#the addition of the tote makes it another

[kindahoping4forever]

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[hauntedhowlett-writes]

Title: cruel summer | chapter 2

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

Pairing: Joel Miller/Female Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ MDNI)

Chapters: 6/6

Read on AO3 | Join the tag list

Summary:

Joel takes a contracting job renovating a master bedroom and bathroom while the homeowners are away for the summer on a cruise.

He wasn’t expecting their twenty-three year old daughter and the thoughts he’d have about her.

Content warnings: age difference (15 years), explicit sexual content

Additional tags: oral sex (m receiving), masturbation, dirty talk, pet names, angst, internalized guilt, Joel Miller is emotionally constipated but Trying His Best. Let me know if I’ve missed anything!

Joel stops eating lunch with you after that day in the kitchen. You try not to let it affect you, but you miss him. You miss the easy conversation and the way he makes you laugh without even trying. It’s hard to focus on studying with him constantly on your mind, especially when he’s so close but just out of reach.

A few days pass without any interaction with him at all. He comes inside and immediately heads upstairs and the only reason you even know he’s there is the heavy footsteps above your head.

So you’re surprised when one day he comes downstairs and heads straight towards you, stopping a respectable distance away. He clears his throat and runs a hand nervously through his hair.

“Sarah’s daycare just called. I forgot it was a half day for them, I gotta go pick her up,” he says. “I’ve got grout mixed upstairs. I’ll come back as soon as I can, but I’ll have to see if Tommy can come watch her.”

“Oh. Why don’t…you can just…bring her here? I can watch her, if you need,” you reply. He stops his nervous fidgeting, hands dropping to his side.

“Really?” He asks. “You don’t have to do that, I don’t want to interrupt your studyin’.”

“Not getting much done today, anyways,” you say pointedly. He presses his lips together.

“Right. Well, uh, if you’re sure. I’ll go get her now.”

“Why don’t you give me your cell number. You can call me if you change your mind and are going to take longer getting back here,” you suggest.

He nods, digging his phone from his pocket and handing it to you. You pass him yours from the table. After entering your number, you exchange devices again. You check your contacts, biting back a smile seeing the entry titled “Joel (contractor)”.

As if you wouldn’t know who he was.

“Okay, well. I’ll be back,” he says, heading out the door with a lingering look.

————

Sarah is sitting in her car seat, asking Joel a thousand questions about where they’re going.

“Daddy’s gotta work, sweetheart. But I’ve got a very nice friend who’s goin’ to watch you while he’s busy,” he explains. “We’re going to her house.”

“Oh. Does she have toys?” She asks.

“I’m not sure. She might.”

“I hope so. Does she have snacks?”

“Probably.”

Her questions continue in the same manner until he pulls into your driveway. She frees herself from her car seat and hops from the truck, running to the front door faster than Joel can catch up. She’s bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet as he pushes the door open, but she clings to his arm as he enters the hallway.

Joel checks the kitchen but finds it empty. He calls out your name.

“In the living room!” You shout back.

He’s surprised to find you surrounded by a couple large storage totes, digging through one and pulling out another box stuffed with what looks like fabric. You look up when they enter and smile brightly.

“Hi! You must be Sarah,” you say to his little girl, giving her your name as well. “Do you like Barbie dolls?”

Sarah nods, her grip loosening from her dad’s arm as you start to pull some Barbie dolls from one bin. Joel watches you tell his daughter about how they’d been yours when you were her age, and that they’re very excited to have someone play with them again. You open the box of clothes and accessories, Sarah’s face lighting up at all the options.

Watching you with his daughter feels like a fist to the gut. You’re so attentive and kind, patiently explaining the different dolls to her and their backstories that he just can’t look away.

It’s not until you look up at him and your smile falters the slightest bit that he clears his throat and says, “Alright, sweetie, you all good here?”

“Yes, daddy,” she says dutifully, focused on changing the outfit on one of the dolls you’d given her.

“I’ll be upstairs if you need anything,” he says, more to you than to Sarah. You only nod in response.

He trudges up the stairs with a lump in his throat and a vise grip around his heart.

_______

Sarah might just be the best kid you’ve ever met. She’s smart and funny, making up the silliest stories for the Barbie’s to act out. You can see why Joel is such a softie for her.

“Do you have anything else we can play with?” She asks after about an hour of playing with the dolls.

“Why don’t we head outside?” You ask, picking the toys up off the floor.

“Okay! Can I show you my cartwheel?” She asks, jumping up from the floor and trailing after you towards the back door.

“Uh, absolutely!”

She runs full speed out the sliding glass door, bypassing the pool and heading straight for the grassy yard beyond. “Watch! Watch!” She calls out to you as she plants her hands to the ground and shows off her cartwheel.

“Wow, that’s awesome, Sarah!” You call out. You dig in the pool storage and pull out a forgotten soccer ball that you’re pretty sure has been in there since high school. It’s a little flat, but it’ll do.

Sarah continues to do cartwheels through the yard while you kick the ball around. She catches sight of what you’re doing and runs over to join, watching as you demonstrate some of the footwork from high school sitting in the recesses of your mind.

Sarah eventually starts to complain about being hungry, so you head back inside to set up a snack for her. “Give me one second, sweetie, I’ll be right back.”

You jog up the stairs and head to your parent’s room. Joel’s wiping the excess grout from the shower tile he’s just laid when you tap on the doorframe to get his attention. He looks up at you in surprise, dropping the wet sponge in the bucket and standing.

“Hey. I was just about to make a snack for Sarah and I wanted to make sure she doesn’t have any allergies or anything?” You ask. He stares at you for a moment before taking a step closer, hand wrapping around the back of your neck and tugging your lips to his.

You’re surprised but your traitorous body responds before your brain can, your lips moving hungrily against his as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. He presses you back against the door frame, his calloused and slightly damp hands coming up to grip your face and angling it to his liking. His tongue slips past your lips and tangles with yours, making you whimper.

He pulls away all too soon, smoothing a hand against your hair as he stares into your eyes, his breathing quick and labored.

“No…no allergies,” he finally says. You huff out a laugh.

“Right…you could have just said that,” you joke. He cracks a smile.

“Get back downstairs. I’ll be done soon.”

________

Joel tried to do the respectable thing. He really did. He was going to let that one slip up be left in the past, move on with a perfectly normal working relationship. No more lunches, no more lingering in the doorway to talk to you when he comes in the morning and you’re still sleepy, sipping your coffee that’s more sugar than anything. No more after dark thoughts of you as he lays in bed palming his cock. Just him and the bathroom remodel.

But then you’d offered to look after Sarah, and you could have easily stuck her in front of the TV while you went about your day, but you gave her your undivided attention. He’d watched from the window as you showed her some fancy soccer footwork that he didn’t even know you knew how to do. You cheered for her when she landed six cartwheels in a row and then laughed when she crashed to the ground, dizzy and giggling. He’d watched you run around the yard with her on your back, a pool noodle held in her hand as she commanded you to charge forward.

And just like it always does when it comes to you, the weak walls of his resolve crumble around him.

To top it all off, you came upstairs to ask him the most innocent but thoughtful question and goddamnit, he can’t do this. He had to kiss you.

Now that you’re no longer standing in front of him, the logical part of his brain kicks back on and the guilt returns. What the hell is expecting out of this? He’s here temporarily, for a job, and so are you. You’ll return to school at the end of the summer and he’ll be here…what? Pining after a girl fifteen years his junior who could have any number of men her age falling at her feet?

Joel scrubs a hand over his face. Much as he hates to admit it, he’s going to have to man up and have a real conversation about all this. He pulls his phone from his pocket and shoots a text to Tommy to see if he can come over and keep an eye on Sarah tonight after she goes to bed.

________

Joel comes down about thirty minutes later and Sarah runs towards him, throwing her arms around his legs and hugging me tightly.

“We had so much fun, daddy! She watched me do all my cartwheels and we played calgary!”

You snort. “Cavalry, sweetie,” you correct.

“That!” She exclaims. Her head tilts back to look up at her dad with big brown eyes so full of love it makes your stomach flip.

“It sounds like you had a great day, baby,” Joel says, running a hand over her curly brown hair. “It’s time we head out.”

She pouts and Joel hits her with a look that’s so quintessentially dad that you have to bite back a laugh. The young girl sighs dramatically before stomping out of the room towards the front door.

Joel reaches a hand out towards you and you step forward, slipping your hand into his. “Can I come over later? To talk?” He asks quietly, fingers tangling with yours.

“S-sure,” you reply. He gives you one last nod before he lets go of your hand, heading out the door after Sarah.

_______

Tommy comes over around 8:00 that evening, after Sarah’s in bed following another chapter of James and the Giant Peach. He lets himself in, joining Joel in the kitchen where he’s cleaning up after dinner.

“Where ya off to this late, old man?” Tommy asks, opening the freezer and peering inside. “No ice cream?”

“Get outta my fridge,” Joel snaps, whacking him with the dish towel in his hands. “And none of your business, nosy lil shit.”

Tommy holds his hands up in surrender. “Geez, touchy.”

“I’ll be back in a few hours. Don’t go riflin’ through the pantry, either, I already hid the cookies.”

Tommy’s annoyed groan follows him out the door. In the truck, he finds your name in his contacts and opens a new text thread.

On my way.

_______

Your phone chimes on the coffee table, screen lighting with a message notification from Joel letting you know he’s on his way. It’s the first time he’s ever contacted you by phone, and you smile down at the brand new text thread despite the dry, no nonsense message.

You fight the urge to reply, fidgeting in your seat with nerves. You have nothing else to focus your attention on as you wait for Joel to show up. You’ve already cleaned up after dinner and your second glass of wine sits on the coffee table. You’ve changed into your pajamas, a pair of sleep shorts and an oversized UT t-shirt you’d stolen from an ex-boyfriend.

The man himself puts you out of your misery with a soft knock at your front door. You open it to find Joel standing there in another pair of jeans, dark wash instead of the light wash work pair he usually wears, and a soft looking flannel, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans.

“Hey,” he says, shifting his weight from foot to foot. His eyes roam your body, every place they linger tingling under his gaze. “Can I come in?”

“Oh, yeah, of course. I’m surprised you didn’t just use the key.”

“Key is for the job. This ain’t part of the job.”

“Right,” you mumble, trailing behind him as he heads for the kitchen. “You want anything to drink? I’ve got beer.”

“Sure.”

You grab a can from the fridge and carry it with you to the living room, setting it beside your glass of wine on the coffee table. You take a seat, folding your legs under you. Joel stands near the doorway, like he’s not sure whether to sit or make an escape.

Finally, he joins you on the couch, a healthy cushion length of distance between your bodies. He smooths his palms over his thighs before grabbing the can of beer and popping the top.

“So…you want to talk?” You ask, breaking the tense silence. He sighs.

“I wanted to apologize. For what happened the other day,” he says, staring at the can of beer like it’ll say the words for him. “I shouldn’t have left you like that. After.”

You remain quiet. It had been shitty, getting left behind, all the adrenaline leaving your body and making you feel untethered. You’d cleaned yourself up and hidden in your room the rest of the afternoon, curled up in your bed.

“I don’t know what I’m doin’ here,” he confesses.

“Sure felt like you knew what you were doing,” you comment. Your smile is smug as you watch his cheeks heat.

“What I mean is,” he continues, throwing you a sharp look that reminds you of the one he’d used on Sarah that afternoon, “I don’t know what you’d want with a guy like me, baby. You’re goin’ back to school in a month, you’ve got dreams and goals I couldn’t touch with a ten foot pole, and you’re just a kid—“

“Don’t call me kid, Joel. I’m a grown fuckin’ woman, and I don’t need you making choices for me out of your own guilt.”

Joel clenches his jaw, his grip on the can of beer going tight enough to dent the aluminum.

“I don’t feel guilty about wanting you, Joel. I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal about it. We don’t have to define anything, we just…go at this with no rules. See what happens.” You shuffle closer to him, walking across the cushions on your knees until you’re kneeling beside him.

“No rules?” He asks. You can practically taste your victory.

You lean closer, bringing your palm up to turn his face towards you, his lips parting slightly as his eyes search yours.

“No rules,” you whisper.

________

This didn’t go at all as Joel had planned. He’d been intent on coming over here, apologizing for his behavior, and explaining that he wouldn’t be sending you any further mixed signals. That all of this had to stop.

But instead, he’s wrapping an arm around your waist and hauling you into his lap, his lips pressed to yours to swallow your gasp. His hands shift the long hem of your shirt out of his way so that he can grip your ass and drag you closer.

Your fingers find the buttons of his shirt, fumbling to get them undone. Your mouth leaves his to plant kisses to his jaw and down his neck, your teeth nipping as you go. Joel groans your name, his hips flexing as you push apart his shirt to expose his chest to your greedy hands.

Your nails scrape down his pecs, catching on his nipples and making him hiss, his head dropping back against the back of the couch.

Your weight leaves his lap and he looks up, ready to complain and haul your ass back where it belongs. But you’re dropping to your knees between his spread legs and looking up at him through your lashes as your hands smooth up his thighs.

“I want you in my mouth, Joel,” you tell him, voice pitched low. “I think about it a lot. What it would be like to suck your cock.”

“God, baby, I think about it, too,” Joel confesses, hips thrusting as you undo his belt and fly. He helps you shove his pants down far enough that his cock springs free, slapping lewdly against his stomach. “Put your mouth on me, sweetheart.”

Joel should have known you wouldn’t make this easy. You don’t listen to his plea. Instead, you wrap your delicate little hand around his throbbing length and give it a few leisurely pumps that have him gritting his teeth.

Then, holding his dick steady, you lean forward to grace him with just one little kitten lick to his head, tongue swiping through the bead of precum that’s already pooled at the slit. Your eyelids flutter and you hum appreciatively and Joel has to fucking will himself not to come all over your pretty face.

“You’re such a lil fuckin’ tease, aren’t ya,” he bites out. You give him your most saccharine smile, the mischievous glint in your eye unmistakable.

He places a hand on your head, fingers flexing against your scalp but not pressing or directing. No, this is your show and he knows that.

You lick up the underside of his cock before finally, finally taking him into your mouth. He groans at the sensation, the tight wet heat the best thing he’s ever felt.

At least for now.

You show him no mercy, taking him as far back into your throat as you can before coming up for air and circling the head with your tongue before diving back down. You gag a couple times, each time making your throat tighten around the head of his cock and making him moan out your name.

Joel catches movement below and lifts his head further to see your hand wiggle its way into those little sleep shorts you’re wearing. “Are you wet, baby? Did you soak yourself just sucking my cock?”

You nod, mouth too full to respond with words. You look so goddamn pretty with your mouth stretched around his thick length, your lashes wet with tears.

“You wanna come with me, sweet girl?” You nod. “Listen to me, then. Slide just one finger into that pretty cunt for me, okay?”

You nod again, doing as you’re told. He can’t see anything past this giant t-shirt you’re wearing and he growls in frustration.

“Bet that feels good, huh, darlin’? Ridin’ your fingers with my cock stuffed down your throat. Add another finger for me, that’s it.” You moan around his length, the vibrations nearly sending him over the edge.

“Can you take a third finger for me? We gotta get you nice and stretched if you’re gonna take my cock someday soon.” You give a little whimper as your motions pause while you work a third finger into your pussy. “That’s it, Christ, you look like fuckin’ sin, sweetheart.”

Eyes shut, you work your hand in the same rhythm as your mouth. When you start to get sloppy, Joel begins to thrust into your mouth.

“Focus on yourself, that’s it. You just worry about makin’ yourself come all over your fingers and I’ll worry about fillin’ this gorgeous fuckin’ mouth.”

With your other hand free, you use it to rub fast circles on your clit. It only takes Joel a few shallow thrusts before he’s spilling down your throat and you’re swallowing around him as you reach your own peak and crash through the ecstasy.

Joel waits until your limbs start to go limp before hauling you back into his lap, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug.

“Wow,” you mumble against his shoulder, making him grin. You pull back to look at him and Joel hates the bit of fear hiding in the back of your gaze. “You don’t…have to leave right now, right?”

“No, baby, I can stay with you a bit longer.”

Joel’s fingers scratch lightly down your back, making you wiggle appreciatively. He fiddles with the hem of your shirt.

“Where’s this shirt from?” He asks innocently.

“Oh, it’s an ex’s shirt,” you murmur sleepily. Joel hums.

“Maybe I have one rule,” Joel says just as you’re nodding off.

“Hmm?”

“We’re getting rid of this fuckin’ shirt.”

[addicted-to-dc]

GK!Jason Todd x Bookseller!Reader - So Wilde

Yes, it's spelled like that for a reason XD. You can have another fic today, a gift from me to you. I love the little easter eggs and details in the Gotham Knights game so damn much.

Content: Fluff, accidental (illegal) drug use. Pretty tame, but I love this story so much.

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

Gotham has its ups and downs when it comes to being a resident, but no one can deny the beauty of the city itself. The amount of history in one block alone would make a visiting historian go crazy if it weren’t for the villains that plague the city.

Luckily for you, you’re in a neighborhood that’s well protected by the remaining vigilantes in the city. Most visitors to Wilde’s Books have mentioned Batman’s never-ending absence, but you usually reassure them that there’s more than just Batman in Gotham.

Leaning back, you continue to read your novel as the door opens. The bell rings loud enough for you to just notice. Leaning forward, you see it’s your favorite customer, Jason. Smiling, you bookmark your spot and stand up.

“Jason! Good to see you, I have your order right here,” you say, turning around to snag a group of bound books on a shelf. “I swear you’re going to read through the whole store at this rate.”

He chuckles, “It’s for the home library. It’s seriously overdue for new additions.”

You place the books on the counter, removing the receipt before sliding them closer to Jason. Suddenly, you remember what you were holding for him. “One sec, I have other stuff for you.”

Turning around, you dig around in your secret stash until you finally find two books. You know he’s going to love these. Dramatically, you place the additional books next to his order. Jason shakes his head with a chuckle, used to your antics, but his laugh gets cut short.

“Oh my god, you found it?”

He instantly picks up one of the books, a rare first edition of his favorite series he’s always ranting about. His eyes drift to the other book. It’s the follow-up novel.

“Both of them? You’ve really outdone yourself this time, (Y/N),” he says. He goes to pull out his wallet, but you shake your head.

“On the house, you practically keep this store open with your spending habits,” you smirk, reaching for a tote bag. “Plus, I owe you for the food last time.”

Your smile fades as you feel a sudden zing of pain run through your head. Massaging your temples, you try to massage the pain away.

“You good, (Y/N)?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you reply, the pain slowly subsiding. “I picked up my meds yesterday and apparently, they switched to a new brand or something.”

Your hand immediately reaches for a tote bag to place the books in, needing to possibly close the shop and sit down. Everything feels too loose, the divide between your thoughts and actions quickly blurring. Sudden heat rushes over your body, morphing into pins and needles before you find yourself on the ground.

Jason crouches next to you. You’re unable to hear his words for a few seconds, until you finally come to your senses. “What happened?”

“You passed out. You need to stop taking these meds, clearly, they’re not helping,” he explains, slowly helping you lean up. “How’s your head?”

“Haven’t had any complaints yet,” you chuckle, a wince quickly appearing on your face. “Okay, one complaint.”

Your hand drifts to the back of your head, feeling around until you find a sizeable goose egg. Damn, you probably have a concussion.

“I’m gonna pick you up, okay?” he asks, waiting for you to nod. “I’m going to sit you on the counter.”

He lifts you up effortlessly, like you weigh as light as a book, and places you gently on the counter. You hold onto him tightly, head spinning as it tries to find its equilibrium again.

“Haven’t been this fucked up since college,” you joke, leaning slightly to the right until Jason intervenes. “Never had these symptoms before.”

He quickly sends a text on his phone before pocketing it, one of his hands on your waist to keep you from falling again. “Do you have the pill bottle on you?”

“Below the register, red bag,” you answer, watching as he digs through your random belongings until he finally finds it.

“Dr. Q?” He examines the bottle of pills, reading over the label until he receives a message. Jay quickly reads it. “How many doses have you taken?”

“Only two. What’s going on, Jay?”

He sighs, weighing his options before finally answering. “Dr. Q as in Harley Quinn?”

Your eyes widen as soon as he says the name, “What?!”

“You didn’t take enough, don’t worry,” he reassures you. “A few more and then we’d be worrying. Can you close the shop? You need to get food in your system to ride this out.”

You nod, “I will if it’s Big Belly Burgers.”

“You read my mind, let’s get you out of here,” he smiles, helping you to your feet. “Can’t have my favorite bookseller in such a state.”

His words make a huge smile grow on your face, but he misses it as he turns around to grab his books from the counter. Hope blooms in your chest. Maybe there is a chance with your favorite bookworm, but you’ll wait for another day. He opens the door, guiding you out until you’re outside and the door is locked.

Your eyes wander around until your eyes meet with his motorcycle. He stares at it, too, most likely thinking the same thing as you.

“Yeah, we’re not doing that. You okay with the bus?”

------

Likes, reblogs and comments are always welcome!

[avastrasposts]

Big Sky Country - ch. 6

Chapter 6 is here and since we left Frankie on his way back to the ranch in Montana, and Aisling still in New York, how are they going to work this out after the way they left it?

Summery: Cowboy Frankie returns to New York to work things out with his 'maybe girlfriend' Eva. But he also makes a connection with another woman, who makes this lost cowboy feel welcome in her Brooklyn bar.

Series Master List

Warnings for the whole series can be found here

“You’re the only one who makes my mind as quiet as the prairie.” 

His parting words remained with her but Aisling didn’t expect Frankie to bury himself so deep in her head. Heartbreaks, guys ghosting her, cheating on her, it had all happened before, apparently she had a knack for picking the losers. But it never took her long to get over them, a week or two of being a bit down, nothing a night out with friends couldn’t fix. 

With Frankie, it had been twelve fucking weeks. Three months of her mind drifting to him whenever there was a slow moment at work, getting annoyed when someone sat in ‘his’ spot at the bar, dreaming about him almost every night. 

Jenny noticed and tried pulling her out of it, taking her to their favorite BBQ place, sitting at long trestle tables, laughing at the ridiculous mason jars the drinks were served in. But then Jenny left for the rest room, and Aisling’s eyes drifted to the Texas flag hanging on the wall and then he was back in her head. 

“You could just call him, you know,” Jenny said, sitting down opposite Aisling and handing over another mason jar of lemonade spiked with bourbon, seeing where her friend’s mind was at. 

“Why would I do that? To get fresh material for the delusion living in my head?” Aisling snorted, shaking her head. 

“To get him out of your system, ask him to come back here, or better yet, go see him. You’ve never been out of the city. Go see Montana.” 

“Jenny, now you’re being the delusional one, how would seeing him again get him out of my system?” 

“I just think, the way you talk about him-” 

“I don’t talk about him,” Aisling interrupted, almost slamming her drink down on the table at the very notion. 

“I hate to break it to you, Ash, but you talk about him almost every day,” Jenny raised her eyebrows, daring Aisling to challenge her. “Only last night at the bar, you said Frankie would like that new beer we’re stocking.” 

“That was just an observation, I wasn’t talking about him.” 

“And when we had lunch on Thursday you told me the story about how he delivered a foal all by himself.” 

“There was a nature documentary about wild horses on the tv!” Aisling protested, “It was an interesting story!”

“You’d already told me that story twice,” Jenny said, “And I’ve known you for over twenty years, never, ever, have you talked about horses. I don’t think you’ve ever even been near a horse.” 

“I have,” Aisling objected, “Remember when Jules worked selling tickets for the horse carriages by Central Park? We used to hang out there and bug her the whole summer.” 

“Doesn’t count. And the point stands; you talk about him almost every day, he’s clearly still on your mind and you need to get him out of your system. Or move to Montana. Whichever one seems easiest to you.” 

“Maybe she just needs to get laid? I volunteer.” 

The voice of a man a few years younger came into the conversation as he sat down next to Jenny, grinning at Aisling. 

“Fuck off, Pete,” Aisling snapped, rolling her eyes at the blonde man. 

“Shut up,” Jenny said at the same time, digging her elbow into Pete’s ribs, making him wince, “This is serious, Aisling is going to be pining over this cowboy for the rest of her life if we can’t figure out how she’ll get over him.” 

“I’m not moving to Montana, and I can’t call him, I don’t have his number,” Aisling said and downed the last of her drink, scowling at Pete’s unwelcome addition to the table. 

“You can actually call him,” Jenny replied, fishing a folded piece of paper from her tote bag. “I got it from the trash after you threw it away. Just in case, you know.” 

She smoothed out the paper and pushed it over the table to Aisling, who looked down at it without touching. There, on the wrinkled page from the bar’s notepad, in Frankie’s neat handwriting, his name and number, Francisco Morales. 

Seeing his name, in his writing, suddenly made her throat close up and she blinked a few times. 

“Just call him,” Pete said, “I don’t really want to have sex with you, so calling him is clearly the only option.” 

Aisling rolled her eyes at Jenny who swatted his arm. 

“Fuck off, Pete.” 

Aisling looked down at the paper again and pushed herself to her feet. 

“I’m over him. And I’m not moving to Montana. I’ll just hang out with Ben and Jerry until this blows over, as usual.” 

Jenny sighed, took the paper and folded it up again, leaned over the table and stuffed it into the pocket of Aisling’s jacket. 

“Just in case, if there’s an emergency and you need someone to deliver a foal or something,” she said, giving Aisling another look that meant ‘Don’t you fucking dare throw that piece of paper away’. 

“Fine, whatever, see you tomorrow,” Aisling replied, giving them both a wave as she left the restaurant. 

The piece of paper burnt a hole in her pocket on the way home and she tucked it out of sight between the pages of a book as soon as she could.

Out of sight, out of mind

When the bus dumped him outside the gas station on the outskirts of Big Sky, Frankie drew a deep breath of relief. He never thought he’d feel so light just seeing the prairie in front of him as the bus pulled away. He stood several minutes just staring at the rolling plain and the sky above until the honk of a horn behind him pulled him out of his reverie. 

Herb waved at him from his truck, right on time as usual and Frankie hoisted his bag up on his shoulder and crossed the road. 

“Hey, man, admiring the view?” 

The older man greeted him with a grin as Frankie slid into the passenger side of the truck. 

“Hey, Herb, yeah, good to be back,” he replied, sinking back in the seat and rubbing a hand over his face, “Long fucking journey.”

“How was New York? You were gone a while, wasn’t sure you’d come back.” 

Herb knew most of his history with Eva, Frankie had told him things were over between them when he got back from New York last time. And he was smart enough to guess that Frankie’s sudden departure five weeks earlier had something to do with her too, even though Frankie hadn’t told him exactly why he was leaving. Frankie usually made a point of being as truthful as possible with Herb, but when Eva called, he’d chickened out

Now Frankie sighed as Herb put the truck in drive and pulled out from the gas station. 

“Yeah, I wasn’t sure either,” Frankie replied, “Eva called to tell me she was pregnant, that’s why I Ieft.” 

“Pregnant?” Frankie could see Herb’s eyebrows rise from the corner of his eye, “How did you feel about that?” 

Typical Herb question, always asking how it made him feel. Frankie almost chuckled at the older man but it just came out as a strangled snort and he rubbed a hand over his face again. 

“Scared, hopeful, nervous, petrified,” he shook his head, “fucking terrified. But it’s over, she had an abortion, I’m not gonna be a dad.” 

“That why you came back?” 

“It’s a long story, and it might need a beer or two for the details,” Frankie replied, “but yeah, things got messy, she had the abortion without telling me about it, I got involved with another woman, she found out I had a girlfriend, Eva found out I’d cheated, I stayed to make things right again, but in the end, it wasn’t going to work.” 

Frankie leaned his head against the back of the seat and closed his eyes briefly as Herb turned down the smaller road that led back to the ranch.

“That’s a lot for just five weeks, but tell me about it when you’re ready, Frank,” Herb said, glancing over at the furrow between Frankie’s eyes. 

“I don’t think there’s more to tell,” Frankie shrugged, “New York kicked my ass, and I’m more sure than ever that I can’t live in a big city.” 

“Any regrets?” Herb asked and Frankie knew what he meant, Herb was asking if he’d used any drugs while he was there.

Frankie shook his head, “No, not in that way, I was tempted but I stayed away from it, I know it would only make things worse.” 

“Not in that way?” Herb looked over at Frankie again, “What do you regret?” 

Frankie looked out through the passenger side window and sighed, the memory of Aisling filling his mind. She hadn’t been far from his thoughts much in the past two days, constantly at the forefront of his mind as he debated his decision while stuck on the endless bus ride. 

“That I fucked up, hurt someone else again,” he said, “I should’ve walked away but the need to make myself feel good first…I couldn’t resist.” 

“The other woman?” Herb asked and Frankie nodded, guilt creeping into his chest. 

“She’s…she’s great, fucking amazing…” Frankie shook his head, self-deprecation creeping into his voice, “she works in a bar, I ended up there on my first day back, and she just…fuck…It felt like she saw me but it sounds so pathetic when I say it.” 

“But that’s what it felt like?” Herb recognised the turbulent emotions on the face of the younger man, “like she saw you, and not just some stranger in a bar?” 

“Yeah, like she saw something else than everyone else sees, not the addict or the ex-soldier with a bunch of issues, or the miserable fuck who has to live away from everything to keep his shit together.” 

“Take a step back, Frankie,” Herb said, putting his hand on Frankie’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze to pull him out of the spiral, “Those things are not you, they don’t define you. They are issues you need to deal with, but they are not who you are.”  

Frankie nodded, taking a deep breath, “She made me feel like that, like that stuff doesn’t define me. She didn’t know about it all, I didn’t tell her, but…I don’t know…” Frankie trailed off, trying to figure out how to put into words how someone who didn’t know him, could make his head so peaceful. “She just…made it feel…right?” He shook his head, “I don’t know Herb, I can’t get my head around it, she made me feel peaceful, my head was quiet when I was with her and I craved it.” 

“It must’ve been hard to resist being around her if she had that effect on you, especially in the city,” Herb replied and Frankie nodded. 

“I never should’ve gone back to the bar after the first time, but shit…” Frankie trailed off again and Herb glanced over at him as the truck bounced over the last mile of dirt road up to Frankie’s cabin. He pulled up in front of it and killed the engine. 

“Are you staying in touch with her? The other woman?” he asked, and Frankie shook his head. 

“Na, I fucked up, she doesn’t want anything to do with me. I told her I was leaving though, so that’s it, I’m out of her life.” 

“Take it as a lesson Frankie,” the older man said, putting his hand on his shoulder again, “Take it as a lesson and learn from it, even though you feel like shit about it now. Maybe you’ll find your way back to her some day, or maybe you’ll find someone who makes you feel the same as she did. Either way, when that day comes, make sure you’ve learned from your mistakes and don’t repeat them. Be honest to yourself and to those around you. That's all you can do.” 

Frankie nodded and put his hand over Herb’s on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze, “Thanks man, I needed to hear that. I already know it, but I needed to hear it.”

He pushed the door to the truck open and raised his hand in a wave, “I’ll see you tomorrow, thanks for the ride.” 

“Miranda is cooking you dinner tomorrow, you can’t say no,” Herb grinned and Frankie gave him a quick thumbs up. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, I know she’s fed up with your conversation topics,” He grinned at Herb and closed the truck door. 

Out of sight, out of mind.

That's what she'd thought, but no such luck. It was like knowing that she had a way to contact him made the intrusive thoughts even louder. Not even the loud noise in the bar that evening could drown them out. She sighed loudly as she called dibs on dishwasher duty and took a stack of glasses into the back. The murmur of the guests, the low bass of the music, it was muted back here and she took a moment. Leaning her forehead against the warm metal of the industrial dishwasher hood, she closed her eyes. 

Frankie’s face drifted into her mind and she remembered what he’d said about the noise, how it grated on his ears. She’d never thought about the noise of the city like that before. To her it was just a constant buzz in the background, a comforting hum that let her know that she wasn’t ever truly alone. But Frankie hadn’t felt that, and the way he talked about the quiet of the prairie, of where he lived in Montana, made her long for that kind of silence.

“Makes my mind go quiet and it makes me calm, it’s easier for me to live with myself out there.” 

For the first time she thought she might understand what he meant, she felt like she wanted to sit in a quiet room and just sort through her thoughts, like sorting a bookshelf. What to keep, what to throw out, what should she read next? 

What should her next step be? All she knew was that living with Frankie as a constant distraction in her head wasn’t going to work. 

With a groan she pushed herself upright again and went back to the bar. A woman snapped her fingers at her as soon as she opened the door, snapping and waving for her to come over. 

“Excuse me, miss? Miss?” she called while Aisling made her way over to the table. 

“How can I-” 

Aisling didn’t even get to finish her question before the woman was talking over her. 

“I had this wine, in a bar over on India Street, it was red, from Bulgaria I think, maybe Romania. Do you have anything like that?” 

“No, sorry, we don’t have any wines on the menu. We only have beer, but we have some re-” 

“You don’t have any wine?” The woman interrupted her again and Aisling forced her customer service smile to stay put, her cheeks aching. “What kind of a bar doesn’t serve wine?” She looked over at her laughing friends, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. “You’ve got to have something? Can’t you go to the bodega, or like the bar next door and buy a bottle?” 

“The owner of the bar has decided to specialize in beer only, but we do have some very light, fruity beers that are almost wine-like, if you’d like to try one?” 

The woman pursed her lips and looked like Aisling just deeply offended her, but then she shrugged, waving her hand in Aisling’s direction as she turned back to her friends. 

“Sure, whatever, just get me something to drink.” 

Aisling gritted her teeth into a smile, “Ok then, coming right up,” and turned back to the bar. She grabbed the Belgian beer and sent the runner over to the table with it, before she got back to serving the line of patrons at the bar. 

The bar got louder and rowdier as the evening moved on, and both Jenny and Aisling had to dodge unwelcome advances from tipsy customers. Jenny slapped away the hand of a man who reached across the counter in an attempt to hook a finger into her neckline, shouting abuse at her as he spilled his drink in the process. Aisling stepped in and chewed him out, getting the bouncer to bar him, to loud protests from his equally drunk friends. 

The whole vibe was in itself not unusual, a regular Saturday night, but Aisling felt her patience running thin, impatiently snapping at any man who got too close. The table with the rude woman left and Aisling cursed under her breath when she saw that they’d left no tip, scooping up the exact change from the table. 

The final straw came when she was collecting glasses towards the end of the evening, the bar crowd thinning out as people went home or on to some club. A man stumbled from the rest room as she bent forward over a table to retrieve a glass. As he walked behind her, he grabbed her hips and grinded his groin into her ass, groaning loudly and whooping. She pushed back, making him stumble backwards into the wall, and he cursed loudly as his head made sharp impact with wooden slats. 

“Fucking bitch!” he yelled, grabbing the back of his head, “What the hell is wrong with you?” 

“Keep your fucking hands off me!” Aisling snapped back at him, getting ready to kick him in the balls if he tried advancing on her. The drunk man took one stumbling step forward, rage across his features, but was halted by Mickey, the owner, holding up his hands in front of the man in a placating gesture. 

“Sir, please, the next drink is on the house, I apologize for her behavior,” he said, attempting to usher the man away from Aisling and towards his friends at a nearby table. 

“She fucking assaulted me,” the man protested, “I want her fired.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, Mickey!” Aisling spluttered, “He was dry humping my ass and you’re giving him a drink on the house?!”

“Fucking fire the bitch!” the man yelled as Mickey ushered him towards his friends who were waving at him to join them. 

“I’ll talk to her,” Mickey assured him, snapping his fingers at Jenny to bring over another beer. 

“Mickey!” Aisling protested, and he rounded on her, hissing as he got up in her face. 

“It’s part of the job, Aisling, just brush it off. Your attitude is bad enough as it is these days, making a scene isn’t exactly helping your case. Or your tips.” 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Aisling blurted, “You’re telling me you’re fine with a guest grabbing my ass and dry humping just so that we can get more tips? Why don’t you just hire a prostitute?!”

“Now, listen, Aisling-” 

“No, you fucking listen!” Aisling snapped, her temper getting the better of her as she felt the injustice of the whole fucking night fuel her rage. “Fuck that guy, and fuck you for taking his side, fuck your bar and your stupid fucking overpriced pretentious beer.”  

Aisling threw the rag she’d been holding on the floor as Jenny stared at her from across the bar, as did pretty much everyone else. But Aisling was too furious to care, and she didn’t even register Mickey yelling at her as she stormed through the back door. Cursing she wiped at the tears that welled up, she hated how she always cried when she got mad, and grabbed her bag and jacket. She was outside in the back alley before she’d even gotten out of her uniform shirt, and with an angry growl she ripped it off, buttons bouncing over the ground. She pulled her own shirt from the bag and yanked it over her head as the back door opened. It was Jenny, her eyes wide as she glanced back over her shoulder. 

“Mickey’s livid, I think he might really fire you this time,” she gasped, “Come back in and apologize, please!” 

“No fucking way, I quit, I’m fucking done,” Aisling replied, tugging her jacket over the t-shirt as she started to walk away down the alley. 

“Aisling!” Jenny called after her, nervously looking between the door to the bar and Aisling’s retreating back. “Aisling! I’ll call you tomorrow! I’ll get him to not fire you, ok?” 

The interior of the cabin smelled stale and musty as Frankie pushed open the door. Leaving it open, he dumped his duffel bag on the nearest chair and went to open the windows and let the clean air inside. The smell of the prairie drifted in on the draft and he inhaled again, it smelled like home in a way he’d never felt anywhere else. A little it reminded him of his childhood back in Texas, but mostly it just reminded him of life here. 

He sank down on the couch and leaned his head back, closing his eyes. He should shower, should heat up a can of something for dinner, but he just needed to relax for a minute. A coyote barked from somewhere outside and Frankie pushed himself off the couch and went to the front door, sinking down on the porch swing. The night in front him was dark but he could make out the shadows as his eyes got used to the faint light. 

The coyote barked again, and Frankie heard the underbrush rustle as a startled rabbit scurried away. He relaxed back against the wooden slats and kicked it into a slow swing. The sky above him was sparkling with stars and out of habit he found the North Star, a constant in the northern hemisphere, it had helped guide him many times. 

The coyote yapped again, closer this time, and Frankie scanned the darkness just out of his field of vision, straining his eyes to spot the glimmer of the animal's eyes. His ears felt unfamiliar with the silence after the weeks in the city, but after a while he could pick up the faint rustle of the wind through the dry grass. A twig snapped nearby and as Frankie looked over, he saw the coyote. It had frozen mid step as it spotted Frankie’s movement, and now the two of them stared at each other across the front yard. 

“Hey there, boy,” Frankie said in a low voice, “what you up too?” 

The coyote blinked as its ears moved forward towards the voice and Frankie chuckled. 

“Are you the welcome wagon? I appreciate you keeping an eye on the place while I was gone, but there’s no food here, boy. Better get a move on or that jackrabbit’s gonna get even further away.” 

The animal regarded Frankie with curiosity for a few more seconds, before a sound behind drew its attention and it turned its head towards the darkness. 

“Go on, boy,” Frankie said, keeping his voice low, and the coyote looked back at him once again, before it turned and disappeared into the night. Frankie watched the spot where it had been swallowed up by the shadows for a while before he got to his feet with a sigh. He felt content. There was a dull ache in him, a hole left by Aisling, shaped by the guilt and regret he felt, but he hoped it would fade over time. He would take Herb’s advice and learn the lesson, make sure he didn’t make the same mistake again. 

Aisling slammed the door to her tiny apartment, reality starting to catch up with her as the rage abated. Sinking down on the bed she dropped her head in her hands, sighing deeply. It wasn’t that she got fired, she could probably convince Mickey to take her back. If not, there were thousands of bars and cafés around Brooklyn, she’d find a new job. 

No, it was the idea of going back to another bartending job, or being a barista, smiling for tips, being polite to rude customers and dodging their advances. She was in her forties, and up until now, her life hadn’t bothered her. She made enough to pay her small bills, buy bodega sandwiches and the odd evening out with friends. It had been enough. Kicking off her shoes, she lay down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. 

It had been enough. Past tense. 

It irked her to admit, but at the root of it, was Frankie. The way he’d talked about his life in Montana, so different to how she lived. How he couldn’t handle the noise and the rush of New York that she just took for granted. He just wanted to go back home to the silence, the big open sky, where his mind could be quiet. And for the first time in her life, she craved the same silence. And she craved him. 

She sat up on the bed, staring at her small bookshelf. She could almost reach it from the bed, the room was that small and suddenly she couldn’t stand it. She took two steps across the floor and pulled out the book, finding his note at once. The handwriting was so neat and precise, it didn’t really say anything about the man who’d jotted it down. As she sat down on the bed again, she smoothed out the paper, ran her hand across his name before she looked around the the room again. 

What do you have to lose apart from time? 

Dignity? 

Girl, what fucking dignity? You’ve just been fired from a dead end job, you live in a derelict Greenpoint relic that’s about to be knocked down, your life fits into two bags, one if you leave the books behind, what the fuck do you have to lose? 

It was no effort to pull her phone from her pocket and look up the bus time table, just looking. Just checking to see what it would cost and how long it would take. She could afford the one way ticket, but not the return. 

Fuck it. 

They had bars in Montana. 

Before she could change her mind, she pulled the duffel bag from under the bed. Her life really did fit into it, but she had to leave almost all the books, only two for the bus fit in the bag. In a final moment of uncertainty, she pocketed the key for her apartment instead of dropping it in the mail slot. Her whole life was packed up and on her shoulder in less than an hour, the thought both made her feel free and miserable. So many years with so little to show for it. But there was nothing to hold her back. One big leap made easier by her small bag, and it made her feel free. 

The window in his bedroom was open when he went to bed a little bit later on the first night back, and he crawled under the covers, feeling his mind starting to churn the second he closed his eyes, the events of the past three days rolling inside him.

Maybe I should’ve tried a little bit harder? What if I’d stayed, got my own place? 

He shook his head even as it lay on the pillow, he knew it was a pipe dream. 

On my own, I would’ve been so fucked. Probably gone back to Eva, or worse. But maybe I should’ve asked for Aisling’s number, or given her mine, just to stay in touch. She must’ve felt the same thing, right? 

He chewed his lip in the darkness, listening to the sounds of the prairie night outside with half an ear. 

She probably didn’t feel the same way, why would she? You’re grasping at the thinnest fucking straws, Morales. She’s not fucked up like you, doesn’t need saving, she’s got her shit together. It was just like a regular hook up to her, she’ll forget you in a week or two. 

He grabbed the pillow and rolled over onto his stomach and buried his face in it as he shook his head. 

Yeah, maybe, but she was still fucking pissed at me three days ago, and it had been what? A month? Would she still be that pissed if it meant nothing to her? Maybe if I give her some time? 

Pendejo, she was pissed because you didn’t tell her you had a fucking girlfriend, any woman would be pissed about that. 

He rolled the thoughts around his head, making lists in his head, pros and cons, feeling like his old army brother Will who always counted things, bullets, kills, days, months, number of times Frankie had fucked up. 

But as his mind drifted back to his trio of close friends he could hear the advice they’d give, and in the darkness, it made him smile as their voices echoed in his head. 

Will, the oldest and definitely the wisest, would cross his arms and give Frankie a thoughtful look, thinking through the options before he answered. 

Herb’s right, Fish. Take it as a lesson for your next step in life. Maybe you’ll see her again, maybe you won’t, but don’t waste this opportunity to learn something about yourself. 

Benny, the younger brother of Will, would shrug as he furrowed his forehead with a sympathetic look that didn’t really mean much, Benny could pull new women every night if he wanted too. 

It sucks, Fish, she sounds special, but I mean…do you really want to be in a relationship now? We should go out sometime and have a bit of fun. You know I’m a great wingman.

Yeah right, Frankie thought, grinning to himself. Going out with Benny to a bar meant Frankie ended up as the wingman instead while every woman in the place made eyes at the muscular blonde guy. No one looked at Frankie when Benny was in the room. 

And then there was Pope, his real brother in everything but blood. The disappointment from him about his many relapses had always been the worst to endure and it had made Frankie withdraw. In hindsight he knew it was all on him, but a piece of him wished Pope had tried harder to stay in touch when Frankie needed him the most. By now, it had been over a year since they last spoke. But Pope would always take one look at Frankie with those sharp eyes and see straight through him. And in this, he would set him straight about what he needed to do. 

Go back, hermano. If she makes you feel like that, go do what it takes to have her in your life. Even if it’s just as a friend. What have you got to lose? Not many good things have happened to you lately, if she’s one of the few, fight for it. 

Frankie sighed, rolling onto his back again, staring at the open window, a few faint stars visible. He’d pulled away from them all, from everyone in the past, in the depth of his addiction and then during his slow road to sobriety. He’d told them he’d moved to Montana only after he’d moved, sending them a text in the group chat about his whereabouts. Benny had given him a thumbs up, Will had replied saying something about whatever he needed. Pope hadn’t even replied. 

Suddenly he missed them, more than he had in a long time, ever since they came back from the doomed mission to Colombia. A mission they had no business being on, a greedy grab for money disguised behind some sort of invented moral about going after a top narco lord. It had been a disaster, leaving them more broken than ever, their team leader dead, and their brotherhood almost torn a part. 

He reached for his phone, finding Pope’s number and quickly, before he could change his mind, he typed a message and hit send. 

Port Authority after midnight was even more of a shitshow than she’d expected, and she quickly made her way through the sparse crowd to the right bus stop. The bus wasn’t due to leave for another forty minutes and she pulled out her phone again, nervously tapping the locked screen. She hadn’t bought a ticket yet, her nerves holding her back. Butterflies, and not the good kind, fluttered in her stomach. Apart from short trips to Long Island, a few weeks living on Staten Island that she’d rather forget about, she’d never left New York. Never left the state, never had the money, or the need too. Now she was facing two days on a bus, leaving everything behind based on a shitty night and a man she hadn’t spoken to in three months. Her lip was chewed raw by the time she unlocked the phone and the bus rolled into the stop.

She stood with the phone in hand, looking at the screen, the small ‘Buy’ button taunting her, even as the driver opened the door and announced the departure. The other passengers began to load their bags into the hold, and still her thumb hovered over the button. 

A high pitched squeak pulled her attention away from the phone and she looked towards the source of the sound, further down the plattform. A fat, well fed New York city rat, was attacking a pigeon, it looked like it’s wing was broken. As Aisling watched, the rat sank its long, yellow teeth into the neck of the bird, and dragged it underneath a dumpster by the wall. She heard another pathetic squawk from the pigeon and then it went quiet. With a shudder she turned back to the phone and hit ‘Buy’. 

Fuck this city. 

Frankie blinked in confusion at the bright sunlight that streamed across his face.

“Jeez…” he muttered to himself as he rubbed a hand over the stubble on his jaw and glanced over at the clock radio on his bedside table. He hadn’t set his alarm and now he was later than he usually would be. His belly growled, reminding him that he’d forgotten to eat last night, and with a yawn, he dragged himself out of bed and into the shower to start the day. 

He ate a can of ravioli from the pan while standing at the stove and poured the black coffee in a travel mug before he headed out the door. After reconnecting the battery the old truck rumbled to life and he gave it a grateful pat. At least some things were always dependable. 

Herb greeted him back at the ranch and then sent him back into the routine of the day without nonsense, telling him to go over the tack of the horses that would be going out on the trail with a group of guests the next day. 

Frankie was met by a sharp whicker as he stepped into the stable, two large heads turned to him as he pulled the door closed. The buckskin horse whickered again, bobbing its head up and down and Frankie chuckled, stepping over to her. 

“Hey, Dolly, my girl. Did you miss me?” he muttered, scratching her forelock as she nudged his arm for treats, nuzzling close to his shoulder. Frankie rested his head against hers and inhaled the familiar smell of her coat as she affectionately nipped at his shirt. 

“Sorry I left without saying goodbye,” he said, “but I’m back now, and I think I’ll stay. Gonna take you out later today, you can make sure I can’t walk tomorrow, my butt’s gonna be so sore.” 

He chuckled at his own joke as Dolly gave a low whicker, her soft nose bumping his pocket. 

“Sorry, I forgot to bring something, I’ll make it up to you later.” 

She gave him a snort but seemed to forgive him as he continued to scratch her mane. After a few minutes he gave her a final pat and went over to the tack room, giving the other horse a pat too. His phone started ringing as he opened the door to the tack room and Pope’s name flashed across the screen. His thumb hovered over the green button for a few seconds before he drew a deep breath and hit it. 

“Hey Pope, it’s been a while,” he said in greeting, dropping his eyes to his boots without even realizing, as if Pope was standing in front of him with those sharp eyes. 

“It has, but it’s good to hear from you, Fish,” came the voice of his oldest friend on the other end, “You still in Montana?” 

“Yeah, but I just got back from New York, long story,” Frankie replied, “All good with you, hermano?” Calling Pope brother was almost a code between them, a word only used when it meant something, when it was time to listen. The word a special signal between just the two of them, brothers in all but blood. 

Frankie could hear Pope’s smile through the phone, a low chuckle almost in relief, “I’m good, hermano. Still in Florida, still with Linda.” Pope had started dating her back when Frankie had been deep in his addiction, and he’d only met her twice, neither time a very good memory. But from what he’d heard from Benny, she made Pope happy and they were good together. 

“That’s great, man, I’m happy for you, I…I know I didn’t make the best impression on her, but she seemed great for you.” 

“She is, and I’m…” Pope trailed off for a few seconds as Frankie heard the sound of someone moving on the other end, a low ‘bye, love you’ from Pope, and a door closing. “Sorry, she’s just off to work, yeah, she’s amazing, I’m really happy, found some peace, you know?” 

Frankie shuffled his boots on the rough concrete floor of the tack room and leaned against the workbench, a sudden spout of jealousy tightening his throat. 

“Yeah, I know, I’m happy for you, really, man. It’s great to hear that you found it.” 

“What about you, Fish? You still clean, doing ok out there in cowboy country?” 

Frankie could hear the smirk and the exaggerated twang in Pope’s voice and he chuckled. 

“Yeah, I’m good, still clean, still working the ranch, but…uhm...Eva and I broke up. She moved to New York a while back.” 

“Shit, sorry to hear that,” Pope replied, “But I…” 

“Listen, man,” Frankie interrupted Pope, he didn’t want to go into the whole business with Eva over the phone, and he could hear his friend gearing up for a longer conversation, “I was thinking last night. I know I’ve been shit at staying in touch, but I want to change that. I’m not coming back to Florida any time soon, but maybe you and the Millers could come out here? I wanna show you guys my life out here.” 

“Frankie,” Pope smiled down the phone, “I’d fucking love that, and you know the Miller’s won’t say no to some ranching. Let me talk to them, we’ll find some dates that work and let you know.” 

“Awesome, man, it’ll be good, I’ll make sure Herb books you into one of the nice cabins.” 

“And get me a horse that won’t buck me off,” Pope laughed at the other end and Frankie grinned. 

“I’m not promising anything, might put you on the mule.” 

“Fuck off,” came the instant reply. 

“You’ll love the mule, Pope,” Frankie laughed before he glanced over at the saddles waiting for him, “Listen, I’ve got to get back to work, we’ve got guests coming tomorrow,” 

“Alright, hermano, we’ll see you soon, ok?”

“Yeah, see you soon, hermano.” 

Frankie felt the smile stretching his face as he hung up the phone, he felt lighter already. Guilt and shame had kept him away from his old friends, and reconnecting might not be easy. But this was a small step towards it and he needed to move forward. Put Eva and New York behind him, get over Aisling, learn from his mistake and rectify those he could. With a deep exhale, he hoisted the first saddle off its perch on the wall. 

The Greyhound bus rumbled away down the pin straight highway, heading west, towards the darkening mountain range. The sun slowly sunk behind the highest peaks, soon their shadows would touch her feet. Looking back, east, towards a past she’s left on a whim, she sighed and let her eyes drift up to the indigo sky. Big sky country indeed. 

So alien to her eyes, so open to someone used to living their life surrounded by tall buildings, busy people, small trees in small parks. 

Here, the open prairie gave speed to the cold wind hurtling down from the mountain range, whipping dirt from the road, tugged at her loose hair. She briefly closed her eyes against the particles of dust, inhaled deeply, tasting it on her tongue, dry grass in the air, a hint of snow from the mountains. No way back now, the bus too far away to stop. Only her duffel bag and a phone number, hoping he’d pick up and let her in. 

Aisling turned around and crossed the road, the bright lights of the gas station at the edge of town spilling across the dusty asphalt. She pushed open the door and nodded to the clerk behind the counter, dropping her bag by one of the small tables next to the coffee machine. His number was already in her phone, but she hadn’t had the courage to call him yet. But now she was here, and he was only a short car ride away. 

She closed her eyes, sending up a silent prayer, and tapped Frankie’s name on the screen, pressing the phone to her ear as it rang. 

Chapter 7

A/N: So Aisling finally got herself out to Montana on a bit of a whim, spur of the moment decision. But how is Frankie going to react when she suddenly turns up on his doorstep?

tag list: @harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3  @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @oberynslady @amyispxnk @thewiigers  @lady-bess @missladym1981 @peppermintfury @typewriter83 @anoverwhelmingdin @vabeachazn

[russellsppttemplates]

Could you do a Lance blurb where Lance is responsible for making dinner with the help of Margot and Addalynn to let the reader rest after Genevieve's birth and the three decide to make the reader's favorite food and when he returns from the market with the girls with things to start cooking and at the end, in addition to surprising her with the dessert which is a strawberry cake that they saw at the market which is the reader's favorite and she is grateful and a little moved by what Lance and the girls are doing for her

"I'm going to take those two out to the park - hopefully it will wear them out", Lance said as he watched you feed Genevieve.

"Oh, that would be nice - bedtime will be easier", you sighed as you rocked on the chair.

"Bye mummy! Bye Viv!", Addalynn and Margot waved as Lance kissed the top of the baby's head and then your own.

"The park is that way, daddy!", Addalynn pointed as Lance continued to drive.

"Actually, we're not going to the park, girls - I thought we could make dinner for mummy, so we're going to get the ingredients to make her favourite and then we're going to make it for her. How does that sound?", he mused.

"We can go to the park on another day - maybe after Viv gets her vaccines? Mummy said she's still too little to interact with the big germs", Margot reasoned, "I like the idea!".

After getting all of the ingredients, Addalynn spotted your favourite strawberry cake in one of the stands, "daddy, we should get a cake for mummy!", she pulled on his sleeve.

"Sure, love! Let me just put his in the bag", Lance stated as he arranged the ingredients in the tote bag.

Margot, however, noticed what her sister had also seen. There was only one cake left and they couldn't let anyone else take it.

"Hi, I'm Margot and I need that cake, please!", Margot told the lady at the stand.

"Hello, darling! The strawberry one?", the lady smiled as she pointed.

"Yes, it's for my mummy! She had our baby sister and we're making her dinner and this cake is her favourite!", Margot offered as she noticed Lance approaching them, "daddy! I got here in time to get the cake!", she smiled.

"You couldn't wait, could you?", he spoke to the girls, touching their heads and looking up at the lady, "I'm sure these two have told you, but we want to get the strawberry cake, please", he smiled.

"They did - you have such cute girls. They just told me about their baby sister - congratulations!", she smiled as she put it in the box.

"Thanks", Lance smiled, paying with money and getting the girls to say goodbye to the lovely lady.

Back home, Lance closed all the doors that led to the nursery so the noise wouldn't be too loud while they cooked, "so it says to leave the pasta on the side because it's fresh", Lance sorted out while the meat cooked.

"Have you ever made lasagna, daddy?", Addalynn wondered. Whenever you made it, the kitchen didn't look this messy.

"A couple of times with grandma and then some more with mummy, why?", he asked.

"Nothing - I'm going to get cheese", she offered.

By the time the tray was out of the oven, the lasagna was nice and golden brown and it smelled delicious.

As if on cue, you walked downstairs with Genevieve on your chest, wrapped in the sling ad you followed the smell, "what are you three up to?", you asked as you walked into the dining room.

"Surprise mummy!", Margot said, "Addy, Daddy and I made your favourite lasagna and we also found your favourite cake!", she pointed to the cake on the stand at the table.

"I thought you were going to the park", you quirked an eyebrow.

"Daddy wanted to surprise you and we thought it was a good idea", Addalynn stated.

"Oh, wow", you gulped, feeling the hormones rushing and taking over your feelings as you shed a couple of tears, "it's happy tears, I swear", you giggled as you wiped them.

"You do so much for our family, love, we just wanted to give something back to you - even though it's practically impossible to do as much as you do for us", your husband added as he hugged you.

"This is so nice, thank you, guys", you cooed, kissing your husband's cheek and letting him have some Genevieve time before you went up to the girls, hugging them close to you, "thank you for being so kind, girls".

"You deserve it, mummy", Margot smiled, "can we eat? I'm hungry", she patted her tummy.

"Yes, sweetheart, we can - mummy's hungry too!".

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)

[shiorimakibawrites]

Baking with Love

Last-minute final entry to Mandy's Sweater Weather Challenge presented by @she-likesorchids.

This one uses the prompts - baking/cooking together combined with the "You taste like cinnamon" and "Your hands are freezing."

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Word Count: 1,287

Summary: Matt Murdock and You make pumpkin bread and cookies.

Tags/ Warnings: Established Matt / Reader relationship, Tooth-rotting fluff

Tagging: @bellaxgiornata thought you might enjoy some Matty fluff.

Baking with Love

You sighed with relief when you entered Matt’s building. You were very happy to be out of the wind. It hadn’t been a long walk but your cheeks, nose, and ears felt like they had been scrapped raw by the biting wind. Your hands weren’t much better. You had tried to switch your tote between your hands so each got the chance to hide in your pocket but it hadn’t helped much.

The door to Matt’s apartment swung open just as you were about to reach for the knob. Matt, of course, having likely between aware of your approach for at least a block. He did this trick all the time but it still managed to make you jump each time. Judging by the grin on his face, Matt found your reaction just as amusing as he always did.

Along with any other time he sneaked up on you. Which happened a lot. Because in addition to being a lawyer, Matt was also a ninja. You keep threatening to make him wear a bell. Which only made him laugh harder. He is so lucky that he’s cute.

He looked especially cute today. First, he was smiling wide enough for the dimples to come out. That was always going to be adorable. Second, since he was at home and neither of you was planning to go anywhere until later, he hadn’t put on his dark glasses. So you got to see his lovely hazel eyes sparkling with mirth. Third, he was wearing a snuggle sweater.

Cable-knit and dark brown in color, it looked incredibly soft. You hoped you’d get to find out later. There were plans to snuggle together on the couch under the blankets, after the baking was done, but you knew how easily those plans could get disrupted for either lawyer or vigilante reasons.

If the former, you would sigh but accept the situation. Unless it was Burke, Winthrop, & Associates being themselves again. If you had to spent your snuggle time working through another pile of motions that dance right up to the edge of being frivolous from those bastards, you might actually kill someone.

As for the later . . . Daredevil might end up being the last of their worries. You might not have Matt’s fighting skills but you had connections. The benefit of feeding the local vigilantes like the semi-feral cats that they are. You could delegate your vengeance.

You also enjoyed how that sweater clung to those board shoulders and hinted at the solid muscle of his torso. That he had paired with jeans that showed off his perfect ass was just a bonus.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Matt greeted you as he ushered you into his apartment. It was toasty warm in there. You sat down your tote on the bench and flexed your hands. Then winced. It might have been a short walk but it was long enough and air was cold enough to leave your hands stiff and aching.

You did another little startled jump when your hands were engulfed by Matt’s hands. His big, wonderfully warm hands. He started massaging the backs of your hands with his thumbs.

“Your hands are freezing,” he said. “Still can’t find your gloves?”

“No,” you said. And sighed. “I’ll find them eventually. I know they are somewhere in my apartment. They have to be.”

“Not giving up?” he asked, almost casual. As if we weren’t discussing the gloves he had given you for Christmas. The ones you distinctively remembered packing when you put away your fall and winter clothes this spring but were inexplicably missing from the box when you opened it last week.

“No,” you said firmly. “I really like those gloves. I’m not giving up on them.”

You silently prayed that Matt got the message that you weren’t just talking about your gloves.

“Thank you,” he said softly, squeezing your hands and looking a little misty-eyed.

You smiled. Looks like he got it. You squeezed his hands back. “Hey mister, where’s my kiss?”

He laughed as he dropped your hands in favor of cupping your face. His thumbs stroked your cheeks, then he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours. It was a slow but thorough kiss. The kind of kiss that soon had your hands gripping his upper arms. That sweater was just as soft as it looked. Definitely going to kill anyone who prevented snuggle time.

The unfortunate need for air meant the kiss had to end. You tried not to pout about that.

Matt kissed your forehead and murmured, “You taste like cinnamon.”

You hummed, then remembered. “The coffee cake has cinnamon in the streusel topping.”

“And you didn’t bring me any?” he asked with a mock pout.

“Sorry but I was running out of space in the tote,” you said. You leaned up and kissed his forehead. “Maybe one of these cold night, Daredevil will come to my apartment looking for a little snack.”

“Maybe he will,” Matt said with a grin. A grin that shifted into something coy. “And afterward, he might also have some cake.”

You felt your face get warm. Along with the first stirrings of arousal. Your voice was a little breathy when you answered, “Sounds like a plan. I look forward to seeing it in action.”

Matt smirked, the cocky smug one. He knew the effect he was having on you. But he let his hands fall away from your face. He stepped to the side of you and reached the tote bag. Curiously weighted it in one hand.

“What’s all in here?”

“Cookbook, mini-loaf pan, cookie sheets, parchment paper, pumpkin puree, apples –”

“I thought we making pumpkin bread?”

“We are but I saw a recipe that I want to try for apple cinnamon oatmeal cookies. Thought that we could make those too.”

“Those do sound good,” Matt said with smile.

You both got to work.

Since the whine of the motor in your hand-mixer, especially at point-blank range, made Matt wince, the butter and sugar would need to be creamed by hand. Since Matt had giant arm muscles and superhero stamina while you didn’t, you gave him that job.

While he did that, you peeled, cored, and chopped apples. Then tossed them with a little lemon juice to prevent them from oxidizing and because it enhanced the favor of the tart apples. You might occasionally gotten distracted by Matt’s . . . everything.

Like that play of muscles under that sweater while he did the creaming.

Or his ass when he had to bend down to retrieve a larger bowl – you had underestimated how big of a bowl you need for the pumpkin bread dough. Which, it seemed to you, happened a lot with pumpkin. At least it wasn’t pumpkin pie. You always seemed to end up with more batter than you had pie shells.

But what caught you eye the most was that sweet, dopey smile that kept returning to his face. This was the most relaxed you had seen Matt in a while. You supported what he did but that didn’t meant you liked seeing him frustrated and stressed.

But the soft, loving look in his eyes after you kissed his forehead and said “I love you” that – that really made your heart flutter. And it was in that moment that you knew you wanted to marry him.

Matt’s predication proved to be accurate. The cookies were delicious. You are definitely adding those to your fall treats, you thought as you snuggled against Matt on the couch. Your predication about the sweater was also accurate. It was wonderfully soft.

“What are we watching, sweetheart?” Matt asked. It was your turn to pick the movie.

“Hocus Pocus.”

Ending Note

They are making the pumpkin bread and cookies for Foggy, Karen, Marci, Claire as well as their circle of vigilante friends – the Defenders, Frank Castle, and Spider-Man.

[ginsengkitten]

Nightfall: Chapter 1

⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧

The morning light filtered through the canopy of tree tops, sprinkling rays through the trees. The sounds of leaves and bark crunching under the tread of their hiking boots piercing the peaceful silence of the woods.   A young family trekked optimistically on their summer break. Getting the kids accustomed to the parents preconceived love of hiking that they shared far before ever having kids. It was the kind of trip they had both imagined for their little family ever since their first was born. Billy was a natural outdoorsy kid, Maggie, however was full of animosity towards it and would rather be playing Barbies. Even toting one of her dolls with her wherever they went. Still she admired the foliage, collecting her own bouquet of wildflowers along the way. The innocence of a young child embracing the still of nature and what the earth has to offer just by being.

Maggie encouraged that curiosity by wandering from the trail after straggling behind Billy, fortunately, Billy noticed and alerted their dad. "Dad, Maggie's running off again." To which he rolled his eyes at his daughter's silly habit and proceeded to track her down. Maggie hadn't gotten far, and when the dad had found her, he found her to be mesmerized, standing still in her spot.

"Mags how many times do we have to tell you not to-" he began to scold until his eyes met what hers did, resulting in him also frozen in horror. Maggie had stumbled upon what can only described as a horror scene. A deer lie in a small grove, dead and completely mutilated. Its poor body, unnaturally contorted into a heap of twisted, mangled flesh. The fur, skinned from its body. Flies made feast upon the bloody remnants.

"Daddy, what happened?" Maggie asked in fear. Unfortunately, daddy didn't have an answer. His fatherly knowledge reduced to the same childlike fear as hers as he grabbed her and ran, only to turn around and be met with whatever beast had tore the deer apart. The beast releasing a harrowing growl.

-

"Sources are calling it a total family annihilation; Investigators continue to work with the California department of wildlife and game wardens to determine what animal may be causing these gruesome killings, but have not released any further details to the public.

Police have urged the public to stay within city limits and avoid camping and other outdoor recreation until the animal is apprehended and put down. Local government officials are in talks of implementing a city curfew if the animal is not caught soon."

You listened half heartedly to the news as you pinned another music poster on your wall of your new apartment. Mind you the apartment itself was not new, in-fact very decrepit. A cigarette perched in the side of your lips as you concentrated. A 'vintage' Rolling Stones poster. You stood back and admired the new addition, one more thing to make this dingy place feel like a home.

Your roommate Vickey walked in from the kitchen, handing you a coffee. "Stones huh? Always a classic, I can't complain." She grinned. Vickey was the only person you knew in the entire state of California. You had answered her ad in the paper about looking for a roommate. You had finally gotten a job as a music journalist assistant for a local magazine print. It was small but just enough to get by and get your foot in. Music was your passion, and music journalism at that.

Vickey was a goth punk with black choppy hair, a blunt attitude and big in the rock scene; especially in LA, so the arrangement was working out swimmingly. She took a genuine interest in your work and would supportingly read all your writings and offer insider knowledge about shows. The two of you quickly becoming close friends.

"Another animal attack happened yesterday." Vickey said sipping her coffee. "Pretty crazy shit." . You sort of glaze over that statement, still focused on your interior design pursuit. "An entire family, shredded."

"Yeah that's crazy.." you say tranced on your new poster.

The TV reporter continues:

"In related news, a local church group has began petitioning the state of California for a total recall of all metal and rock music from its shelves, claiming the genres are the primary contributor to LA's recent uptick in crime, violence, and potentially a connection to the recent killings, they say."

Your neck snaps to the tv at this. Vickey scoffs. "Here we go again with these fuckin prudes and their protests." She flops on the couch and starts rolling a joint. "Is this a common occurrence then?" You ask, sort of laughing. Vickey doesn't break from her intense focus on her joint rolling; "The day the churches stop blaming everything on the rock scene is the day the last whore stops working the sunset strip. Shits been happening for generations pretty much. You just gotta ignore it." She grumbles.

"Right. Huh.." you mumble to yourself.

"You know- this could be a good story for the print." You blurt out. Vickey looks up, ushering her joint to you, but you decline by wiggling your cigarette in your lips. "Nah. This shits been covered a million times dude. Those uptight nuns have nothing new to spew anyways." She replies. "No no not for the church, Vickey, but the scene." You countered her. Her expression changed now more intrigued. "Oh? How so?". You pace around gently in thought. "From the rock scenes perspective on it. We ask them what THEY think about it all. Like the musicians and shit." Vickey chuckles and coughs out a cloud of smoke, "I dunno I don't think any local band is gonna give you the time of day unless you got drugs or can give good hea- well, actually..." She gets lost in thought for a moment. "I think I might know a couple musicians that MIGHT be willing to say a few words on the matter. -" you jump slightly with a mute excitement. "BUT- I can't guarantee you'll get anything of real substance from them.." she tries to ease your hopes down on her half offer but your excitement is apparent. "Vickey seriously?! That would mean the world to me. Who is it? When can I see them?!" Vickey smiles at your innocent enthusiasm to go willingly into the guttural den of rock.

"It's a local band called Guns N Roses. They're playing down at the troubadour tomorrow night. I'll see if I can get you in."

[nanamiscocksleeve]

Okay, I'll play 🥵

I'm blind folded.

Players are Suguru, Choso, Kento, Satoru, Hiromi, and Toji.

We're playing Just the Tip. Whoever the wheel lands on gets to choose what they do to me for seven minutes(Totes stealing the seven minutes in heaven idea).

Smaller half sized color wedges for each player mixed in on the wheel next to the regular name wedges for each player- if it lands on a color wedge an additional 7 minutes is added to the clock and that player gets to either 1) Choose another player to join the session, or 2) Spins the wheel again for a chance for additional time/player to be added.

Just the Tip for 30 seconds.

I then get 90 seconds to guess.

If I guess right I get to cum, if I fail player choice to make me cum or not.

For multi player mode I would only guess the first player the wheel landed on.

If I guessed right and they don't make me cum in the allotted time, they spin the wheel and get to be at another players mercy but I get to watch 😈

Hard Nos: No bodily waste, nothing that will cause permanent marking or damage or would be really painful. No degradation. No cum close to my eyes, that shit stings like a bitch and I would be pissed.

No DP in the same entrance (These Boys all be packing and no amount of willing suspension of disbelief makes me think that would be a good time)

Safe word allowed for safety sake.

Impact play and light hair tugging allowed,

Aftercare is a given and mini breaks every hour for hydration.

Hot, hot, hot 🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵

Ohhh, I forgot to add aftercare in mine. But yes. I'm kind of a princess when it comes to cum. Got it in my hair once and almost cried so keep it away from my face.

Love the answer! Thank you for playing.

[by-glass-and-waves]

i read the other day that the Wild West started in the mid 19th century, so i started to imagine a scene in your AU where in the middle of a dramatic moment between Narinder and Lamb, someone like Leshy barges into the room dressed in full cowboy gear shouting YOU'LL NEVER GUESS WHERE I'VE BEEN

I am horrid and forgot to check my inbox again

While 19th Century AU focuses on the Regency era (early 1800s) where you had Pride and Prejudice and what have you, it is the 19th Century AU and Wild Westing would be pretty cool to add. Perhaps outside of the Kingdom's provinces? The frontiers? Land that Shamura has conquered? Hmmm.

I can totes see Leshy taking a trip over to the frontiers just cause. He would be giddy af to show off everything. Including the guns.

Quickly wrote a scene below which includes some backstory? Thank you this is an interesting addition actually

cw guns and Leshy not knowing gun discipline

Narinder: He is sitting at his desk, looking over reports from the Trading Company. While he enjoys the benefits of wealth and the skills he learned as Minister of Trade as Prince, he still finds little pleasure in reviewing ledgers and manifests.

Allani: She glares at him as she throws some flowers on top of one of the reports. "Damned employer, must you send me another bouquet of flowers—"

The door opens, revealing Prince Leshy in an unusual garb. Narinder grimaces, knowing where his younger brother ventured to.

Leshy: He saunters over with a grin. "Brother! Why have you not told me more tales of the frontier?" He pulls something from his holster and points it at Allani, which makes Narinder stand up sharply. "Look at this fine piece of technology! Did you know how they use this? Why has Kallamar never refined such a tool?"

Narinder: Narinder rushes forward to block him from unintentionally shooting Allani. "Put that down, you fool! Do not dare play with that as if it was a toy!"

Leshy: He continues to act carelessly, waving the gun around and unaware that his finger is on the trigger. "There is nothing to worry about! I don't think it is that dang—"

A shot rings through the air. Leshy freezes and Narinder's eyes widen as they hear a cry. He turns to Allani and grabs her shoulders, looking her over for any wounds.

Narinder: "Lamb! Allani, did the projectile strike you?"

Allani: She pushes his hands off her, confused. "What projectile? The loud noise? What the hell just hit the desk?"

They all look at the desk. There is a smoking hole in the bouquet and one of the reports. The temperature of the room drops as Narinder slowly turns back to Leshy.

Narinder: "You damned fool. There is a reason why those are forbidden in the Kingdom. Do you want a recurrence of what happened seven years ago?"

Leshy: He drops the revolver, ashamed and horrified. "Wait, this was the type of weapon that Shamura was—"

Narinder: He freezes the gun and crushes it with his foot. He pushes his brother out of the room. "Get out. Get out!"

—

I think Leshy spends the next month wearing Wild West fashion before Kallamar yells at him to stop wearing it as pajamas or something. However, he refrains from purchasing another gun.

Also slight reference to backstory oops, thank you again for giving me the idea of adding guns to the backstory

[searchingsomewhere]

All Too Well, Part 8

Part 1 Part 9

With Miyoko gone for a week to some conference, Miho found herself in charge of the library. Her friends found it as an excuse to come bother her, which she didn't mind at all. However, that meant she wasn't allowed to go on any missions or to any classes until Miyoko returned. Suguru, Satoru, and Shoko made sure to take notes and bring her any coursework she may have missed, in addition to helping her train at night.

"Do you really need to move this stuff?" Satoru asked, watching her grab armful after armful of books.

"It's what Miyuki wants," Miho grunted, "This place hasn't been reorganized since the eighties."

Satoru chuckled and grabbed the stack from her. "Let me help."

"Thanks. Just set them over there." Miho said, dusting her hands off.

An ungodly sound erupted from her stomach. Satoru stopped to look at her. Miho was looking at her stomach, eyebrows raised.

"When did you eat last?" he asked accusingly.

"This morning..." Miho said, already mentally preparing for the lecture.

"Miho! You can't expect yourself to go all day without eating, it's already six," Satoru threw his head back. "Jeez! I'll run and grab us something. Then, we'll finish up here."

Her protests fell on deaf ears as the white-haired young man walked out. Miho sighed, shaking her head. She bent down to pick up another stack of books and turned to the shelf. Miyoko had decided to organize based on a last name basis. Which was fine, if the entire library had been more up to date. She'd managed to finish the first three rows on her own that morning.

She looked up at the top shelf. There was no way she would be able to reach. Miho bit her cheek and stepped up onto her tip toes, stretching her arm up as far she she could. Almost...there...

A hard chest pressed against her back, followed by a hand that reached over and pulled the book from her, setting it on the shelf. Miho tilted her head back.

Suguru smiled down at her. Her heart skipped a beat.

"Hey," Miho said, spinning to face him, "When'd you get back?"

He remained close to her, resting his elbow on the bookshelf behind her. "Maybe an hour ago. Satoru said he was helping you move some stuff. Where is he?"

He smelled good. Some kind of sharp, earthy scent. Being pressed between him and the bookshelf was making her dizzy. Miho felt her face warm and she slid away, smiling shyly back at him as she walked over to the desk.

"Grabbing some snacks. You should text him if you want some," she said, scooting to sit on the desk surface. Her feet dangled from her seat.

"I ate on the way over," he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Suguru followed her over, gently nudging her knees apart so he could stand between them. Even the motion made her breath hitch. He planted his hands on either side of her legs, barely leaning down to look at her in the eye.

"I missed you," he said quietly, pressing his forehead against hers.

"You were only gone a few days," Miho laughed.

He only hmm'd, reaching up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. His hand lingered there for a moment, hesitant to move away. Electricity ran down her ear at the skimming of his skin against hers. Their noses bumped together, his breath gently fanning her face. Goosebumps raised on her arms. Miho's eyes flickered from his hazel gaze, honeyed from the afternoon sun, to his lips and then back.

Suguru gently pressed his lips to hers. Miho sighed against him, marveling at the warm sensation spreading through her body. His hand slipped around the back of her neck, his other hand resting on her hip. Miho's arms crept around his neck, pulling him closer.

She needed to remember something. Something important, about the library. But she was lost in Suguru's familiar smell and touch, too focused on the way his lips moved against hers and how his hand felt gripping her waist.

---

Satoru smiled down at the tote bag in his hand. He'd forgotten to ask Miho exactly what she wanted, but he knew her well enough to guess. For the sake of time he just ran to the vending machine. A few bags of chips, some rice crackers, and bottles of coffee. Who knew how long they would be up that night.

The door to the library was open a bit. Which was weird, as he had been sure to close it. Maybe Miho stepped out for a bit.

Satoru walked to the back of the library, to the last row of shelves where he'd left Miho.

About halfway there, he detected Suguru's Cursed Energy. Oh, good. There were enough snacks for everyone. And with all three of them, they'd get done even quicker.

He walked around the corner. And stopped. Bright blue eyes widened at the scene in front of him.

He couldn't see Miho. Suguru's back was blocking him. Only her legs pressed to either side of his hips. His mouth ran dry. Her arms were hooked behind Suguru's neck. He could only guess from the way Suguru's head moved what they were doing. Satoru stood stock still, eyes locked on his best friend's hand as it slid up Miho's thigh-

He tore his attention away. His heart hammered in his chest so loud he was sure they could both hear it. Mind racing, still processing what he just witnessed. Silently, he took a breath and crept back towards the front of the library.

About halfway, he tilted his head back and took a deep breath to steady himself.

"Hey, Miho, I'm back!" he called loudly, "I hope you like rice crackers!"

He took his time walking back there. To give all of them a chance to gather themselves. Just play it cool. You didn't see anything. When he got to the last row before the table he spoke again.

"The vending machine was out of green tea, so I just got coffee- Oh, hey Suguru!"

Suguru was sitting at the table, arms crossed, very inconspicuously, very casually, not at all like he had just been making out with his girlfriend. A small smile played on his lips, amused.

Miho was back at the shelf, placing a book she definitely did not just pick up at the sound of his voice echoing through the hallway.

"He just showed up," Miho said, her voice high.

"Good, you can help us get this shit done sooner," Satoru laughed. He set the bag on the table. "You okay, Miho? Your voice is all funny."

"I'm fine. Just out of breath. From all the lifting," she said, pointedly bending down to grab more books without letting him see her face. She was probably beet red.

Suguru cleared his throat, sitting up. "So, how are we reorganizing?"

Miho started her explanation, but Satoru wasn't listening. He was watching Suguru. The hazel eye young man still had that amused smile.

He glanced over at Satoru knowingly.

Part 1 Part 9

[athina-blaine]

Summary:

vehicle

noun;

1) A device or structure for transporting persons or things; a conveyance.

2) A self-propelled conveyance that runs on tires; a motor vehicle.

3) A medium through which something is transmitted, expressed, or accomplished.

-

Laios and Kabru take care of each other.

Rating: General Relationships: Kabru/Laios Touden Chapters: 1/1 [Complete] Word Count: ~2k Additional Tags: Domestic Fluff, Comfort No Hurt, Established Relationship, Autistic Character, Trans Male Character, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting Beta'd by @yuri-puppies

“I still can’t believe the new series director was sitting in the audience with us that whole time,” said Kabru as he weaved through the oncoming crowd. Must have just missed the train , he thought, looking over his shoulder back at Laios. “Good showmanship. Makes me excited to think that the studio’s getting out of its slump.”

“Yeah,” said Laios, craning his neck over the stream of people. His elbow bumped a passerby, abruptly jostling the tote bag of merch in his arms. “That was pretty crazy.”

Kabru nodded, scanning his metro pass onto the card reader. “It’s too bad we couldn’t get any autographs,” he called over the din as he shuffled through the turnstile, “but I guess there’s always next year.” He glanced back at Laios again with a sheepish look, gesturing toward his own shoulder bag brimming with merchandise. “Provided this year’s con hasn’t already bankrupted us.”

After squeezing through the turnstile himself, Laios drew up next to Kabru, his gaze wandering off with drooping eyes. “Hmm.”

Kabru had to hold back a sympathetic sigh as they reached the platform and stepped up to the yellow line. They still had another seven stops to go before they got home, but it was clear that Laios was starting to flag. The noise must be getting to him, even through his earplugs. As much as Kabru loved the opportunity to people-watch on the train, part of him still wished he’d insisted on just calling a cab from the convention center. But Laios was right that they couldn’t really afford it, especially after Kabru encouraged Laios to splurge on that new lorebook … If Kabru could at least snag him a seat …

[Continue on AO3]

[mistydeyes]

OMG THERES 1K OF YOU!! I cannot believe it! Thank you all so much for all the love and support these last few months :) Literally tearing up at how many people love my works. It all started with a silly little pharmacist fic and look at where we are now!

To celebrate, I will be opening up my inbox for some prompts! For the next week, feel free to send me a character, a prompt below, and any other details (ex. female, male, or g/n character) :)

aesthetic prompts 💌 - CLOSED NOW! thank you for all the submissions :)

soft and cute - all fluff!

vase of flowers - they return home to your door with a small bouquet of flowers with rudy

loveseat - shopping for furniture for your shared home

linen tablecloths - hosting a dinner party (one that is pinterest worthy)

orange juice - sick days call for the best care

vintage maps - a spontaneous trip with an event filled itinerary

cherry lip balm - what was your first kiss like? with graves

paper rings - “put this on” “why did you make a ring out of the straw wrapper?”

ramekins of soup - you both are not experienced chefs but you try a new recipe in the kitchen

tuberose- looking at old photo albums and reminiscing on old memories

tote bags - “hey can you hold this for me?” “why do you have so many things?” “it’s not my fault these pockets don’t hold anything”

sugar cubes - they surprise you with your favorite dessert/sweet treat with price

music - “i made you a playlist!”

pearls - a fancy dinner out with expensive clothes and dining

folded sheets - "hi, i'm your neighbor across the hall :)"

gold - a small gifted ring as a token of your love with price

unlit cigarette - meeting in the most unexpected of places

hot chocolate - a warm snowed in cabin with nowhere to go

house plant - “for your new apartment!” “you know i’m not here enough to water that”

pastel bonnets and rattles - “we are NOT naming our child that”

perfume - perfume bottles decorate your bureau and you decide to let them choose your scent for the day with gaz

friendship bracelets - friends don't look at friends that way, is there something between us? with ghost

shower of tears - angst

crystal glasses - a fight ends with shattered wine glasses and someone is left to pick up the pieces with gaz

running mascara - "i can't believe you would say that to me" with the 141

hyacinth - they decide to interrupt the wedding just as you're about to say your vows with ghost

cardigans - "please don't go, please don't leave me" with ghost

sea salt - you can't do this anymore and just need to get away from them

stars - "do you think in another universe things would have worked out for us?"

cubic zirconia - you both come to the realization that your relationship is beyond repair

cold sheets - "can you hold me just one more time?" with soap and gaz

hydrangeas - a sudden death leaves one of you without the other for the rest of time

cocktails - "you need to stop drinking too much" "what do you know?"

graveyard - "please i don't want to die" with price

enlisted - military au

empty cartridges - "I want you to run, I'll cover you!"

uniforms - they sure clean up well as you look at them in their dress uniform with price

cigarette smoke - you share a cigarette (and exchange indirect kisses) while on patrol with ghost

confidential files - you're the newest addition to the team and you recognize a familiar face

jacket - you forgot to pack you winter gear and they're helping you avoid the cold

angel - this time you're their knight in shining armor as you save them with soap | with price

manila folders - "I'm being transferred to another unit"

bandages - you are the only one with the med kit and are tasked with patching them up

barbells - "you're doing it wrong, let me show you"

MREs - "can we switch? this food is absolute shit"

hit the showers (18+) - a prank ends with you getting your clothes and towel stolen with soap

wigs - you get sent undercover with them

hot and seductive - smut (18+)

lace (18+) - “wait for me in the bedroom, i have a surprise”with soap

stained lipstick (18+) - rough kisses in the back of an uber with gaz | with ghost

stolen glaces (18+) - "are you going to kiss me or not?"

tanning lotion (18+) - you just wanted help with an even lotion application but now their touch is venturing elsewhere

black and white photos (18+) - you take a few photos so they can remember you (and your body) while on deployment with price: part i and part ii

fruit juice (18+) - "let's test out that theory about drinking pineapple juice"

morning sun (18+) - you have nowhere to go and decide to spend it in bed ;) with ghost | with gaz | with price

silk (18+) - “you look absolutely gorgeous tonight”

[inherstars]

Swimming Lessons | The Last of Us (2,241 words)

Man, I don't know, I'm just avoiding work at this point.

Ellie toed out of her flip-flops and kicked them aside, staring dubiously at the water lapping the sandy shore.  There were bits of downy white goose feathers here-and-there on the surface, a dead and floating wasp, little parsley snippets of algae from the lake floor.  Further out from the beach, where the water cleared the overhang of trees, the sun dappled and glinted off it beautifully, enticingly.  She never really looked at water like something she wanted any part of, but she conceded it could be pretty.

“Do we really have to do this today?”

Joel joined her, setting down a tote loaded with rolled beach towels, and storked on one leg to remove his sneakers.

"I ain't pushin' you on a raft for the rest of my life.  Frankly I can't believe how many rafts there were out there to begin with.  Seems like some kind of freak coincidence."

"What if I just started carrying an inflatable in my pack?"  She gasped in sudden inspiration, reeling on him. "FLOATIES."

Joel stopped, squinting an eye.

“What? What the hell are floaties?"

"You know. Those little blow-up arm bands?”  She formed the shape of something small and bulbous in both hands.  “I could get a pair in, like, fun animal shapes."

Unmoved, he switched to his bare foot and peeled off the other sneaker.

"Get in the damned water."

Joel still couldn’t understand why she’d been so resistant to this.  From the first warm, compelling day of early summer she’d been making excuses, one after another: the water was obviously too cold for safety; she’d just eaten, she’d get a cramp (she’d always just eaten, the kid could put a labrador to shame); she couldn’t find a bathing suit that didn’t make her uncomfortable. 

It took awhile to thwart that last objection, but Maria helped him find her a nicely modest two-piece that looked more like a blousy jumper than a bathing suit.  She called it a tankini.  Joel steadfastly refused to use that word, but if it got her in the water Ellie could call it whatever the hell she wanted.

But no floaties. There was a line.

He’d opted to start her out on the small, sandy shore that typically served as a boat launch.  The shallows here were a little more gradual than elsewhere, and it afforded them a little bit of privacy from the otherwise crowded basking beach further down the lake’s edge.  Joel stood, hands-on-hips, as Ellie grimaced and made disgusted noises about the temperature and hygiene of the water, slowly wading in up to her shins.

When she didn’t hear any additional splashing she looked back at him.

“Are you coming in the water with me or not?”

“Course I am.”  He half-spread his arms, looking down at himself.  “Got my swim trunks on, don’t I?”

To be honest, until just then Ellie had mistook the knee-length trunks for denim. Her nose wrinkled.

“Why are you wearing a t-shirt?”

Joel advanced to the water, testing the temperature with one foot.  Alright, it was pretty fucking cold, but he’d be damned if he admitted as much in front of her.

“Why does that matter?  Nobody needs to see this old man’s scars.”

Ellie came back to the shore with a few deep, plunging steps, and grabbed his wrist.  With emphasis she pointed further down the lake, to the parti-colored clusters of sunbathers and swimmers on the basking beach.

“Do you see that crowd over there?  The one that’s been gathering and slowly getting bigger since we got here?  The one with a knot of forty- and fifty-something old women literally pointing a pair of binoculars at us?”

Joel looked.  Unhappily.

“...maybe.”

“They’re here for one thing, and that’s to finally see you with your stupid shirt off.  If you’re going to make me get in this nasty, ice-cold water, on a full stomach, with no floaties, you’re going to give those poor, thirsty old women a show.”

He throated out a resistant sound.

“Can't we just--"

"Quid pro quo, Clarice."  Ellie met his eyes firmly and made a stuttering teeth-sucking noise at him.  With a deep sigh Joel reached for the forward hem of his shirt, cross-arming it overhead in one smooth but clearly reluctant motion.

"...you're ruinin' that movie for me."  He tossed the shirt back to the bag of towels, palms self-consciously whispering together as he passed them over each other.  “Alright, git."

Ellie’s head turned on a swivel, snorting in amusement to behold the obvious commotion this was causing further down the beach.

"So thirsty," she smirked.

"In the water, Ellie."

She was more nervous than she expected, having long since compartmentalized the trauma of all previous attempts at navigating the water.  It was foremost in Joel’s mind, however, and he followed close behind her as she went, offering a brief touch to one shoulder to let her know how near he was, and where.

They plunged in, tread becoming heavier and more laborious the deeper they went.  The sun started to dapple through the overhead trees, tinting the water bullfrog green, spangling their skin with patchy warmth.

"Just up to your chest is fine,” Joel said gently.  “We're not going to be doing any deep dives today.  If you need to touch bottom, you'll be able to.  But you won't need to." 

Ellie emerged into the sun, sliding her bare feet along the sandy bottom, feeling every pebble and pinching plant along the way.  She tried to turn to face him, but Joel arrested her in place, hooking his hands lightly under her arms from behind.

“Nope. You’re good where you are.”

“Okay…”

“Alright.  I’m gonna lift.  I want you to pick your feet up and let them float.”

“I’m not going to float.”

“You’ll float.  Never met anybody more full’ve hot air.”

“Har har har.”

Ellie swallowed, steeling with a breath before doing as she was told.  It felt wildly unnatural at first, but Joel’s grip supported her, the muscles of his arms tightening slightly to take her weight.  Her legs came up, knees and toes poking above the water, and sure enough -- though her head and shoulders stayed propped back against his chest -- she did indeed float.

She laughed nervously.

"Okay. This isn't horrible."

"Alright.  I'm gonna let you go a little bit."

"Wait--waitwaitwait, Joel--"

"Ellie. Relax.  As long as you got air in your lungs, the water's gonna hold you up.  You're a balloon."  He eased her shoulders down, one hand cupped supportively behind her head, holding it above the water.

"Like that.  Relax.  Let your arms spread out a bit.  You feel that?  The water holds you up."

Her breathing eased and evened a little.

"Okay."

"Not so bad?"

"Not so bad."

He put his other hand under her spine, gently, gently reclining her head back into the water.

"Relax your neck, you don’t have to hold that tension.  It's gonna get quiet."

Joel let her head ease into the water, waiting a moment before removing his hand.  He palmed down her neck until he supported only her shoulders, and even then with only a light touch.

Ellie floated like a magician's apprentice, the water lapping at her ears.  He said it would be quiet but instead she could hear the soft thunder of the water as her head rested in it, buoyant.  Her eyes closed, and Joel began to move her slowly, like a raft, sideways rather than deeper into the lake.  He took back his hand.

"The water wants to hold you up," he said.  Her eyes reopened, slipping sideways to him.  "You don't have to fight it."

"OK.  The water wants to hold me up.  Now what?"

His hand went back under her spine.  He nodded at her.

"Alright.  Put your legs down, find the bottom.  We're gonna try that the other way."

Ellie did as instructed, struggling just a little, though he maintained a steadying hand on her until she could stand upright.  She shook her head to either side to dislodge the water from her ears.

"Now."  Joel ducked down into the water, neck-deep, and wrapped both hands around her shins.  "Same as before, but in reverse.  This time I'm gonna lift your legs, but you're gonna tilt forward onto your stomach, like a wheelbarrow, until your top half floats.  Don't make that face, it'll be fine.”

“None of that sounds remotely fine.”

“You can do whatever you want with your arms to keep your balance, just keep your chin up and your face out of the water."

"You think??"

"Ally-oop."

There was definitely a bit more struggle that time, but Joel was as gentle with her as he could be, and Ellie kept her cool as best she could.  Despite serious doubts, and after a little trial and error, she floated… just as before.  Joel planed a forearm under her shins until her legs were up and she was nicely level on her belly.  Gently, he let her go.

"There you go."

"Is this swimming??"

"This is floating," He laughed.  "But that's halfway.  Alright, now comes the fun part.  Kick your feet just a little.  Little baby duck paddle feet."

Ellie sniggered nervously at the imagery, but followed nonetheless.  Slowly she eased forward, propelled through the water as it broke around her chest and shoulders, and Joel followed along at a comfortable pace.

"Holy shit,” she murmured.

"That's right.  Now close your fingers together like you're aiming to slap someone and--there you go.  Just like that."

"Holy shit."

"Keep your arms at the level of the water.  Push the water away with ‘em.  It's like paddling a boat, you gotta move both at the same time to get anywhere fast."

He stood and watched her for awhile, then startled and plunged effortfully after her as she paddled a little too far for comfort.  He caught her by the ankles, redirecting her like a wayward parade float.

"Hang on.  Don't go too deep just yet."

"Can't I go out toward the middle?"

"Eventually, but I don't think you're ready just yet.  The first time you can't feel the bottom under you, it's... alarming.  Keep parallel to the shore.  There you go."

Joel watched her a minute longer, eventually satisfied she was safe trying out her own techniques.

"Listen, don't do anything too exciting, I'm going for a quick swim.  Stay toward that side, you'll be fine."

Ellie called back, busy concentrating, "Okay."

It was an age since Joel could swim because he wanted to, unencumbered by shoes, boots, an entire pack of supplies, and because he had no other choice.  He launched himself in a slow breast stroke towards deeper water, the sun baking on his skin where it breeched the surface.  He swam just until he couldn’t feel the silted bottom anymore, only the gauzy fronds of algae, then tread water for a minute or two.  He pushed his hair back with both hands, a mass of slick, blackened pewter curls, and rubbed the rivulets of water from his eyes.  For just a little while he breathed, and floated, and enjoyed the moment.

Eventually Joel looked toward the basking shore and, to his bewilderment, found the crowd of women still there.  Still staring.  Now there was a second pair of binoculars.

He checked back on Ellie, alarmed to find her paddling determinedly toward a field of lily pads.  That was way more speed and enthusiasm than she was prepared for.  Or him.

"Ellie.  Ellie.  Nope--"

"I wanna see what's over there!"

"Not yet--damn it--"

He folded under the water with a broad-chested stroke, piloting through the miasma of the lake's inner world. Filmy green, darts of silver minnows and a particularly brave sunfish that caught the light and spun away like a sunstruck medallion.  He came up for air near enough to Ellie that he could loop an arm around her waist again, coraling her away from the lily pads.

Once they were in shallow enough water she got her feet under her and stood.

"Aw, come on."

"I don't know how deep it gets over there, not yet.  Besides which, those things don't just float around untethered, there's stuff underneath them you can get caught in."  He wiped both hands down his face to clear his eyes. "But you did good.  I think that's enough for your first lesson."

"I wanted to make it out to that big raft in the middle."

"You'll get there.  Next time you'll go a little further."  He waded up onto the shore, streaming water, and wrung out the hanging legs of his trunks before fishing for his t-shirt.  He shook it out and wormed back into it, giving Ellie a momentary, dismaying glimpse of the dimpled scar on his abdomen.  Evidence of her clumsy attempts to save him.

She wrung out her ponytail and climbed up onto the shore as well, casting around for her flip-flops.

"You wanna go over to the other beach?"

"I don't believe I do."

"But the thirst, Joel."  She clenched her fists and shook them for emphasis. "My God, the thirst!"

"Good idea.  This old man needs a beer."  He slipped barefoot into his beaten sneakers and started up the beach, the sand transitioning unevenly to grass.  Ellie hurried to catch up with him.

"Can I have one too?"

"Sure, why not. You did good today, you earned it."

"Holy fuck, seriously?"

"Yeah, I'm serious. Right after I get you those floaties."

[breelandwalker]

Witches, I have a confession to make -

I am terrible at self-regulation when it comes to crafting.

I mean, aren't we all, right? But specifically, my brain keeps trying to come up with new ideas for the shop when the new site hasn't even been up for a month and I definitely Do Not Have Time to take on another activity for merch prep, to say nothing of the funds or space needed for the additional supplies.

None of that stops my ridiculous ADHD brain from twirling giddily around the room and yammering on about spell kits and patches and bumper stickers and enamel pins and incense and wax tarts and tote bags and new types of moon jars and bottle charms and and and....

It's all stuff I'd like to explore and perhaps add to the store someday in the future, but it's like....brain, can you let me find my damn feet first?

It's all going on the Later List. Cause I can't afford to spend all my time and money on new stuff while I still have to worry about silly things like day jobs and mortgages. 😅

[dreamties]

Okay okay hear me out

Johnny with like a much shorter (I’m talking like 5’3) gf who’s also chubby

Just like a really soft sweet chubby gal, maybe she’s a lil insecure about her body type and it confuses him because he thought she was pretty either way if that makes sense??? Like he doesn’t get why she’s insecure he thinks she’s the prettiest person ever 😭

Okay so . . . I'm hearing you out on this SO HARD !!!! Ughhh I can totes imagine this !! ((also you sent in another ask like this?? sorry if i had originally interpreted this as a request and it wasn't?? 😭😭 idk hope you enjoy <3333))

Also also also... i would love to explore this prompt more in the future, if anyone has additional thoughts to spare <333 👉👈 apologies for any spelling errors

taglist: @friedwormeater @0ddmia @lambofjudgement @lizve @urfavsuh @rainbowcake1212 @sadsimp @marriedtoeddie @strawberry-moonpies

Johnny cares about his own appearance . . . In the sense if he doesn't upkeep his beauty, how else is he gonna pick up prey at the bar?

One of the other talented fic writers on this site, I don’t remember who <:O said he would have learned a lot about "how to act" through television. Now, I don't think he had much access to television, except when he was much younger and the slaughterhouse was still running. The one at the bar will also play old films or news stations that come in all funny. . . Anyways !! All of that absolutely applies to this too!! He's seen pretty boys on magazines that Drayton always glares at him for staring at them too long. He knows what girls are "supposed" to like and he feels confident in pulling it off. That's sort of where that desire begins and ends though. While I think the Slaughter family can care about looks- they each have personal, preferred taste- it's not high on their list of wants. It's always a delightful bonus when their partner is a cutie <3333

Johnny is such a little trickster !! Like what a little greaseball he's so annoying sometimes *sob emoji*

At the beginning of the relationship, he's gonna tease ya about your height. Not your body weight though, it's never polite to comment on a lady's weight.

He tends to pick on everyone though. It's like some demented love language, it seems.

Anytime you make a face or a disgruntled noise about it, he seems so confused??? Like what's up with you??? You never get like this. Why are you being weird around him . . .

Basically- gets annoyed that you're annoyed at him for "no reason"

If Johnny has had other partners before this, his handling of the situation would be different. I am in the camp of strongly believing you are his first partner tho <33333

So you're gonna have to spell it out for this mean ol guy cause he doesn't understand these "social cues" cause he's never quite seen it with his folks, and you can't really interpret gestures like yours in magazines and novellas and stuff. He's just a lil lost, why don’t ya give him a hand, huh?

You tell him your worries: that you feel inadequate to be his girlfriend. That you're small and chubby and he deserves someone who is just . . . more than that.

He's lookin at ya all bug eyed and funny the whole time Ya scared him half-to-death, darlin! He thought something was seriously wrong (side note: just because Johnny doesn't take it real seriously- at first- does not mean that it doesn't matter or isn't serious irl at all <333 stay safe out there folks)

She pouts, turning her head at her shoulders and swiveling her body- hands clenching her arms in a crisscross- away from him.

Johnny pulls a face. What had he done this time? He approaches her cautiously, as to not spook her- she had argued for him to leave her outside for right then. He wasn't having much of that.

"Darlin'?" His hand lands on her shoulder, not quite as gentle as he should be with his love. She turns her head the other way, hoping this will somehow make her able to evade any heated arguments. "Darlin', no no- c'mon."

He's not one to give up, though. Which- in this moment- she hates that was one of the qualities she fell in love with him over. The drive, compassion; the awful persistence he had.

She sniffles, not wanting to cry over some- dumb comment he made. A stupid inference of her body to something else. She had half the mind to be angry, instead. She couldn't be angry at Johnny, though. At least not so . . . forthright.

"S'just, you're always teasin me for my height, Johnny. And- and I know you're just holdin' your tongue about my body."

Johnny looks at her with an incredulous squint. "What?"

"I get it, Johnny. But it's no need to tease me for it." He's slow on the uptake. The gears finally turn and whirr into life. He sets his palm, steady and firm, to her shoulder. His fingers curling against her clothed body gently.

"Ah, sweet-cheeks. I think you're stunning. I haven't been teasin' ya." His lover interrupts him with a look. She returns her head strictly to its position.

"Yeah, yeah, I have been. I know. I love you, though. You're sweet, darlin. Hottest girl I've ever laid my eyes on. Now stop pouting." She's feeling much better already. She wants to pout more just to spite him, which makes her giggle audibly. "C'mon. Let me kiss you," he smiles when he hears her laugh. It's toothy, it's sharp. It's inviting, though. "Look at you, sweet thing. Smilin' already. C'mere."

She turns around, letting Johnny pull her into a tight embrace. Kissing the top of her head, her cheek, her pretty lips. Lips he hopes she'll let him kiss a dozen times over.

She still weeps in his arms, less from the residual sad feelings and more from just how sweet her man could be.

"Love you too, John."

(Is calling him john sacrilege . . . it nearly feels like it should be. but i couldnt help write this bit like that hehe <3333)

[animehouse-moe]

Spy x Family Volume 11 Ultra Collector

Well, I'm going to be a little late with Spy x Family and the start of Apothecary Diaries today because my afternoon is very busy, so let me show off this really cool Spy Fam special edition from French publisher Kurokawa.

Yeah, there's a hell of a lot in here, and a lot to chat about. Let me start with the box first. Truthfully, I'm sort of let down by it. It's less robust than the volume 8 special edition's box that is a bottom and a lid. Volume 11's using a thinner/lighter box overall and opens via flaps on the side instead of lifting up the top.

What I do like about this box though is how it sticks close in style to volume 8's. Where 8 was a suitcase, volume 11 is all about a TV, which has a pretty fun gimmick. That illustration of Anya, Loid, and Yor? You can actually swap it out with 3 others to "change the channel" on the TV. It's a fun way to spice up the exterior, but I have just one complaint: it's rather finnicky. The card that the illustrations are on is just sorta "in" the box, so it slides and moves around and whatnot. I would have really appreciated a little pocket or sleeve on the inside that the card slid into, but also, this is just the package that the good stuff comes in.

So speaking of good stuff, the tote bag. It's very fun, and surprisingly good quality. The bag also features the illustration of the Forger family on both sides of the bag. I wouldn't say it's the biggest ever, but you could comfortably use it for light to medium shopping in terms of manga. Can't fit 10+ volumes in here easily, but I think anything less than that is plenty fine.

Alright, next up is the books. Now, this is the special edition for volume 11, but there's another volume in here? Well that's because they include the Spy x Family light novel 'Family Portrait' with it. Very cool to see, but I do sort of wish we could have had a special cover for it as well. Though I mean, beggars can't be choosers we got one for Volume 11. Also, I really appreciate that French pubs either make the dust jackets reversible, or keep the original dust jacket alongside the special one. For display purposes it's very handy.

Both the coolest but most frustrating piece in this special edition is the bookend. I think it's a super cool thing to add, especially since it's metal, but that's also where the problem comes in. You need to bend the bookend to make it a bookend. With it being metal, there's not really any going back if you wanted to just display it as a metal card. Not something I like, so it'll be living as metal card forever. Though it's not like I have any alternatives for how they could avoid this issue, so it's a bit hard to voice it as a valid complaint.

And now into the illustration cards. I love getting stuff like this because it gives you so much freedom. They're loose and individual, not double sided, and of decent size (the same size as the manga). Some might disagree, but I think it's fun that they're pre-existing artworks (two of the landscape cards are featured as a poster in the LN). Mostly because you get to 'have' the art from various places as their own separate thing. Really liked one of the color pages or illustrations for Spy x Family, but Viz doesn't do color pages for the manga? Well, now you get them here and separate from the manga. Just a nice touch.

Speaking of nice touches, the bookmarks. They're just from the various covers of the manga, but I think as a sentiment they're a very nice addition (especially because I don't have any bookmarks at all). Just something very simple and easy to add to flesh out the goodies you can get from the special edition.

So there it is, the super cool 'ultra collector' edition of Spy x Family. This is a really interesting addition to my collection and I think a lot of the pieces to this are very unique in terms of what you'll see with special editions. Word of warning though, it's not a cheap special edition. Considering how much comes with it, I'd still say it's worth it for those that enjoy it, but it's not something that a lot of people will "just pick up".