#i was in charge of the joel chapters and space was in charge of the fwhip chapters and we were collabing on the jimmy chapters | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pixlostinatos · 1 year

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For Few Can Take a Broken World (and Still with Beauty Fill it)

so, back in august, @fogwitchoftheevermore and i had a concept for a fic centered around the clones of Mezalea and the concept of them being a bit of a (true) ghost story told in the mesas of tumble town

it was intended to be three sets of paired chapters, one focusing around a season 2 character followed one about their season 1 counterpart in each pair of chapters--jimmy, fwhip, and joel.

it never got finished, and it never will at this point, but i think itd be a shame if we never shared what we did have written, so thats what this post is! we had a lot, so head under the cut to actually read them <3

Jimmy s2

Jimmy has lived in dry areas his whole life, and you pick up on some interesting things, such as a rather unique dialect of sign language that only varies in specific finger motions between the desert and the mesa

Theres some interesting folklore in the mesas, as well

Where most places would blame half-built and incomprehensible structures on the elusive herobrine, mesa-dwellers tell a different story

terracotta people, once part of a beautiful empire, now lost and without purpose, wandering the mesa until either the end of time, or when the magic that sustains them finally fades

Don’t go out too late, elders warn, lest you encounter one of these ghosts. who knows what they might do. Those who've seen them say they’re harmless, just wandering, aimlessly and wordlessly, but no one knows where they came from or why they all share one man's face.

Jimmy runs across one of the clones one night

It calls him the codfather

Jimmy recognizes some weird variation of the sign for fish

Despite its hands having less joints than that of an actual human, the mesa’s sign language is perfectly accessible to the clone. weird

He is very confused

"i mean this is the middle of a fucking desert but sure i can try and get you some????"

it just keeps insisting "you are the codfather" and he gets Very Weirded Out at the fact that this weird doll keeps trying to call him a fish person.

this is almost worse than being called a toy.

Jimmy s1

Mezalea is one of the only places Jimmy is comfortable taking off his head

After all, the clones aren’t truly sentient, and even if they were, its still Joel, right?

The clones aren’t unsettling at all haha why would you suggest such a thing

Jimmy is fairly certain the man isnt entirely sane. But hes not unkind and Lizzie loves him and despite his slightly overinflated ego, Jimmy considers him a good friend.

fWhip s2

Jimmy tells him, as his number 2 deputy, there's some Weird Shit about the mesa he should probably know

Aka the clay people. They’re not aggressive, in fact, they somehow seem almost sad, but they’re still scary as shit

Fwhip runs into one despite the warning anyway

The fact that it looks strikingly like Joel isn’t the first thing he notices. The first thing he notices is that they’re building some sort of… something. It looks like a sort of tower with a rounded top, he doesn’t quite get it.

The second thing he notices is that it looks strikingly like Joel.

Or, sort of? Those are Joel’s eyes, and the general shape of his face and body, but this clay person doesn’t have a beard and it’s much smaller than Joel (still, comparatively to Fwhip, very tall, but we don’t have to talk about that)

The clay person is just as confused as Fwhip is when they first see each other

Fwhip gives it some sort of greeting (cause I mean, they are just people, right?) and it perks up in a strange way

It walks closer to him and starts making a sign with its hands. He doesn’t quite recognize it, Jimmy has started teaching him the mesa’s sign language but he’s not very good at it yet. He recognizes that the sign for gunpowder is in there somewhere, and one of the signs feels very familiar, but that’s about all he gets.

The clay man is trying to ask him “are you Fwhip?” but it’s not communicating correctly at all

Fwhip tries to ask if they need something, if they want to go see the sheriff, and it nods at the mention of Jimmy, so he takes them back to Tumble Town

Jimmy is very confused about why Fwhip brought it here, and when it starts trying to say “you are the codfather” he tells Fwhip that the ones he’s run into have been making those hand signs at him but he hasn’t figured out what it means

Neither of them quite know what to do with this person and kinda decide to just… let them go and hope they figure out what they need to do

fWhip s1

Unsettling mention of the fountain statues being approximately just as sentient as the other clones, despite having extremely limited joint movement. “Elaborate on that.” “no”

The clones’ sign for Fwhip’s name is a mix between the signs for redstone and gunpowder

Fwhip didn’t learn that many of the signs because he didn’t run into them very often. He learned most of the emperor’s name signs, but he adamantly refused to learn Jimmy’s because, and I quote: “why would I ever need to talk to them about him. I’m not sending messages to him. Fuck that guy.” He also learned stuff like terracotta and concrete, gunpowder, and different dyes

He practices the signs a lot because even though he doesn’t run into Joel very often and is like sorta enemies with him??? he wants to be able to easily do trade deals and such

Joel s2

He doesn't like this

It's not like looking into a mirror, looking down at this little clay face

He's tall and strong and sexy and handsome and a god and did he mention tall

But he remembers full well what he looked like before jumping into that fountain and ascending to godhood oh so many decades ago

And this is eerily similar to that

It's even got the same strip of green curls he’s always had, nestled into the shorter, darker hair

But it doesn't have a nose. Or a mouth

Not that photographs exist here, of course, but its like looking at a polaroid of yourself from a few years prior but changed just so. Its creepy as hell

There are. Many.

And they start bowing

As they should! He's a god and everyone should bow to him!

But it feels wrong

(that's his face)

And the one that first approached him asks him what they should build

He never learned the mesa’s unique sign language

How does he understand it?

Unimportant. it asked for his opinion.

(what will piss off jimmy the most?)

(he isn't sure why, but he thinks a salmon could be funny)

He tells them to build [toy story reference]

The moment they get to work he flies off

Maybe he should stop calling jimmy a toy actually

After seeing those dolls, he feels like thats giving him far too much credit

But no. the joke is too funny to give it up now

Joel s1

Gem and Pixl are both not exactly happy about his usage of blood sacrifice, but it's all his own blood, so they can't actually justify stopping him, only just voicing Disapproval

He crafts each clone with care

They shatter, sometimes. Terracotta is strong, but it’s brittle.

Yet somehow, the first he created is still with him now

There have been so many

Builders, messengers, trade managers, statues, cleaners, warriors

Each especially is formed slightly different

But they all take a life to make

No single person can lose that much blood and survive

But for the rulers, death cannot be caused by something as unimportant to fates grand design as a little self-inflicted bloodletting

(killing yourself that much, even knowing you’ll come right back, is not exactly great for your psyche)

(there's a reason Pixl asks him to stop making him add candles to the Vigil, a pained undercurrent to the voice he tries to keep light, every time he visits)

The first he made had defined middle and index fingers, despite the two being fused together

It was kinda weird and unsettling though, so he started making them into one slightly wider finger

He went back to the original design eventually, his grip on his sanity slipping just enough for him to find it funny instead of creepy

They already shared his face after all

The Mother Tree accepts his blood freely, and gives life to the clay dolls all the same

The explosion that destroys the Palace also kills the Mother Tree

However, the servants were always built in such a way that they could outlast their creators

Otherwise, older clones would die the moment Joel sacrificed himself to make a new one

When joel died, the clones lost their way

They weren't actually sentient, after all, only having a very rudimentary sort of magical artificial intelligence

So while they could talk, and recognize people, and take orders from their King

(their Creator)

(their God)

They had no true higher thought

And could only fulfill the purposes they were created for

(the Messenger servants were the first to fall, though the ones meant to send messages to wetter climates, to lizzie and scott and jimmy, were more durable and stood longer)

(the Statues never moved, as they were never built to. They remain buried under the dunes of what was once mezalea. Maybe one day they will once again be displayed as a sign of their Creators might)

(after thousands of years, only the Builders still wandered the earth)

(yet still they were always drawn to mesas)

(it is all they knew, after all)

(and the heat of the desert sun would keep moisture from cracking them from the inside out)

(after all, a broken clone is of no use to its King)

(without their Creator to guide them, their builds had no direction)

(simple structures that only the most dedicated archeologists may even have the hope of recognizing as fragments of the old Mezalean build style)

#empires smp #empires sheriff #the codfather #empires solidarity #empires smallishbeans #empires fwhip #goblin fwhip #count fwhip #mezalean king joel #mezalean king #ostinatos post #ostinatos writing #i was in charge of the joel chapters and space was in charge of the fwhip chapters and we were collabing on the jimmy chapters #the title comes from Pellinore And The Beast by the Mechanisms btw! definitely one of my favorite mechs songs (along with Stranger)

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katiexpunk · 8 months

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28 Floors, Part 3 | Joel Miller x f!reader

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader Rating: 18+, minors DNI, don't make it awkward pls. Word count: 4.5K Series summary: You're a good girl. A senator's daughter who is always there to show your support to your father. What he doesn't know is that his best friend, Joel Miller, is practically the only real reason you show up to events to support him. Series warnings etc: [NO OUTBREAK/AU] We'll call him dad's best friend Joel from his time in the Army, fairly soft!joel, age difference (28/47), alcohol, sexual tension, slow burn...and eventually smut, like shitttt that's smut. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 - You're already here Part ?? - Maybe some drabbles for these two in the future Read on AO3 Chapter summary: You and Joel share a passionate night together, only to wake up and do it all again. It was all perfect, oh yeah, until your dad figures out you were with Joel all night. Don't worry, though - this story has a happy ending. Chapter warnings: References to food and alcohol, oral (both male and female receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v (wrap it up, folks), creampie, praise kink, dirty talk, Soft! Joel, rough!Joel, rough sex...I mean, it's a lot of smut. A/N: Wowowowowow. When I set out to write my first fic, I really didn't think it would get any attention at all. To all of you who have read, reblogged, commented, and encouraged me along the way, thank you - ilysm. While this may be the end of the series for these two, I might still play around with a few drabbles. Thank you for letting me share my thoughts with you! It's been such a fun journey. Onward and upward (get it...elevators) to the next story.

The dimly lit hallway stretches endlessly in front of you.

A nice seductive touch to the night, you think.

With his large hand holding onto yours, Joel walks like a man on a mission.

His only goal is to get you tucked away into his room so he can finally have you, all of you.

The patterned paisley floor swirls under your feet as you get closer and closer to his room. Maybe it was the alcohol, but you’re pretty sure it was the electric charge between you two causing your senses to blend and play tricks on you.

You both walk fast, eager.

Just like that, you’re at the door.

Your breath comes out in ragged pants, and the heat between you two practically shimmers in the air.

You think you hear a muffled ping in your purse, but you can’t be sure. You’re too focused on Joel.

Joel, Joel, Joel, your mind thinks on repeat like a broken record, reminding you that you want one thing and one thing only.

He places one hand on the doorknob and dips the other into his suit jacket pocket to reveal a white keycard.

The beep the lock emits acts as a go-signal, like the sound of a shotgun at a race, and he’s pulling you through the threshold of the now open door to reveal a warmly lit and inviting space.

As the door falls shut behind you, he pins you against it, your lips meeting in a clash of urgency.

Your hands roam freely over his body, and you need more.

You push off of the door and urge him back into the room, only slightly stumbling over your heels as you do.

These things have got to go.

Lips still locked on his, you briefly open your eyes to step out of your heels when you see it – a large ottoman, up against the back wall of the room.

Suddenly, you’re the one in control.

With a firm push, you send him sprawling back onto the plush cushions. He hits them with a faint oof. The breadth of him spans wide, as he drapes his arms along the back of the ottoman, waiting with baited breath for what you’ll do next.

His eyes watch your silhouette, a tantalizing vision against the backdrop of the room, as your fingers dance with bold assurance at the hem of your dress.

A smirk curls your lips, and it blows Joel’s pupils open even wider.

You peel off your dress, and reveal yourself to him – braless, with only a thin scrape of fabric covering your lower half.

You toss the dress into the air, a forgotten memory.

You see lust flicker across his face as he watches the fabric pool on the floor.

At that moment, it’s not just a dress you’ve discarded; it’s all inhibitions, all rules, and all pretenses.

You walk closer to him, and lower yourself to your knees.

You place your seemingly tiny palms on his very large thighs and glide them up to meet his belt. You watch his face as you make quick work of unbuckling it.

Pants next, you pull the zipper down with a potent zzzrrrrp and slip them off, flinging them to meet your dress on the floor.

You pause to palm the length of him under the single piece of fabric left on him, before pulling his boxers down far enough for his cock to finally spring free.

The length of him slaps against his soft tummy, leaving a little smear of pre-cum in its wake.

You take his large member in your hand and begin to stroke it slow and rhythmically, admiring it’s size. Joel's head falls back as if to gaze at the ceiling – you’ve barely touched him and already he’s melting like putty.

You wet your lips, duck down to the base of his shaft, and plant a small kiss at the base of his cock.

“Don’t play w’me,” he torts.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you say with a wink.

You hum as you flatten your tongue and lick a long, wet stripe up the underside of his dick and stop at the top with your mouth open wide.

As you hold the tip of him in your mouth, your tongue darts out to taste the salty heady flavor of his pre-cum. You let the saliva pool and dribble out of your mouth for a moment, and then you finally take him.

Joel lets out a small grunt as you unhinge your jaw further to open your throat and take more of him. You move up and down, and one of Joel’s hands meets the back of your head, and he grabs a fistful of your hair.

With his grip on you, he begins to guide your mouth as he fiercely thrusts up.

Your head bobs up and down, trying to keep up with the pace of him, and tears begin to prickle in your eyes. You can feel your lips swelling. With the tip of his cock reaching the back of your throat, you let out a small gag and he pauses at the hilt.

“Fuck, baby,” Joel pants, “woulda put this mouth to good use long ago had I known you could do this.”

His praise melts you like cotton candy on a warm tongue.

He lets you continue to mouth fuck him just like that, lost in his own pleasure, when you reach up to cradle his balls.

Ooo, he likes that.

“Shit, gonna have to stop sweetheart or I’m gonna cum,” Joel huffs.

You stop.

You need him – down to the last drop – inside of you tonight.

You’d have to wait to taste him for another time.

Will there be a next time?

You let the silent wish float away as you rise from the floor, knees cherry red, not much unlike the cherries from your whiskey earlier at the bar. He stands and pulls you up the rest of the way by the undersides of your elbows.

He yanks your body to his, his wet and pulsing cock between you when suddenly both of his hands are on the underside of your ass and he yanks you up off the floor to straddle his ribs.

You let out an excited little yelp, not expecting to leave the floor, and wrap both arms around his shoulders.

Joel walks you across the room to the bed, planting kisses on your chest and breasts that rest so perfectly in his face as he does.

He stops when the front of his legs meet the edge of the bed, and he releases you, your back hitting the mattress with a small thud.

Joel crawls on top of you and pauses to momentarily hover over you.

This is it.

He’s finally going to fuck you.

Wrong.

He looks down between your bodies and begins to follow the path, using his tongue as a trail of bread crumbs back to your mouth all the way down your body, until he finds himself at the foot of the bed on his knees.

They hurt like hell, but he didn’t give a shit.

He grabs both of your ankles and pulls you closer to him.

“Told you I was gonna take my time with ya,” he whispers.

He plants soft kisses up your leg, your inner thigh, and finally pauses once he reaches your mound.

His thumbs come up to meet your hip bones. They grip the skimpy piece of fabric, and he slides them down off your legs.

He takes a small whiff before he throws them in the growing clothes pile.

You blush, partially out of embarrassment, but by the look on his face it does nothing but stoke the fire within him.

His tender tongue comes out to lap up your sweetness.

He makes small licks towards your slick entrance, and he stays on the outskirts of your folds, just barely pushing past them to where you want him to be.

Always such a fucking tease.

You buck your hips up to his face, and you’ve made your point.

He moves back up toward your clit, and begins to drag his tongue over you, working at you slowly, devouring every drop of you, igniting every one of your nerves down there as he does.

You grab a fistful of his hair, alternating between closing your eyes in sheer delight and looking down at the sight of him between your legs.

His grip on your thighs doesn’t relent. Neither does yours.

You cry out his name, but it comes out weak and wet.

Joel’s lips suck and lap at your clit, as he slowly begins to press one of his fingers inside.

“mmm, feels so good, more, please,” you say.

You know he loves his manners.

One becomes two.

“You’re so tight, baby,” he admires, “Gotta stretch you out, get you ready f’me.”

Two becomes three.

Your back naturally comes off the bed in a graceful arch as you feel him move inside you, his fingers gently curled as he scissored in and out, his mouth still on your sensitive nub.

He has you right where he wants you, on the verge of total release. You’re shaking, a woman drowning in the pleasure coursing through your veins.

Holy shit. You’ve never orgasmed so much from one man in your life, and certainly not like this.

A moan slips past your lips, and your mind goes foggy as your whole body stiffens. Joel rides out your orgasm with you and doesn’t stop until you totally soften under him, slightly shaking from overstimulation.

Joel lets his grip on your thighs fall, as he rises up, smile on his face, beard glistening from your release.

A devilish grin sweeps across his face. “Taste so sweet,” he compliments, before planting a kiss on your lips.

His head falls to the side of yours in the crook of your neck, his breath heavy.

The woody aroma of his cologne catches you once more, and you just can’t hold out anymore.

“Joel, I need you to fuck me. I need to feel you inside of me, please, I can’t wait anymore,” you beg.

You’re not one to ask for it so outwardly, not really, but Joel certainly has a special way of making you beg for it.

“You’ve got me, sweetheart.”

He takes his heavy cock in hand and notches his weeping tip at your entrance, and begins to push himself inside you.

He pauses a moment to let you adjust, but not for long, his patience wearing thin – Joel has waited far too long to know what you feel like.

He slowly backs the tip out, and you whine, but before you can say anything, he buries himself in you in one strong push.

Your face twists at the adjustment.

“Joel, fuck,” you pant, “so big.”

Joel loves the compliment.

He begins to fuck you in earnest, cashing in on his promise in the elevator to wreck you.

“I know, Darlin’,” he pants – “but you’re taking it so good.”

“Perfect,” he thrusts.

“Fucking,” he thrusts again.

“Cunt,” he slams into you this time.

You swear you see stars.

He slightly pulls back, but not all the way, and flips your right leg over your body to the left, and you’re straddling his lower torso like some sort of sexy pretzel.

He holds onto your right leg for leverage, as he begins to fuck you deep.

The sound your bodies make with each thrust is filthy.

You begin to bury your face into the bicep that rested on the bed, hands reaching for anything in their grasp as he stretches you out.

He brings his thumb to your clit once more, and you flinch – part pleasure, part pain.

You’re so fucked out already, but you can tell he isn’t going to let you off easy.

Still fucking you, his thumb makes slow circles on your swollen clit, bringing you back to full pressure.

“Fuck,” you cry, unable to finish your sentence before another intense orgasm hits you like a truck.

Joel slows, “there’s my good girl, being so good, coming all over me, felt so good,” he praises.

Joel flips you so you’re on your belly, and the he’s yanking you up by the creases of your hips into doggy.

His cock was fiercely hard, pumping in and out of you, just twitching with the need to release.

“Where do you want me, baby?” he asks.

“Inside me. I want you to come inside me. I want to feel all of you. I’m on the pill. Please.”

You and your begging tonight.

You don’t have to do much convincing.

A few quick more thrusts, and Joel is coming hard and fast, your pussy milking him of everything he’s got.

He collapses onto you, breath and body tense, before you both collapse onto the bed.

A long moment of comfortable silence passes, and he pulls out of you and rolls to his side.

He lifts his head to scan your face.

You’re a wreck.

He’s a wreck.

But you both look at each other like you’ve just seen the sunset for the first time.

Your heavy limbs and sleepy eyes begin to melt into the mattress, your body warm and gooey from the buzz of the night.

Joel collapses once more beside you, and his heavy arm drapes around your waist. He pulls you into his side and kisses your temple.

Without saying anything, you both let your eyelids fall, the events of the night catching up with you.

You both drift peacefully into sleep, only to find each other again in your dreams.

As dawn breaks, the first light of day slithers through the crack in the hotel's heavy curtains, refusing to acknowledge any societal norms of 'do not disturb'.

You flutter your eyelids open to a mess of tangled sheets and scattered clothing, a testament to a night lived passionately and unapologetically, on your own terms.

You stare at the ceiling, reminiscing about last night – you really fucked Joel Miller.

God, his cock.

You’re wet again just thinking about him.

You roll onto your side to face Joel and interlace both of your palms like a pillow under your cheek.

Joel’s still deep in slumber, giving you a quiet moment to soak in and admire how beautiful he truly is – his aquiline nose, his soft lips, his sun-kissed skin, the little freckles on his neck and chest.

The butterflies are back.

Your eyes dance over him, taking in the visuals of the crisp white sheets draped over his chiseled features, revealing the truly physical nature of his job.

Ugh, he’s so hot.

Just the sight of him once again causes the chorus of electric tingles to erupt in your belly, you feel a familiar tug at your navel.

You reach out to place your palm on his chest, and he emits a low grumble and stirs.

His heavy eyelids open and he notices you looking at - okay, eye fucking - him.

“Mornin’ beautiful,” he says with a smile, “See something you like?”

Before you can even clock what he’s doing, he’s got your entire body pulled onto his – chest to chest, face-to-face, both still naked from the night before.

“Yeah…you could say that,” you say as you greet his lips with your own.

That gentle peck morphs into something wild and fervent.

Your lips move in sync, parting and meeting in a rhythm that's as old as time and yet, so uniquely yours and Joel’s.

His massive cock throbs under you.

Looks like you aren’t the only one with a need this morning.

His hands move down to grip your hips, and he begins to grind himself against you.

“mmm, baby – I need you,” he growls into your shoulder. “Need to feel this tight pussy wrapped around me.”

God, you could hear him say that until the end of time and never tire of it.

You happily oblige his request.

You adjust your legs to straddle him and lift yourself up onto your knees as he lines himself up into your entrance. You sink down onto his length, your eyes falling shut as you do.

He’s so big. You pause to give yourself a moment to adjust, and then you find yourself pacing on him, expertly rolling your hips against his.

His hands hold you and he assists your rolls back and forth as you grind your clit against the coarse black hair surrounding his dick, teasing yourself with each move.

Mmm, that feels good.

Your slick makes his member so easy to roll up and down on, your tight walls squeezing and stroking him.

Joel watches you bounce on his cock, your breasts moving fluidly with the motion as one of his palms leaves your hips to grasp it. The added sensation of him playing with your nipple is intense.

You tilt your head back and let out a moan.

“Fuck,” Joel says, “Not gonna last much longer if you keep makin’ sweet sounds like that, sweetheart.”

Joel’s hand sweeps down from your breast, over the softness of your stomach. How is every touch from him so electrifying?

His fingers find your clit in the space between your sticky bodies.

As you ride him, the pressure of his fingers on your clit relentless, you feel the heat rise in your body. Your stomach begins to tense and you can feel your own orgasm not far off.

“Fuckkkkkk, Joel. I’m gonna co..” you trail off, and your vision goes white. You ride the wave of pleasure that extends from your head to your toes.

Hearing – no, feeling – your orgasm sends Joel over the edge.

As your walls pulse around him, his hands find a bruising grip on your ass. He begins to thrust hard and deep all the way to the edge of your cunt.

Your name leaves his mouth in a deep growl, as he finally lets his thick, milky release paint your cervix.

You fall forward, your body limp and sore, as he twitchs under you. Your combined heavy breaths begin to slow.

You pull off of him, sad to no longer have the stretch of him, but satisfied to still have part of him inside you.

As you both lay there in blissful silence, a ping from your phone draws you back to reality.

You lazily roll over and grab your phone from the nightstand.

It’s a text from your dad.

You hastily sit up, and a little rush of seed spills out onto the pristine white sheets beneath you.

“Good morning — just checking in to make sure you’re safe. Tommy mentioned you never called for a ride home last night. Congressmen Allen’s aid also told me she saw you get into an elevator with Joel around midnight?”

Shit.

Joel’s brows furrow as he looks at you, “What is it, Darlin’?”

Words fail you, so you pass the phone to let him read the message for himself.

It’s no use, he can’t read the screen without his reading glasses.

Why is that so hot?

As he reaches for the nightstand to grab them, his phone lights up and emits a beep.

He freezes momentarily, hand pausing right over the device. He takes a deep breath, grabs his glasses, then snags the phone. He unlocks it to find a text, also from your dad. His best friend.

“Were you with my daughter last night?”

Fuck.

FUCK.

Joel whips back to face you, and your wide eyes lock in a death grip.

The air is thick with tension as a silent “what the hell do we do!?” fills the room.

You sit there, facing each other, your faces a mirror of the other’s emotions.

But then, out of nowhere, you break out into laughter, letting a little snort go as you do.

Yeah, a good old-fashioned, unsexy snort.

It hangs in the air for a nanosecond, as does Joel’s confusion about your response.

Then you both explode into laughter.

You clutch your stomach, and tears stream down your face, and further little spurts of cum fall from your folds.

All that tension? Gone.

Because sometimes, life’s too short to take everything so seriously.

Sure, Joel was your dad’s best friend, but he was also a good man.

You know that.

Your dad sure as hell knows that.

And even Joel knows that, despite what he might think sometimes.

It’s not like you were a child, for fucks sake.

You are a grown woman, with a life, a job, and responsibilities.

You’re certainly old enough to know that good men are hard to come by in this city.

Without saying a word, Joel seemed to understand that you didn’t really care if your dad knew.

He didn’t care, either. Not really.

A final little breathless chuckle leaves your lungs, and the joint laughter dissipates and is replaced with calm.

Joel looks at you, the hungry and concerned eyes have gone, only to be replaced by something warmer.

With the morning sun shining through, you catch a different shade of amber you hadn’t noticed before.

He pushes a strand of hair out of your face and tucks it gently behind your ear, leaving his large palm on your cheek. His thumb meets your chin, and he pulls you in for a kiss.

It was tender. Soft.

No words were said, but it was in that moment that Joel knew that if he really were a smart man, he’d never let you go.

You’ll come clean to your dad.

You know him – it’ll be okay.

But first, you both need a shower.

For the first time, you don’t find yourself grumbling in the mirror as you get ready for another event.

Sure, there would still be the mind-numbing conversation, that you could count on.

But there would also be food, booze…and Joel.

You dawn a pretty pink dress, conveniently forget your underwear, and slip into your heels.

As you’re applying the finishing touches to your makeup, you look in the mirror and a large figure is perched up against your doorframe.

God, he looks good in a suit.

“You know, I meant what I said on the elevator – your body is gonna be the death of me. Look at you," the words come out sweet like honey.

You walk towards him, taking his large hand in yours. You pause there to feel the thickness of his fingers and rub the pads of your fingers over the rough calluses.

You drag his hand slowly up the top of your thigh, letting the dress gently bunch underneath his touch to reveal your smooth skin. When you reach the top, you hold him there and let him discover that you’re pleasantly wearing nothing underneath.

You feel him tense and the tips of his fingers barely graze where you so desperately want him to be.

But that would have to wait.

“Oh Joel,” you coo seductively, “I’m just getting started with you.” You say with a wink.

This time your words linger in his ears. A threat. A promise. A need.

Joel moans, and palms his growing length to adjust.

You both make a point to leave the apartment quickly, knowing if you stayed too long you’d both lose your resolve to attend the event.

You arrive, and interlace your palm over Joel’s bicep as he guides you through the threshold of the space.

You catch a few wandering, judgemental glances. You catch wind of hushed whispers as you begin to mingle.

Isn’t that the senator's daughter? Isn’t that his best friend?

You don’t care. This feels natural.

Just you and Joel.

You both work the crowd as you normally do, mingling through a series of separate and boring conversations.

Halfway through the night, your eyes lock across the room and Joel gives you that nod.

You know it’s not for just a drink this time.

Joel slips into the hallway.

You graciously excuse yourself from the dull conversation and set your champagne glass on an empty passed tray as you glide across the ballroom floor to follow him.

There he stands, palms interlaced behind his back.

Really pushing the fabric of that suit jacket to the limit, isn’t he? You think to yourself, already noticing a familiar stickiness between your thighs.

Fuck.

Joel's eyes are fixed on the elevator indicator on the wall in front of him as he patiently waits for you.

His broad frame turns as he hears your familiar steps come closer, and his big brown eyes catch yours in a silent hello.

Yeah. If looks could kill.

You swallow and gently bite your bottom lip.

The taste of the future, laced with sweet, raw, passionate love, is deliciously intoxicating.

The corners of your lips lift in a smile and a familiar blush returns to your cheeks as you walk closer to him, knowing what’s to come.

A soft bing echos through the lobby and the metal doors slowly open.

People shuffle off, and the robotic elevator voice reverbs through the air.

“In you go, sweetheart,” Joel says as he ushers you into the lift, his large palm once again finding its favorite resting spot on the small of your back.

You step into the small box and wait for others to join.

As luck would have it, once again, none do.

You glance up at Joel’s face and see a familiar need. That hunger. Pupils blown. Jaw tense.

“My turn,” falls from your lips.

By the time the elevator doors come to a full close, you’re already on your knees, ready to worship at the altar of the your gorgeous man.

This time, Joel Miller doesn’t just have 28 Floors with you.

He has forever.

X X X

END

Back to Part 1 or Part 2

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #the last of us #joel miller #pedro pascal

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wannab-urs · 8 months

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The Spreadsheet Digest - Vol 22

Good lord y'all I am never doing a 2 week edition of the Spreadsheet ever again this is actually insane. Like this is the longest post I have ever made. There's like 35 fics on here :)

Anyway as always you can find the spreadsheet here and the masterlist of my recs (that is currently unupdated lol oops) here.

Recs below the Pedro!

Joel

Mothman Fever a one shot by @beskarandblasters

You meet a really hot guy at the Mothman Festival and almost hook up with him, then you meet him again at the Mothman Stakeout except this time he's not just Joel... he's MOTHMAN!!! This fic is so good. It's funny and hot and amazing. Lil element of sex pollen in there and ya know, my favorite, monsterfucking. Also the shirts reader wears had me hollerin'.

Deliver Me From Nowhere a series by @atinylittlepain

Joel got his sheep ranch in a sleepy Colorado town and decided to slow his life down finally. Delores comes speeding into it, literally, in desperate need of help. As of right now there's a prologue and chapter one out, but I've got a little insight into the full story, and just trust me. This fic is worth your time. It's soft, gentle, and sweet, but do not forget that Joel Miller is capable of so much violence. And he's a protector, a caretaker. I love the way the town feels like a character and the way Joel can't help but help her, and AGH. This fic, man.

No closer could I be to god a one shot by @proxima-writes

Okay so this is set in Jackson... you're the town preacher's wife and you are hooking up with Joel Miller. This fic is super hot. I fucking love infidelity fics and I love when there's a lil blaspemy and sacrilege in a fic and this is just such a good fucking example of that. And the ending is so good.

Guard Dog a one shot by @romana-after-dark

TW Dub con, but it's Joel not reader. Raider!Joel fucks with the wrong girl. Reader fucks Joel at gun point and like there's a gun blow job in there and he's so submissive and he's also obviously pretty into it? And then he's obviously very into it. This is was so unreasonably hot. Just like... oh my god? Joel on his knees and whimpering and begging to cum? Good dog…

Jizz Fingers a Joel (and others) series by @gasolinerainbowpuddles

This is probably my favorite crackfic ever. A splorgimum (alien boy) from another planet can shape shift into anything you want and has various other special space boi powers that make hooking up with him a really good time. This so funny, like you will probably cackle out loud and have to find a way to explain what you're laughing at, but ummmm it's also pretty hot. And I refuse to be ashamed of wanting to fuck amorphous blob boy turned HBO Joel Miller. I mean have you seen what those Jizz Fingers can do?

Not so tough now, is she a one shot by @walkintotheriveranddisappear

Your cute lil raider group gets taken over by Joel's much scarier one. He needs to show your group that you are no longer in charge, and he chooses to ruin any authority you could possibly have by fucking you in front of them. TW NONCON. This is depraved and hot and terrifying. I loved the different ways the men in the group reacted too, from boldly participating to obvious disgust. Really shines a light on the spectrum of human depravity oof.

Oblivion a one shot by @thesummerpetrichor

Your boyfriend's dad is a sweet older man who you go visit sometimes, bake him things, talk about photography... Your boyfriend cheats on you. So you cheat back and let the guy take pictures. He sends those pictures to your boyfriend's dad... and suddenly sweet old man Mr. Miller is not so sweet anymore. TW Dub con, you totally wanted Joel but this is not how you wanted him. This is really hot and a little scary and just FUCK Yes. This is so fucking good

Pillow Queen a one shot by @beskarandblasters

You watch a porn video while Joel is sleeping beside you. He wakes up while you’re watching it. You tell him you want to try that position and he calls you a pillow queen. You prove him wrong. One thing I love more than almost anything else is proving a man wrong lmao. This is so fucking hot it's unreal. That got rode within an inch of his life lmao

All I did was what I had to do a series by @corazondebeskar-reads

I'm not 100% sure why I read this because if someone pissed even in my general direction in real life I'd literally cut their dick off and feed it to them... anyway that is not how I feel about it in fic apparently. Your raider!Joel's little pet or whatever and a new recruit thinks he can make a pass at you. Joel pisses in your mouth right in front of him and then shoots the fucker in the dick. Then he makes it up to you with some overstimulation :)

truth or dare a one shot by @joelscruff

Mean scary neighbor Joel, fuck yes!!! Your friends dare you to "see how far you can get" with your neighbor Joel during a game of truth or dare. You go over there and end up locked in his garage. There's elements of TW DUBCON here, but also he does give you a brief opportunity to leave. This is brutal. He's rough and a little gross about it and it is so hoooottttttttt!!!! And then there's this bit with a flashlight.... anyway I also would ditch these friends since you literally disappear for god knows how long and they don't even bat an eyelash like???

Something wretched about this a series by @covetyou

This is gonna be a series, but so far I've only seen chapter one,,,, Wherein Joel is a drug dealer and you need pain meds for your dad who is very ill. He can't work so you don't have ration cards, but you need ration cards to buy pain meds so he can work to get ration cards. Viscious cycle. Thankfully, Joel is accepting other methods of payment. The main kink in this one is pussy spanking and is so delicious oh my god. Reader is shocked by how much she likes it, honestly I think Joel is shocked by how much she likes it.

Joel + Veracruz

A Lesson in Blackmailing a one shot by @gasolinerainbowpuddles

No reader in this one! Just Joel domming comandante Veracruz and Veracruz liking it way more than he probably should. Joel is so fucking mean and Veracruz is a brat but he ends up just being a pathetic mess jacking himself off in an alley and I love every second of this.

Dave

Notes on Tutoring a series by @honestly-shite

Dave is your new music tutor and you are down real bad for him even though he's a major fucking asshole. You end up fucking him and then a lot of shit goes down and literally any other summary I can think of is full of spoilers. But this fic, y'all. Oh my god. The way Dave is characterized is so frustrating and so so good. It's perfect. Every detail that is slowly revealed about him is so perfect. The instrument(s) he plays, the music he likes, his background, where he's from, what went down before you met, all of it, is so perfect. The ending may possibly make you mad? But I liked it. I thought it made perfect sense for these two characters.

The Princess and the Duke a series by @theywhowriteandknowthings

Originally just Murder Daddy Kinktober Day 3 prompt "Daddy please" and then followed up with Kintober Day 4 prompt "Risk of getting caught," this is now a series so I'm reccing it as such. And FUCK it is hot. Dave is very much still Murder Daddy but he's so soft and sweet for reader... I mean he's still a scary and dominate motherfucker, but it's hot and the fucking tenderness and vulnerability he shows with reader has me fucking reeling dude.

Din

Taungsdays, am I right? a one shot by @theywhowriteandknowthings

You and Din get attacked by some sort of horny tentacle monster alien thing and it gives you both the fuck of your life, basically. The horny tentacle monster basically wants to fuck you both but also wants to you and Din to fuck. If you like tentacles and/or sex pollen and a lil m!receiving assplay, this fic is so for you. Also even though you didn't exactly consent to getting railed by a tentacle monster, you and Din love each other and are pretty sexually adventurous so it's a good time for everyone involved lol.

Bleed for me a series by @saradika

Din is the mand'alor and a vampire and you are his chosen one, the one he will keep to feed and fuck and whatever else... but you have a secret reason for even volunteering to be chosen in the first place... I'm obsessed with the world building, with the suspense, with the characterization. I'm in love with this fic UGH. It's so fucking good. Din is so hot and scary and perfect in every way. Reader is such a badass too like... girl that is a terrifying situation you have put yourself in. The plot twist is everything. I love thissss

A Place of Safety a series by The_InvisibleWoman (AO3)

Okay so you're a bounty and Din picks you up and he goes to take you in, actually does take you in, but something is just fucking off about the whole thing. And then there's a lil grogu situation, reclaiming the bounty and all that. He decides to try to find her somewhere safe to live and in the process he falls for you and you fall for him and it is so fucking sweet and beautiful and perfect and I love it so much. There are currently 34 chapters and it's ongoing and I am ravenous for this fic fr.

Whispers in the Dark a series by @kewwrites

TW NONCON!!! This is the darkest Din fic I've ever read. It's fucked up on so many levels, man. Read the warnings and be fucking careful because it's got probably 99% of all the triggers possible. Kew, baby, are you okay? That being said, I loved it. It didn't feel like it was glorifying Din's behavior or justifying it or anything. It was just a beautiful and painful representation of what a broken man is capable of and what it can mean for a person to be wrapped up in that with him. If you can handle it, you should read it. This one will stick with you

Frankie

A Fond Farewell a series by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

Angela has written something so beautiful and so painful. It's real, raw, and it fucking hurts. If you're looking for angst this is the fic for you lol. I really loved Frankie in this. I also really really adored Santi's character. This fic is gorgeous. It's one of those things where shit keeps getting in the way of something that should be easy and it makes you want to scream and cry and throw shit. It's also largely based on real events, which just makes it hurt a little more because Ang is my soul mate :')

Slumber a one shot by @write-and-buried

A filthy, lovely, consensual somno fic with a bit of squirting. Frankie is feral and he is so hot in this oh my god. I loved every single second of this fic. Frankie is so in love with you it's adorable and maybe a little gross. Which is just very Frankie. I've read this three times in 2 weeks.

Frankie + Tommy

Group Therapy a one shot by @beskarandblasters

we're pretending therapists don't have a code of ethics because holy shit this is hot. Frankie goes to therapy for his trauma and meets Tommy Miller (who says he looks just like his brother Joel). Frankie and Tommy both have their eyes set on one of the group's therapists. They ask you to go for a drink at the American Legion next door and it's not long at all before you've found a back room and then you fuck them both... Frankie is so soft and adorable through almost the whole thing and then he's fucking you and goes feral and it is so hot dude

Javi P

Drenched a one shot by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

Me and Ang had some brainrot about Javi P wherein we discussed the fact that we would let this man do things we have never let any man do before. This resulted in a beautifully wet fic where you get covered in spit and cum. And it is so hot.

Carmen: Darlin' Darlin' a series by @thesummerpetrichor

You're the ambassador's daughter and you get dragged to this weekend get away thing for the DEA and Javier Peña is there. What follows is flirting and teasing and getting fucked in public and it is amazing. I love the reader character so much. Fiesty little mean ass bitch that she is, she's just like me. This whole thing reeks of daddy issues, and again I say, she's just like me. This fic is so hot.

Video Games a one shot by @thesummerpetrichor

Yes, I did in fact read the whole masterlist, don't look at me. DADS BEST FRIEND JAVI P???? I have never read a dbf!javi, I'm pretty sure. This is so angsty and hot and perfect. The way they dance around each other for literal years (yeah I'm pretty sure that's grooming, but I don't think it was intentional... moving on) and then finally they just crash together and it is so hot. The way he talks you through it and he's so tender and soft and perfect fuck. It's like the Javi from those scenes with Helena or Elisa where that asshole exterior is gone and that overwhelming tenderness you know he has in him comes out and just UGH. Perfection.

Off to the races a one shot by @thesummerpetrichor

I told you. The whole masterlist. Anyway. In this one, you're a sociology student doing research at the embassy and you're relegated to the DEA offices where you go about making Javier's life a living hell. Eventually he caves and fucks you over his desk. And then it becomes a whole toxic thing that is just so perfectly Javi and I love it so much and also the smut is ungodly hot.

Murder Daddy Kinktober Day 5: Who Does This Belong To? a one shot by @theywhowriteandknowthings

dude... Javi kissed another girl and you want to remind him who he belongs to so you tie him up, get him all worked up, make him confess his sins, and then untie him and leave the apartment, where he is left to pathetically jack himself off and be ashamed of himself. FUCK this is so hot. I love bratty whimpering pathetic Javi.

Dieter

Candy a one shot by @secretelephanttattoo

Dieter takes you to a closed down carnival and you suck his dick in the house of mirrors and it is delicious. I'd like to go on random adventures with Dieter... *sigh*

Crumbs, sloppy seconds, and backwash a one shot by @chloeangelic

Dieter is not so great at the whole monogamy thing, and you know this. You're actually into this, which means you've gotten yourself into a toxic cycle of encouraging the behavior and then regretting it. I love how desperately they need each other and how much you can tell they care for each other. I really fucking love the ending. I love how it’s a bit toxic, but there’s little hints in there that Dieter is trying to be what she wants. AHHH I can't believe this is her first Dieter.

Unwind a one shot by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

You have a terrible day and you start your period and it's just awful. Dieter takes care of you and it is the sweetest most lovely thing. So fluffy and perfect and wonderful ughhhh I love him so much.

Ghost in the sheets a one shot by @proxima-writes

As a lover of shitty paranormal investigation shows, this was fucking incredible. Dieter is such an annoying little shit in his somehow endearing way and I love him. I loved all the ghosty bits and the flirting and the bickering and AGH. I don't think I'd be down to fuck in a haunted attic irl, but maybe Dieter could convince me lol.

Max Phillips

Lust for a vampire a one shot by @idolatrybarbie

You're a bartender at a vampire themed strip club and after your shift the whole vampire thing gets a little too real. Max is so hot and he fucking turns you and it's so good FUCK. I love the freakiness of the location he takes you to also, really adds to the vibe.

A Real Challenge a one shot by @gasolinerainbowpuddles

Oh my god? Max making you wear a plug to work and then making you push it out and then fucking you in a conference room and then making you fucking leave the office in a very embarrassing way that I won't spoil. I'm panting.

Oberyn AND Max Phillips

a court of fangs and foxgloves a one shot by @psychedelic-ink

Oberyn is the lord of a vampire court and you were turned in order to serve him, but you left, uncomfortable with the bond formed when a vampire lord turns you. You regret this decision and come crawling back and Oberyn makes your life hell about it. He isn't exactly ready to forgive you, but instead of killing you for being an insolent little shit he fucks you and his other little pet Max about it. Well actually he fucks Max and Max fucks you... semantics. This is hot.

Maxwell Lord

Working Overtime a oneshot by @gasolinerainbowpuddles

Dismantling internalized homophobia one rim job at a time! Maxwell doesn't think he'll like getting his lil ass ate out but oh boy is he wrong. And his jizz covered desk is pretty clear evidence of that.

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

I'm not even gonna rec my own fics because this is unreasonably long lmao.

#fic recs #the spreadsheet digest #fanfiction recommendations #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro fics #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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tightjeansjavi · 1 year

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Good Morning, Happy weekend! 🫶🏻 (thank god) I had a really emotionally charged week at work, and outside work and I just need to get some things off my chest.

I know that I am entitled to my space on here and to have a voice on my blog just like everyone else, but I can’t help but feel like things are never going to be the same for me on here.

When I first started posting content it was right around when the Last of Us was set to air and I saw more and more people were talking about Pedro Pascal and the show and then I quickly discovered there’s a whole Pedro Pascal fandom thriving on here. I started off as a directioner for pretty much a decade of my life and then I was a solo Harry Styles fan for awhile.

I had always wanted to write fanfiction, especially in highschool and college and never had the balls to do it. I got encouragement from multiple friends to just go for it so I wrote my first ever Joel Miller one-shot that quickly turned into a whole series and I was shocked at the positive feedback I received. Burning in a Hopeless Dream literally became my baby. Gwen and Joel’s story literally lived rent free in my head and all I looked forward to was coming on here after posting a new chapter, or a new idea and seeing everyone’s reactions 🥺

Being involved in this fandom, and writing fanfiction was becoming my escape from my work and personal stressors. I told my therapist about a month ago that I feel like I have been healing my inner child by writing what I want and what makes me happy. This truly has been an incredible experience for me and I am so grateful to all of you that are here and enjoy my content.

This week however, I have been so caught up in my feelings and emotions over what has happened and in turn, I have gotten incredibly down on myself over it. I can’t help but feel that there is this target on my back after everything that happened. (People are absolutely valid to no longer want to interact with me/support me after what happened last week) I guess I’m just disappointed to see how many people switched up on me right away. I know that I shouldn’t let this effect me because at the end of the day, this is the internet and I can’t set expectations that everyone will like me because that’s never going to happen.

I just feel like I now have to be careful what I say and what I post and who I interact with because I don’t want to upset anyone, or hurt anyone’s feelings or make them feel ashamed or unwelcomed on my blog.

I know that those I personally hurt, will probably never forgive me or look past what happened and that’s okay. It’s something that I’m going to have to live with.

I was nervy posting my new fic due to its darker theme and especially this last chapter and even though I highlighted all the necessary warnings, I still have this fear that someone is going to come on anon and spread some hate about it.

I know I need to be kinder to myself and try and not let these things rule my emotions and effect me for a long period of time but I just wanted to get my thoughts out there because I feel safe and comfortable enough to do so.

Thank you for reading, and take care of yourselves,

-Gi

P.S I’m not going to stop writing or anything I think I need to get back into the mindset where I’m writing for myself and I can’t let people on the internet actively effect my mood/emotions

#talkswithgi #i just needed to ramble #i just needed to let it out #I’ve had a really long week #my emotions are all over the place #and if I didn’t get this off my chest it would have been living in my head rent free #thank you for reading

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annepsilvaauthor · 1 year

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Fighter Weapons — Chapter 11

Pairing(s): Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x OC (Claire Mitchell) / Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Natasha "Phoenix" Trace

Summary: An untold story. A series that shows what happened during the Top Gun of our beloved pilots of Top Gun: Maverick.

Warnings: Subtle sexual innuendos, brief language, alcohol consumption, angst, smut, fluffy.

Word Count: 7.154

The darlings who don't want to miss any updates ↪️ @missathlete31 @togetherisawonderfulplacetobe @switch3rr @na0my @aprilwithapricots @goldenloverschild @rightwhereiwantyou @jackiequick @oliviah-25 @bellyliveslife @anerdquemoraaolado @callsign-barbell @struggling-with-space

SAN DIEGO BEACH, CA

The moon was already up, so bright and full in the huge black sheet that covered the sky. The breeze was cold, but not in an uncomfortable way, just a relief for skin accustomed to the sun's rays. Bradley stuffed the keys to his Bronco into the front pocket of his pale blue jeans and charged toward The Hard Deck.

As it was almost midnight, the room was full of naval officers and fighter pilots. Some were in uniform, despite having been released from formalities on the day off, and others in civilian clothes. The sailors and marines in uniform were surrounded by women who either laughed exaggeratedly or were astonished at the incredible stories they told. Bradley didn't judge that situation, since those men came there to relieve the tension of the job and the women knew very well what they did and what was expected of them.

He watched some Top Gun pilots at the back of the bar around the pool table. Some sat on the black stools while chatting heartily, others watched the beach outside through the windows and the rest played a game with a few bottles of beer as a toast.

Bradley walked towards the counter and was greeted with a smile by Penny.

“I had the piano fixed. All the strings are tight now.” she informed with an implicit request.

"Any music in particular?" He returned the smile.

“Hmm.” She looked up at the railing filled with miniature planes. “She's got a way.”

“Ow! Billy Joel at midnight? Bold.”

"You try to be worth the melancholy." She pointed at him with her index finger and a warning expression.

“Perhaps I need to vent my melancholy.” he confessed in a sigh and soon realized what he had done. Penny was looking at him intently and he cleared his throat. “The usual, please.”

Penny smiled the tiniest bit and turned back to her inventory. Bradley turned his gaze toward the pool table, where a lively game was in progress. Phoenix competed against Hangman. Judging by Hangman's frowning expression, he was losing. Phoenix didn't hesitate to celebrate each point, teasing him.

Phoenix wore her heavy boots, light blue jeans and a beige silk tank top, exposing her freshly tanned skin and bikini line. Bradley raised an eyebrow at the sight. Not that it was ugly, but he had another idea about Phoenix's dress. He figured she would never show any skin around her co-workers. He knew how inconvenient some men could be, just as she must know very well. However, seeing her so at ease around them left him surprised, not to say suspicious.

"Looks like someone's distracted." Phoenix taunted with a conspiratorial smile.

“I'm thinking about what I'm going to ask you when I win.” Hangman smiled victoriously.

"How about never having the displeasure of looking at that face of yours again?"

She kept her smile and the surrounding pilots let out "uuh" and "ooh". Hangman held back his smile as well and twirled the toothpick with his tongue.

“So you've already accepted that you lost.”

“If that's my prize, I can let you win.”

Hangman shook his head and walked over to Phoenix, whispering in her ear. Bradley watched the way she let him close. He lightly touched her waist with one hand and the chest covered by a brown leather jacket was almost glued to hers. Phoenix was an attractive woman and one of the few in the Navy, and Bradley knew that both of these factors made officers want to have fun with her. He himself had seen countless cases like this and Top Gun was no exception.

Bradley noticed the way they looked at her and some were more intrusive and tried to touch her, but Phoenix always shooed them away, always gave them a firm answer or slapped their hand. What she didn't do at that moment. Was Phoenix so drunk as to allow Hangman, the worst of them all, to approach like that in front of everyone? She was his friend. He couldn't let her fall into the wrong hands.

So Bradley took his beer from Penny and headed to the back of the bar. He walked over to Phoenix and draped an arm over her shoulders, earning a surprised look from her.

"Is this game going to take a long time?" he asked with a genuine smile on his face.

“Look what we have here. Bradley Bradshaw in a hurry.” Hangman insulted leaning on the table and staring at him steadily. “Will we have this change in the sky too?”

“Phoenix has put up with you too long.” He lifted his chin and ignored his teasing. “Besides, if I remember correctly, you're a lone wolf. You can play alone.”

Hangman kept the smug smile on his thin lips, but his gaze was sharp. Bradley pulled Phoenix lightly to get out of there, but she got away from him. He raised an eyebrow.

“I never leave a competition half done.” She exchanged glances between the two men. “When I win this match, I'll keep you company.”

"But Phoenix…”

“You heard the lady.” Hangman emphasized with amusement running across his face.

Bradley obeyed her friend's wishes and leaned against a column, waiting for the game to end. However, Hangman seemed to prolong that match as long as he could. He spent several minutes thinking about his next shot, as well as drinking nearly an entire bottle of beer between shots and choosing the ball with an uncharacteristic calmness.

The other pilots could think that Hangman was immersed in the match, analyzing everything carefully so as not to lose. But that wasn't what Bradley was looking at. Hangman teased him about the delay, getting revenge for the times Bradley had made him wait in heaven.

Bradley also noted the closeness between Storm and Coyote. They were oblivious to all that movement and seemed to be eating each other with their eyes, talking in the corner of the bar. What more surprises would he have that night?

“Getting blue already, cowboy. You're always losing to me.” Phoenix teased after winning the match.

"Always time for one more." He invited and offered her a beer. She accepted the bottle without a second thought.

“You're right. There is always time for you to lose.” She took a sip with a mocking smile on her face. “Guys, the cowboy is free now. Take it easy on him.”

“Do not do it. You will be slaughtered.”

"Um, how did you do to me?" She mocked.

The surrounding riders declared victory for Phoenix in those arguments and she approached Bradley with a smile and chest heaving. She was really enjoying herself there. He threw her a suspicious expression as he sipped his beer.

“Why that face?”

“It's my face.”

“Serious? Are you going to lie now?” She patted his shoulder. “What there was?”

“Many things.”

Bradley sighed and detached himself from the column, nodding for her to follow. He guided her to the darts and handed her a few. Phoenix smiled at yet another challenge, but was wary of what he wanted to talk about or was hiding.

"Where have you been all day?" Phoenix asked breaking the long silence that followed.

“Around. I needed to think.” he replied vaguely and threw a dart at the board.

“You've been training.” She praised and threw a dart too, hitting the red target. “But not enough.”

He smiled as he took another sip of his only beer of the night. Phoenix was becoming more and more competitive and, although he didn't appreciate that trait, he couldn't bring himself to dislike her friend. That was an intrinsic characteristic of her and made her who she was. Without that, Phoenix wouldn't be his dearest friend.

He noticed the tan mark again and asked:

“And you? Where have you been all day?”

He saw her straighten her back slightly and run a hand over her bare shoulder. She threw another dart and vibrated as it hit the target once more. Her gaze fled to the pool table, where Hangman was watching her with a proud smile. Phoenix turned the black orbs on Bradley and replied by swallowing a sigh:

“On the beach.”

“I can see it.” He pointed with his eyes at her shoulders.

“Bradshaw, Bradshaw.” She approached him with a playful smile and rested a hand on the wall behind him. In front of them, Hangman missed a shot and swore loudly.

“You're acting weird today. Why don't you go do what you do best?”

“You know, I think everyone here thinks I'm an employee to entertain you.” he complained, but his eyes smiled. “I have a right to relax in silence, you know?”

Phoenix widened her smile and took a step forward.

“You're acting weird today too.” He pressed himself against the wall behind him, for she was really close.

Storm and Coyote walked past them hugging and laughing at something extremely funny as they headed to the ladies' room. Both.

“What's going on with everyone?” he asked in frustration.

“A lot can happen on a day off.” she explained with a wink. He noticed that her gaze had slipped behind him and he was even more puzzled. "Perhaps your music will put everything back together."

“God, so I need to play urgently!”

Phoenix laughed out loud at his despair and walked away. Bradley walked over to the piano and sat down. He played with a few keys and soon attracted attention to himself. He started playing Jerry Lee Lewis and Ray Charles to liven up the night. Phoenix danced beside the piano with determination, plucking Storm from Coyote's arms and leading her along for some love songs.

After a while, Phoenix needed to renew her drink and walked over to Penny's counter. Behind her, Rooster started playing She's Got A Way.

"She's got a way about her

I don't know what it is

But I know that I can't live without her

She she's got a way of pleasin'

I don't know why it is

But there doesn't have to be a reason anyway"

However, before she could ask, a voice sounded behind her:

“Two shots of Pincer, Penny, dear.”

"What's the reason for something so strong, Bagman?" she taunted turning around and propping her elbows on the counter.

"She's got a smile that heals me

I don't know why it is

But I have to laugh when she reveals me

She's got a way of talking

Don't know why it is

But it lifts me up when we are walking anywhere"

"I need this to get through all this singing." His voice was low, almost tired, but his eyes were wide awake. "Does he really have to do this every night?"

"And do you really need to be a complainer? Relax and enjoy the music. Everyone is enjoying it.”

"I prefer country music." He shrugged and picked up both glasses, handing one to her.

They both downed the vodka in one gulp, hitting the glass back on the counter at the same time. The liquid went burning down their throats, but none dared grimace or look away. Finally, Phoenix raised her chin defiantly and Hangman smiled proudly.

"She comes to me when I'm feelin' down

Inspires me without a sound

She touches me and I get turned around

She's got a way of showin'

How I make her feel

And I find the strength to keep on goin'

She's got a light around her

And everywhere she goes

A million dreams of love surround her everywhere"

"Ask for a song." she said after a few seconds of tasting the drink.

"No thanks. My country demands respect."

"Respect?" She put a hand on her hip and it was his turn to lean on the counter. “You're making this up. You are jealous."

"Jealous? From who?"

"Rooster."

"The drink was too strong for you." He grimaced and pointed at the piano. "Why would I be jealous of that out of tune?"

"That 'out of tune' stole all the attention from you." she taunted with a mocking smile. “And you hate it."

"I see you already know me well." His smile turned mischievous.

“You are not a difficult man to read."

Hangman looked away from her, staring into the distance without a specific point and Phoenix knew he wasn't interested in the bar's decor. She sighed and remembered something.

"I must return this to you." She took his cell phone out of her pocket and held it out.

He looked at the device without remembering that she still had it and looked at it with a certain contempt. Finally, he took out his cell phone and put it away. Hangman remained silent for a while and Phoenix decided to leave him alone with her thoughts. She had already chased away too many dark clouds in his gaze that day.

"She comes to me when I'm feelin' down

Inspires me without a sound

She touches me

I get turned around"

However, a large, warm hand engulfed hers before she was gone. Phoenix turned her gaze over his to find those emeralds shimmering in tenderness and she couldn't help but smile. A genuine smile.

"She's got a smile that heals me

I don't know why it is

But I have to laugh when she reveals me

She's got a way about her

I don't know what it is

But I know that I can't live without her anyway"

Maybe the vodka really was too strong that night, because Phoenix felt her chest burn and rise and fall without stopping. She could really be getting drunk because she wanted to get closer. She wanted to smell the coconut again, the grip of his hands on her body, the warmth of her embrace.

However, she managed to break free from the trance by taking care of what she wanted. This was beyond what she had ever wanted or needed from anyone. It was too intimate, too daring, too dangerous. It was obvious that she would never allow Hangman to touch her like that again. She was just involved in the situation, but she had her principles and wills under control. Phoenix wouldn't be controlled by feelings or anyone else.

Then, she slowly disentangled her fingers from his and walked away without looking back. She was right. It was just a fun day next to each other. Just it. She shouldn't want more. She couldn't want more. But why did her body feel numb as she walked away from him?

Bradley kept playing and singing, and for a few hours he forgot what he had done, what he had felt in that elevator. With her. But as the night wore on and the chosen songs took a romantic turn, he remembered the feel of her in his arms, the softness of her skin, the way she melted on his lips and the taste of her kiss.

For a few seconds, it felt like heaven. He and she giving in to repressed desires and feelings. However, having the moment broken by Hangman, they returned to the harsh and painful reality of their past and Maverick's shadow looming over them. Claire politely walked away from him and disappeared, leaving only her lavender scent engraved in Bradley's body and mind.

He looked for her around the hangar that day. He called her cell phone many times. And, with infamous courage, Bradley knocked on her door. He wanted to talk, he needed to clarify everything even if he himself didn't understand what was going on. But he needed answers. However, no one answered. She was running from him again. He lowered his gaze and drove his Bronco around town with no particular direction. It happened again. Again, a thrust from him carried her away. Following instincts definitely didn't work for him.

When the requests took a turn he couldn't stand anymore, Bradley decided to leave the piano to boos and "oohs". He bowed in thanks for their attention and walked away with a sigh, something that wasn't lost on Phoenix. He sat on a stool next to the darts and his friend followed, sitting beside him.

“Okay, what's going on?" Phoenix asked bluntly.

Bradley smiled the tiniest bit at her directness and crossed his arms. There was a lot to think about, a lot to say, but nothing concrete. He didn't even know what was going on.

"It is complicated." he finally confessed.

"Excellent. I've never had anything easy in my life. I know how "complicated" works."

“I don't think it can be resolved like that."

“You're doubting my ability." She feigned indignation and reached for his knee, stroking it. “If we don't solve it, talking about it helps."

"It's a long story."

“We have all night." She smiled gently at the confusion on his face. "You can trust me."

Bradley hadn't known Phoenix for very long, a week wasn't enough to trust someone, especially with an issue like the one that had been gnawing at him for years. But, not everything happens according to logic. From day one, Bradley felt that he could trust Phoenix. He watched the way she protected Storm, how she defended and cared for her. He also noticed that, as much as the pilots were too bold or had a big tongue, Phoenix was never afraid to face them nor did she fail to extend her hand to any of them who needed help. She was strong, determined, and sensitive enough to see beyond the wall. He knew he could trust her.

However, before he confessed the reason for his anguish, a huge body stopped in front of them. Hangman had his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, his chest puffing out under his plaid shirt, his face showing impatience.

“You have to pick one, Bradshaw. You can't have them all." he muttered with the cynical smile.

Bradley sighed heavily and scratched his forehead, shaking his head. Phoenix noticed his friend's exhaustion and decided to intervene:

“Not a good time, Bagman."

“It's been a good two hours." He should stop fooling you and go after who he really wants.

“Nothing to be fooled about."

"OK I understand. I was wrong in thinking that the old Bradshaw had changed. When the decisive moment comes, he backs off, doesn't he?"

"What you want after all? Shouldn't you be having fun far away from us?"

“Oh, I will." Hagman looked directly at Bradley. "But first I wanted to make sure he was going to keep having you as a step."

"You have no right to talk about me like that!" Phoenix was starting to change.

“Don't get carried away, Phoenix. That's what he wants." Bradley answered calmly.

Phoenix tried to stay calm by taking deep breaths. He would not take her peace away.

"Serious? Are you going to let him control you again?"

"As long as it's not you." she replied coldly.

Hangman laughed humorlessly and shook his head.

“I thought you were different." he commented with some hurt and Phoenix felt the weight. He wasn't just referring to Rooster, but to her earlier abandonment.

“I thought the same about you." She lifted her chin in defiance, but deep inside her heart stirred. “Looks like it wasn't the Rooster who was fooling me after all. You will always be an asshole."

Phoenix said those words with such force that even Bradley felt the impact. He noticed her hard expression and swallowed hard. She was defending him tooth and nail like the good friend she was, but… he sensed something else, something deeper burning between the two of them and he became alert.

Hangman glared at her, but her eyes showed hurt and disappointment. Finally, he nodded and walked away from them, heading for the exit. Bradley noticed Phoenix's gaze drop and stray for a few moments. He could almost feel the confusion inside her, a confusion similar to his own.

"Thanks." he thanked with a small smile. "You're a good friend."

She continued away in her thoughts for a while until she raised her black eyes to his. They were filled with anguish, confusion and fear, emotions he never thought he could see in Phoenix. She was like a strong wall every day, pushing herself to the limit in every assignment and class. To him, Phoenix looked like a superhero. Until that moment.

He returned the favor by giving her a hug and offering to drop her off. But Phoenix refused saying that she should take care of Storm. She still didn't fully trust Coyote. Bradley nodded and walked away from her slowly trying to make sure she was going to be okay. Phoenix lifted her chin in a smile and it eased his heart. She would be fine, she always would be.

[***]

Phoenix fidgeted on her bed frantically, her mind filled with thoughts of that day. His hurt look wouldn't let her, as well as the anger that he was so arrogant. But her biggest anger was at herself for imagining that he could change. He showed he didn't and she felt like a clown. She was even crazier for thinking about it. Why should he be any different? Would they ever become friends? There was no reason for them to get close again. Not after what he's done. Phoenix could take all the name-calling in the world, but she would never have her friends messed with. It was her own law.

She decided to get up to chase away the thoughts. She watched Storm sleep peacefully on the bed next to her and sighed. They still haven't had a chance to talk about what's going on between Storm and Coyote, but it won't be long. Her friend wasn't going to run away from that conversation.

Phoenix left the room wearing only her makeshift pajamas, gray sweat shorts, and a black T-shirt emblazoned with GO LATINS! in gold. She tied her hair in a loose bun as she walked around the hangar facility without fear of being seen, as at that hour no one was awake.

She entered the break room and made her way to the scullery to pour herself a glass of water. The environment was dark, being illuminated only by the lights of the airstrip and of the fighters outside that crossed through the glass of the windows. Phoenix took the glass and left the pantry, sitting on a stool at the counter and turned on the small radio. She listened to the tower communicating with the pilots and vice versa, the adrenaline, the commands, the sound between cuts. That served to calm her down, change the focus of her thoughts to what they really should be in those days. The work. Anything beyond that was drama and totally expendable.

However, she felt a gentle touch on her shoulder and her body tensed. Her heart raced like the engines of her fighter jet. She swallowed hard. It couldn't be him, not then. It was late, she felt vulnerable and he couldn't see that. Never. Phoenix knew she wasn't strong enough to shoo him away again. She didn't know if she could be tough again and meet that sad gaze. She wanted to be a stone, unbreakable, impenetrable. But she wasn't. And it pissed her off.

She turned and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Rooster's figure in front of her. He was still wearing his clothes from earlier, but his pockmarked face indicated that he had tried to sleep but just couldn't.

"I scared you?" he asked with a worried expression.

She shook her head and reached for the glass of water, hoping he wouldn't notice her shaking hand. She turned off the radio.

"Fell out of bed?" she joked as she recovered.

"Almost that." He sat on the bench next to her. " I can't sleep."

"Is that still bothering you?"

"Yes a lot." He ruffled his hair with one hand. "I feel like I'm going to freak out at any moment."

“Please let me know when this happens so I can film it and use it against you in the future." She teased him with a gentle smile, hoping to change his mood, but she didn't get more than a glimmer of a smile. "Talk to me."

She watched him close his eyes for a few seconds in pain and continued to smooth his hair with his fingers. Whatever it was, it was disturbing him to the core, and Phoenix was touched. Then, he confessed as if his words burned his tongue:

“I kissed Claire."

Phoenix took a few seconds to absorb the information. Finally, she asked without understanding:

"What? Did you...kissed...did you kiss our instructor? That's it?"

“She's not just an instructor for me." He opened his eyes, but he was still unable to look at her. "We've known each other pretty much our whole lives. We were raised almost like brothers."

“Brothers don't kiss, Rooster."

"I know. I never saw her like this... I mean, when I was young, yes, but not later." He sighed heavily and scratched his forehead. “I felt something different for her…I think I still do…and maybe she does too."

Phoenix took a few more seconds to digest that very intriguing information. It was shocking. It was wrong. It was worthy of punishment. He could be dropped from the program for insubordination. This was really serious. But Phoenix knew it wasn't those factors that bothered her friend. Rooster was unsure of his feelings and her reciprocity.

It was ironic that that drama landed right in her hands, a staunch drama fugitive. But she needed to say something. Her friend needed a light, and even though she wasn't the most romantic person in the world or spoke any love language, Phoenix struggled to say,

“Tell her everything. If you feel something, she deserves to know. Maybe that's the push she needs to reveal everything too."

"I can't." He met her eyes for the first time. They were wet and wasted.

"Why not? It is clearly eating you up."

“We…have a painful past. We are bound by a sad story and it will never go away."

“It doesn't have to go away. You just have to deal with it... your way."

“I really wish it were that simple." He shook his head, wiping a tear away. "We try. For years. It always comes back... it always torments us."

“You'll never be happy if you're stuck in the past. Even apart."

She watched another tear trickle down his cheek and hurried to gently wipe it away. Rooster didn't move, didn't even blink. He lost himself in thought again and she didn't force him. Rooster needed a break.

“I don't think our destiny was ever to be together." he confessed sadly.

Then she leaned towards him and hugged him. He took two seconds to get over the gesture and settled into her arms, having his broad back stroked by her. They remained like that for a while, in silence. Phoenix knew it wouldn't be easy for him or Claire to get past whatever was haunting the present, but as long as she was around she would always support her newest and dearest friend. Rooster was a good man and deserved to be happy.

As she hugged him, she became aware of another figure wandering around the room. He was barefoot, wearing blue cotton pants and a gray T-shirt with NAVY written in the center. His hair was free of all that gel he used to use, kind of messy. She could barely see his face, but the emeralds were still shining, less but still shining.

Her heart started beating so hard that she felt dizzy. She felt her body react to his presence in a way she didn't know. Her hands shook, her mouth watered, a burning burned in her chest, and her crotch tingled a few times.

Suddenly, Rooster slowly ended the hug and looked at her with a question mark on his face.

“You're burning up, Phoenix." He touched the skin on her arms. "Are you getting a fever?"

She noticed that it really was hot and she didn't know what to answer. But luckily she didn't have to, because Rooster noticed Hangman's presence and asked him:

"Why are you here?"

“Oh, I'm not here. It's just a beautiful mirage. The lovebirds can continue to lick each other."

Hangman said this in a serious tone and no smile on his lips. Not even a cynic. Phoenix was surprised by that. It was only then that she noticed his belongings. Hangman spread a white cloth over the couch and propped a pillow on its arm. His beige uniform and flight suit were neatly folded on the coffee table, as were his sheets and a book. Phoenix tried to read the title, but the poor light wouldn't allow it. Was he a reader? Information she'd never thought likely.

"What are you doing?" it was her turn to ask.

“Come on… you're smart. You'll find out soon enough." he mocked, still without a smile.

“You can't sleep here. It's forbidden." Rooster recalled attentively.

"Excellent. The forbidden is always better." He sat on the couch. "You know that very well, don't you, Rooster?"

Rooster shook his head in an expression that almost said "I'm too tired for this" and got to his feet. Phoenix accompanied him into the action, but her eyes were still locked on the new member of the room. Rooster was right. Everyone was freaking out that day.

"I don't want to be here when they find you."

“Fine for me. I like to be alone."

Rooster rolled his eyes and took Phoenix's arm to guide them out of there, but she didn't budge. He raised an eyebrow and she whispered that she would be gone in a few moments. Rooster looked at her suspiciously, but decided to obey. As much as he wanted to protect her, Phoenix knew how to take care of herself. She watched her friend leave the room and close the door.

Phoenix glanced back at the figure stripping her of sanity and caught him looking back. Emeralds roamed every inch of her, taking too long on her bare legs and she felt her skin burn again. The air conditioning in that room needed a good repair.

"Aren't you going to run after him again?" he commented leaning against the sofa and extending his muscular arms over the top of the backrest.

Phoenix had to concentrate very hard not to bite her bottom lip. Arrg! She hated the fact that he was so hot.

"I wasn't the one who ran away." she snapped, remembering his sudden departure from the bar.

Hangman moved his lips.

"I had some unfinished business."

"At two in the morning? Sure."

He looked away from hers and Phoenix walked over to him standing next to the coffee table. The close-up view was even more breathtaking with the veins in high relief and hair jumping from the chest. Phoenix felt her breasts react and she crossed her arms. Damned day not to wear a bra!

“That was ridiculous." she complained with a feline look.

“I was just protecting you." he confessed in a barely audible voice.

"No, you were being possessive! There is a big difference."

“How can I be possessive over someone who isn't mine?"

"Exactly. You don't have that right."

They exchanged hard looks for a while, seeing the anger and anguish and hurt in every blink. They shouldn't feel that mountain of feelings. They had known each other for just a week. They weren't friends, not even close. They were rivals in everything. So why did all that stuff suddenly appear?

“Well, if you're done, you can leave. I'm an asshole who needs sleep."

She noted the emphasis he placed on "asshole" and sighed heavily. Maybe she overreacted, maybe she crossed the line, maybe she was using Rooster's defense as an excuse to push him away. The hurt in his eyes was almost palpable. And that shouldn't bother her, after all he wasn't there to make friends nor did she want his friendship. She didn't need to redeem herself or explain her actions. So she took a different turn in the conversation.

"One more question." She sat on the end of the coffee table and got his full attention. "Why are you sleeping here?"

"Why the curiosity? Are you worried about me by any chance?" he asked with some bluntness.

"Just making sure you haven't gone completely insane."

“Too late for that, Phoenix."

Phoenix. No Trace or my angel. Just her codename. Something impartial, professional and distant. No smirks or smug smiles. She should be grateful that he finally obeyed her and stopped the flirting and the nicknames and the goofy smile. He looked like a completely different person now. And that started to get really annoying. She had to catch a glimpse of Bagman or the world wouldn't be orbiting her.

Then, she held a hand out in front of him. He looked at her with an expression that said "who's freaking out right now?" Phoenix rolled her eyes and insisted on the gesture. He lifted her hand and it engulfed hers, warm and firm. Her body felt his presence again and she swallowed hard.

She wrapped his hand around hers, leaving only her thumbs exposed, and began to move. She beat him two, three times and was already thinking that her strategy wasn't going to work until Hangman joined the game and beat her four, five, six times, crushing her little thumb. But she didn't care. The smug smile was back, as was the ferocity in his gaze. How she hated it. But it was infinitely better than not seeing him like this.

"Stop it." he asked in a low, husky voice.

"With what?"

“Be affectionate with me. It makes me want to kiss you."

That phrase reverberated through every cell in her body, sending a warm shiver down her lower abdomen. But she wouldn't let him see how affected she was. Phoenix lifted her chin in defiance.

"Is that supposed to make me scared or horny?Because it didn't work in either case."

“Oh really?" His tone was mischievous, which irritated her.

“Yes, I don't feel anything, Bagman. And I will never feel."

"It's a challenge?" She didn't answer and he widened his smile. "I'll take that as a yes."

She watched as he sat down on the edge of the upholstery and tilted his face towards hers in such a swift movement, her eyes widened. This didn't go unnoticed by him as he smirked smugly. Phoenix furrowed her brow, shooting him a death glare. Why did she have to bring him back?

Hangman got even closer to her face, setting those bright emeralds in her eyes. They crackled, danced in desire and tenderness. A combination she wasn't sure she was safe with. So Hangman started his work. He placed warm kisses on her chin, tracing a path down her length. His touch was soft, light and extremely warm. She felt like she was on a beach sinking her feet into the sand after a whole day in the blazing sun.

He kissed down her throat as calmly as if he had all night for that. He dragged his lips down the curve of her neck, using his hot tongue and teeth to mark her. Phoenix shuddered at that, felt goosebumps all over her body and more twinges between her legs, which made her rub against each other. She felt his smile on her skin.

"Not yet, my angel?"

"No." She shook her head and didn't risk saying more than that, because she didn't trust her voice.

Hangman traced a nibbling path down the back of her neck, up to her ear, and stopped. She felt the quick, hot breath there, teasing, playing with her senses and little awareness. His scent intoxicated her too. That scent of coconut with aftershave and a splash of vodka was driving her crazy.

“You smell so good, my angel." he whispered and another shiver hit her.

“I use the same soap as you. Fightertown standard."

He chuckled excitedly and touched it there with the tip of his tongue, dragging it slowly across its length and Phoenix couldn't hold back a gasp. Hearing that, Hangman quickly turned his face in front of her and smiled. That annoying smug smile was back.

“My work is done. I won."

“No, you didn't win. I did nothing." She lied, for she would never admit that she craved his touch.

"Hmmmm..." he sighed in her face, making a point of prolonging the sound. Phoenix forced her legs together again. "You are stealing. Again."

"I'm not! Arrg...you are insufferable, Bagman."

He laughed, a good, loud laugh, which pissed her off even more. One day she would break all those perfect teeth of his.

"Stop laughing, idiot! There's nothing funny here."

“Of course there is. You really hate losing. And even more admitting that you lost... and that you're attracted to me. He leaned back against the sofa, resting his arms on the back.

"You've completely gone mad! I already made sure of that."

“It's not such a hard thing to admit, my angel. Many women feel the same way." He was giving her a mocking smile, but his eyes were burning with desire. "Ask me to kiss you and I will."

It was her turn to laugh, but without humor.

“The day that happens I will no longer be called Natasha Trace."

"Hmm. So it's better to start choosing another name."

Phoenix was shaking all over and she couldn't tell if it was due to anger or desire. Maybe both. Hangman managed to get her serious in many ways. She needed to get out of here or she could end the night with her hands at his throat or under those sheets. The tension between them only grew and she knew nothing good could come of two highly attractive people in a darkened room, alone, wearing nothing but pajamas at three-thirty in the morning. Then she stood up and replied:

“You already know how I feel about asking."

Phoenix turned on her heels and took a step away from him. But when she took another step, a strong, warm hand gripped her arm and stopped her. The same hand slid up to her face and brought her back so close to him that she could feel every muscle in her abdomen, chest and legs. His eyes, even in the dim light, burned and his brow creased as if in pain. His quick, hot breathing warmed her face like a peaceful day at the beach.

Phoenix remained motionless. She was trapped in that gaze. In that touch. In the heat of his body. She knew she should pull away, she should shoo him away like she would any man who surrounded her like that without permission. She once slapped one for a lot less. So why was Hangman any different? Why was her body screaming to get even closer to him? They should hate each other. But their bodies looked so good together...

“Still so proud."

Then he kissed her. A hard, desperate kiss as if he had to have her for himself, as if he was dying to memorize the feel of her lips against his. The taste of him was driving her crazy. He was pure heat and desire and vodka and she wanted more. Phoenix pulled him closer by the shirt straps with force, making them very thin and probably showing his shoulders.

He was kissing her as if he already knew every part of her mouth. He was kissing her confidently, without shyness or that awkward adjustment of a first kiss. He seemed to have imagined this moment so many times, in so many different ways, that when they finally touched, it was as if they had already kissed a hundred times.

Phoenix couldn't say how or at what moment, but she realized it too late when he had already lifted her off the floor and carried her to the couch, holding her on his lap. Her mind was a complete blank, not a single thought would pass through it if it weren't for him. She was no longer on the sand, not even on the shore. Phoenix was fully immersed in the salty waters of desire. And the coconut scent of him said it.

His hands roamed her body, curious and strong, caressing her shoulders, her back, her ribs, her bare legs and her bottom. Phoenix moaned softly as he held her there and Hangman intensified the kiss, letting out a few gasps of air that burned her skin. And she tasted him. She tasted his mouth, his neck, the square line of his jaw. She teased the soft blond strands into a needy kiss, as if she had never kissed anyone and never would. She felt her own brow furrow from the strength and desperation that surged there, and feared. She was losing control of herself, she was drowning in him, giving herself away in a way she didn't remember if she ever had. And it was very dangerous.

So, she used all the strength she had left to pry her lips away from them.

"Hangman..." she asked in a hoarse whisper.

"Oh, no…no…" he pleaded between more long, hot kisses.

"We need...to stop..."

"No..." He repeated that word as if he had forgotten all the others he had learned in his entire life.

Phoenix watched his rapid breathing, heavy eyes, and swollen, red lips. His hair was a mess, as were his clothes, and she couldn't help but gasp. It was a vision of the gods. Her whole body was crying out for her to stay there, end that night in his arms and forget about everything. But she couldn't. She couldn't forget, couldn't let herself be taken in by him...she couldn't let him in.

"Need to go."

And she didn't expect a response from him, not even a goodnight. Phoenix broke free of his body and practically ran away, back to her room closing the door and leaning against it. She was safe. Safe. There she would not drown. She could breathe again.

Phoenix ran a hand through her tousled hair and lay back, trying to breathe in and out normally again.

"Natty?" She heard a growl beside her.

"I am here." She tried to control her voice but failed.

"Did you go for a run?"

She buried her face in her hands and smiled slightly.

"Almost that. Go back to sleep...we'll have an intense day in a while."

Intense in every way. She felt that that day would not be the only one that would be turned upside down.

#top gun maverick #monica barbaro #glen powell #jake seresin #natasha trace #hangman x phoenix #top gun phoenix #hangman #hannix #hannix drabble #miles teller #bradley bradshaw x oc #bradley rooster bradshaw #claire mitchell

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kiwixlime · 2 years

Text

Finders Keepers - Chapter Twenty-One

Warnings: A little fluff, as a treat. A touch of smutty stuff at the end. But just a touch.

A/N: You guyssssss. I’m so excited for the rest of this fic! I have about 13 more chapters or so + an epilogue left. It seems like a lot, but when I set out to write this, I knew it was going to be a lengthy fic. And I’m still inspired! I also have maybe two more fics planned as of right now. So if you want to keep up with my writing, I’ll keep posting. As always, thank you so much for reading! <3

Who knew it was possible to find happiness at the end of the world? Authentic happiness, the kind people experienced back in the old days. The days when they had children, or got married, or had surprise parties, or took family vacations. Those feelings of joy, excitement, peace of mind seemed to be abandoned or undervalued by some people in this life, people like Joel Miller and Bay Rose. Cynics.

Funny how things change, how strong feelings can become.

It’s a thought that crosses Bay’s mind as she sits comfortably on Joel’s kitchen counter, scooping spoonfuls of kiwi fruit into her mouth. He stands willingly between her legs, opening his mouth when she teases him with a bite, only to swoop in at the last second and steal it for herself. He rolls his eyes and playfully smacks her thigh.

“You’re a little tease,” Joel scoffs, spreading her legs further apart, leaning in closer to her. She scrapes another bite of the fruit onto her spoon and this time Joel pounces, his perfect lips stretching over the utensil, tongue eagerly lapping up the sweetness. His eyes flick up to hers with a teasing glint followed by a wink. She bites her lip with desire, shaking her head.

“Don’t play with me, Joel,” she warns with a groan. She sets the fruit down onto the countertop next to her and licks her fingers clean. Joel’s still situated between her thighs, watching her every move. He’s completely enamored by this girl and it’s borderline unhealthy, but fuck if he doesn’t care.

“I’d love to play with you, darlin’,” he taunts, tilting his head up, holding her attention before grazing his chapped lips along her jawline, immersing himself into her sweet smell and soft skin. A low groan rumbles through his throat. “But I’m supposed to be preppin’ dinner for tonight and you’re supposed to be makin’ some kind of fruit tart, not eatin’ all the fruit!” He clicks his tongue in faux disappointment.

“I was hungry,” Bay pouts in defense, darting her tongue out from pink lips to taste the essence of kiwi that lingers. “Besides, tonight is so far away. We have some time,” she grins, pulling at the hem of Joel’s shirt, widening the space between her thighs so she can wrap her legs comfortably around his sturdy frame. Her hands graze over his chest, his perfectly taut chest, a desperate moan passing her lips as she feels his hard body beneath his clothes. “Play with me,” she whines.

Joel chuckles, but it’s dark and sinister, trying to hide the rush of desire forming in his pants. He wants nothing more than to give in to her requests, take her right here, right now. But they do have a busy day ahead of them, unfortunately.

The past few weeks have been exhilarating with just the two of them sneaking around each other’s houses, keeping their rendezvous on the down-low. But the other day, Tommy and Maria trapped Joel, saying they wanted to have a family dinner now that Bay is in the picture. He couldn’t say no they would keep pestering, so he gave in. Joel was in charge of picking the night, making him the host. He offered to cook; Bay offered to make dessert. But now that the night’s arrived, the two of them are slacking and wishing they could go back to their usual activities.

“I promise to take good care of you later,” Joel remarks, pressing a swift kiss to her lips. He can’t help but smile at how normal this all feels, hosting a dinner party with his girl, having his brother and sister-in-law over, and his non-daughter joining. “Feels so weird,” he confesses to Bay.

“What does?” She questions, reaching forward to scratch her nails through his beard, humming as his eyes flutter closed in content. He sighs at her touch, fully resting his chin in her hand. God, he’s cute. He’s so fucking adorable, which isn’t something a person thinks when they look at Joel Miller, but Bay’s been so lucky to see a different side of him, a softer side. A side that makes her heart swell with something she’s never felt before.

“Just this,” Joel motions to the space around them, though they’ve literally done nothing since waking up. “Planning a weird family party with my girlfriend,” he sighs. “It’s weird. But it’s nice.”

Bay falls back onto the counter with a smirk. Her hands grip the edges of the countertop, keeping herself propped up as she looks at Joel. He raises an eyebrow in curiosity, but she only offers a crooked grin. “Girlfriend?” She questions, her voice lifting at the very word.

“Oh!” Joel rushes out, his cheeks reddening once Bay repeats the phrase he used. Girlfriend. How could he let that slip? Sure, he’s been thinking about it. When he talks about Bay to Tommy, he refers to her as his girlfriend. But like, labels? That’s something they haven’t touched on. Joel has admitted he’s too old for games, but that’s as far as it's gone. “I’m sorry,” he clears his throat. “I didn’t mean to assume.”

“Hey,” Bay grins, shifting her position and sliding her arms around Joel’s broad shoulders. He’s so flustered it makes her feel a little cocky, amazed that she can get such a reaction out of a grumpy, violent man like Joel. “I want to be your girlfriend,” she gushes.

The bright smile on his face is nearly blinding, making her stomach dance with butterflies. She likes seeing him happy. She likes being the one who makes him happy. She’s his girlfriend. Girlfriend! Holy shit.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Joel asks with a hint of hesitancy, yanking Bay down from her happy little cloud. “I’m an old man, sweetheart. You still got a lot of life left in you. I don’t want you to think you’ve got to settle down right now. You could always meet someone else and--”

“And what?” Bay frowns at his rambling. “Joel, I’ve had plenty of chances before you,” she scoffs and Joel rolls his eyes. “And I’ve never wanted to be with anyone the way I want to be with you. It’s not about comfort or safety, it’s not even about the sex, though it is mindblowing,” she smiles as her brain spaces out, sneaking to those dark corners of her mind. She bites her lip just thinking about Joel inside of her, touching her, making her cum with only his fingers, or his tongue, or…

“You alright there, baby girl?” Joel smirks, knowing exactly what she’s thinking. To be honest, he’s thinking about the same thing. And he’s also thinking about just how beautiful she’d be sprawled out on the counter beneath her, hair tousled, sweaty skin, moans tumbling from her lips as Joel buries his face between her perfect thighs. Right…Now he’s the one who needs to calm down.

Bay shakes her head, holding back her filthy thoughts for now. She takes Joel’s face in her hands, breathless at the sight of his dazzling hazel eyes. “My point is that I want you, Joel. Whatever life I have left…” she blushes, unable to finish that thought. Can she really tell him that she wants to be with him…forever? “There could be a hundred guys that I meet, and maybe they’ll be younger, hotter,” she teases, but Joel only laughs. “I’m still gonna want this face. These lips. This heart.” She runs her hands across his shoulders, twirling the ends of his hair between her fingers. “You.”

“You sure have a way with words,” Joel sighs and kisses her again, deeply, sucking on her bottom lip, earning a faint gasp from her. “Fuck, I want you.”

Whining, Bay pushes him away. He’s just being mean now. “You just said we need to get things ready for tonight. Boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend,” Joel repeats, his stomach tingling with excitement. “I like the way that sounds coming from this pretty mouth.” He sighs, grazing his thumb over her lips.

Bay doesn’t say it, but she likes it too. Then another thought pops into her head as Joel moves his lips down to her neck. She’s been so lost in their little bliss she hasn’t considered one very important thing. Person.

“Do you think Ellie knows?” She voices with concern, making Joel’s movements come to a stop. He looks at her with tenderness, loving how much she cares about the girl.

Over the months, her and Ellie have formed a pretty strong bond. They’ve never spoken about Bay’s connection with Joel and there’s a part of her that fears that the girl might have some problems with it. Has she picked up on their changes in behavior? Is she grossed out? Is she upset? There are so many ways this could end badly and Bay doesn’t want to lose Ellie or Joel.

“Ellie knows,” a third voice chimes in out of nowhere. Bay and Joel look over at the same time, shock on their faces to see Ellie standing there, expressionless.

“Oh, hey,” Bay says to the teenager. She quickly glances to Joel and moves back a bit, creating some distance between them so Ellie’s not uncomfortable. Joel doesn’t quite pick up on it, though, acting completely casual.

“Hey, kiddo, when did you get in?” He asks her.

“Literally like five seconds ago,” Ellie answers. “Don’t know if I would have preferred coming sooner or later. Not sure what I just walked in on here.”

Bay laughs awkwardly and slides off the counter. She tries to push Joel away from her, but he doesn’t let her, instead keeping her close with his arm around her waist. Ellie notices, her lip twitching upwards.

“You didn’t walk in on much,” Joel answers. He nods to the ingredients that have been placed on the counter and forgotten. “But now that you’re here, you can help us get a start.” He shrugs and kisses Bay on the cheek.

“Ew, gross.” Ellie mumbles, pretending to gag. “Look, just because Ellie knows about it doesn’t mean she wants to see it.” She makes a face at them before turning away and heading for a different room.

Joel chuckles and pulls Bay in front of him. “Wanna freak her out even more?” He asks as a devilish grin pulls at his lips. Before Bay can give him an answer, he grabs her face and licks a long stripe up her cheek.

“Ew, Joel!” Bay yells, furiously wiping at her face. “Keep that tongue to yourself!”

“Ellie doesn’t want to hear it, either!” The girl huffs from the other room. “But she is happy for you.” She mumbles in addition. Truth be told, she is. She loves Joel and she loves Bay and them being together is a good thing. They’re her family. The three of them…they make a happy unit.

--*--

The last time Joel attended a dinner party was at Tommy and Maria’s when they had selfishly tried to set him up with Esther. That night turned out to be a mess, but it was also the night Joel realized he had more than friendly feelings for Bay. And now here he was, having dinner with Tommy and Maria again, this time at his house. This time with Bay by his side.

Occasionally, Joel wishes he would have made a move sooner. Then the two of them would not have wasted so much time going back and forth. Their conversation earlier gave him hope, though. He is all in. He told Bay that he's all in. And from what she expressed, she is too. So he doesn't worry about the time lost. Right now, Joel can focus on the future.

The future. It used to be all about surviving, making it to the next day alive without issue. Behind these walls, Joel has the luxury of thinking about his life in a year, three years, five years even. And he looks at Bay and he thinks that he wants her by his side in all of those scenarios. He wonders what kind of future she wants. Does she want to stay in Jackson? Does she want to move somewhere a little more secluded? Does she want Joel to come with her? He would if she asked. He would follow her anywhere.

He watches her as she talks to Ellie and Maria, her eyes lit up with excitement and a bright smile on her face, showing off her teeth as she laughs at one of Ellie’s ridiculous puns. Her laugh is melodic, like his favorite song and goddamn, he could listen to her all day long. This is happiness. He feels it and he doesn’t want to jinx it, but as he watches Bay and Ellie bond, he feels complete. His family. His girls.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about big brother?” Tommy nudges Joel’s leg under the table, breaking him from his trance. He smiles as his older brother fumbles with the fork in his hand, dropping it down onto the plate with a clatter.

“What’s that?” Joel mumbles, pretending like he didn’t hear what his brother asked the first time. He gives one more glance to the girls at the end of the table before giving his full attention to Tommy.

“I asked what you were thinking about,” Tommy chuckles, shoving a forkful of potatoes into his mouth. “But I think I already know the answer to that.”

“Oh,” Joel scoffs, but it’s playful. He grins at Tommy and sends a subtle nod. The girls aren’t paying attention, still talking amongst each other. It’s like the guys aren’t even there. And Joel doesn’t mind one bit. “Don’t talk with your mouth full,” he scolds with a smirk.

“You’re happy,” Tommy points out, ignoring his brother’s comment. There’s a sly smile on his face. It’s been a while since he’s seen that look on Joel and it’s a nice change. It’s certainly better than the memories Tommy has of him after losing Sarah. He knows that life hasn’t been kind to his brother. It's good to see him finally catch a break.

And Joel agrees. “I really am,” he says. “I can’t believe it, but I am.” At this point, the girls have rejoined the conversation, listening to the two men whisper. Bay’s smiling at Joel, her nose crinkled up in that adorable way she does when she’s teasing him.

“What are you guys talking about?” Ellie questions, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Mind your business,” Joel teases. “We’re talkin’ about how you didn’t do anything to help with dinner tonight.” He rolls his eyes and looks at Tommy, mouthing something about her laziness.

Ellie gasps in resentment. “Yes, I did!” She defends.

Bay snorts, earning a mischievous glare from the younger girl. “Oh, yeah?” She counters. “What did you do?” She crosses her arms, challenging Ellie while the other three adults in the room watch with interest.

“I supervised,” the teenager says with a proud grin. “You’re welcome.”

The room erupts into laughter, filling any empty spaces with warmth. It's a moment that Bay wishes she could catch on film. These people, this food, the atmosphere, she never wants this night to end. She feels like she’s finally found the place where she belongs.

After dinner, they finish off Bay’s dessert, Maria impressed with how much she can do with a few pieces of fruit. It’s late when everyone finally clears out. Ellie sticks around a bit to help clean up before deciding she’s tired and wants to go hang out with Cat.

Joel and Bay are alone once again. Soft acoustic sounds float through the house as Joel’s old record player spins a familiar song while they finish up in the kitchen. There’s a pleasant aura surrounding them and Bay has this vivid image of making this into a routine. But it’s getting late and she has some decisions to make.

“Maybe I should head back to my place tonight,” Bay suggests, though she doesn’t want to. She doesn’t feel like walking back and well, she wants to be with Joel. She wants to fall asleep next to him, pressed up to his chest, warm and cozy, and ugh, she’s so tired.

“You’re kidding, right?” Joel asks her in a sleepy voice. “Darlin’, you’re not going anywhere.” He grabs her by the waist and pulls her body into his. He rests his chin in the crook of Bay’s neck, sighing happily.

“It’s been a long day,” Bay yawns. “I guess we should go to sleep then.” She melts into Joel’s hold, following his movements as he sways them back and forth in time with the music. He softly hums the words in her ear and the way her heart jumps is almost terrifying. She knows he had dreams of becoming a singer in the past, but she’s never actually heard him sing until now. His voice is worth waiting for.

“You sound beautiful,” Bay compliments.

Joel chuckles, deep and throaty, and it’s such a pleasant sound. “You sound beautiful,” he retorts.

“I don’t sing,” she laughs.

“I’m not talkin’ about singing, baby,” he groans, spinning her around and pushing her back against the edge of the counter. “You make the most beautiful sounds for me,” he mumbles, kissing down her neck, sucking a bruise into her sensitive skin and drawing out one of those sounds.

“You have the energy for this grandpa?” Bay teases, though she moves her hands to Joel’s belt, quickly undoing it and sliding it through the loops. “Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

Joel shoves her harder against the counter, bringing his eyes up to meet hers. She moans at the pressure and licks her lips at Joel’s darkening eyes. She watches as he grabs her hand, body overcome with lust, and places it on top of the growing bulge in his jeans.

“You feel what you do to me?” He growls, making Bay’s knees go weak. “When it comes to you, I have all the energy in the world.”

Biting her lip, she begins rubbing Joel’s hard on through his jeans, squeezing slightly, applying just the right amount of pressure to gather a moan. He nearly collapses, dropping his head into her shoulder, as her palm works him at a slow pace and he can’t stop himself from rutting into her hand.

“Fuck, baby,” he pants. “I love the way you touch me.”

“Will you play with me now, Joel?” Bay asks innocently. “I’m so wet for you,” she says, biting at his ear. “And I’m not wearing any panties.”

Joel groans and swats her hand away from his throbbing cock. “I’m not gonna make it upstairs, darlin’,” he admits, undoing Bay’s jeans eagerly. “Been thinking about your pussy all day long.”

“Ugh, Joel,” Bay mutters under her breath. “I love it when you talk like that.”

“Good,” he chuckles as he removes his shirt. “You’re in for a lot more of it. Now take off your clothes, baby girl. I need you.”

Masterlist

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x oc #joel miller fanfiction #joel tlou #tlou #tlou fanfiction

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let-the-dream-begin · 3 years

Text

In My Daughter’s Eyes Chapter 33: Blueprints

Chapter 32

Read on AO3

March 19

Jamie’s car hummed down the highway, one hand on the wheel, the other laced with Claire’s. The Spotify playlist he’d put together for the trip had gone over swimmingly; he’d mixed together all of Claire’s favorites—Barry Manilow, Elton John, Billy Joel to name a few—a few miscellaneous songs he knew she liked, and a few of his own favorites, some country songs that he knew would earn him a scoff and an eye roll.

The trip up, he could hear Claire humming as she gazed out the window.

“Come on, Sassenach. Sing.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why no’? Ye’re embarrassed?”

“Yes! And why shouldn't I be?”

“Because ye’ve, repeatedly, might I add, held my face between yer legs and begged like a depraved—”

“Oh my god! Fine!”

She’d blasted the volume, perhaps because she thought he wouldn’t be able to hear her as clearly, and she begrudgingly began singing along to Manilow’s “I Write the Songs.” After a few minutes, and after Jamie had rolled the windows down all the way, she was singing at full volume, her hair whipping into her open mouth.

She was no professional by any means, but she had a sweet, sultry, velvet sounding tone to her voice. It was different from the way he’d heard her sing with Faith, more wild and unconfined.

Now, on the way back, she was bopping to “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart,” swinging their joined hands between them. He flicked his eyes off the road for just a second to take her in, and he kissed her hand as she continued.

They’d had a wonderful weekend, just the two of them, for the first time. Through Self Direction, Claire was entitled to something she referred to as the special needs parent respite program, a trip paid for by Self Direction, and childcare provided by them as well. Mrs. Lickett, Leina, and Amy had rotated their time with Faith all weekend since Friday afternoon. Claire had been incredibly nervous, especially since Amy and Leina were still relatively new. But with Jamie’s reassurance, she’d managed to let herself believe that January to March was enough time to get accustomed to two new people without Mummy or Jamie being around. Mrs. Lickett was the one doing bedtime and overnights anyway, which was something Faith was already accustomed to with her.

“I haven’t had a weekend away since before she was born.”

Jamie had burned with hatred for the sorry excuse for a husband she’d had before, and he simultaneously vowed that this weekend away would be the best she ever had.

And, not to pat himself on the back, but he was nearly certain it had been.

They’d stayed at a quaint bed and breakfast in Auburn, by the Finger Lakes. They visited a winery, did a beer trail—the Finger Lakes Beer Trail, to be exact, hiked through a state park, went biking, made love in a hot tub, made love in their bed, made love on the balcony of their suite overlooking a garden, made love on the hike through the state park…

Come to think of it, Jamie could not name a place that they hadn’t christened as such on their trip.

As much as he loved Faith, really and truly loved her like she was his own daughter, having Claire to himself was a thrill like no other. He’d underestimated how incredible it would be. He thought that they’d gone on plenty of dates, spent plenty of late nights together with Faith fast asleep…but this trip had been different. Is this what their honeymoon would be like, he wondered…?

Proposal first, then marriage, then honeymoon, Fraser.

“Don’t Go Breaking My Heart” concluded, and Claire sighed lazily, leaning across the gap in the seats to lay her head on his shoulder, resting their joined hands in his lap. “Copacabana” came on next, and he glanced down at her mischievously, expecting the performance of a lifetime. She didn’t budge, just nestled further into his shoulder.

“What’s this, Sassenach? This is a Barry classic.”

She chuckled softly. “I know. I’m just very tired. We didn’t exactly do much sleeping.”

He made an amused noise in the back of his throat. “Aye. Something that I refuse to be sorry for.”

“Don’t worry. I don’t want you to be.”

Barry carried on about Lola and Tony, and Claire remained silent, even at the climax of the song.

“Ye sure ye’re alright?”

She looked like she was about to say something, but she didn’t. Then, after a moment:

“It just feels like it went so fast.”

“I ken what ye mean.”

“It’s not that I’m dreading parenting again. I mean, that’s a daily existential dread kind of thing. But it’s not like I don’t want to go back home to Faith.”

“Ye’ll miss me that much?” he was teasing, laughing as he said it.

“Yeah.” She was gravely serious.

His brow furrowed, and he brought their hands to his lips to kiss her knuckles again. He didn’t know what to say.

“I’m just…I’m tired of saying goodbye.”

The lines on his forehead deepened. “What d’ye mean?”

“I mean I…” She sighed, frustrated. She sat up, keeping their hands clasped. “Could you pull over?”

His heart leapt into his throat, his stomach tumbling. Rationally, he knew this could not have been going in a direction that would shatter his heart. It would make no sense. But logic could not calm the nausea as he took the next exit and pulled into the first parking lot that came up: a Burger King.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing! Oh God, nothing is wrong,” she said, shaking her head, laughing. She released his hand to unbuckle, then got up on her knees in the passenger seat. She took his hand with both hers, facing him. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

He unbuckled as well, swiveled a bit in the seat, and closed his free hand over hers.

“I’ve wanted to ask you this for a while, because it just makes sense, but I thought I might sound crazy because it seemed too soon.”

His confusion must have been visible, because she laughed again.

“What I’m trying to say, and failing miserably at…is that I…I’m tired of having to say goodbye. I want you here. Well, not here. But home. With us.”

He blinked dumbly “Ye…ye want me to move in…? Wi’ you?”

Claire nodded, chewing on her bottom lip. “Is that crazy?”

To answer her, he captured her lips with his, kissing her firmly, sucking in through his nose for air. “Is it crazy that I’ve been wishing fer it fer months?”

She chuckled through her nose and kissed him again. Christ! And to think he was worried! She wanted him to live with her! Her and her child! It was, of course, something that he hadn’t been unable to stop thinking about for a while as well, but he’d never have asked it of her, not before she was ready. He never asked a thing of her before she was ready. And it always worked out in his favor.

She lost her balance, leaning so deeply into the kiss that she tipped off her seat and face first into Jamie’s lap, and they sputtered with laughter.

“Sorry…” She scrambled back onto her side, but not before pecking him on the cheek.

“You’re flushed wi’ joy, mo ghraidh.” He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“Well, shouldn’t I be? I just snagged the hottest roommate on Long Island.”

He laughed, gently tugging on the strand of hair.

“Well, since we’re here, would you like some deplorable fast food?”

Jamie winced. “Tempting as that sounds…I’d rather we drive around fer something else.”

“Fair enough. Burger King doesn't exactly seem like the best meal to celebrate a couple moving in together.”

Christ! Moving in together!

“I dinna understand it.”

“What? Burger King?”

“No…I dinna understand how every single time I think I couldna possibly be any happier…I’m always proven wrong.”

——

Jamie pulled up in front of Claire’s apartment a little after eleven that night.

Our apartment, he reminded himself.

He reached over and nudged her awake, and she woke with a start.

“Shit…how long have I been out?”

“About two hours.”

“Jamie! You should’ve woken me! I feel awful for making you do all that driving alone.”

“Don’t. Ye’re the busy career woman here.”

“You have a career.”

“No’ one that starts at seven in the morning tomorrow.”

She sighed and then got out of the car, retrieving her duffle bag from the back seat. Jamie followed her up the stairs, and Mrs. Lickett was on the couch, asleep with a book in her lap. Claire gently woke her, thanked her profusely. Jamie looked around the living room, the photographs on the walls and surfaces that now included him in them, and he wanted to weep.

Claire went in to check on Faith, and Jamie wandered into the bathroom, still holding his duffle bag. He opened it and pulled out the pouch containing his toiletries. He pulled out his toothbrush and slowly, reverently, slid it into the cup that contained Claire’s and Faith’s, full of princess logos. He tucked his shaving kit into an empty space in a drawer and slid his deodorant next to Claire’s behind the mirror. The rest of his toiletries were all travel sized, so he kept them away.

He was brought out of this ritualistic unpacking by soft lips on his shoulder, and he turned to take her in his arms.

“Hmm,” she said, looking at the toothbrushes. “How symbolic.”

He hummed in thoughtful amusement, reverently kissing the crown of her head. She pulled away to sweetly kiss him on the lips, then caressed his face in her small, tender hands.

“Welcome home, love.”

——

May 12

Jamie was awake long before Claire, long before even the sun rose. Unable to sit still any longer, he carefully tucked blankets and pillows against Claire’s back, knowing the lack of his warm presence might wake her, and he slipped out of bed. Last night had been rather hectic, and Claire had desperately wanted to pack everything for the zoo the night before, but had been unable. So Jamie took the initiative now, laying out the sunscreen, packing all of Faith’s snacks, unplugging her play-tablet and putting it and her headphones in the electronics bag. He checked the charge on her assistive communication tablet and decided to plug it in anyway just in case, making a note to not let her leave without it. He packed doggy bags and Angus’s portable food and water bowls. He packed a few snacks for himself and Claire, and then he moved onto prepping breakfast.

He wouldn’t actually cook them just yet, given that Faith wouldn’t be awake for at least another hour, but he prepared batter, fruit, and chocolate chips for birthday pancakes. He moved to the fridge, checking the cabinet above it where he and Claire had hidden her birthday presents. They each had one to give her today, and one to give her the day of her party next weekend; next weekend since Mother’s Day was that coming weekend. They hadn’t decided if she’d be opening the presents before or after the zoo, so he kept them up there, deciding it best to wait if she asked for them or not. He let himself sit on the couch for a bit before he started heating the pan for the pancakes. He smiled at his tartan blanket, very at home on Claire’s couch.

He’d finished moving over all of his things in the beginning of April, and that night, he and Claire had champagne in their kitchen. He’d put all his own furniture and dishes in storage, to be placed in a house someday, if that was what Claire wanted. He’d brought over his cubed shelving, the kind that you bought with fabric drawers, and between that and the spare closet in the master that Claire hadn’t previously needed, everything fit perfectly. Atop the shelves, he laid out a few picture frames of his family, and what didn’t fit, Claire added to the wall of framed photos of her and Faith—well, her Faith, and Jamie.

Faith had adjusted beautifully, apparently hardly noticing a difference between Jamie being over all the time and just living there. Her favorite change had not, evidently, been Jamie himself, but the tartan blanket. She was constantly wrapping herself up in it, even as the May weather got increasingly warmer, rubbing it on her face, humming contently. It made Jamie unreasonably happy; it felt as if Faith’s love for the blanket extended into a love for his culture that he was so passionate about, an acceptance and celebration of who he was. He knew that was silly; she could not possibly understand the depth of its meaning, but the smile on her face when she became a tartan burrito was joy enough for him. Claire, of course, did not appreciate Faith’s attempts at eating dinner as said burrito…nor Jamie’s encouragement of the habit.

Jamie heaved himself off the couch and made his way into the kitchen to start cooking, but then a door burst open, followed by giggling, and the pattering of six little feet. Faith collided with his legs before he could cross the threshold into the kitchen, and Angus sat dutifully behind.

“Well, would ye look who it is.”

Jamie bent down to pry her off his legs and lift her above his head, causing her to squeal.

“The birthday princess herself!”

He settled her on his hip and kissed her cheek, but she reached up again, grunting, apparently wanting to be thrown up again. Jamie just shook his head and continued into the kitchen.

“What day is it, lass? Can ye tell me?” She signed birthday about a dozen times in a row, vibrating with excitement. “Aye, that’s right. Happy birthday.” He signed the words with one hand, then kissed her nose. “Would ye like to help me make yer birthday breakfast, a leannan?”

Faith reached greedy hands toward the pancake mix, and he chuckled. “Aye, we’ll get there. We have to let Angus outside first. Come on.” He carried her to the sliding glass door that led to the balcony, where they kept a few of those synthetic grass potty-patches for dogs, occasionally emptied by Jamie or Claire (mostly Jamie, but who was counting). They tried very hard to ingrain in Faith that it was her job to let him out, but it would take a while before she did so without being told. Jamie flipped the lock for her, and she used all her strength to heave open the door, and Angus pattered outside. Jamie then helped her get him fresh water and his breakfast, and then he was back inside, eating and drinking, and Jamie sat Faith on the counter.

Jamie scooped three circles into the pan of perfect proportion for Mickey Mouse, and Faith gasped dramatically. “Who’s that, Faith?”

She answered him with two perfect cups of her hands atop her head, the sign for Mickey Mouse.

“Clever lass! That’s Mickey, alright. Good signing. Good job.”

Jamie gave her a handful of chocolate chips to drop into the pancake, and she plopped them all in one spot. Jamie snorted, laughing. For the next handful, he tried hand over hand in an attempt to get her to spread them more evenly, but then she learned that the more she did it wrong, the more Jamie would try to correct her until she’d be eating chocolate chips with a side of pancake.

“Alright, no more,” Jamie said. “Ye can put some in mine and Mummy’s. How’s that?”

Before Faith could protest, Jamie was flipping the pancake, and she gasped again. “See? Mickey’s almost done cooking.”

Jamie almost laughed at how strange that sentence would sound in any other context. He slid the pancake onto a plate, used whipped cream to make eyes, a mouth, and a nose, and covered the spots with berries.

“There he is, lass.” He put the plate on the table with a flourish, and Faith threw her hands up, demanding to be taken off the counter and put in front of her food. He obliged her, carrying her over with airplane noises, and dropping her in her seat with a little crash sound effect. “There ye go. Special birthday breakfast for the birthday girl.” He kissed her head. “Ye have to eat his face first, ye ken. His eyes, his nose, his mouth.” He pointed to the strawberry eyes and nose and the blueberry mouth. “When ye finish that, then ye get syrup to eat his head. Aye?”

Faith began shoveling berries into her mouth with no regard for the whipped cream, covering her hands and face with it. Jamie started the next batch of pancakes while she ate her berries, and he cut hers up for her and added syrup while the first side was cooking. When it was time, he brought over the pan and let her put some chips in before returning it to the stove. He checked the time, decided he could let Claire sleep for a few more minutes, then started the last batch of pancakes.

When Faith was done eating and the stove was off, he spent a great deal of time de-sticky-fying Faith’s hands and face, and then he led her to his and Claire’s bedroom. (Christ, he still got butterflies thinking of it as theirs.) Faith was bouncing with excitement, but Jamie made her wait for his dramatic count to three before throwing the door open and letting her zoom into the room and onto the bed.

Jamie chuckled at the undignified oomph that Faith forced out of Claire when she pounced on her back. She started grumbling, face still in the pillow, and then it was like a switch was flipped, as if her morning-brain needed a few seconds to remember the day.

“Oh, my sweet girl!”

Her voice was breathy and still drugged with sleep, but the joy was real as she flipped over onto her back and pulled Faith to her chest.

“My six year old! Oh my goodness…”

She showered Faith’s curly head with kisses, and Faith hummed contentedly. Jamie sat on the bed by Claire’s legs, feeling a few miles closer to heaven at the sight of his girls tangled up in bed, a mess of wild curls spilling all over the pillows.

“Happy birthday, my little love.”

Faith hummed and began pushing violently away from Claire. Claire sputtered, jerking away and releasing her, and then Faith was scampering away.

“Are those pancakes I smell?” Claire said hopefully, her eyes still only half open.

“That they are.” Jamie leaned over and kissed her, and she moaned sleepily, letting him press her into the pillow, and then—

“Zoozoozoozoozoozoozoozoozoozoozoozoozoozoo—“

“Jesus H. Christ, how many times did she press it?”

Jamie sat up, looking over at Faith’s tablet screen. “Quite a bit.”

“Zoozoozoozoozoozoozoozoozoo—“

“Well make it stop!”

“Zoozoozoozoozoozoo—”

“Yes, Faith, we hear ye.” Jamie pressed the top of the screen to stop the endless stream and quickly cleared it before she could press it again. “Mummy is getting up right now, and then we’ll be getting dressed, then sunscreen, then off to the zoo.”

“She’s doing it again—”

“Come on, lass, let’s get ye dressed.”

Jamie hauled her over his shoulder, causing the iPad to flop onto the mattress. She squealed, letting her limbs fall limp.

“Yer breakfast is on the table. I packed everything we could possibly need. Eat, get ready. Let me see to her.”

“You do know it’s her birthday, not mine. You don’t need to pamper me.”

“Ach, there’s where ye’re wrong.” He sauntered over, six year old still tossed over his shoulder. “Six years ago ye were in labor fer…”

“Twenty-three hours.”

“Twenty-three bloody hours.” He leaned over, eliciting another squeal from Faith, and kissed her. “I say today is a day ye deserve to be celebrated as well. Go eat. Enjoy.”

“You sweet, bloody man.”

“Aye, I am.” He stood up straight again, and Faith let loose another squeal. “Off we go, birthday girl!”

——

It was midday; they’d just eaten lunch and ice cream, so any crabbiness to be found in the little girl was dispelled as they strolled through the gorilla exhibit. As Claire had told him she would, Faith was telling every animal she came across that it was her birthday, using her signs. Faith and Angus were held on by Claire, and Jamie pushed the stroller that was holding their bags, Faith’s communication device, and the two giraffes that she’d gotten last year’s birthday. (They’d in fact gotten ten minutes away from the house before Faith had started wailing, and it had dawned on Claire impressively quickly that Faith likely had meant to take them with her; of course they’d turned around to get them.) He and Claire had a running bet going as to which animals she’d get this year, because they both knew full well that she’d be doing the exact same thing, her desire for repeating matching sets all too permeating in everything she did.

“You know,” Claire said over her shoulder. “I think I might change my bet to gorillas.”

“Ye sure?” Jamie cocked a brow. “After last year’s debacle wi’ the tigers no’ appearing, then she sees them this year…ye were quite certain.”

“Yes, but look!”

Faith practically had her nose pressed into the glass, her eyes locked on a mother gorilla with a baby on her back.

“Aye, she’s quite taken.” Jamie watched the mother and baby.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Claire said softly. “I mean, look at her eyes. How can anyone believe she doesn’t have a soul.”

Jamie glanced at Claire, as enthralled with the creatures as Faith was, and his heart warmed. “Aye. They’re beautiful.” He crossed his arms. “Though my bet will remain wi’ the red pandas. They’re just too damned cute fer a wee lass to no’ want.”

Claire opened her mouth to retort, but it died on her lips, and she stiffened. Jamie’s brow furrowed, confused. Before he could ask what was wrong, a loud, high-pitched voice sounded, apparently for the second time. The child had been talking already; he just hadn’t heard it at first.

“Can you stop that whining noise? It’s annoying.”

Jamie flicked his eyes down, and sure enough, there was a little girl, standing far too close to Faith for comfort. Faith was humming, her usual, happy stimming sound. She was having fun. Jamie was so used to the noise he hadn’t even registered she was making it. It was white noise to him at this point, to Claire as well, he knew.

“Can you stop that whining noise? It’s annoying!”

“That’s the third time,” Claire hissed, and her small body began shaking with rage.

“Stop. It’s annoying.”

“You’re going to let her talk to my child like that?” Claire raised her voice above its previous whisper, and Jamie’s stomach flipped.

“What?” An older woman, appearing to be the complainant’s grandmother, turned away from the glass.

“You’re standing right there. I know you can hear her being nasty to my child.”

“Claire.”

“No! I want her to answer me.”

“Hey! Stop it!” In her final, fatal mistake, the blonde girl gently shoved Faith by the shoulder, appearing as if she only wanted to get her attention.

“Makenna, come on, let her be,” the grandmother finally intervened.

“Get her away from her, now.”

“Hey. They’re just being kids. Relax.”

“No. My daughter is being a kid. Your granddaughter is bullying her for being happy!”

Without another word, the grandma seized Makenna by the hand and dragged her away, disappearing into the crowd. Jamie wrapped a firm hand around Claire’s wrist to stop her from running after her.

“It’s no’ worth it. They’re leaving.”

“I feel like I’m about to explode.”

“Aye,” Jamie said softly, indeed feeling her vibrating intensifying. “I can feel. It’s over now. Look at her, she’s fine. She didna hear a word of it.”

Faith was indeed oblivious; her noise-cancelling headphones were secure in place, and she’d likely thought the girl’s small shove to be Angus. She was far too focused on the baby gorilla to have a care in the world.

“She’s fine, Claire,” Jamie repeated, loosening his grip on her wrist now that Makenna and grandma were out of sight. “Her birthday hasna been ruined. She willna remember that at all. If ye made a scene…that she’d remember.”

Claire hastily, angrily, swiped at a few tears. “I know.”

A few other guests were giving them looks over their shoulders or out of the corner of their eye. Whether it was because they, too, found Claire’s daughter annoying, or because they felt sympathy, was anyone’s guess. Nobody came forward to offer support, but neither did anyone else condemn them.

“She’s fine.”

“Yes. She’s okay.”

“Are you?” Jamie tried to meet her eye, and she finally let him. She nodded minutely.

“Just…I need to forget about it…”

Jamie nodded. Claire crouched down next to Faith, tapping her shoulder gently to signify that she was coming close so as to not startle her, being that she couldn’t hear anything. Claire began signing to her, and Faith answered clumsily, pointing to the mother and baby gorilla. After taking a moment to blink away his own tears that he hadn’t let show until Claire couldn’t see, he crouched down on her other side and joined the conversation.

She was fine, she was oblivious. She was happy, blissfully so. Her birthday was still perfect.

But Christ, that had hurt.

At the end of the day, neither Jamie nor Claire had won the bet. Despite Faith’s awe over the baby gorilla, the cuteness of the red pandas, or even, for argument’s sake, the appearance of the tigers, they walked out of the gift shop with a mother and baby elephant. Faith settled into the stroller for the journey back to the car, and by the time they took Angus for a potty break and made it to the exit, she was fast asleep, two giraffes and two elephants piled on her tiny body.

“Hey,” Jamie said. He was pushing the stroller with both hands, and one of Claire’s hands rested on his, her other holding Angus’s leash. “I love you.”

Claire peered up at him through her lashes and pecked him gratefully on the lips. “It was wonderful to have you here this year. It was the perfect sixth birthday.”

“It was. Wasn’t it?”

“Yeah. It was.”

Her cheeks were slightly pinked with sunburn, her nose darted with new freckles. Her amber eyes were swimming with the colors of the sunset around them, and Jamie sighed in perfect contentment.

“Jamie?”

“Hm?”

“I love you, too.”

No, now he was perfectly content.

——

May 14

Claire opened her mouth again, waiting patiently for Jamie’s response, and she hummed happily when he popped another grape between her lips. She sighed contentedly, shimmying back into his chest. His arms snaked around her again, and he kissed her temple. They were leaning against a tree, covered by the shade, watching Faith on a playground. It was completely fenced in, the playground and an adjoining field. Angus was laying in the grass napping, off duty until Faith needed him. She was quite independent on playgrounds these days, preferring to stop around, climb up the slide and then slide back down on her stomach, bounce on the see-saw herself, rather than drag her dog along with her. It was a good thing, Jamie had decided. The only time Faith decided to be utterly helpless was when she wanted to be pushed on the swing. She could pump her legs; Jamie had seen her do it. But she would always and forever prefer Jamie to push her. He’d been up and down a few times over the course of the afternoon.

It was a beautiful Sunday, Mother’s Day. They’d had a picnic lunch in the field, then sent Faith off to play. It was the perfect balance for Claire; Faith was close enough, having a grand old time, and yet Claire wasn’t overworked or stressed. They could just be like this, as a family.

Jamie had recently refrained from feeling any guilt when referring to the girls as his family. It was not presumptuous, not overstepping. Not anymore.

Jamie and Faith had presented Claire with breakfast in bed this morning, but not until eleven. Faith was ready to cook and have it delivered at seven, but Jamie managed to keep her happy with Sesame Street, Disney Channel, and a trip to the florist until an acceptable hour for letting Claire sleep in. The pancakes were all, of course, Mickey shaped, at Faith’s insistence. Claire loved them, and told Faith as such over and over. As Jamie had carried in the breakfast, Faith had carried in the flowers. It had been a perfect morning that carried into a perfect afternoon.

“I don’t see her,” Claire said, craning her neck. “Do you?”

“Aye, she’s under that wee rock wall cave.” Jamie gestured with his chin. “That flash o’ pink in the window. See?”

It was a small arch made of rock climbing wall that came just above Jamie’s knees. Faith enjoyed heaving herself up and just standing there, and apparently hiding underneath.

“Oh, yes, I see.” Claire eased back again. “How long has she been in there?”

“A fair bit,” he said.

“Is she just…sitting in there?”

“Aye, but I think she’s been making a nest.”

“What?”

“Ye haven’t noticed that she’s been picking up leaves and bringing them in there wi’ her?”

“No…” Claire said, a bit dazed. “I was trying to look for her on the slides or the ladders. In the groups of kids.”

“When have ye ever kent yer daughter to be among throngs of weans?” He’d meant it as a joke, but she deflated a bit.

“I hear them trying to talk to her,” she said softly. “Asking her her name, how old she is. Will she play tag, or hide and seek.”

In the beginning, Jamie and Claire had switched on and off shouting over to the kids and telling them that Faith wouldn’t answer, but after so many times, they’d given up. Faith wasn’t bothered either way.

“She’s perfectly happy on her own,” Jamie assured her.

“You don’t think she gets lonely? Or feels left out?”

“Nah.” Jamie kissed the crown of her head. “Not every kid, or every adult for that matter, needs conventional companionship. If she was lonely or unhappy she’d be all over us, asking fer snacks or juice.”

“You’re right,” Claire acquiesced. “You’re always bloody right.” She swatted his forearm in mock resentment, and he just kissed her head again.

Less than an hour later, Jamie was folding up the blanket and rousing Angus. They were out of snacks, and by the time they got home, it would be time to start dinner. When Jamie had asked Claire what she’d wanted for her Mother’s Day feast, all she’d requested was something they could all make together. So he’d decided on homemade pizza with all the toppings that Faith could throw on it to her heart’s desire.

“Come on! Five minutes are up!” Claire called, making her way to the playground. Faith was still under the rock wall. When Jamie had given her the five minute warning, she’d been on her knees and elbows, her head practically tucked into the ground.

Faith crawled out of the little tunnel obediently, and Claire reached out her hand, and Faith took it. Jamie made his way over to walk with them to the car, but Faith started tugging back.

“No, Faith. Playground is all done. It’s time to make pizza. Remember? We’ll get your chef apron, and—”

“Sassenach.”

“What?”

Jamie jerked his chin to where Faith was pulling toward. A single brown leaf was stuck in the grass, just outside the perimeter of the spongy playground floor. Claire let go of Faith’s hand, and she scuttled over to the leaf and picked it up. They watched as she crawled back into the tunnel, and she emerged almost immediately, giving Claire her hand right away.

“Good girl. Thank you, lovie.”

Instead of making her way to the car, Claire inched toward the tunnel. “Mummy wants to see what you made.”

Jamie smiled, following closely behind. Claire bent down to look into the little hole in the rock wall that they could see Faith through before.

“Wow, look at that,” Claire said, her voice breathy. “You made a little nest. That’s so sweet, baby.”

Jamie peered in, his grin stretching from ear to ear. She had to have picked up every single leaf in the entire playground, the entire field for that matter. He heard Claire sniffle, and he stole a kiss to her temple, onlooking children be damned.

“Mummy is so lucky, Faith,” she whispered, holding up the I love you sign. Faith copied, pressing the three fingers together, and Claire kissed Faith’s sweaty forehead.

——

At around nine-fifteen in the evening, Faith was fast asleep with Angus’s head trapped under her little arm. They’d all three spent the night making pizza, eating ice cream, and snuggling on the couch to watch The Little Mermaid. Jamie ducked out of Faith’s room, buzzing with excitement at having Claire to himself once more, and he locked the bedroom door behind him to find Claire already stripped down to her underwear and bra.

“Damn,” she said. “You weren’t supposed to come back until I was naked. I’m not wearing cute underwear.”

“Bloody hell, Sassenach,” Jamie half snorted, half growled. “D’ye think I give a bloody fuck about yer underwear?”

He attacked her lips with his, and there was a feverish ripping-off of clothing and underwear until they were both naked and hot and pressed together. Then Jamie slowed things down. He intended to worship her tonight, intended to show her with every kiss, touch, and stroke how much he loved her for the wonderful mother that she was, for the woman that she was. For the woman that she was because she was a mother.

After he made sure she’d found release with whatever method she deemed necessary, twice, Jamie finally perched over her and slammed home, delighting in the arch of her throat as she threw her head back in ecstasy. He could still taste her as he bent to kiss her, and her responding groan told him that she could also taste her.

He refrained from taking her hard and fast, not tonight. He let her feel every inch, let himself feel every inch. How many times had they done this? How many times had they gone to oblivion and back together?

As a lad, he’d been told by every teacher he ever had, all of them Catholic, that this was a sin. Not really the act itself, but doing it out of wedlock. He’d of course grown out of that belief, finding nothing short of holiness whenever he laid with Claire. Though, actually, the act itself could be considered a sin even in wedlock if done for pleasure. Some people believed this act must only be carried out if the intention was to create life.

Claire clenched around him, and he shuddered, groaning into her ear, unable to stop himself from speeding up.

“Yes…yes, love…”

He bit her ear, listening to her commands, listening to her body, and keeping up the faster pace.

Creating life…Christ, if Claire wasn’t on the pill, how many times might they have created life since last July?

She clawed at his back, dug her heels into his arse, mewling into his ear. His wee vixen would meet her end three times tonight, perhaps four if he paced himself.

How many times could he have made a mother of her since last July? Mathematically speaking, only once, really. It had only been ten months since they’d begun. But to think, every time he’d had her, every time she’d held him in place while he found bliss inside of her…

It was almost shameful, almost beastly, the primal urge he felt to mark her as such, to have her carry him inside her like that even long after they’d finished, pill or not.

And without that pill…

God, yes, he could make a mother out of her again. And she’d be beautiful; she’d be a goddess that they’d create together with their own hands, their own mouths, their own joining.

It was that thought that sent him fully out of control, no longer able to spare any ounce of power.

“Yes, yes, yes…”

Her words slurred until they were one strangled cry, and then they were falling together, teeth and nails latching onto anything they could.

Afterward, they lie sprawled on the disheveled sheets, catching their breath, comforter and throw pillows hastily tossed aside long ago. When Claire shivered, Jamie chuckled and pulled the top sheet over them. They were facing each other, and Claire looked mischievous, as if she were about to suggest something else to warm her up. She didn’t, though, just kept looking into his eyes like she was keeping a secret.

Then he began feeling like he was the one keeping a secret. He bit his lip, debating opening his mouth to speak or to capture that exposed, beautiful nipple again and distract her, distract himself.

He cleared his throat.

“Can I ask ye a question?” He propped himself up on his hand, and she smiled up at him.

“Of course.” She turned slightly to see him better.

“D’ye ever think about…” His voice trailed off, his throat suddenly filling with sand. Or vomit.

“What?” She mirrored him, propping up on her hand as well. “You can ask me anything, Jamie.”

He smiled nervously and averted his eyes for just a second. “Children. Well, more, that is.”

Claire blinked at him, clearly surprised.

“I’m sorry if that’s out of line…”

“No.” She stopped him before he could fully spiral, sitting up and covering herself with the sheet. “It isn’t at all.”

He sat up as well. “Ye sure?”

“We’re…building a life here, Jamie. Aren’t we?”

Now she seemed nervous.

“Aye.” He sat up and took her hand assuredly. “That we are.”

Her tight face relaxed into a tiny smile, and she squeezed his hand. “Right. So…if you want more children…you’re allowed to share that with me.”

“I didna say I — ”

“Then why are you asking?”

He had nothing to say to that.

“You’d want that?” she asked, her voice suddenly quite small. “You’d want to…have a baby? With me?”

Jamie felt his heart leap into his throat. “Aye,” he said, perhaps too quickly. “No’ right away,” he remedied. “Just…in the future. I…ye ken I love Faith like she’s my own. And together I…we’ll raise her together. As ours.”

Claire nodded, her eyes misting.

“And I could always and forever be happy wi’ just that,” Jamie continued. “It doesna matter to me that she was…sired by someone else. No’ at all. But…to see ye grow round wi’ child…my child…” It was his turn to well up. “D’ye ken I’d give anything to have known Faith fer…even a day longer than I’ve known her…? To have seen her take her first steps, watch her grow from the size of my hand to a full little person…to have watched ye carry her, bring her into the world, hold yer hand through it. To hear her first cry…Christ.” He hastily wiped his eyes. “To…to have been there during her diagnosis, fer both of ye. I wish every day I could have all of it. Because to me…she’s mine. And I canna imagine it any other way. But I wasna there.”

“Oh, Jamie…”

“It’s foolish.”

“No.” She fervently shook her head. “Not at all.”

“I mean it’s…it’s wrong…selfish to want to have a bairn wi’ ye because I didna have all that wi’ Faith. Isn’t it?”

She offered a tiny smile, shaking her head again. “You silly man. You want to be a father, and all that goes with it. That’s not selfish. That’s beautiful.”

“Ye dinna think me a greedy, ungrateful bastard?”

She bit her lip, laughing through her nose, shaking her head. She cupped his face, her grin broadening. “Someday, Jamie…it would be the greatest honor to carry your baby.”

Overwhelmed with relief and joy, Jamie kissed her passionately. He hadn’t lied; he would be happy, more than happy, to raise Faith alone as his daughter. But he feared there would always be a part of him that longed for a baby, that longed to see Claire pregnant, nursing, all of it. The thought of having it someday was enough to send him shooting into the sky.

When their lips parted, Claire did not look as joyful as he felt.

“What is it?” he said immediately.

“Jamie, I…I do want it. I want to have a baby together. Someday. But…” She swallowed. “It’s not…a proven fact, but some studies show that it’s…genetic. Autism, I mean. There’s a high chance for a second-born.”

He nodded, slowly understanding.

“I say this with all the love in my heart for Faith, but…could you…could we handle a second child with needs like hers?”

Jamie’s brow furrowed, but he nodded without hesitation. “Faith is old enough now, we’ve got a system in place fer her. If we had to do it all over again with another, it wouldna be easy, but ye wouldna be going into it blind again.”

Claire nodded. “Okay.”

“Would it be alright wi’ you?” Jamie asked. “I have no judgement, Sassenach. Ye ken that. But you know as well as any that becoming a parent means ye’re to be prepared fer any kind of child. If ye truly think it wouldna be best fer you, or Faith, then she should be our only one.”

Claire waited only a brief moment before shaking her head. “If the doctor had put Faith in my arms for the first time and said, ‘this is your baby, but she’s going to have autism’…I wouldn’t have given a damn. I was already in love. From that first second.” She squeezed his hand. “I want that again, no matter what. I want you to experience that. With me.” She kissed him sweetly, gently. “I want your child, Jamie, no matter what.”

He was happier than he’d been just two minutes ago, happier than he thought possible. As he sealed that oath with another kiss, he knew it was time.

Time to put that ring that he’d bought in August to good use.

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starcrossedkaiju · 3 years

Text

Kingslayer AU: Chapter Eight

I don’t know what to say other than I like this one. Rendog enjoyers come get your free angst!

Scott filled the pages of his sketchbook gradually at first. He sat at his window and drew what he saw, focusing on putting shapes on the paper. Many times he was unhappy with the finished product, almost ripping out and throwing away his limited space.

He had to learn to be okay with it. The next time it would be a bit better, and a bit better, until the tree he’d been slaving over didn’t look half bad.

Soon his interests turned to drawing his friends. Their faces would pop up on his pages, drowned in eraser smudges at first. Then it became easy. Like second nature, he could memorize Grian’s knowing grin, Jimmy’s downturned eyes, Martyn’s slightly crooked nose.

He drew the way he saw Ren’s piercing yellow eyes that night, the way they were shadowed by his brow.

It felt better. To have a place where his memories could stay exactly the way he saw them. Scott even pinned some up on the wall of his room.

Soon his supply of paper started dwindling, Martyn told him if he needed more drawing paper to come back and ask him for some. So he did, after Jimmy went to bed and the world was quiet under the snow.

Scott made a trip to the Renchanting base, entering through the tunnel hidden under the mountain. It took him right to the storage area. Which was dark and deserted. Only a clock ticked on the wall, everyone else must have been in the sleeping quarters or back at their bases to fend off the Phantoms.

He took a torch from the “stuff chest” and started making rounds, looking at each storage container. Food, Armor, ores, wood, stone, and redstone. Until there was a wall of chests with people’s names on them.

Everyone in the Red Army had a chest, from left to right there was Ren, Martyn, Etho, Skiz, Impulse, Tango, Joel, and then Scott.

The last chest on the right side, Scott’s name was carved on top. It hadn’t been there before. He placed his hand on the lock, wondering if he should even bother opening it. Someone had cared enough to dedicate a space for him to put things. Under the roof of Dogwarts no less.

His torch flickered and Scott decided he’d spent too long lurking around, so he flipped the lock up and quietly opened the chest. Slowly so it wouldn’t creek.

Inside there was a single stack of drawing paper. Hand-sewn like the one Martyn had given him.

Scott placed the torch down and retrieved the paper. He knew it must have been Martyn. A smile found its way onto his face, and he let it stay there. This time, when nobody was looking.

Blowing out the torch and closing the chest, Scott gathered the sketchbook and decided to just leave through the front. It was almost midnight anyways.

Up the stairs and to the double doors of the enchanting room. The book on the table rose from its position and opened towards him as he walked past. Scott still had his hand on the doorknob when he opened it and stepped out into the frigid night.

Of course he didn’t expect to see anything, so when he did see something he froze in place.

In the spot that Martyn would typically occupy, on the very top of the walls sat Ren. His grey cape was bundled around himself to keep out the cold and his pointed ears were pressed low on his head. He was facing away from Scott.

Huddled on the perch, Ren’s shoulders were shaking. Silently, he cried.

Scott stood in the doorway motionless. He couldn’t believe the scene in front of him. Ren wasn’t one to cry. He was calculating and smart, rarely loosing his temper to even the worst of setbacks. A humorous man in charge of an Army of vagabonds, he never cried. He never expressed so much as a single weakness, he couldn’t afford that.

So it really shouldn’t have been a surprise, not really, that the Red King would save his sorrow for when nobody should be looking. Under the loneliest arm of the Milky Way, coldly gazing down on him. The weight of every star in the sky on his shoulders.

It made him look small.

Scott backed away from the door and ran back to the tunnel he came from, the kind of running you do when you are convinced your worst nightmare is snapping at your heels; and maybe for Scott it was.

He sprinted home without looking back. Trying to shove the image of Ren out the back of his mind.

That night he crept quietly back into bed, doing his best not to disturb Jimmy. Who stirred momentarily before simply turning over.

Scott stared at the arm of the Milky Way through the window until he fell into a dreamless sleep.

Days pressed by, Scott slithered too and from the walls of Dogwarts under the noses of his allies and between Spy Ring meetings. The first page of his new sketchbook lay empty, because whenever his pencil hovered above that damn page all he could see was a man huddled up under a galaxy of stars that would never return his wishes.

So when he was called out on night watch to the Renchanting base, Scott snuck out with his empty sketchbook held close to his chest. He arrived to a sleeping base, aware that his shift would be over in an hour and he would get to go home when the next guard showed up.

He yawned and stared out the window, at the stars above the wall. A pencil came to his hand and he started drawing what he saw. The shape of the wall against the glowing sky. He drew it, but it wasn’t right. The image in his mind came back to the front.

A weeping man holding a million stars on his shaking shoulders, the end of his frayed cape flaring out when the breeze kicked up. Tiny compared to the infinite sky. Scott’s fingers and palm turned black with graphite as he crafted the cosmos onto that paper.

His scribbling and smudging consumed all his thoughts as he focused on making the scene perfect, the pencil dulled and threatened to snap under the pressure.

“Major,” a stern voice came from right behind him.

Scott seized up in his chair, a feeling of terror so pure exploded in his chest that his vision left him for a few seconds. He gasped and turned around with his jaw on the floor.

Behind him was Ren. Clad in his winter jacket, a hand on the back of Scott’s chair. He stared directly into the other’s eyes from behind the dark lenses of his aviators. All the color had gone from his face.

Hoping the Red King hadn’t seen what he was drawing, Scott moved his hand to close the book.

It was too late. Ren had been watching him draw for long enough to know.

“You saw me?” Ren asked, but it was phrased more like a fact. It was.

Scott’s hesitation was enough of an answer. He stared up into Ren’s glasses, reminded of a familiar time. This time was different though, and this time Scott wished he could see behind the lenses.

He nodded and tore his eyes away, it felt intrusive to be staring.

“Ren,” Scott said to the floor, but was dismissed.

“No. Just go home. Now,” the other man ordered with a wavering voice.

Scott didn’t nod, he didn’t look at Ren. He gathered the sketchbook and slammed it shut within five seconds.

He didn’t say goodbye as he fled the walls. Scott ran from Ren, and this time he felt bad about it.

Scott didn’t return to Dogwarts for a week after that. Nobody called him to the night shift, nobody asked him to run any supplies. Maybe he was grateful for that, in the sense that he wouldn’t have to look Ren in the eyes again.

Until one night he couldn’t sleep. The clouds cast a dark blanket over the sky. Scott huffed and crawled out of bed, not bothering to change out of his pajamas. He pulled his boots on and took his coat off the hanger.

A walk is what he told himself he was going on, but really he knew where he was going. He didn’t know why, but for some reason Scott had a feeling he wasn’t the only one that couldn’t sleep.

This time instead of entering Dogwarts through the underground he rounded the front, cresting the hill right in front of Big B’s house. Scott scanned the top of the wall and saw what he was looking for. He shoved his hands in his pockets and entered Dogwarts through the front door.

Scott climbed the ladder and balanced himself as he walked over to Ren, who was sitting with his legs dangling over the side of the wall. His jacket was pulled tightly around him. Scott didn’t greet him when he sat down, Ren had seen him coming a mile away.

Ren didn’t look at him, he breathed in heavily, then sighed out a burst of vapor into the cold air.

“You couldn’t sleep?” Scott started the conversation this time.

“Wouldn’t matter if I could. I’m on night watch,” Ren said after a beat of silence.

Scott nodded, turning his head to the dark sky, “it’d be nicer with some stars, hm?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Ren trailed off. He stared at his shoes.

“Okay I’m sorry, I’ll just-“ Scott made to get up and leave but Ren interrupted him.

“No, wait, you can stay,” Ren pulled on the sleeve of Scott’s elbow.

Scott nodded and pulled his knees closer to his chest. A pocket of clouds had moved, creating a window that let the moon gaze upon the Earth.

“Do you stargaze a lot?” Ren asked, this time he looked at Scott.

He wasn’t wearing his sunglasses.

“I try,” Scott replied, “there’s this huge book I found uh, In a village library a while ago. It has everything you can possibly see from down here in it,” he mused.

“Have you ever read one?” Scott asked.

“Uh, an astronomy book?” Ren’s eyes flicked to the left in thought, “I mean I’ve seen them. I haven’t read them. You like astronomy?” he asked.

Scott nodded, then pointed north, into the cloud cover, “you can’t see it now, but Ursa Major would be right over there,” he said.

Ren looked over like he was trying to imagine it, “you like Ursa Major?”

“Easiest to remember,” Scott said plainly.

“I’ll bet. S’ like a namesake,” Ren rested his chin on his palm, “I wish I had a constellation with my name,” his ear twitched on his head.

Scott’s metaphorical ears perked up, “Oh well, there’s one kind of like that,” he said. Ren’s actual ears perked up.

“It’s called Canis Major. It means Great Dog, or Big Dog,” Scott pointed south, “it will always be easy to see on a clear day. One of its stars is called Sirius,” he explained.

Ren nodded, “I’m familiar. Brightest in the sky, right?”

“Yeah. That’s right,” Scott replied.

“Canis Major huh?” Ren repeated. Scott nodded.

“Canis Major, and,” he looked over at Scott, “Scott Major,” Ren nudged the other on the shoulder.

“Right,” Scott said, and suddenly the sky didn’t feel so heavy anymore.

Not when you have a friend to share it with.

#listen. hear me out...#the constellation thing was clever okay!!#also Canis Major rises in the winter. I call that poetic #there’s nothing too deep about Scott being Ursa Major other than his name and him being star-born #kingslayer au #3rdlife #3rd life smp #3rdlife smp #rendog #scott smajor #mcyt #mcytblr #cas types

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eternityunicorn · 3 years

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🌟Meet Me in My Office🌟

The office that Elijah had acquired weeks ago when he had adopted the role of CEO was the best in the hospital. It was a corner office with grey walls and two large windows that allowed lots of light in. Because he wasn’t planning on being in charge of the hospital for long, the space was empty of any personal effects. There was only a desk and a chair on either side of it.

“So, you want to finally explain to me what the hell is going on?” Joel asked, standing near the closed door, keeping distance between them.

Not that it would do the doctor much good, if Elijah’s intention had been to kill him. But then, Joel didn’t know about anything supernatural, not even what Eternity really was, according to his sources. That was surprising and he did wonder how his wife had managed that, given how even her simple appearance was otherworldly.

Humans did not glow or shimmer nor did they possess hair that rippled like ocean waves or galaxy filled eyes that were also ancient. So, how did Eternity manage to keep the truth about herself a secret from Joel for all this time? That was a mystery Elijah was certainly curious to solve.

Whatever the case may be, Joel’s standoffish reaction to him was not based on any fear of the monster he truly was. Elijah recognized, at once, that his trepidation was simply due to their sameness instead. Further evidence that the good doctor was completely in the dark about the supernatural world.

“Dr. Goran,” Elijah began, “Let me begin by saying that I am just as shocked by our alikeness. I didn’t think that it was possible, especially given that I don’t have descendants. Therefore, your existence is a marvel indeed. Do you know what a doppelgänger is?”

Joel frowned deeply, “No.”

“A doppelgänger is a mystical copy of someone, also known as a shadow self,” explained Elijah patiently. “As far as I’m aware, there was only one line of doppelgängers, the Petrova doppelgänger. Therefore, I cannot explain how it is that you exist, Dr. Goran.”

An Excerpt from Chapter Four of ‘Mirror Image’

* * * Come hop on the Elinity train and read this fic, as well as all my others at the links to my AO3/Wattpad profiles: Here! Choo choo! All aboard!!! 🚂🧛‍♂️🦄

#excerpt from my fanfiction #mirror image #elijah mikaelson #oc: eternity #joel goran #elijah mikaelson x oc #joel goran x oc #elijah x eternity #elinity #joelinity #saving hope #the originals #saving hope x the originals crossover #crossover au #alternate universe #alternate pairings #my oc eternity #my au fanfiction #my oc fanfiction

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laconservancy · 3 years

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An Iconic Mural in the Heart of Historic Filipinotown

Photo credit: M. Rosalind Sagara

Named one of the top 20 iconic murals in Los Angeles by L.A. Weekly, “Gintong Kasaysayan, Gintong Pamana” (“A Glorious History, A Golden Legacy”) in Historic Filipinotown’s Unidad Park turned 25 years old last year. Commissioned by the Social and Public Art Resource Center (SPARC) and created by artist Eliseo Art Silva in 1995, the mural tells a story of the awakening of Filipino national and political consciousness, and pays tribute to Filipinos, both locally and nationally.

In May, the L.A. Conservancy’s Neighborhood Outreach Manager M. Rosalind Sagara interviewed artist Eliseo Art Silva about the mural, Historic Filipinotown, and how the two contribute to our growing understanding and appreciation of Asian American & Pacific Islander (AAPI) heritage in Los Angeles.

RS: What inspired Gintong Kasaysayan, Gintong Pamana?

ES: Chapter eight of Jose Rizal's novel Noli Me Tangere is titled "Recuerdos," and it depicts a scene wherein the main protagonist encounters a kind of inverted telescope which converges Europe and Manila in one scene. Rizal calls it "The Spectre of Comparisons": a charged space where nationalism, art, and the imagination emerge from. It was the kind of space I wanted to recreate in the expansive “Great Wall of Pilipinotown" so that ultimately, we can emerge both a Creative Economy and Ethnic Economy within the Filipino enclave of Los Angeles. At that time (1994-1995), the area was not yet designated as HiFi. Filipino leaders Uncle Roy Morales and Joel Jacinto have said that the Filipino mural was integral to the successful designation of the district as Historic Filipinotown.

RS: How does the mural fit in to the story of Historic Filipinotown?

ES: There were four murals in Filipinotown painted by Filipino Americans with a Filipino theme prior to “Gintong Kasaysayan,” and two more painted after, but only “Gintong Kasaysayan” has been preserved. Three of the murals were lost to demolition and the other three were painted over without protest or resistance. The other artists that painted Filipino murals within the neighborhood are Faustino Caigoy, Orlando Castillo, and Papo De Asis.

Since previous attempts to Filipinize Filipinotown were largely limited to Bahay Kubo ("Nipa Hut") aesthetics and the mentality it generates of minimizing the achievements of pre-colonial Philippines as a major player of The Filipino Story, “Gintong Kasaysayan” shifts the Filipino perspective. From one largely shaped by the Americanization movement, designed to rid the Philippines of Filipinos, to one that takes The Filipino Story as the main protagonist. It elevates Filipinos as a major player in America’s cultural landscape so our own Filipino community can earn and deserve that equal seat at the table of power and influence. Why have a seat at the table if all that we bring to the table is the stories of foreigners in our country told "on their behalf"?

What the “Gintong Kasaysayan” mural offers to the city is what the Filipino community can offer and why they deserve that equal seat at the table. What the mural provides is The Filipino Story. It challenges people to answer the question: What is "Filipino" in Historic Filipinotown?

At times, it aims to make people uncomfortable that they do not know enough about the story of Filipinos in this country and city, along with making Filipinos uncomfortable that they themselves do not take their own Filipino Story seriously enough to make it the main event in their own lives and humanity.

Festival of Philippine Arts and Culture, 2020

RS: Has the mural encountered challenges over its lifetime and how have these been addressed?

ES: Yes, many challenges have surfaced throughout the more than 25 years that the mural was in public view in that area of the city.

First of all, the Filipino community had not held an annual event in front of the mural until I initiated the Larry Itliong Day celebration in 2015 at Unidad Park. Because “Gintong Kasaysayan” was largely ignored by our own community for most of its two decades in the neighborhood, there were several instances when we almost lost the mural or the cultural integrity of the site.

When I moved to the East Coast in 2000 and lived there for 15 years, the mural came to a point when the residents around the mural wanted to cover the it with a 15-foot-tall fence to accommodate 25 community garden beds which would have obstructed the entire length of the wall. Had I not happened to visit the site while the meetings were being conducted, that community garden would have completely covered the entire length of the mural.

My personal protest produced the current mural signage for the public to recognize the significance of the mural and the site to the City of Los Angeles and the Filipino community. There was also a time when the neighborhood came close to erecting a life-size full figure monument honoring Bishop Romero at the center of the dap-ay space.

(Author’s note: The dap-ay is circular in form and intended to create a communal gathering space. It is a character-defining feature of Unidad Park and is believed to be the first of its kind outside of the Philippines.)

RS: What is your favorite part of the mural?

ES: The shifts in meaning. I like the parts intended to be ambiguous, challenging and uncomfortable.

RS: How do murals link the past to the present?

ES: I believe that murals are the best way to document communities. At its best, art and murals are not didactic, yet reveal core truths. I see murals as a kind of palimpsest intended to build upon previous stories and images which have ceased to be relevant, active and engaging.

RS: Do you have favorite mural in L.A.?

ES: América Tropical by David Siqueiros is my favorite mural in L.A

#aapi #aapiheritage #aapi heritage month #los angeles #los angeles history #Saving Places #historic preservation #public art

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what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years

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CSI: Rogers and Barnes Ch11- When You Gotta Blow...

Part 1

Co written with @icanfeelastormbrewing

Episode Summary: It’s the day after their date and Steve is brought crashing down to Earth when Fury gives him some information about the case that shocks him to the core. Meanwhile, poor Bucky is left attempting to stop Katie from murdering Wanda, which is a lot harder than it looks.

Oh, and Captain Raymond Holt’s in this one too…

Episode Warnings: Bad Language words.

Episode Pairings: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Song for Episode: Just The Way You Are by Billy Joel

A/N: This is another LONG chapter guys, but there’s a LOT going down, and we couldn’t miss out on the opportunity to see a Raymond Holt Vs Madeleine Wuntch showdown. I can’t claim credit for any of the wonderful insults that they trade, I just took them from the best eps of 99 and mashed them together for utter comedy purposes.

We’ve split into 2 parts for you to read either all at once or separately, however you wish.

As always we live for re-blogs and comments

Series Master List // Main Masterlist

I said I love you, and that’s forever, and this I promise from the heart. I could not love you, any better, I love you just the way you are.

"You look tired. Have you seen those bags under your eyes?" Steve asked Bucky from his spot in the passenger seat. Seeing as both his and Katie’s cars were at the station as they had taken the subway to go on their first date the previous evening, Bucky was driving them in for a change.

"Yes, I have. Thanks for reminding me, punk." Bucky groaned, shooting a glare at Steve as Katie snorted from the back seat. Steve had at first suggested riding in the back with Katie, and whilst he had only been joking at first, he had then realised it would be a great way to spend every second he could before arriving at work clinging to his girl. Bucky, however, had fully refused stating he wasn't a fucking cab driver.

"You should stay in tonight. You've been out for what? Four? Five nights in a row?” Steve chastised.

"Just two" Bucky protested "I remind you I stayed in on Sunday listening to Carrie Bradshaw here." he added, jerking his head toward Katie in the backseat.

"Eat your plums and shut up, Buck. Your system needs vitamin C" Katie deadpanned, lifting her head from her phone. She leaned forward to squeeze Steve's left shoulder "Don't worry, Stevie. You're my Mr. Big." she said in an over the top soppy voice, smiling flirtatiously at him before turning to Bucky and giving him a playful stare "Pun intended." she added.

"Happy to comply, sweetheart." Steve said as he squeezed her hand which was still on his shoulder.

"You two are gross." Bucky scoffed, shaking his head.

"What can I say, he looks yummy in that uniform." Katie said, licking her lips.

Steve couldn't help but smile remembering the look in Katie's eyes as he had stepped out of the closet of his bedroom dressed in his Captain uniform as he was due to report to Fury that morning. He only wore it on special occasions and when being summoned to HQ or Police Plaza, and he didn't quite feel comfortable in it as it tended to attract a lot of attention but this morning he had developed a sudden fondness for it. Of course, his sudden found affection for said uniform had absolutely nothing to do with the fact Katie had been clearly very appreciative of it as she had run her hands over his tight shirt... or the sparkle in her eyes along with the sight of her teeth grazing her lower lip while making sure his tie was well tied and straightened….or the fact that they had had to break a very heated kiss before things got a little more serious which would have resulted in them both being late for work…

Nope, nothing to do with any of that, at all.

With a grin Steve turned to look at his girl, and flashed her a wink "Thanks, doll." he said, pecking her lips.

"Anytime." Katie said grinning at him with loving eyes.

"Hello, I'm here. And I feel ignored." Bucky scoffed.

"Aww. Don't be like that, jerk." Steve said ruffling his best friend's hair.

Bucky groaned again as he slapped Steve's hand off his head. "Back off, punk."

"You're particularly grumpy this morning, Barnes." Katie noted and she smiled locking eyes with Steve before turning to Bucky and adding "Maybe you need to get an autopsy done."

There was silence for a couple of seconds before Steve and Katie burst into laughter seeing the expression of utter exasperation on Bucky's face at the mention of Sam.

"You two are hilarious." he scoffed.

"Yeah. Do Sam’s gloves tickle? That why you're so prickly?" Steve quipped.

At that Bucky couldn't help but laugh with them. He supposed he had it coming. He had been bad enough with them, even before they got together, constantly teasing the pair of them. And, to tell the truth, he was secretly enjoying it. He liked the good natured sniping and banter. The three of them had struck up a good friendship.

"All right, doll face. This is your stop." Bucky announced as he pulled over at the curb a couple of blocks from the station.

"See you in a minute, boys." she said grabbing her purse and leaning forward to kiss Steve softly before opening the door and stepping outside.

"See you, doll." Steve whispered.

Both of them watched her walk away mingling with the people that crowded Brooklyn's sidewalks that morning. Bucky glanced at Steve and saw his head tilt to one side.

"Are you checking your girl's ass, Punk?" Bucky asked Steve as he moved the car again.

"Are you?" Steve asked back frowning at him.

Bucky just laughed and shook his head. "Jerk."

With that Bucky swung the car into the entrance of the parking lot and into a spare space a few down from Katie’s BMW. Together they headed up to the elevator and Steve selected their floor.

“Ready for another day of pretending you don’t wanna jump Stark’s bones every 5 minutes?” Bucky looked at Steve who gave a roll of his eyes, but didn’t respond.

The doors pinged open and Clint's wolf whistle could be heard all through the main office as Steve and Bucky made their entrance.

"Whoa Rogers. You look great in that uniform. Has Stark seen you yet?" Natasha asked Steve.

Bucky scoffed at Natasha's teasing. She wouldn't let the opportunity pass to pry some information out of anyone or anything, and she was determined to discover if Steve and Katie were a thing or not. If she didn't know already, which Bucky suspected, despite all his efforts to not to give in to her constant questionings and traps.

"Why would Stark have seen me?" Steve replied not taking the bait, but blushing visibly.

"You tell me, Rogers." she replied, slurring her words

Damned, Romanoff. Bucky cursed in his mind as Wanda's expression changed from utter adoration to boiling anger at Natasha's mention of Katie. But as quick as it had soured, it reverted back and she began strutting towards Steve.

"Wait. Your tie isn't straight." she said. Steve frowned and looked down at his tie to check it was impeccably arranged, just as Katie had left it an hour prior.

Don't bother, punk. It's perfectly straight, just Wanda being a hoe. Bucky thought to himself.

"My ears burning? What exactly should I have seen?” Katie asked as she entered the main office, startling everyone. Especially Steve who looked like a deer caught in headlights.

"You look like you're being strangled, Rogers" Natasha deadpanned.

Uh oh Bucky thought when he heard Katie. But he was surprised, as he observed her take her jacket off and switch her computer on. She was playing it pretty cool and doing particularly well in hiding her rage against Wanda when he was sure she was plotting a hundred different ways to kill her and dispose of her body. And yet she was still able to fake surprise when her eyes set on Steve, admiring him in his uniform.

"Looking good, Captain. Meeting someone important, are we?" Katie said smiling at him.

Bucky had to look away, the woman deserved a damned Oscar. She knew exactly where he was going.

"Thanks." Steve smiled swiftly, "And yes, I'm meeting Fury today so..." he cleared his throat before continuing "... no briefing this morning. Just keep on working on what you were doing and we'll catch up later in the day or tomorrow depending on how my meeting goes."

They all nodded in agreement and started organizing their own work as Steve went into his office to check his mail before leaving for HQ. As he emerged from his office 20 minutes or so later, he was met with Wanda who immediately proceeded to brush his shoulder pads to make sure his jacket was neat and tidy.

"It's ok Wanda, thanks." he said stopping her as cordially as possible so as not to spike her. Out of the corner of his eye he caught Katie’s expression, and his heart sank. She was upset, he could tell, even though she was doing her best to hide it as her eyes hastily diverted away from him and she went back to examining something on her computer.

"Do you remember where your car is, Rogers?" Natasha asked as Steve moved away from Wanda and passed by the detective’s desk.

"What?" Steve stopped and asked, not understanding.

"I mean, it was already in the parking lot when I arrived this morning. Curiously it wasn't the only one." she explained with a side smile, her eyes flicking to Katie.

"The early bird catches the worm, Cap." Clint added.

Steve looked at his watch while he shook his head and sighed, ignoring them, although if the burning in his cheeks was anything to go by he was redder than a glass of fucking tomato juice.

"I'm leaving or I'll be late. Barnes, you're in charge!" he shouted for everyone to hear before he crossed the doors of the main office, heading into the elevator without a backwards glance.

Bucky watched him go before he turned back to his emails as Clint and Natasha struck up some conversation about something on TV. Katie, at her desk opposite him, was stoic and still focussed on her screen although he could see her eyes weren’t moving. She wasn’t reading anything, simply pretending. Bucky could see. But before he could say anything she stood up and started to grab some files, sorting them into a pile. Then, her phone went and she reached for it absentmindedly, glancing down at it and Bucky saw the smile spread across her face.

And he wasn’t the only one…

"Storm?" Nat asked Katie who continued to grin her phone's screen while typing a text back.

"No" she replied, not lifting her eyes from the phone.

"Jensen?" Wanda insisted but Katie just blanked her as she put the phone in the back pocket of her jeans.

"Ok. Who moved Dot out of her spot?" Bucky asked in an attempt to divert attention towards him.

Not that he really needed to, Katie was behaving impeccably, too much so if you asked him, and simply picked up the pile she had organised on her desk and announced she would be in the incident room if anyone needed her.

"Good try, Barnes" Clint said looking at Dot who obviously was in the same spot she had always been.

******

Steve maintained his indifferent Captain appearance until the doors to the elevator shut, at which point he let out a loud groan. That was all he needed, Katie to walk in at the exact moment Wanda was straightening his tie, especially after what they had talked about on their date. He wasn't stupid, he knew Wanda was overstepping the mark. There was nothing wrong with his tie and he didn't appreciate Wanda invading his space that way. But the worst thing had been the look on Katie's face. He would have been happier to see anger or jealousy but the look of pure upset, almost resignation she had been sporting had almost crippled him, and he knew it was because she was powerless to stop it for fear of blowing their cover. Deciding to give her a little bit of comfort, reassurance maybe, he pulled out his phone and sent her a simple message: "Love you, Doll.", before he stuck his phone back in the inside pocket of his jacket, his foot tapping on the floor as he continued his previous train of thought. Steve knew Wanda had gone too far now. He was going to have to tell her to back off one way or another, and made a mental note to ask Bucky later about the best way to do so.

The elevator hit the ground floor he stepped out and headed towards the parking lot, nodding to the other officers that were arriving as he went, and as his phone vibrated against his chest he smiled to himself, the smile growing even bigger as he read Katie’s response: "Love you too, and you do look incredibly handsome in that uniform…”

By the time he had arrived at HQ his mind had switched to why Fury wanted to see him in person. He'd called his boss the day before to inform him that he needed to discuss a few things on the Cereal Serial Killer case with him, but hadn't gone into details...and then a message had arrived early that morning to tell him to report at 10-hundred sharp. He flashed his ID badge to security, went through the usual process of stripping down to pass through the metal detectors and scanners, before he headed up to the 20th floor where the Commissioners' Offices were. He walked down the corridor and headed straight to the two offices at the end, greeting the secretary at the desk outside, who told him to take a seat as Fury was in with Deputy Commissioner Wuntch but wouldn't be long. Steve nodded, and turned to do just that, smiling as a familiar face greeted him.

"Captain Rogers..." Raymond Holt nodded, standing up as he stuck out his hand towards him "It's been a while." "It sure has Ray." Steve smiled, "How you been?"

"How have I been...hmm, let's see. I'm here to see Wuntch who is circling me like a shark frenzied by chum. The task force is turning into a career-threatening quagmire. An Internal Affairs investigation has been casting doubt upon my integrity. I, a Captain, am no longer able to command my vessel, my precinct, from my customary helm, my office. I've worked the better part of my years on earth overcoming every prejudice and fighting for the position I hold, and now I feel it being ripped from my grasp, and with it the very essence of what defines me as a man. But other than that, I've been fine..."

Steve eyed the captain, not quite sure if he was joking or being facetious. But then again, there were only 2 people he knew that could read Holt fully, Peralta and Katie. And the line about Wuntch was probably true. It was a well-known fact across the entire NYPD that Raymond Holt and Madeleine Wuntch had beef. Big beef, and now she had made Deputy Commissioner, Steve had no doubts in his mind she would be making Holt's life hell at every given opportunity. He knew only too well from personal experience that the woman could be a nasty piece of work when she didn't get her own way. She'd made life very difficult for Steve himself at one point after he had turned down her advances at one Christmas Party. She'd set out to block his promotion to Lieutenant, that is until Howard had stepped in and pushed it through. Another reason he would be eternally grateful to his late mentor.

"Sounds exhausting... “ Steve replied with what he thought was an appropriate comment. "Yes, it is." Holt nodded "You know she was apparently supposed to take a position up in the Boston PD...but it's so close to Salem, and we know what they do to Witches up there so she turned it down..."

Steve let out a snort and he could have sworn he saw the corner of Holt's mouth twitch slightly but as he looked again his fellow Captain's face was as grave as ever.

"So what are you doing here?" Holt asked and Steve took a breath.

"Fury called me in. Think he wants a detailed briefing on the Cereal Serial Killer case." "Ahh, yes..." Holt dropped his voice "How is it going on that?" "Well..." Steve looked around "Can't say too much but we're working on something, well, Stark is should I say..." At the mention of Katie's name there was a definite flicker of a smile on Holt's face as her one time boss asked after her "How is she doing?" "Oh, good...” Steve smiled, unable to stop himself "She's great. You know, professionally...well deserved promotion and all..." "She's one of the best." Holt nodded, "I told you that when she moved. She left a big hole in the team..." At that point the door to Fury's office opened and Madeleine Wuntch walked out, immaculately presented as always.

"Speaking of holes..." Holt turned his attention to the woman "It’s a shame we would never find one deep enough to hold you Madeleine..."

"Hello, Raymond. How do you like my new office?" She asked, gesturing to the door at the opposite side of the room to Fury's "Twentieth floor"

"Yes, I never thought I'd see you this high without a broom under you..."

Steve cast his eyes down, a smile on his face as he desperately tried not to laugh. Unlike Steve, who merely kept his head down and ignored Wuntch as much as he could, Holt enjoyed baiting her, because he didn't give a shit. He was too well respected and thought of for her to even try and get rid of him, not whilst Fury was in charge anyway. And it was funny as fuck. His attempt to remain inconspicuous, however, failed as Wuntch’s gaze turned to Steve and he met her eyes for a second before she blatantly looked him up and down. Steve shifted slightly, his hands falling to the buckle of his belt, his stance changing from open to challenging, but before he had chance to say anything Holt was there again.

"My God..." he said, shaking his head "He's half your age you shrivelled up old prune...have some dignity before the Flying Monkeys turn up to drag you away."

"Sticks and stones Raymond..." Wuntch sang.

"Describing your breakfast?" Holt looked at her, his face completely deadpan.

"How's the Internal Affairs investigation going?" Wuntch shot bac

"You tell me. You spend so much time with your ear to the ground...it's a pity a truck hasn't run over your head." Holt said simply

"You can fight with me all you want..." "I'm not fighting you. I learned a long time ago not to dance with the Devil for fear of getting burned. Also, in your case, you have no rhythm and your hands are like little rat claws" Holt held his hands up and contracted them slightly, curling his fingers into his palms slightly to illustrate his point.

"Keep going and soon I'll have you demoted." "Or perhaps you could transfer me to the swamps of New Jersey so I can patrol the sinkhole where you were spawned..."

"I actually called you here to give you some important news." Wuntch said, gesturing to her office "Shall we?" "Of course." Hold said, and with a nod to Steve he began to follow her to her office "Wait, are you going to inform me you're a Cheuksin?" "A what?" Wuntch frowned and stopped, turning to face him.

"A Cheuksin." Holt repeated "A Korean toilet ghost, lives in an outhouse, wraps her hair around your throat and chokes you to death whilst you move your bowels." "Don’t you find this exhausting?" Wuntch sighed, walking into her office

"Thinking of fresh insults?" Holt asked following her "Not at all you coffin cave mould beetle...now tell me, what revenge do you intend on taking on Dorothy for killing your sister?" Wuntch closed the door behind them, leaving Steve unable to hear the rest of the argument which he had no doubt was continuing inside the office, and he snorted, shaking his head. Looking up he saw Fury stood in his door, a smirk on his place.

"If I didn't know Holt was gay I'd swear he was in love with her. It's like watching two school children with a crush, both being mean to one another to hide their true feelings." Fury said, as Steve stepped towards him, shaking his hand. “Nice uniform, not seen you in it for a while.” “Funnily enough the team said the same thing.” Steve said, with a good humoured sigh as he dropped into the seat Fury was directing him to take.

“Soo you must be wondering why I called you here…” Fury looked at him as he closed the door behind him, and Steve nodded.

“Well, I wanted to dig into what you said on your call yesterday.” Fury looked at him, sitting down in his chair at the opposite side of the desk “You’re having trouble locating Rumlow?”

“Sir.” Steve nodded “As I told you at the last update, we know the alleged rape case has links to both Sitwell and Schmidt, and we can link Ross to both of them too. Our next step was to go and speak to Rumlow, see if we could get anything out of him but…well, he seems to have disappeared.” Fury took a deep breath and looked at him “From Prison? That’s…inconvenient.” Steve snorted “Stark seems to think there’s some kind of conspiracy, higher up…”

“Prisoners sometimes get moved Captain…” Fury looked at him and Steve nodded.

“I appreciate that Sir, but it doesn’t explain why there’s no record of him ever being in Cedar Junction in the first place…”

“Shoddy organisation, paperwork losses…could be a number of things…” Fury said, before he dropped his voice “And if you believe that you’ll believe anything.”

Steve frowned “What exactly are you implying Nick?”

“When you called me yesterday, I did a bit of digging of my own. I was curious. And you’re right. No records of him serving time…anywhere. Ever. No records of him ever being convicted of a crime. Ever. No record of any allegations either. Ever.”

“But…how…” Steve frowned

“You mentioned Stark said something about a conspiracy…” Fury looked at him, “Let me guess who she fingered for it… Ross.”

“Yeah…” Steve looked at him, his brow furrowing even more.

“And she thinks that because of the suspected blackmail you told me about.” Fury continued, “And as crazy as that is, Rogers, it’s crazy enough to make sense, because whoever is protecting Brock has to have the power, the sway, to be able to do something like this…”

“Nick, if you’re saying what I think you’re saying…” “The way that little shit weaselled out of that rape allegation never sat well with me…nor did what happened to Stark.” Nick frowned, “I always suspected some kind of foul play. What’s more is I don’t think Ross was acting alone, I think someone in the force is involved too.”

“What makes you think that?” “Whoever coached Sitwell on that alibi did a damned good job, told him exactly what to say…and it wasn’t Rumlow because he was in a cell being questioned.” Fury looked at Steve.

“So you’re telling me the NYPD is compromised?” Steve frowned “And no one noticed?” “Why do you think we’re meeting in here?” Fury looked at him, gesturing around his office. “I noticed. And what’s more…for some reason, I believe it somehow involves Stark…” “Katie?” Steve frowned

“Howard.” Fury said.

At that Steve’s mouth fell open. He stumbled for words a little before he shook his head furiously “No, I mean…Howard’s been dead for years!”

“Yes. An unfortunate accident…whereby he choked on something…sound familiar?” Fury looked at him and Steve felt his blood run cold, was he seriously implying

“You think…you think Howard and Maria were murdered?” Steve whispered, his eyes wide.

Fury nodded.

“By our current killer?” “That, I don’t know for sure…but I’m not a huge fan of coincidences.” Fury said, looking at Steve for a moment.

“No, I can’t…” Steve shook his head, furiously, his mind whirling “That…I mean…”

He trailed off, searching for something to say, but he was utterly dumfounded. Instead he turned his eyes back onto his boss, and Fury met his stare before he looked down and reached into his desk drawer. He pulled out a silver pen drive and placed it on the desk, sliding it over to Steve.

“What’s this?” Steve asked.

“It arrived yesterday.

“What’s on it?”

“No idea.” Fury said. “It arrived simply with a note which instructed me to plug it in and key in a 4 digit number. When I did so I got a timed message. It stated that the drive contained key information that with regards to Howard, the Cereal Serial Killer, and that it was to be passed to Katie Stark only…and that she would know the passcode. When that message disappeared it simply began to run a jumble of numbers, the same numbers over and over again in different sequences. My guess is it will be a date or a combination that means something to Stark…”

“Why didn’t you just get tech to crack it?” Steve asked.

“Because whatever is on there concerns Katie.” Fury said, “And most likely her brother too, for that matter. They deserve to see it first.” “This is…this is big, Nick.” Steve sighed, and Fury nodded. At that point there was a knock on the door and his secretary poked her head in, telling Fury that his next appointment was here.

“Thanks Eva, we’re done now anyway.” Fury said, standing up. Steve looked at him, before he reached out for the pen drive.

“Trust no one Rogers…” Fury said simply as Steve picked it up of the desk, turning it over in his hands. **** Katie came back from the incident room her mind whirling over something, Bucky could tell by the way she seemed to be biting the inside of her cheek. Clint raised his head from his computer and sighed with frustration as he checked his phone once more.

"Anything on tracking down Rumlow, yet?" she asked him.

"No, he said. It's a dead end on this side. You got something?"

"Not yet..." Katie mused, “But maybe…”

"What's on your mind, Stark?" Clint asked.

"Maybe that’s why Fury’s called Steve in…” she trailed off “I know Steve called Fury yesterday before we went…before we all went home.” she corrected herself and gestured to Bucky to include him in the ‘we’. He smiled and nodded. “Maybe he has some information…” "I'm surprised you don't know where Rumlow is, Stark." Wanda quipped, earning a murderous glare from Katie. “Wasn’t he another one of you various flings?”

Clint and Natasha exchanged a glance before looking at Wanda.

"Wanda" Clint warned.

"Shut up." Natasha added.

Bucky scoffed. All right, now he was pissed. But he decided on not biting at Wanda's taunting and kept watch on Katie instead

"Ignorance is reckless. Shut up your fucking mouth, you don’t know what you're talking about." Katie hissed between gritted teeth.

"What?" Wanda asked surprised and with fake concern.

"We know exactly where he should be. In prison. For robbery. Mind you, he should actually be serving time for..." Clint started to explain was cut off by Natasha.

"Rape."

"And sexual assault." Bucky added angrily.

Clint and Natasha looked at Bucky who nodded slightly confirming what they were suspecting. Steve had told him about Rumlow and Katie.

"Who? I mean, who did he rape and...?" Wanda asked hesitantly.

"Does it matter? Why are you so fucking interested?" Katie asked back visibly angry at this point.

Bucky decided then to handle the question himself, Katie was angry enough as it was and the situation could go south any moment.

"He raped a woman called Sara Klein." he offered

"Who?" Wanda asked again.

"A translator at the German Embassy, she worked for Schmidt" Bucky explained, keeping an eye on Katie who was starting to get fed up with so much curiosity on Wanda's part, he could tell. "And assaulted..."

"Me." Katie said not letting Bucky finish.

There was silence for a minute, everyone could hear the ticking of the clock on the left wall of the main office, until Katie sighed.

"So, we can drop it now?" she asked looking at Wanda, her voice faltering a little.

"Ok. I'm going to grab a coffee from the kitchen." Clint announced. "Want some?" he asked looking at Natasha, who refused it with a shake of her head, her eyes never leaving Wanda.

There was silence for a while, Katie dropping into her chair as she bit her lip, looking down at her keyboard. No one said anything for a while, and eventually Natasha’s eyes flicked back to the pile of paper on her desk, and they all continued with their work. But Bucky had a feeling Wanda wasn't going to let it go, encouraged as she was by her advances, or so she thought on Steve and Katie receiving what she supposed to be love text messages from Storm or Jensen she surely wasn’t going to miss a chance to dig deeper into this, anything to make Katie feel uncomfortable…

And he was right as a few minutes later when Clint returned with his drink, Wanda sighed and leaned back in her chair.

“Sorry, but…didn’t you report it?” she asked, frowning.

"Of course I did." Katie raised her voice, her head not looking up from her computer. "They dropped it.” “Dropped it?” Wanda asked. “Why?”

Katie took a deep breath, but it was Natasha who answered for her. “They said there wasn't enough evidence. It was her word versus his. Same as the rape case, well, until his supposed alibi anyways." Nat explained to Wanda, shrugging at the last part.

"If Cap had gotten his way there wouldn’t have been anything left of him to go to trial anyway.” Clint mused, leaning back in his chair. “When he found out he was apoplectic, kicked the shit out of Rumlow. Both Peralta and I tried to stop him but it took Sergeant Jeffords to pull him off …”

Bucky snorted, remembering how big Jeffords was from the time he met him a few weeks back. It didn’t surprise him in the slightest, he’d seen Steve in a few fights and even before he had bulked out at University he never backed down. Throw Katie into the equation and, well…

"We should have let him break his neck, not just his nose." Clint finished, stirring his coffee.

There was a brief moment of silence everyone pondering Clint's words. Bucky saw Wanda furrow her brow at the mention of Steve beating Rumlow on account of Katie and didn't like the look in her eyes. His attention then turned to Katie and he saw she was shaking. Feeling a spike of protectiveness towards her, he decided he wasn't going to let Wanda exert more pressure on her. Over his dead body. The little bitch was starting to piss him off big time as well, and he was willing to bet Clint and Natasha felt the same way.

"Hey, why don't you take 5?" he said, standing up whilst he searched for some coins in his jeans pocket. "Here. Take this and grab us both some coffee from the machine in the lobby." he added handing her the money which she took nodding and giving Bucky a quick sad smile.

But as she passed Wanda, the assistant snapped again.

"Well, there must not be much evidence if they said it was simply your word against his…"

Katie stopped dead in her tracks and Bucky groaned.

"What are you implying?" Katie hissed turning to look at Wanda, her eyes blazing with rage.

"Oh Oh" Nat warned standing up.

"Serge, do something." Clint demanded at Bucky as he too rose from his seat.

But it was too late.

"I mean... Are you sure you didn't lead him on? Because that's what you do." Wanda delivered the final strike.

"Excuse me?" Katie snarled back. “That’s what I do?”

"Yeah to make Steve jealous. Or try anyway."

"Listen you little bitch..." Katie began to say approaching Wanda but Bucky quickly moved towards her and grabbed hold of her by her arm.

"Hey. Don't" he warned Katie.

"What?" Wanda scoffed, looking up at her "It's true. You parade all your fucking latest conquests around in some pathetic attempt to rile him in the hope that he comes crawling back to you."

At that Katie let out a bark of a laugh and Bucky saw her eyes flash as she shook her head. "I don’t need him to come crawling back, honey.”

Bucky smiled proudly at Katie's comeback and softened the hold on her arm, expecting her to stop there, leaving Wanda as confused as ever over her love life, but then Katie leaned down, placing her palms flat on Wanda’s desk and gave her a smug smile.

“Because he’s already there…”

Bucky inwardly let out a groan. Ok, she said it…way to go, you just outed yourself...

“What?” Wanda’s mouth dropped open and Katie smirked at her, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re late to the party, sweetheart…mind you, you always were a bit slow on the uptake.” Katie snorted and at that point Wanda made a noise in her throat and pushed her chair back, standing up.

Natasha made an attempt to go grab Wanda only to be stopped by Clint's hand on her shoulder.

"Don't. Let her. She deserves what’s coming…" Bucky heard Clint mutter as Wanda stepped towards Katie.

“You’re lying…” Wanda’s face slid into a smirk. “Lying so that I’ll back off because you know he’s interested in me. God, how pathetic!”

"Last weekend, you thought I was with Storm? Well breaking news. I was with Steve." Katie said coldly looking straight into Wanda's eyes letting her words sink in and erase the smirk on the other woman’s face before continuing, a grin of her own crossing her face "Actually, I was more underneath him than with him, then on top of him, then back underneath. And I would continue but I don't think you want to hear the extended version. Because, believe me, it is extended. As. Fuck." she added making a little pause between the last three words.

Wanda looked like she had been slapped and Bucky thought that was it. He could see Wanda’s body language was shifting and he didn’t trust her not to snap and lunge at Katie, so he made a smooth movement of his body to try and place himself in between them, but Katie wasn't done.

"So next time I catch you touching my boyfriend's fucking tie or any other part of him for that matter, I will rip your hand off." she continued her rant against Wanda. “Because he isn’t interested in you. He is mine…”

"When hasn't he been?" Clint mumbled, and Bucky let out a soft groan.

"In fact, if you so much as look at him in a way I don't like, I'll scratch your eyes out too.” Katie said, smiling sweetly at Wanda.

Great… Katie, not only have you just outed your relationship to the poisonous little witch, you threatened her. Twice…

At that, Bucky decided to put an end to it there and then so he moved directly in between the pair of them, turning to look at Katie.

"Ok, that's enough doll face. You made your point clear." Bucky said gently, pushing her out of Wanda's reach.

Katie held her hands up, palms open, and glared at Wanda who took a deep breath, before she turned and stormed out of the office leaving everyone else stood frozen in place. Nobody moved for a good 20 seconds until Natasha turned to look at Clint.

"Nope. I'm not going after her, you go if you wish.” He shook his head “It's not like we didn’t warn her a thousand times" he shrugged. As the two of them began to bitch, Bucky turned back to Katie and saw the realization wash over her face.

“I just…oh shit! Steve’s gonna…” she began to panic, her voice quiet. “"Oh fuck... Bucky…what did I just do?"

“Hey…” Bucky looked at her as she started to hyperventilate slightly "It's all right, doll. Just...breathe…”

"I need....I need to go." she looked at him, her eyes wide, wet with tears “I can’t be here…”

“Want me to come with you?" he asked concerned.

"No. I'm ok... or I will be. I need... I need to think, I guess.” she barely managed to say as she grabbed her purse and jacket from where they had left them, hanging on the back of her chair.

"Ok, but call me if you need anything. You hear me?" he asked and she nodded before leaving the office in a hurry.

"Shit" Bucky cursed as headed for his desk.

“Serge, she ok?” Clint asked, rising from his chair.

“No, not really…” Bucky said, snatching his phone from it, scanning through to Steve's number.

“Well, should one of us go and…”

“No.” Bucky said, shaking his head as he raised the phone to his ear “She won’t be hanging around…just leave her…”

A couple of minutes later Bucky was still, frustratedly, trying to get hold of Steve on the phone but to no avail. He must have still been with Fury. He decided he would try again after a few minutes or leave a message on his voicemail if he still didn't answer. Just as he lifted his head from the phone he saw Natasha taking $20 off Clint.

"Did you bet on them being together?" Bucky asked the pair of detectives.

"Nope." Clint answered and he wasn't lying but Bucky didn't seem to believe him as he tilted his head at him.

"We bet on who would blow cover first." Natasha quipped "I went Stark, coz ... well, coz of her…” she nodded to Wanda’s desk “and he went Cap, because he can't lie for shit."

Natasha then paused watching Bucky.

"Take it you knew." she asked.

Bucky just sighed and nodded, relieved to not having to put up with Clintasha’s scrutiny anymore. Something good had come out of all this mess.

"For fuck sake." Bucky heard Clint groan as he fished another $10 note out of his pocket and handed it to Natasha who was now sporting a smug smile.

"Told ya. Pleasure doing business with you, Francis."

Part 2

#csi rogers and barnes #csi au #steve rogers #steve rogers x original female character #bucky barnes #natasha romanoff #clint barton #wanda maximoff #nick fury #raymond holt #brooklyn 99 #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction

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searchingwardrobes · 5 years

Text

Priceless: 5/?

Here it is, finally, the chapter in which David and Mary Margaret join the Brothers Jones in their heroics! However, my favorite part of this chapter is the end where Killian jumps into action using his heart not his head. Of course, consequences will result . . .

Thanks as always to my beta, @xhookswenchx . Every time I doubt this very angsty and somewhat dark story, your enthusiasm spurs me on!

Summary: Desperate men often find themselves in places they never thought they would go, but for Killian Jones it would finally force him to be the hero is daughter always thought he could be. The job was simple: drive the truck, don’t open the back, don’t ask questions. But Killian Jones has never followed instructions very well …

An AU of the movie Priceless starring Joel Smallbone of For King and Country.

Rating: M for themes

Trigger warnings: This story is about human trafficking so there are discussions of rape and non-con, some of it involving minors. This particular chapter includes a back story for one character that ends in murder. None of it is portrayed as positive nor is it graphically described. If you have any specific questions or concerns before reading, feel free to message me.

THERE WILL BE A HAPPY ENDING, I SWEAR!!!!

Also on Ao3 and part of my movie au series Captain Swan is My Favorite Rom Com: Second Edition. There is also a first edition.

Tagging: @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @winterbaby89 @teamhook @whimsicallyenchantedrose @kday426 @thislassishooked @jennjenn615 @welllpthisishappening @let-it-raines @tiganasummertree @hollyethecurious @bethacaciakay @shipsxahoy @shady-swan-jones @cat-sophia @artistic-writer @thejacketandthehook @resident-of-storybrooke @dassala @allofdafandoms-blog @branlovestowrite @flslp87 @pocket-anon @snidgetsafan @delirious-latenight-laughs @onceuponaprincessworld @profdanglaisstuff @distant-rose @optomisticgirl @courtorderedcake

Liam pulled into the only cheap motel we could find that still had the vacancy sign flipped on. We parked and wearily headed into the lobby. Conversation seemed irrelevant under such hopeless circumstances. I understood why Emma wouldn’t leave with us, but now what?

The man behind the counter didn’t seem overly welcoming. He wore a scowl on his face and his arms were crossed over his chest as if he were showing off his muscles. That, combined with his All-American blonde, clean cut hair, made me think of the star quarterback of the school football team.

“We’d like a room for the night,” Liam told him wearily.

The man’s eyes narrowed further at us as he tipped his head out the window. “That your truck out there?”

“Um, yeah,” I told him.

“What you boys hauling?”

“What’s with the third degree?” I snapped irritably.

“Killian,” Liam hissed in a warning tone.

“It’s a simple question,” the man bit out.

“Honey, what’s going on?” a woman asked as she came out of the back office. Her dark hair was cut in a pixie style, and I could read kindness in her expression.

“These young men were just leaving.”

“Hey!” I protested. “What about the room? Your sign says you have vacancies.”

“Guess we need to fix that.”

“David,” his wife said softly, placing a gentle hand on his arm.

“Mary Margaret, do you see that truck out there?”

The woman’s expression changed the second her eyes landed on our truck. Suddenly, my assessment of her as kind and gentle didn’t seem so accurate. She looked like she was ready to take on a battle single-handedly.

“We don’t allow that kind of business in our establishment,” she said politely, yet sternly.

“There’s nothing in the truck, I assure you,” Liam told them, his voice calm.

“You’re still not welcome,” David repeated, and we could both see there was no arguing with him. “We know full well what that truck was hauling. You don’t have a motel on the outskirts of Vegas without learning a thing or two.”

“Please leave,” his wife added, and her words were full of so much authority, I was tempted to bow as I backed towards the door.

Liam sighed in resignation and turned with me to leave. We climbed back in the truck, and Liam and I just sat there in silence for a few minutes, unsure where to go next. But when David stalked threateningly out of the lobby into the parking lot, Liam hurriedly started the engine and backed the truck out of the space.

We found a 24 hour diner and spent a long, sleepless night in a vinyl booth. We ordered coffee and pie, and then around four am, we caved and bought bacon and eggs. We spoke little, weighed down with worry and guilt. I told Liam everything Emma had said while we were together, but it only increased my brother’s burden. He worried about Elsa’s illness and Anna’s innocence, as did I. Both of us felt anger as well over Emma’s bruised arms and broken spirit. Above all, we felt responsible.

The bell above the diner door jingled, and Liam’s eyebrows shot up. I followed his line of sight and saw a police officer striding to the bar. Pinned to his shirt was a sheriff’s badge.

“That’s it, Killian! We need to get the police involved.”

“Liam,” I warned, grabbing his arm as he went to stand, “you can’t be serious. Do you want the man to arrest us? Or have you forgotten that we were aiding and abetting in multiple illegal activities?”

“Who cares about that now?”

“The girls will if we’re in jail and can’t help them. I made a promise to Emma.”

Liam stood there, his gaze going back and forth between me and the sheriff. He wasn’t like me; his moral compass had never wavered. I swallowed as I released his arm.

“Okay, fine,” I told him, “but let me do the talking.”

Liam nodded grimly, and we both made our way over to the diner booth where the grizzled law officer was sipping on his coffee. I cleared my throat to get his attention, feeling like I was back in kindergarten tattling on a bully to the teacher.

“Can I help you gentleman?” he asked lazily.

“Um . . yes, we’d like to report a crime going on at the Red Lantern motel.”

He narrowed his eyes, put down his mug, and turned on his stool to fully face us. “What kind of crime?”

“Prostitution -”

“That’s the least of it,” Liam jumped in, and I pressed my eyes closed in irritation, “these girls, they aren’t doing it by choice, and some are underage -”

“Is that so?” the sheriff cut him off. His eyes glittered darkly as he regarded both of us. “And how do you two know so much about this?”

I caught Liam’s gaze, silently begging him to keep his mouth shut. “We were there to get a room,” I told him, “and saw it with our own eyes. So we got out of there.”

I pressed my lips together, refusing to turn my head towards my brother. I knew what his reaction would be to how easily lies slipped off my tongue.

The sheriff rubbed at his chin, and I couldn’t help noticing the slight uptick of his lips, as if he were hiding a smile. I grew nervous that he could see right through us, but I kept a confident expression plastered on my face.

“Well,” he said, lifting his mug to his lips, “I suppose I can look into it.”

He exchanged a glance with the man I assumed owned the diner who stood off to the side arranging donuts on a tray. The look they exchanged was almost a smirk.

“Liam,” I whispered as I pulled him out of the diner, “I’ve got a really bad feeling about this.”

“What do you mean?”

“I hope I’m wrong, but . . . we may have to fix this ourselves.

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

“What do you know about our truck?”

Mr. All American’s head snapped up at the sound of my hand slapping the top of the lobby counter. Liam whispered my name in warning behind me.

“I know,” David said calmly, bracing both hands on the check-in desk as he leaned towards me, “that I made it clear to you two that I didn’t want it on my property.”

“But you knew what we were hauling,” I argued, “those were your words.”

He narrowed his eyes at me, seeming to search my face for something. “They were.”

“Then why didn’t you call the cops?” Liam put in, stepping to my side.

If Liam’s intent was to intimidate the man, it didn’t work. He simply crossed his muscular arms and glared at us both.

“Because I knew it would be pointless. Like I said, we’ve been running this hotel long enough to know how things work around here.”

I leaned closer to him, holding out my phone with Emma’s picture on the screen. “So help her,” I said, infusing my voice with all the sincerity I could muster. Tears welled in my eyes, but I didn’t care if I looked like a fool. “Help us help her.”

“And her sisters. One’s only sixteen.”

I clenched my jaw. My brother had the subtlety of a brick, and it was going to be the death of us both.

“David,” a voice said quietly from the doorway of the office. It was the same woman from the night before. “We have to help them. I think we were meant to.”

David deflated, his arms falling to his sides. “Okay, Mary Margaret.”

She smiled up at him gently as she put her arms around him.

“Thank you,” I whispered, my words directed at her.

“The first thing you boys need to do,” David told us, “is to get rid of that truck.”

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

The sun was setting below the tops of the cheap motels in this dusty town that only boasted its proximity to the city of sin itself. The town held a few disreputable casinos, a smattering of all-you-can-eat buffets, and strip clubs.

And of course, it offered beautiful women for the taking.

My heart sank even as the sun lowered, knowing what it meant for Emma. Another night of being used as a commodity for the men of this town and its tourists. Bile rose in my throat at the thought, and my helplessness threatened to choke me.

Liam was in the room David and Mary Margaret had given us free of charge, but I was too restless. I walked across the parking lot and into the motel lobby. It offered only a cheap pot of coffee and a small TV mounted in the corner of the room, but I didn’t care. I collapsed into a chair in the corner, rubbing my forehead wearily.

“Want me to change the channel?”

I looked up at Mary Margaret who was coming around the desk towards me with a remote control in her hand. I glanced up at the TV I had barely noticed to see an episode of Fixer Upper playing. I shrugged.

“I wasn’t paying it any mind. If you were watching that, it’s fine with me.”

Mary Margaret plopped down in the chair across from me. “It’s comforting. And not depressing like the news channels. Though we keep those playing in the morning for the business travelers.”

I propped my elbows on my knees and attempted to give her a smile. She leaned forward, and it felt as if her green eyes could see right through me.

“You’re worried.”

“Of course I am! She’s out there right now -” I couldn’t finish the sentence.

“I know it’s difficult,” Mary Margaret said gently, laying her hand on my knee, “but if we make a wrong move, it could blow up in our faces. You need to give David time.”

“Emma can’t wait! Neither can Elsa or Anna! Every second we wait is one more second . . . “

I was pacing now, running my hands nervously through my hair. Mary Margaret rose, wrapping her arms around her waist.

“David won’t tell you this - I know him too well - so I will. The reason we feel so passionately about this, the reason we know these rescue groups we told you about . . . “ Mary Margaret released a shaky breath, and my heart constricted at the turmoil upon her face. “It’s because we’ve been down this road before. With our daughter.”

Mary Margaret sighed, lowering herself to the chair as if she feared her legs wouldn’t hold her up as she told the story.

“You don’t have to -”

She held up her hand to stop my words. “No, I want to. David and I were unable to conceive, so we adopted. Ruby was only two when she came to us. Her mother was in prison, I’m not sure for what, and her grandmother had just passed. I can tell you honestly, I loved her every bit as much as I would my own flesh and blood. She and David in particular had a special bond.” Mary Margaret chuckled. “She was a real Daddy’s girl.”

I sank down into the chair across from her again, and though I hadn’t known this woman long, I reached out and took her hand as she continued the story.

“She was our miracle girl, our whole world, but when she reached puberty, the fact that she was adopted became a real issue for her. We had always been honest with her, but her self esteem took a big hit in junior high. She got bullied, I think because she was an early bloomer. From the boys, it was unwanted sexual attention, which only made the girls hate her more.” Mary Margaret paused to collect herself, and I knew the worst part of the story was coming. “She met someone online when she was at her most vulnerable. Unfortunately, we weren’t even aware of it at the time. It was only after . . . “

Mary Margaret trailed off and buried her face in her hands. I wanted her to know she wasn’t alone, so I whispered what I needed to. “I have a daughter myself. My little Alice. She’s my whole world too.”

Mary Margaret looked up, squeezing my hand tighter before continuing. “Long story short, our little girl decided to meet this boy she met online. Only he wasn’t a boy . . . “

Her face contorted, and she was unable to continue. I sank to my knees at her feet, and she accepted my offered hug, crying into my shoulder. I startled at the voice behind me.

“They found my baby girl in a ditch,” David said flatly, his face pale and eyes distant, “her body broken. She was only fourteen.”

I released Mary Margaret, my breaths coming fast and frantic. I stood and paced. My fists clenched; I wanted to hit something. I turned to the Nolans. David had gathered his wife onto his lap, and they held each other as they remembered their shared grief.

“I can’t just sit here,” I told them.

“Killian,” David warned, “you don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into. You have no idea what kind of depravity you’ll see if you go down this road.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” I vowed.

David nodded. “Good.”

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

I knew what David had meant. I had to sit tight while he reached out to his contacts. One friend was a trucker who moonlighted for a rescue group at truck stops. Another was a woman who led undercover stings in “spas.” Both had further contacts throughout the Vegas area. They were promising, to be sure, but there was no way I could just wait.

I pulled into the parking lot of the Red Lantern, my knuckles turning white on the steering wheel of the Jeep that David and Mary Margaret were letting us borrow. I had another thousand dollars in my pocket, though I wasn’t sure if it would do me any good. I was burning through the money that was supposed to help me keep my daughter, but how could I ever look Alice in the face again if I didn’t make this right?

I took a deep breath and exited the car. I climbed the metal stairs, praying that Emma was working the same room as the night before. Sure enough, there was Neal leaning against the wall beside room 216. He grinned at me and let out a sarcastic laugh.

“Well, well, well, look who’s back for more.”

My jaw clenched as I tamped down my emotions. “One hour for a grand, right? For the Swan?”

The smile fell from Neal’s face. “No way, man, we’re not stupid. You think you’re the first man to think you’re in love with a prostitute? Please. The last thing we need is you around trying to play hero. Take your money and go enjoy it someplace else.”

I grasped Neal by the collar of his shirt before I could think it through. I shoved him against the wall behind him, and then another man grabbed me from behind. He shoved me towards the top of the stairs. I glanced between the men and room 216, my heart ripping in two. I remembered David and Mary Margaret warning me not to rush in, that I could put the girls in more danger if Gold figured out I was trying to free them. So as much as I wanted to storm that room, I forced myself to turn around calmly and head down the stairs. As I did, I collided with someone coming up.

“Excuse me,” I muttered out of habit.

I glanced over my shoulder, and my heart lurched in my chest. It was the sheriff from the diner. I stood there, too shocked to move, my hand clutching the metal bannister. I forgot how to breath, the world spinning as the sheriff handed Neal a wad of bills and opened the door to room 216. Everything went red then as rage filled me. I remembered what David had said - that calling the cops around here would do no good.

My feet, of their own volition, took me back up the stairs. When Neal and the other brute lunged at me, I swung. Neal hit the ground first, and with a punch to the gut, the other man tumbled backwards down the stairs. The door to room 216 wouldn’t budge, so I grabbed the fire extinguisher from the wall and slammed it into the cheap wood. The door splintered and flew open.

“Killian?”

Emma’s voice galvanized me as I swung the extinguisher at the sheriff who was in the middle of unbuttoning his pants. He hit the floor with a sickening thud. I checked his pulse, which still beat faintly, grabbed his gun from its holster, and reached my hand out to Emma, who was crouched by the end of the bed. Our hands had barely touched when I was yanked away from her, the door slamming between us.

Neal’s fist connected with my jaw, and feet pounded down the walkway in our direction. Someone fired a gun, the bullet ricocheting off the metal railing nearby. I spun in that direction, brandishing the sheriff’s gun in warning. I worried about a stray bullet going through the window where Emma was, so I darted down the stairs. Shots continued ringing out, so I turned and fired a few myself. There was no way I could get Emma out now, so I scrambled behind the wheel of the Jeep and peeled out of the parking lot.

As I sped back to the Nolan’s motel, I kept glancing at the gun lying on the passenger’s seat.

The sheriff’s gun. Shit.

#cs ff #cs modern au #cs movie au #captain swan is my favorite rom com #priceless #brothers jones #angst #dark angst

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antimony-medusa · 2 years

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DVD Commentary for Totem Of Undying Job, Chapter Six

He left the room, leaving Wilbur alone in a white space with a mirror wall. Wilbur allowed himself a single borderline-hysterical giggle and flattened his hands into the table. Save the meltdown for later. Later. For now he would watch his hand shake.

Joel came back, holding a strip of red cloth. “Follow me, and put this on.” He tossed it.

Wilbur caught it. “What is it?”

“Arm band. Telepaths have to disclose, or it’s not fair to the rest of us.” He gestured to the door.

Everyone he met was going to know and everyone was going be afraid of him. But at least he wasn’t left alone in this room. Wilbur followed him out.

And the cracks start to show in Wilbur. I mean, astute observers may have previously noticed that Wilbur has basically wallpapered over some pretty horrific damage to himself and said “i’m good to go”, but this is where he starts to notice himself struggling. Don’t worry buddy, it’s all downhill from here.

“I’m kinda part bee.”

“Compound eyes!” Charlie said, his irises behind his glasses splitting like yeast in milk. “Is that everything?”

Tubbo let the contact slide back into place. “Now, yeah.”

“Not previously?”

For someone who he’d just met, Charlie was really not letting him slide out of the conversation. Tubbo considered brushing him off, and then remembered. Ranboo. He had to make friends. “I used to have wings, and then some stuff blew up and I ran into some cringe people. I don’t have them any more.”

“I ran into some cringe people too,” Charlie said, eyes still splitting. “They put me in a jar.”

“That is cringe,” Tubbo said. “Is that all you wanted to know?”

Description is real hard for me. For someone who thinks pretty visually, when I’m trying to knock something out in words everything is vague shapes and half-formed impressions. Which is to say I am very proud of the image “irises splitting like yeast in milk” because I could totally see it and I thought it was gross.

This wasn’t hell, this was purgatory. You could earn your way out of purgatory. If you just stuck it out long enough. He was going to stick it out. Wilbur took his food to a table in the dining room for a late lunch, and watched without flinching as the people nearby looked at him, saw his armband, and left. He ate calmly and mechanically, potato salad tasteless in his mouth.

“Well, don’t you look terrible,” a voice said. A chair scraped, as someone sat down across from him.

“You’re one to talk,” Wilbur said reflexively, taking stock of the person across from him. Height on the short side, dark hair tucked under a beanie, suspenders over a white shirt of impeccable quality, blue armband (shapeshifter), subtle dark eye patch. Body tilted towards Wilbur with interest, shoulders open, gaze steady. Watchful, but not afraid. Fiddling with something in his offhand. Wilbur let a grin spread over his face. “What’s with the hat, lost a fight with a barber?” This man means no harm, he’s just keeping up with me.

“Oh my man, no one with your hair situation should be criticizing anyone else’s hair, do you even brush it?” He flipped the item, a small circular metal disk, into the air like a coin and caught it.

Quackity and Wilbur’s dynamic in lore is so fun for me. They are so similar to each other, and so opposed, and so full of rage, and if they worked together they could destroy the world, but they’re never gonna work together, are they, cause they could never agree on who’s gonna be in charge. I knew that the plot in this story though was going to involve them agreeing to work together (for ulterior motives of course), so I was going to have to transition them to a more amicable relationship. So this is the purest as-found-in-lore Quackity and Wilbur interaction we get in the fic, and it was so fun and stressful to write. I said in the notes it was “like juggling knives that hate me” and that’s another point where I get proud of my description, cause I can’t sum it up much better.

#dvd commentary #The Totem Of Undying Job

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creativemorningswashingtondc · 3 years

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A message from CMDC

What a year to be host...

CreativeMornings has shaped and changed my life in so many wonderful ways. I have made life long friends, traveled the world and found my community. In 2013 I was an aspiring writer and filmmaker seeking to find my community. Seeking to find other creatives and creative minds trying to navigate life in our unique way. I am still so grateful that a search on Tumblr led me to CreativeMornings DC. Try as one might to get the highly coveted ticket, I added my name to the waitlist. That waitlist resulted in me volunteering for the 1st CMDC birthday party and the rest as they say is history. Since 2013, I’ve been to every event but two. Became part of the event planning team in 2016 and last year I took over as host. Not an easy job to fill after Joel’s amazing eight years at the job.

While it has been my greatest pleasure to be the host of CMDC, December will be my final event. It has been a real thrill to be the host my last year as a CMDCer. I’ve learned so much about this community and myself. I feel so much good is being done but there is still more to do -- good that a new host can bring to the chapter and the city. I feel now is a good time for me to find new ways to use my voice, my time, talent and effort to make this community and this world a better place. I want to say a big thank you to my team and to you all for the years of love, the smiles and the support. I am Looking forward to this next chapter for us all. And I’ll be around if you need me. I truly wish the new host well. Most importantly, I am always sending light and love to all my CreativeMornings and CMDC family.

Sincerely, Raquel LM We’re looking for a new host in Washington DC!

In 2008, Tina Roth Eisenberg, also known as Swissmiss, started CreativeMornings out of a desire for an ongoing, accessible event for New York’s creative community. The concept was simple: breakfast and a short talk one Friday morning a month. Every event would be free of charge and open to anyone.

Today, attendees gather in over 200 cities around the world to enjoy fresh coffee, friendly people, and an international array of breakfast foods. Volunteer hosts and their volunteer team members organize local chapters that not only celebrate their city’s creative talent, but also promote an open space to connect with like-minded individuals. We call ourselves an engine of generosity and live by our manifesto.

Since CreativeMornings/DC was founded, the chapter has built a beautiful community. However, our previous host recently stepped down, so we are now looking for a replacement. Could this be you?

Does this describe you?

• You’re passionate about the local creative community in Washington, DC.

• You’re enthusiastic about leading a small volunteer team to put your own spin on CreativeMornings.

• You’re excited to participate in the global conversation among our 207 chapters (and growing!).

• You use the words “humble,” “driven,” “resourceful,” “generous,” and “connected” to describe yourself.

If so, we’d love to hear from you!

If interested, please complete our New Chapter Application and we’ll be in touch. There will be follow-up interviews for the top candidates.

We look forward to receiving your application!

— CreativeMornings HQ

P.S. Insight into what it’s like to be a host. And more insight. Okay, last one.

#cmdc

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barpurplewrites · 6 years

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A Pressing Appointment - Chapter 1

@a-monthly-rumbelling Smut: “I’m starting to think you just like me pinning you up against things, sweetheart.”

-x-x-x-

Sheriff Lacey French rolled her eyes. She’d known who would be slap bang in the middle of the fight the moment the call had come in. At her side Deputy Graham laughed softly; “Just for once it would be nice to haul someone else to the station on a Saturday night.”

Lacey snorted as squared her shoulders and hollered; “Break it up! Now!”

The angry shouts and indiscriminate heckling died down. A few people slunk away, and others casually turned back to their drinks. The heart of the disturbance became clear and an angry Scottish voice shouted a challenge to the departing crowd. Lacey stepped forward and ducked as a broken pool cue sung wildly towards her. She grabbed an elbow and twisted him into the pool table.

“Hey! Hey! I’m no causing trouble.”

The pool cue clattered to the floor and he blew his hair out of his face, twisting his head so he could give her a cheery smile that must have hurt his split lip.

“Evening Sheriff. Is there a problem?”

She couldn’t decide which was more annoying; the man himself, or the fact that even bleeding and sweaty from fighting she found him attractive. The frustration showed in her voice as she snapped; “What do you think Gold?”

“Well if that wee scrote Nottingham hadnae cheated we’d be just dandy.”

Graham was patching Nottingham up, from here it looked like he was going to need stitches for the gash on his head. She snicked the cuffs around Gold’s wrists and hauled him upright; “Same as last month then. Come on you know the drill.”

The Rabbit Hole regulars were indifferent as Gold was led out in cuffs. It was such a regular occurrence that it wasn’t worth gawping at. Lacey knew as well as everyone else that there would be no charges, and that Little John would let Gold work off the damages behind the bar. In two weeks Gold would be drinking again and then a week or so later he would kick off over something starting the cycle over again.

It drove Lacey mad. Thanks to his frequent nights in the cells she’d had plenty of conversations with Gold. He was smart, well-read and funny in a dry way. When he was sober he worked hard, but for some reason he couldn’t resist the siren call of alcohol. He’d told her once that he drank to drown his demons, but he wouldn’t expand on the nature of those demons. Getting to know the man behind the bar-brawling whiskey swigging exterior had only fuelled her attraction.

She pushed Gold against the side of the cruiser as she dragged open the door; “One of these days you’re gonna get your arse seriously kicked, Gold.”

He grinned at her and winced as the movement pulled on his split lip; “Hasnae happened yet Sheriff.”

“Yeah, luck of the Irish.”

She shoved him into the back seat and closed the door, as he shouted indignantly; “I’m Scottish and you bloody well know it!”

Lacey huffed, of course she knew, but her suggesting he was Irish, or Welsh was the quickest way to get Gold to shut up. When anyone else questioned his heritage, he was likely to start a fight, but they had an unspoken understanding that when she did it her temper was wearing thin. Tonight, she wasn’t in the mood to parry his banter.

She went back inside briefly to check Graham was alright handling the fallout, and to tell him he could head home once he was done.

As expected Gold was quiet all the way back to the station. He co-operated as she pulled him from the back of the car but dragged his feet as she steered him into the station.

“What you don’t want your Saturday night bed?”

Gold huffed at her; “Not tired yet, I’ve a full pint back at the pub, y’know,” – he shrugged, - “Well I did until I lobbed it at someone.”

Lacey unlocked the cuffs and pushed him against the bars of the cell, so she could pat him down. He twisted his head and looked at her over his shoulder.

“I’m starting to think you just like pinning me up against things, sweetheart.”

She threw his wallet on the desk behind her; “Yeah, sure this is my dream Saturday night, patting down your skinny arse and filling out forms with your ridiculous first name.”

He turned around and gave her a lopsided smile; “That one is my Pa’s fault, I hadnae a choice in the matter.”

She stepped forward to unlock the cell, but he didn’t step to the side like he usually did, so she was basically pinning him to the bars with her body. He gave her a told-you-so smirk and her last bit of patience snapped. She leaned in even closer, so they were chest to chest; “Maybe I keep pinning you against things in the hopes that you’ll return the favour and kiss me senseless while you’re at it.”

She watched his throat bob as he swallowed. What the hell was she doing? This wasn’t right, he was in custody and she had a duty of care which certainly didn’t include propositioning him. She twisted the key and stepped back.

“Inside Gold, sleep it off.”

He hesitated but walked backwards into the cell and closed the door. She didn’t look at him as she locked the cell, but she knew he was watching her, she could feel his eyes on her as she moved to her desk to start the paperwork. After a few minutes she heard the cot creak as he lay down, and not long after that there was a gentle snore. Lacey glanced up at his sleeping form and blew out a sigh. She’d had a few day dreams about letting him know her feelings for him, but this shitstorm was not one of them.

The night dragged, but finally the clock ticked around to six and Lacey tapped her keys against the bars of Gold’s cell.

“Rise and shine. I’ve got some coffee on the go if you want one.”

He shuffled his feet and darted past her; “Not this morning, thanks Sheriff.”

She watched him all but run out of the station and banged her head off the bars. Looks like he remembered everything from last night and was deeply uncomfortable about it. Fan-fucking-tastic.

Lacey was driving back into town after a call to one of the farmhouses. Mrs Shoemann had reported an intruder, which had turned out to be one of her eldest sons coming home for a surprise visit. Joel really needed to remember that his Mom was blind as a bat, always lost her glasses and could swing a frying pan like a baseball pro.

It had been a week since she had seen Gold, so when he drove past her she did a double take. What the hell was he doing driving the Game of Thorns van? She flicked the flashers on and pulled a U-turn. If he was drunk driving a stolen vehicle she was going to throw the book at him, literally.

He pulled to the side of the road carefully and stepped down from the cab.

“If this is about the tail light I’ve told Moe about it and he’s getting the van into the garage as soon as they’ve got a space.”

Lacey glared at him and stepped in close, so she could sniff his breath. He wobbled back and landed on the step of the cab.

“Have you been drinking Gold? What the hell are you doing driving? Have you stolen this van?”

He glared back at her; “No, working and no!”

She reached for her cuffs; “If you’re going to bullshit me I’m arresting you now.”

He surged to his feet and grabbed her upper arms before spinning them around and pinning her against the side of the van. She gasped, and his lips crashed into hers. There wasn’t a hint of booze on his breath, just a faint trace of coffee. It took her a heartbeat to return his bruising kiss but once she’d got her brain in gear she did so with enthusiasm.

Gold pulled back and let go of her. He was panting for breath, and still looked angry.

“I’ve no had a drink in a week. I got meself a proper job at the flower shop, and I’m working to pay Little John back for the damage. I wanted to clean me act up before I pinned ye against something and snogged ye senseless.”

She took all of that in, she need to apologise for pulling him over and suspecting the worst, but right now something else was more important. She grabbed the open neck of his shirt and hauled him into her.

“I can still think clearly, best try harder on the snogging me senseless part.”

He growled at her and lunged for her mouth. The heat was still there, but the anger had turned to passion. Lacey got her fingers into his hair and tugged his head to one side to position them better. Gold pressed against her and got one of his legs between hers. The friction was so close to being in the right place, but with their clothes in the way it was never going to be enough. She could feel him getting hard and for a crazy moment she considered reaching for his belt buckle right here on the side of the road. Reluctantly she pulled on his hair to break the kiss.

“What time do you get off?”

Gold rested his forehead against hers and gave a breathless chuckle; “I finish work at five, can be at your place by six and as to when I get off, that’s up to you sweetheart.”

Lacey grinned; “That’s going to depend on your manners, Gold.”

He pulled a face of mock hurt; “It may surprise you know I was brought up right, I know it’s ladies first,” – he pressed a teasing kiss to her lips, - “And since I’m a true gentleman, it’s also ladies second and third if I can manage it.”

It was far to tempting to drag him into the back of the cruiser and put that to the test. She took a shaky breath and gently pushed him away. He eased back with a grin on his face, which looked ridiculous since her lipstick was smeared across his lips. He was going to need a few minutes to put himself back together before he went back to work, she was going to need the same.

“Drive safe, Mr Gold. I’ll see you at six.”

The grin was still plastered on his face as he climbed back into the van. She could feel her own smile wide on her face as she waved him off and walked back to her cruiser. Tonight was going to be a hell of a lot of fun.

#a monthly rumbelling #goldenlace fic #Smut

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radishfictiononlinecheat · 4 years

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Radish Fiction Online Cheats

Radish Fiction Online Guide

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"reading as a vertical isn't going to go away," he goes on. "it's competing with vr, video games . . . But reading is an everlasting format. So how do you reinvent it on the phone?" Wattpad has had the most success so far in adapting novels for the mobile age. A toronto-based site and app that allows its mostly young, female fans to directly engage with authors and even comment on specific paragraphs, wattpad has accrued over 45 million users. As the best android emulator for gaming, memu offers you the best gaming experience. Fortnite mobile is confirmed not to be avaliable on google play, this post is about how to play fortnite mobile android version on pc with memu. All radish — free fiction & chat stories materials are copyrights of radish media inc.. our software is not developed by or affiliated with radish media inc.. Your blog is extremely a https://www.assignmenthelper.com.au/ decent stage to get enlightening posts. It is extremely an accommodating stage. I foe the whole hour but can't find a way to access radish live and missed trivia for my favorite novel... When i first got the app, i really enjoyed how different it was from others that i have had. However, it recently became more of a frustration than anything. They haven't had an event where you can earn Coins recently. For a full time grad school student, i can't afford to pay for Coins every month and valued the free events. Genres and categories included on the site are romance, ya/teen, fantasy/sci-fi, general, mystery/thriller, lgbtq+, late night, and paranormal. I have found radish's ya content to be particularly robust. Although i haven't explored the community chat rooms, the app does contain that feature if you like the ability to connect directly with authors. For voracious readers, romance and ya in particular, i really can't think of a better app that allows you to utilize your smartphone for reading. The free content within radish makes it comfortable to explore the app, and there are new and exclusive books by really exceptional authors. They'll put you out there to publishing companies and other people interested in your writing. Maybe you get an advertising contract, things like that. But i weighed the pros and cons and decided radish was the better way to go." And so in february 2016, thier began to also post his stories on radish, where the latest in his series of historical romance novels, silence is golden, has been read over 650,000 times. Thier wouldn't disclose how much money he is earning, but lee says it's a five-figure monthly income. Their latest move is the release, on march 29, of omnibus versions of several of their collected serials (all featured below). Keep an eye out at your favorite third-party digital bookseller (amazon, ibooks, etc.) For text-only collected episodes from: told over the course of four novellas, all published in 2016, this mythical medieval japanese epic features a disinherited lord, courtly intrigue with the heirs of the lotus throne, and a sorcerer who creates a mask for a young man, capturing within it the spirit of a great stag.

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