror. For tonight you had opted for a button up shirt and a simple pair of dress pants. You feel your phone vibrate, looking over the text that had flashed across the screen. With a nod to yourself, you flicked off the light switch and made your way out of the bathroom. 

"Alright, Noisette is here, I'll be back later!" You call out on your way to the front door, giving Peppino a wave as your free hand reaches for the doorknob. Peppino glanced up in your direction, his eyes widening before he fumbled with the remote in his hand, giving a tiny yelp and catching it before it clattered to the floor. You pause and arch an eyebrow, "Are you ok"? 

“Ye-yeah! These are slippery!” he held the remote in the air with a chuckle, his face reddening from what you assumed was embarrassment. 

Peppino watched you pull the front door open blinking as if remembering you were still there. "Have a good time Y/N!" He calls back to you and you smile in reply, "Thank you".

As the door clicks shut Peppino collapsed back down onto the couch with a deep sigh, sinking low. Silence followed, feeling strangely sudden and almost deafening. Peppino hadn't realized how silent his home was. How empty it felt. 

As he stared absently at the wall he let his mind wander. You had only been here two days but your idle chatter and laughter made his home feel less empty. 

Do you get lonely?

His eyes flicked over towards the clock on the wall. He couldn't help but wonder who you would talk to tonight. Were you just hanging out with Noisette and Red? Or were you meeting others, too? Did you have someone you were interested in?  The thought took him by surprise and he felt a flutter in his chest. Peppino

 knew a decent bit about you throughout the year and he couldn't recall any time where you mentioned liking anyone, let alone dating them. 

If you were seeing anyone you would be staying at their house, not his, Peppino reasoned to himself, somewhat proudly. There was that feeling in his chest again. 

As quickly as the thought crossed his mind Peppino suppressed it. Even if you were interested in someone it wouldn't be him, of all people. He found himself thinking, corners of his lips turned down. He had a laundry list of issues that, when all added together, was essentially a giant sign saying "Stay away".

You seen Peppino that day, for one. When that bad thunderstorm rolled in that evening. You had stopped by for a pizza but as the downpour grew heavier you decided to wait it out, staying in the pizzeria. For the most part you sat at the counter carrying on a conversation between him and Gustavo as they cleaned for the night. 

Then a particularly loud explosion of noise filled his ears. Beyond that, Peppino hadn't recalled much afterwards. What he did remember is your voice, your touch, and how you let him pull you into a hug and he cried into your neck. Peppino wished you hadn't seen him during that episode, seeing a part of the broken mess that he was. 

On the other hand, you didn't shy away from talking with him after the fact. Peppino knew it wasn't out of pity, you were genuinely a good friend. 

With a sigh Peppino decided to grab a glass from the cabinet. Friends. That was all you both were, right? There was no reason you would you bother with someone like him as anything more. Despite thinking this, Peppino still was fond of the days you would visit him at the pizzeria.   

While he worked you'd sit at the counter, even after you had finished your food. He enjoyed talking to you and getting to know you. The feeling was at least mutual, as far as he could tell. You'd always take the time to stay at the counter and chat with him even if you didn't order anything.

Did he leave the stove on? Peppino wiped the sweat on palms on his pant leg, glancing at the appliance. No it was off, he confirmed, pouring water into the cup. 

* * * * * 

Peppino shook his head at the nearby booth, watching as you and your friends joked and talked. He pulled the garlic knots from the oven, setting them onto the counter before pouring a mixture of melted butter and herbs onto the warm bread. Gustavo shuffled them onto a larger plate beside the cheese sticks before hoisting it upwards and towards your table. 

"Red?" Noisette chuckles, poking Red in the ribs, earning a hiss from her. "How do you say your name again"?

Red's ears twitched backwards and she rolled her eyes. "For the last time, it's pronounced 'Kay-dr- " 

"Oh look!" Noisette smiled, cutting off Red mid word, as Gustavo set down a platter of mozzarella sticks and garlic knots. "Thanks Gustavo"! Red glared at Noisette, letting out an exasperated sigh. She shoved a cheese stick into her mouth. "Thanbs Gus." Red grumbled between bites.

Your friends chatter faded into the background, Peppino watched you scoot out of the booth and make your way to the counter. He looked away, busying himself with sliding another pizza into the oven. 

"Mind if I sit here instead?" You ask. Peppino glances over his shoulder with a smile, "Not at all. What's-a wrong? Are they-a too loud for you"?

"Eh kinda. Noisette's annoying Red, nothing new." You shrug, taking a seat. "Anything

Peppino looked over your shoulder to your friends who had taken an interest in you two. He watched as Red leant towards Noisette, never tearing her gaze away from your direction. She uttered something with a smirk and Noisette mirrored it seconds later. 

"Well..." he trailed off, grabbing a ball of dough and working it into a thin circle. "I'ma going to the next-a town over this weekend".

"Oh? What are you doing there"? Your eyes lit up. 

He tilts his head towards you hesitantly. "Do you want-a come"?

* * * * * 

Without much thought he pulled out his phone and went to his photos. There was a picture of you both, behind you two looked to be a large pasture with the sky hinting it was close to sunset. 

He thought back fondly on that weekend road trip. You both sat in the car talking and laughing, occasionally performing a very tone deaf duet as familiar songs played on the radio. Even if neither of you could sing too well it was still fun. 

You had made shopping for just groceries or otherwise mundane items enjoyable. 

As Peppino made his way to the bathroom a small smile formed. You would visit his restaurant alone and often. On occasion you'd visit and share something you cooked the night before with him and Gustavo. There were dozens of times you'd sit at the counter keeping him company and being a small light in his otherwise monotonous day. 

Occasionally his thoughts would drift to you and he'd imagine how nice it might be, to be your boyfriend. He blinked as that thought came up again. Admittedly since you had been staying here those passing thoughts came up more frequently. 

Peppino had considered telling you how he had felt on numerous occasions, only to come up with why one day or another wasn't a good time. As Peppino caught his reflection in the mirror, reality came back down onto him, pulling him from his daydream. He suddenly became aware of how snug his clothes fit around his mid section as he shifted to reach at the medicine cabinet. Peppino's hand fell back to his side as he took in the reflection that stared back at him. 

Nothing about him said "boyfriend material". Those days had passed him long ago. Peppino had hair, once. He took that for granted and now was stuck with a very thin comb over. That came with age but he hated how his medication also had hair loss as a symptom. Not to mention his weight. As the cabinet swung open his eyes scanned for a particular bottle, glowering slightly as he continued to nitpick himself. 

Middle aged, fat, balding, Peppino mused, as if going through a checklist of rehearsed flaws. With a shake to the bottle a small pill fell into his hand and he popped it into his mouth, taking it with a swig of water. 

That was just the surface. What you obviously seen for yourself. He wondered what your 'type' was before dismissing it, it wasn't him.  You dealt with his anxiety attacks and PTSD episodes on occasion but you were free to avoid him after at any point. You wouldn't want to deal with his PTSD, anxiety, and his night terrors.

* * * * * 

A thoughtful hum escaped your lips, the chemical sting of nail polish and cleaner subtly stinging your nose. 

You glance away from the TV as keys jingled, seeing Peppino dressed you perked up. "Going somewhere?"

"I'm just-a going to the store to get-a few things." He hitches a thumb towards the door.

"Can you pick something up for me? I'll give you the money".

"Why don't you come with-a me? You need to leave the house".

"Huh"?

"It's not-a good to stay inside like this. Come with-a me." Peppino urged, taking his hand off the doorknob. 

"But you're about to leave, I don't want you to wait on me".

"I can wait for you to get-a dressed. Come on mia cara".

You stop and turn back at Peppino, watching him stiffen. "What'd you say"?

"T-that I'd wait-a for you to get dressed?" He repeated, shifting his weight to the other foot. 

"I heard that, no I mean the last part you said"?

"Oh! Sorry-a Y/N! It means 'friend'" he replied quickly. You give him a dubious squint as a pale shade of pink dusted his cheeks. It must be the lighting you reassure yourself. "Oh ok!" Your brightened, "I'll be ready in a few minutes mia cara"! 

"It would-a be mio caro in your-a case, actually..." He trailed off, watching you root through your bag for a set of clothes, mentally berating himself for saying anything.

You made a mental note to look up a few Italian phrases and nicknames later. Maybe Peppino would find the gesture thoughtful.

Your thoughts were cut short by Noisette as she drew back with an excited squeal. "Oh let's do silver for each other nail, Y/N"! Your mouth had barely parted before Noisette  disappeared into another part of the house. Very faintly you heard bottles and glass clinked together as she rummaged through her cabinets.

"Can you both shut up!" Noise yells from down the hall. "I'm rehearsing in here"! Before you could retort there was an equally loud shout once more from the opposite end of the house.

"No, you shut up! We're leaving soon anyways!" Noisette huffs. Her smile returning brightly as she takes a seat in front of you. 

Noisette continued her shouting match with Theo while your mind idly went back to replaying this morning. 

"How many do you need?" You asked in mock exasperation, setting what you deem an inordinate amount of tomatoes into the cart. 

Peppino smirked, crossing something off his list. "It's not really-a that many when you cook them".

A jar he hadn't placed in the cart caught his attention. You watch as Peppino picked it out of the cart, the corners of his lips pulled down as he held up the glass container towards you, "Why-a do you need-a this?" 

"For uh...pasta?" You reply. 

"Mio dios Y/N, no." You're about to protest but Peppino cuts you off, "I'm-a making REAL sauce. Don't-a eat this". 

As he puts it back on the shelf Peppino turns his attention back to the opposite wall. You purse your lips, watching as he grabs a can, turning it over to inspect the label. Slowly your hand makes it way back to where the jar was. 

"Don't-a you dare." Peppino mutters, shooting you a sideways glare. You hold your arms up in defeat, giving him a nervous chuckle.

"Oh these look great Hazel!" You exclaim, smiling down at your newly polished nails then back to her. You wonder if Peppino would notice them. Blinking, you stare down at your hands quizzically. You doubt it, why would he look at your hands? 

A cough interrupts you both, when you turn towards the sounds you see The Noise standing in the hall doorway, arms crossed and shoulder propped against the frame. He was dressed in a simple button up and shorts. Dark circles were under his eyes as if he hadn't been sleeping well.

"Ready to go"? He gaze meets yours although you knew he was talking to Noisette. "Stay outta trouble, I'll pick you guys up at nine".

* * * * *

A cool burst of air greeted you as you entered the restaurant. As you approached the hostess you replied "two". She squinted at her list for a moment before calling over a man to seat you both. He led us through the restaurant and to a large booth in one of the back corners, leaving menus on the table before flashing us a warm smile and saying he’d be back to take our orders in a minute."What are we gonna drink Y/N"?

"Nah, I'm not in the mood to drink." Before you could ignore her protests a particularly colorful drink caught your eye. Watching as it was carried passed your booth and Noisette's eyes fixated on it as well. You smirk at each other, having the same thought. "

Actually, I'll have one drink". 

Your waiter came back after giving you both a little time to peruse the menus and he gathered your orders before hurrying off again. "So how gross is his house?" Noisette asked, looking at you expectantly.

You shake your head "Its not? He cleans and its relatively tidy". Noisette drew her head back, "Really? I'm surprised considering...well look at him".

You cross your arms and lean back into your seat. "And what's that supposed to mean"? You glare at her hand as it waves you off dismissively and Noisette offers you a smile, a slight gleam to it. "I was just joking Y/N, but it's cute how you defend him".

Crap. You walked into that one. 

As your drinks arrived you squint across the restaurant towards entrance. You give a thoughtful hum, "Where's Red?" was all you mumbled before taking another pull from your drink.

"She texted me saying something came up and had to back out." Noisette shrugged. You quirk an eyebrow. Of course she did, how typical. The snarky reply you had ready was interrupted with an yawn.

Maybe staying home would've been better you think. Wait, you didn't even have a home at the moment. You were staying at Peppino's.

You find yourself wondering what he was doing right now. You shake your head, he was probably getting a shower right now before going to bed. 

She leans closer across the table. 

"So what have you been doing at his house?" She asks, eyebrows waggling suggestively. You flick her forehead as she leans across the table, earning a yelp from her as she recoils. You scoff at her reaction, as if this doesn't happen nearly everytime you drink together. 

"Well, not much. Stressing out over my house and just watching TV." You pause thoughtfully and then grin, "We went grocery shopping earlier today and we're cooking together tomorrow though".

"Oh how romantic! When are you guys finally going to start dating"?

Your eyes snap towards her. "Excuse me? What, because we went grocery shopping"? Noisette rolls her eyes in response. "He wouldn't let just anyone room with him, for one. Think Y/N, think. Haven't you ever seen the way he looks at you"? You rack your brain but come up blank. Was this a trick question? Any time you showed up at his pizzeria you never noticed anything particular about Peppino. 

You'd watch him busy himself with making pizzas or garlic knots mostly. For what it was worth, he didn't ignore you though. You both would talk and laugh whenever you'd opt to sit at the counter.

Though you couldn't recall any particular way he looked at you that stood out.  There were the occasional get togethers you and your friends would have. Peppino showed up to most of them and when he did you'd both wind up near each other. 

"How does...he look at me?" Your hands were fidgeting with each other and you had no idea when that had started.  She grins widely, "Like he's helplessly falling in love with you".  You choked and nearly spilled your drink. Wheezing for breath as your face flared red, Noisette bent forward, eyeing you with a wide, cheshire grin. Her voice dropped to a low sweet voice, "And I think you feel the same".

Swallowing hard, you fiddled with the straw in your cocktail, “In love?" You sputtered, "Who said anything about- Hazel, shut up. That -that's completely ridiculous".

With a start, you realized you had downed the last of your beverage. Fine, one more drink. You suddenly needed another one, futilely hoping the alcohol would burn out the memory of what Noisette just said. One more drink. Two would be your limit. 

Noisette considered you momentarily before a knowing smirk spread across her face. She simply shrugged at you, looking over your shoulder as your server brought your appetizer. "Your entrées will be out in just moment".

You cleared your throat, catching your server's attention before he left. "I'll have an Iceberg in radioactive water." You blurt out. 

Noisette wrinkles her nose at you, grabbing the drink menu. "What even is that?" You give a non-committal shrug. It was the first drink your eyes fell onto. "I'll have one too!" She chimes in, to which your server jolts something down and disappears through the group of tables. You cast Noisette a sideways glance, "Don't even start." You warn with a chill. 

Unfortunately Noisette took your warning as more of a suggestion, one she gladly ignored. As Noisette drank, she proceeded to grow increasingly obnoxious. You popped the fork into your mouth, biting down on the potato with more force than necessary. You were currently contemplating if you could get away with murder. How many people might witness me wring her neck?

"So you're telling me if you both got a hotel you wouldn't feel anything"?

How many people are in here? You look over Noisette's shoulder, scanning across the room. "We're basically doing that now Hazel." You reply, craning your head to continue counting. "It's just, instead of a bed, I'm sleeping on the couch. What am I supposed to feel exactly? Back pain"? Maybe twenty eight? 

"People don't invest their time and attention into someone they're not interested in. He took you into his home." She continued, eyelids drooping. "And stop playing dumb, you're bad at it".

You drop your voice low and serious, eyes narrowing at her, "Hazel, he's just being nice. He's a good friend. That's it." You ground out the last part, shoving another bite of food into your mouth. 

But did you want to be more?

Noisette tilted her head at you, suddenly going quiet, looking you over.

"What?" You growl.

"Your face is so red right now".

Your nostrils flared and your lips became a fine line. "I wonder why?" You replied sarcastically, "It can't possibly be because you've not shut up over me liking Peppino for half an hour"! You slap a hand over your mouth with wide eyes. Shut up. Shut up right now. No more drinking.

You were cutting yourself off after this. No more drinks. Noisette blinked and pursed her lips, watching you duck your head low. 

If you had bothered to look up you would've seen her face plastered with a massive shit eating grin and then you might've actually killed her with your spoon.

~

Noisette was currently laying across your lap giggling up at you. "I mean with all the dough he messes with I bet he gives great back massages! And with how tense you are...! It's a perfect match"! She poked your cheek to punctuate her sentence, your jaw remaining tensed.

Sighing, you tried to banish the thought Noisette just put into your head, opting instead to watch buildings and trees blur past the window from the backseat of Noise's car. Actually no, that was a bad idea. You look away before your bout of nausea worsened. The alcohol had finally kicked in as you were nearly done eating and you wanted nothing more but to lay down. 

"Babe, Y/N's uncomfortable, not tense." Noise interjects, shooting you an apologetic look from the rear view mirror. "Stop trying to play matchmaker".

"Oh come on Theo! Last night you literally said 'If those two don't get together after this I'm burning down Y/Ns house!' When I told you Y/N was staying with Peppino"! 

Your eyes widen before transforming into a glare. Why my house?" You snap, ignoring that this was probably an exaggeration. Probably.

"Er...so you stay at his house longer?" Noise ducks his head and averts his gaze, suddenly and intently focused on the road. 

"Oh yeah! Y/N admitted she liked him!" Noisette babbled, yelping as you jabbed her in the ribs. You let out a long drawn out sigh, relieved to see a familiar house come into view. 

As the car stops in the driveway you hastily unbuckle your seat belt, moving Noisette off your legs. “Good luck with that.” you told The Noise under your breath, glancing down at his girlfriend. With a low snort you hastily pushed open the car door and got out. 

"Have a good night Y/N." He replied stiffly. "Bye Y/N!" Noisette shouts from the open window. "I hope you get lucky! Stay hydrated"!

Feeling the night air cool your warming face you reply with a raised arm, flipping her off as continuing your walk towards the front door. "I know I'm number one!" Noisette cackles. "Babe stay in your seat!" Noise whines, tugging at her sleeve, coaxing her to sit down. "Theo, Y/N needs that advice"!

His eyelids droop at her. "I don't think Y/N does. Anyways, here's some advice; buckle yourself in so we can go home before I install the goddamn child lock again".

Your eyes fixate on the lock and key as you concentrate, hearing the car drive off.

You weren't incredibly drunk, you still were able to focus on everything around you -in your opinion. But you felt much more bubbly -unless Hazel continued to bother you- and like your movements were still relatively fluid. 

You yelp as your foot collides with the end table. Before you could tumble to the floor you braced the nearby wall and straightened yourself. A short giggle escaped your lips at how ridiculous faceplanting into the rug would have been. As quick as your smile appeared it faded as you recalled Noisette's endless teasing. Maybe if you were lucky she'd forget what you said earlier. 

You step into the bathroom and are met with humid air and the exhaust fan above running.

The mirror had condensation on it still. You wiped the moisture from it with your hand and brought your face close to the reflection. A lopsided grin tugged at your lips as you swayed your head side to side, stopping with a cringe as a dull throb shot through your skull. 

Shoot. You needed to go get your night clothes too. 

~

Peppino heard you across the house as you opened the bathroom door, footsteps growing fainter. After a moment he heard the door squeak open and shut again. 

As he strained to listen, eventually he heard the shower turn on. A sharp knock made him jolt, for a brief moment he wondered if you fell. He contemplated what to do if you did fall in there but felt relieved as minutes ticked by and he hadn't heard any sounds of distress. 

Hopefully you had fun tonight, Peppino found himself thinking, moving to turn off the lamp on the nightstand. He was sure you'd tell him about it in the morning.

Peppino jumped as his door burst open and you stumbled into his room, leaning over the edge of his bed. "Merda! What-a are you doing?" He asked horrified, your eyes were slightly glazed but still held a look of awareness to them. You looked as if you were teetering on the line of consciousness and about to fall into a hard sleep.  "I miss my bed." you whine, "Sleeping on the couch hurts my back". Peppino sat up with a start as you abruptly faceplant and sink into the sheets beside him.

Despite not smelling the alcohol -you must've brushed your teeth- he could tell you were inebriated at this point. That explained a lot, actually. 

"Fine. You can-a sleep here. Just tonight". You grab Peppino's wrist as he moves to sit up and get out of the bed. "Stay." You mumble. 

"W-what?"  

" 's not comfy on...couch".

"I'll-a be fine Y/N." he replied more sternly attempting to pry your fingers off his wrist. In response your hand found grip on his arm and weakly tugged him. "Y/N." Peppino turned, looking down at you. "Let-a go. There's not-a enough space for both of us." He tried to dissuade you, only to be met with another whine.

"Yes there is". You pull him towards you, causing him to stagger onto the bed as you scooted to the opposite side. You shoot him a smug smile as you proved him wrong. 

Peppino shook his head and grumbled and was about to protest, only to be met with your closed eyes and a soft smile. Your grip had loosened and Peppino debated darting from the room. As he attempted to move away once more you let out a huff, weakly pulling his arm towards you again.

"Stay." You mumbled almost incoherently.

With a defeated sigh Peppino grabbed a pillow from beneath him, setting it between you both. The pillow bumped your face but there was no indication you even realized it did, instead continuing to cling to his arm. 

Peppino stared up into the darkness. He could feel your breath with each exhale now that you turned over onto your side. Whenever you fell into a deeper sleep he would slide out of the bed. There wasn't a doubt in his mind if you woke up in the morning, in bed with him, you were going to be horrified. Or disgusted. 

He scooted an inch towards the side, his hand coming into contact with the edge of the bed. As luck would have it, you inched your way to his side, the pillow separating you both overturned. 

With your other arm, it found it's way across his body. Peppino clenched his jaw and tensed for several seconds as you tugged yourself closer, using his shoulder as a head rest. 

Peppino released his grip from the mattress, only to fidget with the fabric instead. He felt weak, his chest was beginning to burn and constrict. With you this close he could smell the soap you used to wash with, it was sweet, like some sort of fruit. 

This wasn't the time to think about what you smelled like!

He had to stay awake so he could get out of the damned bed. This wasn't right. You had come in here in a drunken stupor and wanted to sleep in a bed to be more comfortable. Peppino couldn't fault you for that, sleeping on his couch was uncomfortable. 

But why did you decide to come in here in the first place? Why did-

Your breath tickled the side of his face and Peppino mused how might it actually might be nice to- Wait, no. He dismissed the wayward thought that crept into his mind. 

The air felt heavy and the long stretch of silence was deafening. Your close proximity had his heart racing to the point he could hear it in his own ears. Was it loud enough that you could hear it too? 

"Mm. Stay." You mumble, your breath so close to his ear made him shudder. 

~

You nudge your face deeper into the pillow, drawing in a deep breath. You hadn't slept this well in days, right now you finally felt so warm and comfortable. A soft sigh escaped your lips as you began to be pulled back into sleep. 

As you turn more onto your side you feel the arm at your back pull you closer. Vaguely recalling last night and how nice it was nice of Peppino to let you sleep in his bed. Your consciousness wavered in and out as the familiar and pleasant scent soothed you.

Wait. 

As you began to drift back into consciousness, piece by piece, it came to your attention that there was something off about the pillow your cheek was resting against.

Your eyes snap open and are met with Peppino's face inches from your own, peacefully snoring. An icy heat washed over you as you realized you fell asleep on him. As you put the rest of the pieces from last night together you forget how to breathe. You remember for some reason you insisted he stay here and didn't want him to sleep on the couch. 

And now you had woken up pressed against his body with his arm slung around you. You jerk away, nearly falling out of the bed. Just as abruptly Peppino snaps awake and upright with a jolt. You flinch as he rushes out of the bed with a yell, "Che cazzo! I told-a you this was a bad idea!" A look of horror flashed across his face before turning deranged. "We didn't do anything Y/N I swear! This was-a bad idea! I fell asleep! Ho fatto una cazzata".

You force the urge to panic down as Peppino rambled, unable to understand what he was now saying. Nothing happened, you knew that. Regardless this was your fault. You clung to his arm and wouldn't let him go despite his protests.

You let out a small sigh and clear your throat, catching his attention. "I know. I know. I was buzzed but I still remember everything. I was just...surprised".

Peppino remained rooted in place in the corner of the room, watching intently as you get out of bed. His chest seized and he swallowed hard, taking a tiny step back into the corner.

You smile awkwardly over to him. "Well with that out of the way..." You say as calmly as you could, you shift your weight to the other foot, turning your head from him to hide your face as you feel it grow increasingly hotter, " 'M gonna go get breakfast." 

As you left his room Peppino covered his face with his hands. He let out an exasperated sigh, splaying his fingers to confirm you had left the room. "Scoparsi".

Why were you so calm? Why weren't you angry? Peppino's thoughts raced but instead he ran his hands through the hair on either side of his head before shuffling out of his room. 

Breakfast was uncomfortable and silent. After today you could go back home. But you almost felt upset at the thought. There were some downsides to staying here -namely sleeping on the couch- but it was nice. You enjoyed Peppino's company, even if he was now avoiding even eye contact with you. 

You hope the feeling is mutual and you didn't just ruin your friendship because of your stupid stunt last night. 

"When are the repairs done"? Peppino asked suddenly, still not looking up at you. Instead he was finding a particular interest at the egg on his plate, poking at it with his fork.

With nothing else to talk about you check you phone, not seeing any missed calls or texts. 

Oh...as if today couldn't start off worse. You flip through your phone and stare at a text from a number you didn't recognize. You never called to confirm your appointment. Heh. You look to Peppino nervously. It must've slipped you mind. 

Peppino quirks an eyebrow and finally meets your gaze as he waits for your reply.

"Uh...I never confirmed the appointment." Your voice barely above a whisper. 

His eyes widened, mouth slightly open. "How-a do you forget that?" He snapped. 

"I don't know! I never seen the notification for the text"! 

"Oh Mio dios Y/N! Didn't you think to call-a if you hadn't heard anything back the next day-a?" He didn't look angry, just shocked. At least there was that? You assure yourself with this small detail.

"I had a lot going on!" You whine, "I forgot to call and confirm the next day when came to your pizzeria. Then I came here!" You called over your shoulder, Peppino's eyes followed you as you raced across the room, phone in hand as you frantically called back the company that was supposed to be repairing your home. 

After this morning Peppino didn't think it best to be near you and had tried to make himself scarce. Despite this, he still asked if you had wanted to learn how to make pasta sauce but from scratch. 

As you worked silently you idly felt for the spoon but your hand closed around Peppino's instead as he attempted to grab it too. Both of you froze. From your peripheral Peppino was staring straight ahead at the wall.

His hand was warm, you noticed. Slightly rough -and also clammy. Probably from washing the dishes. It felt almost natural with how his hand fit into your own. 

Peppino clearing his throat brought you out of your thoughts and you drew your hand back with a small "sorry".  

"Did Noisette paint-a your nails last night"?

"Yeah," you replied stiffly, "Before we went to dinner we did each other's nails".

You noticed he had stopped cutting the vegetables and seemed to be contemplating the pile. Peppino exhaled and small noise escapes his lips. You watch him pause as if about to say something, but closes his mouth again. A tiny near inaudible growl bubbled in his throat. You watch him become visibly frustrated with himself for being unable to come up with what he had wanted to say.

"What is it?" You ask, watching as his mouth clicks shut once again, becoming a thin line as he furrows his eyebrows. "Can't say." Peppino shakes his head.

"Can't say...what?" You ask. Peppino instead picked up a slice of tomato between his fingers before setting it down before repeating the gesture with another piece. Unsure if you should urge him to speak or not, you opt to remain silent. Peppino glanced your way out of the corner of his eye.

"Pino?" Your shoulders raise as you cringe at the nickname you blurted out. 

Peppino bows his head and you watch as he shuts his eyes. "I know this isn't-a what you want to hear..." he trails off as he turns to face you, but didn’t quite meet you gaze. Your stomach clenched uncomfortably as Peppino slowly looked up at you and you seen how serious his expression was. You also felt anxiousness radiating from him. 

"About this morning..." he let out a shaky breath. 

Oh. You mentally brace yourself, knowing he was going to likely tell you that he doesn't want you in his home anymore. That this morning wa-

"I-a understand if you don't-a feel the same but you deserved to know. I-a like you Y/N." He said, the last part barely above a whisper. "I-a enjoy being around you. I want to wake up next to you. Every morning".

Now it was your turn to stare dumbly at him, trying to find words. Any words to say to that. Noisette's words from last night rang in your head. "Like he's helplessly falling in love with you".

"And you feel the same".

You're snapped out of your thoughts as he clears his throat again, watching as he shifts his weight in the stifling silence before turning back towards the counter. He rubbed the back of his neck "We should-a get Noisette to take you home." The words began to tumble out of him quicker "I'ma sure they can make an exception for a day or-a two? Then you don't-a have to see me again, how's that-a so-"

"No".

His words died on his tongue and he blinked, peering at you curiously as you stepped closer to him. 

You gently cradled one of his cheeks in your hand and pressed a kiss to the other. "Nn...?" His whole body tensed, his eyes growing round and unblinking. You spotted some of that redness creeping back into his skin. 

As you started to pull away and take a step back however, one of his hands shot out and snagged you around the waist. Pulling you back to him, he nuzzled his nose to yours as he murmured, “You missed".

Peppino hadn't waste any more time and before you knew it his lips were against yours without warning. Your eyes blink shut and a flare of heat shoots up your spine as his lips molded against your own. It felt as if he was almost pleading silently "Let me be yours". You both melt into the kiss, your hands reaching up to tenderly cup Peppino's face. 

You let out a soft whine as he pulls away, his forehead was pressed against your own. Your eyes slowly opened to gaze into his, searching for something to say. Instead you find yourself burying your head into Peppino's shoulder.

Just as you're about to move away, Peppino pulled you back towards himself, taking hold of your of your wrists, bringing both your hands up to cup behind his neck. 

He moved his arms down to instead snake around you waist, hugging you tightly against him as he bowed his head next to my ear. His breath was warm, making me shiver slightly as he whispered, "Do you want to try this-a morning again"?

You tilt your head back meeting his gaze. Peppino's eyes stared at you intensely and darkened with at best you could say was hunger but otherwise you couldn’t put a name to it. Smiling shyly up at him, you nod softly only to yelp as you feel your feet leave the floor. As he scooped you into his arms Peppino made his way towards the door to his room, taking you inside, door quietly shutting behind him. 

* * * * * 

Peppino's arm draped over your waist from behind, pulling you close as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. Then he sighed and his whole body began to relax once more against you. You shift, adjusting your leg before intertwining it with his.

He felt so warm. So comforting. You could feel his heartbeat against your back, your hearts beating in sync. 

You brushed a stray strand of hair that clung to your face with sweat before twisting around in Peppino's hold, laying your head against his bare chest. " 'nn more minute,” he muttered, squeezing you tighter before dipping his head to plant a kiss against your forehead. His grip was warm and soothing.

You didn't ever want to let him go, wanting to enjoy this feeling as long as you could. "If you want, you can-a stay here as long as you like." He mumbled, burying his face into the side of your neck, placing a kiss there.

"Pino..." You trail off. "I do have to go home at some point." You reply, attempting to respond further only managing to give out a small groan as he nipped at your throat. 

"Will you come back?" Peppino asked softly, propping himself up on one arm, looking down at you hopefully. "You could always-a live with me".

"Would it really be okay with you if I moved in?" You ask. Peppino let out a short laugh, "Of course it-a would be mia cara. But no rush, you can-a think about it".

You fall silent, you wanted to wake up like this, in his arms, forever. 

"You wouldn't have to sleep-a on the couch anymore." He whispered into your ear, "You can-a sleep with-a your sweet Pino". 

You hitch your chin, eyes flicking up to meet his. There were still the repairs you needed to have done to your home and if you really were going to live here, you had a lot of details to sort out. Instead you gently bite the inside of your cheek. One step at a time. You grin at Peppino, mentally agreeing with your decision. "I'd love to". 

You squeak as Peppino abruptly yanked you back into his embrace. In the next moment you were tilting your head upwards as he hovered over you. His throat emitted an impatient whimper as he gently pressed his weight down onto you. 

One of Peppino's hands found yours and wove your fingers together. Even if you couldn't stay in bed forever, maybe Peppino was right. Just a few more minutes. You slowly reached your free hand up, softly tracing your fingers over his jaw before clasping at the nape of his neck, gently tugging his head down to meet his lips with your own.

🫐Whew this was definitely the longest fic I've written and I'm particularly proud of how it turned out. I hope everyone that got to this part enjoyed the read :>

🍋Did you catch the references to the t h i n g s? (The show that was playing on TV was The Most Extreme from animal planet (when the channel was still good lol) anyone remember it? x) 💜

Once again, thank y'all for the support of my little fic blog, y'all are awesome and I wish everyone a great day!

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Your „Buggy „Bertram“ the clown“ thing reminds me of my own not quite serious but funny little headcanon, namely that Shanks given name isn’t actually „Shanks“ but it was how baby Buggy at age four still pronounced his name and everyone, including Shanks himself just ran with it. By all accounts this is Shanks real name now.

Of course that wouldn’t stop Buggy from using his birthname to mock him. Just imagine it, two adult men fighting over serious matters, Shanks is slowly getting to a point where he’s absolutely done with Buggy’s theatrics, patience is running things. „And I’ll say it again. NO.“ „But-„ „You can’t get me to do it no matter what you say redhead.“ „What? God- Buggy come on. Buggy-„

And suddenly Buggy turns around, expression unnaturally aloof „ Yes? What is it

Charles?“

And the look that Shanks throws him isn’t considered a form of Haki but the angry silence that suddenly falls over everything while Buggy looks like a smug cat could have fooled you.

No but like, I'm cackling while imagining one of their silly arguments as kids devolving into them just shouting their "real names" at each other louder and louder with their fingers jammed in their ears while the rest of the crew just stares like,

"Shut up, Charles!"

"YOU SHUT UP Bertram!"

"CHARLES. CHARLIE. CHUCK."

"BERT. BERTIE. BETTY—"

"CHARLES CHARLES CH—"

"BERTRAM BERTRAM BER—"

"Shouldn't we stop them?"

"No, Roger wants to see who passes out from lack of oxygen first."

"—TRAM BERTRAM BERTRAM BER—"

"—ARLES CHARLES CHARLES CH—"

[drchucktingle]

more art talk

buds have been asking some questions in comments about separating art from artist so i will answer a few. first i will start with this very good post from a buckaroo who sums up everything i have said VERY VERY WELL. was reading along nodding but then got to end and they seem to think chuck disagrees which is confusing. i do not disagree with any of this it is just very good summary of my post so i will put here for context and to say 'good job bud yes'

anyway this is great summary of what chucks post was talkin on. knowing everything or nothing about an artist will color your interaction with them (even learning something and then pretending you never heard it will color your interaction whether you like it or not). personally chuck thinks the 'ignoring path' will be less vivid and complex but all ways are VALID. there is no correct what to experience art just personal preference that we all make for our own trot.

now i will get to the questions of a different bud.

no of course not why would it be incomplete without knowing every member of crew. chuck does not even really understand what this buckaroo is trying to say. your artistic experience is just as colored by how much you know about someone as it is how much you DONT KNOW about someone (i wear a heckin mask chuck is a perfect example). all of these ways are valid and all are part of the artistic experience. so no you do not need to know whole crew to enjoy art what the heck

no of course not. where are buds getting this idea? if you bought painting from local art fair with this big story behind it about daughter selling to you and all this THAT IS ALL PART OF THE GREAT ART EXPERIENCE. what you have for lunch that day is part of it and the way you got to the swap meet and what the weather was is all part of the art. this story is very vivid and exciting. of course that is not 'leaving the play at intermission' just because you do not know who made the painting. not knowing who made the painting is PART OF THE ART BUD

of course your experience of art changes if you experience it multiple times. this one seems VERY ovbious so i am extra confused. your experience of a dang movie changed based on where your seats are and whether or not you order a popcorn and chocolate milk, of course it changed second and third and forth time you see it. not sure what is part about doing legwork first means.

what about it? i am confused. deliberately separating yourself from your work in some way (like wear a dang pink bag over your head and being mysterious WHAT THE HECK) would IN ITSELF still be part of the art. something not being known is just as relevant as something being known and these are all perfectly valid parts of artistic trot

having a complete picture of context might make experiencing art more complex or vivid, might not, neither is 'more valid'. you do not need to know EVERYTHING about a work of art. in fact you do not need to know ANYTHING to enjoy art. not sure where this is coming from.

that is true if you learn something bad about an artist and then ignore it you are STILL altering your experience of their work, which means you are STILL not actually separating art from artist because to IGNORE something is an active choice.

seems like buds are hung up on this line from chucks previous post:

'separating artist from art is like walking out of a play during intermission youre missing half the show bud, for better or worse. gotta accept theres a whole second half and grapple with that because its all one big performance'

buckaroos seem to think this is SCOLDING those who walk out but that is not what i am saying. i am not saying 'shame on you for walking out' i am saying YOU LITERALLY CANT STOP THE EXPERIENCE IT IS IMPOSSIBLE. because walking out does not end the experience it just dulls your perception of whats happening in the theater. intermission walkout means you just have a new and different experience where youre witnessing the show from the lobby or across the street (which is to say having artistic experience of NOT witnessing the show). and personally chuck thinks sticking around and really wrestling with these ideas brings vivid results (despite all experiences being 'valid' in technical way. there is no 'correct' way to ART AROUND this is just chucks personal choice)

anyway those are some comments i thought were interesting. many of them are confusing to chuck but wanted to answer all for way of clarity of buds and just to DIG A LITTLE DEEPER. thank you to buckaroos who took time to write all this you are proving love and i appreciate your input very much EVEN QUESTIONS I DO NOT UNDERSTAND ARE VERY GOOD AND THOUGHTFUL so thank you buckaroos. LOVE IS REAL