#and then one of the sets of eight just comes from 30 seconds of Fly on the Wall | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thirtysevenodddogs · 9 months

Text

Teenage Dream Ch9

MATURE CONTENT 18+

I'd made a pretty cool new cover image for this chapter, but it didn't fly with Tumblr so I'm re-using this one!

Pairings: Main-Joel Miller x Reader/You (reader has a name)

Secondary- Joel x Tess / Mentioned- Ellie x Riley, Tommy x Maria

Fic Warnings: 30/y Age Difference, Joel is 48, Reader is 18, Underage for Ch1 (reader is 17), Unprotected Sex, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Anal Play, Use of Sex Toys, Outdoor Sex, Squirting, Sex Tapes, Infidelity, Rough Sex, Spitting, Face Slapping.

Word Count: 9k+

AU-No Cordyceps Outbreak/Sarah is alive

BFD!Joel Miller

Joel Miller is having an affair with his daughters' best friend.

You can read the rest of this fic in my AO3 -> In Madness

Everything seems to just fall into place, and it feels good and right and perfect.

Wednesday morning you wake up and after getting ready for school and saying goodbye to your parents when they leave for work, you pack.

Small things, old things, things your parents won't notice are gone because they haven't been used at your house in ages, placemats and cutlery, a tiny pot and two small-is pans, two plates from a set that was mostly lost during a renovation and your mom won't use, even just for the three of you, because is now mismatched, the salad plate is gone, so are most of the bread plates, and there are only 4 soup bowls left out of the 6 there used to be, all the dinner plates are fine tho and the design is pretty, bone china with a hand-painted flower trim, they're just not good enough for your restauranteur parents anymore.

You grab a couple of glasses from the same corner of the pantry where all the rejects lie, they're cute, crystal and peach colored, which you think will match nicely with the plates you chose, and you set everything carefully into a box and load it onto your car.

And you're excited because it feels like you're building something, you can see a brief glimpse into the future, even if just for that day, having dinner with Joel using the things you chose for YOUR place, cooking meals in that pot and those pans, setting up the little dining space on the kitchen island and just being with him.

And you know he wants that too, he basically said as much when you had sent him those photos the night before, after the charity event, of the bite mark on your breast and that toy still inside of you, when you'd told him how you felt, what you wanted, and how you wished there was more evidence of him on you, of your love.

You bring your hand up to cup your breast over the crisp white shirt of your uniform, and you bite your lip at the dull ache that still lingers there. You can picture the mark he left, an almost perfect circle of green and purple bruised skin, framing the delicate little nub of your right nipple with two rows of mostly neat, straight teeth, only a tiny line out of place, where one of Joel's bottom teeth is crooked just so.

💕J: 'So beautiful baby'

He'd replied and after you sent him the second one, of you laying in bed completely bare with your pretty toy still inside of you, he had called you for the second time, and he'd talked you through getting it out and through getting you off; It had been so incredible, and when he said he loved you and that he couldn't wait to see you, to BE with you... you knew he could see it too.

Your future together.

That day, after school, you rush to the apartment and he's already there, he makes love to you in the shower on his lunch break, his hands gripping your hips so tight as he enters you from behind that you can actually feel the sting of your skin breaking under his nails, and little red-ish rivulets run down your legs staining the water.

He makes love to you again in the living room while he's "on an errand" from work, and he kisses at the tiny half-moon punctures on your hips and tells you how sorry he is, and asks you to forgive him, he makes you come eight times total, with his fingers and his mouth, and his cock.

And in between waiting for him, you start to fill up the space with the things you brought for you to share and build upon.

He makes love to you for a third time later that night, after his work day is over and just before you both need to rush back home, he takes you on your back, in your bed, deep and slow and he sends you home with whispered promises of tomorrow and that tiny little toy back inside your body.

Thursday, you pack a few more things, little trinkets that decorate your bedroom, and a few pieces of clothing, mostly short skirts and soft tops, tight dresses and cute little panties, no bras... things you know he'll like.

That afternoon you learn about edging and boob jobs, and that Joel really REALLY likes it when you suck on his balls.

He comes all over you, so hard and soooo much, thick and sticky and hot, it's the sexiest thing you've ever done, and the way he looks at you like you're the most wonderful thing he's ever seen, it makes you feel almost powerful, lying in bed covered in his cum.

He asks you if he can take a photo and after you say yes, he shows you how to move and how to pose for him and he showers you with praise for your beauty and how you are "...such a good girl, baby".

He films you giving him a blowjob, the second one you give that day, and when he comes, this time into your mouth and down over your chest, he tells you that you are beautiful and that he loves you "...so much pretty girl, You're so fucking perfect" and then he cleans you up in the shower, careful and patient and sweet, and he trails soft tiny kisses and small little love bites down your neck and over your torso, leaving little marks all the way down to your mound.

It's the most beautiful thing.

On Friday, he sends you a message early in the morning just as you're stepping out of the shower to get ready for school, a sleepy selfie leaning over on his side, still in bed. He's shirtless and he looks so gorgeous, his wavy hair fluffy and all over the place, and there's a full dimpled smile on his face.

Your heart beats so hard you think it might just come out of your chest.

💕J: 'Can't wait to wake up with you baby. See you tonight. I love you.'

You look at the fading bite mark on your breast and the trail of hickeys that go all the way down from your neck to your belly and stop right at your perfectly trimmed pubic hair, and the small half-moon shaped indents of his fingernails on your hips. All of it proof of his desire, of his love.

It's everything you never knew you wanted.

You're branded and claimed.

And all HIS.

Joel is in pain.

After he snaps the photo and sends it to you, he flops back down onto the mattress with a grunt, his body is protesting every single movement he makes, his thighs burn, his shoulders are throbbing and his lower back is stiff, he feels like he ran a marathon with no training and no warm-up and THEN, at the finish line, he got run over by a semi.

You are so beautiful and perfect and enthusiastic, and he really does love everything about you, from your curves to your scent to the way you taste, and the way you make him feel like he's untouchable and invincible when he makes you come undone. You make him feel strong and virile and YOUNG, every time your body is perched on top of his, every time your legs spread open to let him in, every single time you let him bend you over... Fucking fireworks.

Right now tho, he does not feel young, not in the least. There are no fireworks.

He swears even his eyeballs hurt when he opened his eyes at exactly 7 am, his alarm going off with an incessant harrowing ringing.

"Fuuuuck!" he groans, actually whining a little, low in his throat as he brings his heavy arms up to press against his eyes, willing the ache to subside. "I'm too fucking old for this shit" he murmurs into his empty bedroom and sighs, putting his arms back down and gathering as much strength as he can to just sit up and shuffle to the edge of the matres.

And he wasn't exaggerating, he really does feel like death, a pinch on his back forces a cry out of him and his hand shoots back to press against that spot just above his ass where he's sore the most.

He stands up slowly, both of his knees making alarmingly loud cracking noises, and don't get him wrong, he's in good shape, he may not work out in the traditional sense, but construction work is no joke and even tho his job is mostly managerial and administrative nowadays, he still keeps himself active on every site he works, but this? This is the kind of pain and soreness that comes from actual strenuous activity, like weight lifting and running laps, and... having ridiculously acrobatic sex with an incredibly flexible and exuberant eighteen-year-old for three days straight.

He's pretty sure he's broken his personal record of how many times he could make a woman come in a single session.

He stretches and sighs at the small relief it gives him when his back and his neck crack, more intentionally than his knees had done, and he just stands there for a minute, he takes a deep breath and lets it go, and he feels every single one of the thirty years he has on you, weighing heavily on his shoulders.

He shakes his head in resignation and grabs a bottle of Naproxen from his dresser. He throws his head back and swallows 4 tablets dry, and he knows it's more than the recommended dose, but he NEEDS it.

The pain finally starts to ebb away around noon, but he has bigger problems by then, and lately, he's been wondering if Tess's dad is actually right and if he's just fucking incompetent at his job, because it seems like he keeps hiring morons who do more damage than any good at all, and it fucking pisses him off because he had a plan, he'd made a promise, and now that's broken.

The day goes from bad to worse when the client sends in the budget report and tells him to start making cuts, they're already shorthanded as it is thanks to the fuck up with the electric last month, but there's really no way around it, he's already changed to the cheapest suppliers he could find that still had top quality materials, and he's made as many deals as he thinks he'll be able to do, in fact, he's pretty sure that if he asks for another "friends discount" he's gonna start losing friends... Fast.

By the time he finally manages to crunch the numbers enough that he only has to let go of 3 people, it's already half past 11 pm, he's tired and worn out and the aching in his body is back with a force, all he wants to do is go home take a hot shower and have a drink before crawling into bed next to you.

And he's so out of it and weary that he doesn't realize until he's parking into his own driveway that when he thought of home and you, he was picturing you at his house, in his bed waiting for him, and not that stupid fucking apartment.

"Goddamn it!" he hits his steering wheel so hard he bends his wrist, and that's just another ache to add to the growing list, he still wants a drink so he might as well add something to the place since you've taken it up on yourself to start decorating, he leaves the engine running and gets out of the truck just long enough to take a piss and grab two unopened whiskey bottles from his liquor cabinet.

When he gets to the apartment it's close to one, and he tries to be as quiet as he can when he opens the door, he's not even sure you're going to be there at all, he had already fucked up by not making it by 6 like he had promised you.

And he didn't know he was actually holding his breath until it all comes out in a rush when he opens the door and... there you are.

He feels his heart shatter at what he finds, the kitchen island is perfectly set up for two, with the pretty plates and glasses you had shown him so proudly on Wednesday, and there's even a tiny vase holding flowers, he sets down the whiskey and his keys right next to it and when he walks further in, he can see you more clearly.

So fucking gorgeous, lying on your belly on the sofa, he can't see your face yet, but your toned shapely legs are fully exposed, the little dress you're wearing riding up your thighs enough to even give him a peek at your perfect perky ass, clad in lacy panties.

There's a sharp pang deep inside his chest, because you clearly had been waiting for him, and he can picture you so eager and excited, and as he breaths in he notices that the apartment has a faint sweet and savory scent to it, and looking at the perfectly set counter top he can gander a guess that you didn't even eat whatever it is that you had cooked, and it's all his fault.

You are so fucking perfect, and he couldn't even give you this one night, your first full night in here, together, and he ruined it.

"I'm so sorry baby" he whispers as he moves closer to you, and he really should take a shower, he's all dusty and covered in grime, but you just look so fucking tempting, innocent and beautiful and soft, and he owes you an apology.

As he reaches you, he's overcome with emotion at how striking you really are, your cherub-like face is illuminated by the light coming in from the balcony window, and you look almost ethereal, relaxed, and still in your sleep.

Your eyelashes are so long and dark and your lips so plump and shiny, so fucking pretty. The spray of freckles under your left eye and the beauty mark that sits at the tip of your nose, make you look almost unreal like he made you up in his head. Your face drives him crazy, even more so than your body, because you truly are the prettiest woman he has ever laid his eyes on.

And he wonders if it is that all of your beauty has only just blossomed, or if maybe he just never allowed himself to notice it before because you were still a child when he met you. That first night four months ago when you came to him. you had opened his eyes and it was like a switch flipped and gone was the child, and in her place stood a fully formed woman, virtuous and shameless, begging to be taken by him.

He wants to take you now, he always feels hungry when he's with you, never sated, never full, he just wants to take and take and take once more, the minute he'd seen you lying there, even among his regret at failing you, his cock had still stirred to life, and it was now hard and aching, throbbing inside his pants as he reaches out to caress your legs with his fingertips, dragging them all the way up to the edge of that pretty dress, and he bends down, in front of you now, to kiss at your forehead softly.

"Baby" He whispers, pushing your hair back out of your face, kissing your cheek next "Baby wake up", he nuzzles his way down to your lips, and not even the tightness on his back or the dull ache of his knees as he slowly goes down into a squat, stop him from taking your lips with his "Jenna" he murmurs against them, and hearing your name seems to do the trick as you start to respond, your lips pressing back against his, his hand now completely under your dress groping at your ass.

"Hi sweetheart" he pulls back just as your eyes flutter open and you smile at him, still way too lost in your sleep, but it's enough for him to take as an acknowledgment of his presence when you kiss him again "Hey pretty girl" his voice is still low and soft as he kisses your cheek again and slowly gets up from the floor, leaning over kissing your shoulder now, moving the strap of your dress just a little bit to kiss at a beauty mark and then a little lower on your back.

You groan as he kneels on the couch behind you, and spread your legs slightly just to give him enough space, a little more awake now, conscious of his intentions as you look at him over your shoulder, even if you haven't spoken yet.

He stares back into your sparkling sleepy eyes as he pushes your dress up higher over your back and cups your ass "I'm sorry I'm so late baby" he pleads with you, lowering his head to kiss at the small of your back and then lower still, planting his lips atop the lacy edge of your panties, his fingers digging a little between your cheeks, spreading you open so the material falls in between the mounds of flesh, so he can bring his tongue over it and as close to your tight little asshole as he can.

"Aahh... Mmmm" You moan and turn your head to look at him again, but you don't tell him to stop, you just get comfortable, and it is so, sooo beautiful how open you've become to the pleasures he's shown you, he loves eating your ass, and you enjoy it more and more each time. You spread your legs wider as he pushes more firmly against you through the soft green lace "Mmm I'm gonna take your panties off baby, wanna taste you" He groans, and you just lift your hips as he does, pulling the material off and down your legs slowly, leaving a trail of little kisses as he goes, letting them drop to the carpet before diving back between those ripe, tight curves, to savor you.

And it's fucking delicious, more than any meal you could prepare, eating you may not be sustenance for his body, but it is for his wanton soul.

Eating you feeds his lust.

You're panting and moaning at each swipe of his tongue, his hands gripping your thighs now holding you open and his tongue dipping down to explore your dripping core, licking at your essence before going back to run little circles around your tight furl.

It feels so good, the heaviness of sleep is still all around you, and his hands are so rough, yet they touch you with such tenderness, it feels dreamy like you're floating and he's the ocean crashing into you while still cradling your body in his waves.

He groans as he pulls off after a few minutes, and you haven't come yet, you're not even close, but everything feels incredible, like nothing you have done before, it's slow and tender and soft and loving and it makes you feel warm and wanted, he starts trailing kisses over the curve of your butt, whispering about how sweet you taste, how amazing you are, and how sorry he is for making you wait, he makes his way back up kissing over your back through the soft cotton of your dress, all the way up to your shoulder and you can feel the heat of his body as he shifts and moves, not pressing down on you, not yet, but still close covering you completely.

"Turn over baby", he says right against your ear, sucking on it for just a second before moving back down to kiss your shoulder, and then he's not over you anymore, and you hear the soft metallic hiss of his zipper followed by the heavy thud of his jeans hitting the ground, and you're still cradled in those waves in between sleep and awake, your body heavy and warm and comfortable, so you look at him over your shoulder and you pout a little, spreading your legs, still lying prone on that comfy spot.

He snorts softly and chuckles "Come on sleepy girl", he says softly, returning to the couch, his hand going down to play where you're the hottest, a long thick finger entering your body "Mmm... " you moan and roll your hips slow, just once and he laughs again, you don't really feel like using your voice, everything is perfect and quiet and still, even his voice is a barely there whisper every time he speaks.

"Mmm you're so beautiful my love" his body is pressing down on you now and he's speaking into your ear again, his finger deep inside of you, moving softly but never pulling out, rubbing at the spot inside that he knows how to find so well, to make you go crazy "Let me see you baby, turn over for me" he kisses your cheek and then your lips when you turn your head towards him "Let me have you sweet girl"

And you do, he helps you turn around onto your back, taking his finger out of you tenderly, and shifting slowly and carefully so he's right between your legs still, and as you settle back into that warm spot, he takes your mouth in a deep kiss, bringing both of his hands to your shoulders, to slide the straps of your dress down, pulling at it until you're left completely bare but for the flimsy material bunched up around your waist.

You gasp as he licks at your breast and sucks a nipple into his mouth, his fingers now rubbing your clit, everything is still soft and slow and clouded in that dreamlike feeling, "Oooh..." you moan when you start to feel the heat bubbling up in your belly, your hands wrapped around his neck, caressing his face and his hair as he moves lower and lower, your belly tightening and your first orgasm of the night washing over you just as his mouth opens over your pussy and he sucks you in "Aahh... " you're breathing hard and labored now, your hand still on his head, and he's eating you out like a man that's been starving.

You come again, a sharp little gush of liquid squirting into his mouth while his tongue is inside of you, and that has been happening all the time now, at least twice a day he's made you squirt, soft and small spurts like this some times, hard and endless streams others.

It's incredible every time.

You're beyond moans now, groaning and crying in ecstasy as he makes you come again, and he speaks softly into you, his lips still against your opening, right before he makes his way back up your body, following that trail of the fading marks of his love, sucking and nibbling, almost like he's making sure they'll stay there.

And if you could you'd will them to become permanent.

To be forever on you, as you are forever his.

"Oh fuck yes! Love this pretty pussy" he groans against you as another little spurt of the sweetest ambrosia gushes into his mouth, your lips down here are so lovely, flushed, and puffy from his endless ministrations, and he can see the pulsing and clenching of your core from all the stimulation, it's beautiful, you're beautiful and he WANTS more.

He wants it all.

He moans as he starts kissing his way up your body, your fleshy thighs first, right where they cradle his head, and then up higher to your hip, and he follows the pink-ish purple trail of bruises on your skin, his cock leaking at the sight, it had actually gotten harder when he first flipped you over and saw his marks on your skin, so fucking pretty.

He comes to a stop right at the first one, just over your mound and he sucks down on it, making the mark darker, and it gives him a little bit of a thrill, because when he looks just off to the side, he can see that little smiley face tattoo that you share with his daughters, and he knows deep down that what he does next is a little fucked up because he does it out of jealousy. He bites down around that smiley face and sucks, hard, almost knawing at the skin, and he wishes he could replace their mark with his, he wishes that your skin belonged only to him.

After he makes sure all his little marks are reignited, he finally reaches your lips, and you're still so pliant and lazy with sleep, but you kiss him back so eagerly. "I love you so much pretty girl" he whispers, and each time he says it, it rings more true. He swallows your moan into his mouth as he brings a hand down between your bodies to position himself just right, and with one hard thrust, he's inside of you.

Half dressed and still covered in dust, you take him in, you let him have you.

It's like nothing he has ever felt before, it's so slow and nice and warm, your kisses are sweet and sloppy, his hands take their time exploring your body and yours grip at his hair and his shoulders and his arms, and it's so different, he wishes he had the right words to describe it but he can't find them.

Beautiful, perfect and amazing, even monumental... all of them inadequate.

The way you look right now, it's so breathtaking he actually stops just for a moment to take it all in, his arm holding your leg up over his shoulder, his hips pushed into you so close, his cock so deep inside your heat, you open your pretty doe eyes and look straight into his and he needs to make sure it's real, that YOU'RE real and that he isn't just making it all up in his head.

His hand reaches out to touch your face, his fingertips just barely gracing your lips, and it almost feels like reverence.

He starts thrusting in earnest now, lowering his body over yours to cover you completely, he needs to feel you as close as he can, have as much of you as he can get, and it feels so urgent, even in this quiet glorious moment where the only sound that permeates the room is his flesh slapping against yours, his harsh breath and your moans. He touches his forehead to yours, never breaking eye contact.

All the aches, and pain, and the anger and frustrations of the world outside are gone, he doesn't feel tired, he doesn't feel old. You've made him whole again, new, just like you do every single time he's with you.

You are divinity wrapped in innocent youth and sinful pleasure, and this is his time of worship.

And he does, worship you, from inside out and head to toe, he lavishes all the love he never thought he'd get to have or give again onto you, on your back, and on your knees, and from below, your body moving and arching and bending into every position so perfectly, so beautifully. You give yourself over to him so wholly.

He loses his shirt at some point, and he tears your dress off of your body, your fully naked forms coming together over and over and over, he's never had sex like this, never felt like he was melding into another person so completely, he has no idea where his body ends and yours begins.

You are both now covered in sweat, and the heat feels almost stifling, but he can't stop, he doesn't want it to end, he's never felt this good.

The stirring of his orgasm starts rolling from the tips of his toes, and it's almost like he can feel every single muscle spasm, his toes are curling and his knees are locked, his thighs and his ass start to tense up and he's thrusting into you so hard now. Your moans had long turned into whines and whimpers, and your pussy has been clenching, dripping, and gushing almost nonstop, your nipples are stiff and peaked as he sucks on them, and he knows he's soo so close.

Hoe doesn't want to break the spell of the deep intimate silence with his voice, so instead he takes your mouth in his as he reaches his peak and you both cry in the brief agony of ecstasy as he spills inside of you, long hot spurts, deep into your core, as much as he can, as long as he can give it to you.

He pushes all the way in then, rolling his hips against yours until his dick starts to go soft and he can't thrust anymore, he stays there, cradled in your arms, his head against your chest as you both try to catch your breath.

It's the sweetest embrace.

You wake up the next morning wrapped up in his arms, his hand softly cupping your breast and one of his muscular legs thrown over both of yours, and you can feel the warmth of his breath against the back of your neck, and the weight of his flaccid sex resting against your thigh.

He is so much taller than you, broad and strong, and you feel so safe in his arms, warm and protected and loved.

You wiggle a little and turn over, he groans and shifts his body to lie flat on his back, an arm stretched out under your pillow, and the hand that was holding you now resting on his bare stomach, he's so fucking good-looking, you feel so lucky some times that a man like him wants you the way he does, and you love just staring at him.

He's told you a couple of times how he likes to watch you when you sleep, and right now, you can understand why. When he's still you can take your time and really, REALLY look at him, his face relaxed in sleep, with none of his usual frown lines marring it, his beautiful pouty lips slightly parted as he snores softly, his sun-kissed skin so soft and perfect, a smattering of freckles over his shoulders and his well-defined chest, even the little tufts of coarse hair around his nipples and running down from his navel and over the tiny little pouch of his soft belly are beautiful to you.

And even tho sometimes it doesn't show, right now you can really see his age, in the rough patches of his labor-worn skin, the wrinkles around his eyes, and the salt and pepper color of his hair... ALL of his hair.

He is so hot though, ever since he had moved to town with Sarah and Ellie, you could hear women whispering and gossiping about him, girls at school, ladies at church, even your mom had once mentioned how 'Those Miller men sure have good genes...' when you'd run into Joel and Tommy at the grocery store, which from her was as much an admission of attraction as anything, she'd laughed that funny fake laugh she always used in public when they had greeted you, and in a hushed joke whisper she'd told you not to tell your father that she'd said that.

And now you get to have what they all want, and it makes you giddy because you know that he wants you back just as badly.

You're careful, as you lay a hand over his chest, and slowly, so slowly make your way down, your eyes briefly looking up at his face just to make sure he's not awake yet, and then back down to follow the path your hand is taking, and you bite your lip as you reach that flat skin at his hips, framed by the hint of a V shape that tells of a body that was once very toned and is now beautifully comfortable, you can see the shadow of well-groomed pubic hair under the crisp white sheet, and the shape of his penis, still soft but not any less impressive.

Even though you don't really have much to compare it to, you know he's much larger than the boys you'd been with before, thicker too, and you start to feel hot just at the memory of when he first entered your body, in his bed, kneeling behind you and reassuring you as he pushed in slowly, and how full you had felt once he was all the way in.

You lick your lips as you pull at the sheet to reveal more of him, you can already feel the moist slick gathering between your legs as you press them together, just the sight of him is amazing, and it is so nice looking too, handsome just like the rest of him, uncut and perfect, lying a little curved and to the side on top of his balls.

And even soft as he is right now it's almost as long as the back of your hand as you let it rest over that spot where his hip meets his thigh, your fingertips gracing over the curls that surround his manhood, scratching and tugging softly at the hair as you let them explore.

You leave your hand there, flexing and stretching your fingers in an absentminded caress, next to where his body is the warmest, and you tilt your face up again to look at his face once more before nuzzling into his side and closing your eyes again, just resting but not sleepy enough to go back to sleep.

You just want to enjoy him, and this moment.

Last night, you had felt disappointed when he didn't show up by 6 as he had promised, and when your texts went unanswered you'd felt a little sad, but you figured something must have gone wrong at work, and besides, you hadn't told him your plan, he didn't know about the dinner, or that the dress he'd torn off was brand new, or the whole evening you had planned, with a movie and a game, just like you had done back at the cabin.

And he had apologized to you in such a wonderful way, he had never made love to you like that, so sweet, and soft, and slow, it was so incredible, the way he could make you feel, you're sure no other man on earth makes love like Joel Miller, there is just no way, he had been so full of passion, tender and rough at the same time, it had almost felt like an out of body experience, every time he moved and shifted your body into the position he wanted, a new sensation arose that you had never felt before.

Every touch of his hands and his mouth had felt like electricity, shooting sparkles all over your skin, and every orgasm had been so full that by the time he had finished inside of you, the fogginess of pleasure was such that you didn't even know if it had been multiples or just one that was so long and intense it left you tingling and gushing all over the couch cushions.

You're pretty sure that particular piece of furniture is completely ruined.

And later in the shower when he'd apologized again and told you what had happened, you had understood, happy to have been right, his work was hard and stressful, so it was ok. You knew he didn't mean to let you down or make you sad, he just worked really hard.

You had shown him your compassion and your understanding, and your love, by taking his softening member which was still covered in your essence, into your mouth and you'd brought him to his second climax of the night... or early morning you should say, because it was almost 3 by the time you dried off and got into bed.

And you're not really sure what time it was when his kisses and caresses had woken you up, but it felt like hours that you had been tangled up in each other, sharing your love.

As your head settled on your pillow, just before you'd drifted back to sleep, he had promised that it would never happen again, not ever. And you have no reason to doubt him, he's done nothing but be good to you, loving and caring and kind.

You open your eyes again, staring at his chest as it rises and falls with each breath, and for a brief moment, you let a little stormy cloud cast its shadow over you when you remember that he still hasn't broken up with Tess, but you shake it off and remember that it's only been a week since he confessed his love to you, so he hasn't broken that promise either.

He's gonna do it, you're sure of it, he just needs time.

He's breathing softly above you now, and you smile because this part right here, his body against yours warm and relaxed in sleep, is what you have been craving. You move your hand from where it's resting next to his crotch and bring your arm fully over his torso, holding on to him.

Making love with Joel is amazing, but cuddling into his body and sharing his bed, YOUR bed, is even better. This is what love songs and romance movies are all about, that last scene, the most powerful line when the one night stands and the forbidden loves turn into deep cuddles and meaningful kisses, perfect everlasting smiles as the curtain drops and the music fades.

It's everything you want with him.

You turn your face and lay a kiss on his side, and you picture days of mornings just like this, a week, a month, a year... A lifetime.

You picture your future with Joel, a sparkly ring, a white dress, traveling the world, and a BIG round belly heavy with his child, and in your fantasy, you forget all about his family and yours, in your wishful hope nothing stands between your love, in this early morning daydream, you are in a relationship, you're not a dirty secret, you're not the other woman.

In your movie, he loves you forever, In your love song everything works out, next to him, is the place you are meant to be.

Joel wakes up to the feeling of a soft tickle against his ball sack.

He opens his eyes slowly to find you laying on his chest, your small delicate fingers playing with the hair that covers his scrotum, and a faraway look on your face, and he's sure you haven't noticed he's awake, so he just watches you and it's so fucking cute, your expressions are so open and he marvels at the way your soft little smile turns into a pouty frown just for a moment, and then it's back, bright and pretty, and your hand stops its playful little dance at his groin, and then you're just holding him, closing your eyes and nuzzling into his side.

He smiles when you kiss the skin just under his armpit.

You're so fucking beautiful.

"What's going on in that pretty head of yours sweet girl?" he asks softly while he pulls his arm from under your pillow and wraps it around your body, and he laughs at the way it jumps when you get startled at the sound of his voice, your pretty tits jiggling and bouncing against his side.

"JOEL!" You cry and slap his chest softly, tilting your face up and pouting at him "You scared me" you whine, and that's new... and he thinks it should make him feel weird that the baby voice is turning him on a little.

"Aww I'm sorry baby" he chuckles, tightening his hold on you and using two fingers to keep your face tilted enough to get to your lips "Mmm" he moans when you part them instantly to suck his tongue into your mouth.

"You just looked so beautiful, all deep in thought", he says once you break the kiss, letting your head go back to its resting place on this chest.

"I was thinking about you", you say softly, your fingers are tracing patterns on his belly now, and he sometimes feels a little self-conscious of that part of his body, like he gave up, failed himself somehow when he let go of the tight sixpack and settled into his aging body.

He doesn't feel like that with you, in your hands, the soft flesh doesn't feel like failure. The way you will sometimes just hug him and rub at his belly actually makes him feel good about it, makes him feel good about being a little bigger, and he loves the way you like to explore his body, to play with him, he loves teaching you how to please him, and he loves letting your curiosity guide your hands like it's doing now.

"What were you thinking about me?" he asks, and he closes his eyes letting himself bask in the feeling of your curious little fingers as they move lower, almost back to where they were when he had woken up, tracing those soft patterns from his belly down to his hip.

"I was thinking that you have a really, REALLY big cock" he smiles at the little giggle that comes out of your lips every time you use a 'dirty' word in bed, and he opens his eyes to see you biting your lip and looking down at where your hand is inching it's way closer and closer back to his groin. "Hhm You think so?" he asks, and this really isn't how he pictured your first morning in this bed was going to be like, but he's not complaining.

"Yup" Your fingers are dancing over his dick now, a barely there touch of your fingertips, running from where the bulbous head is peeking slightly out of his foreskin and all the way back up, to the soft curls at his base, and is not really enough to stir much out of him, but it still feels good. "I was thinking of when we first made love, in your bed, and how it felt when you were pushing inside. Do you remember?" you take him softly in your hand and move his member so it now lays limp over the nest of his curls, resting against the curve of his lower stomach.

And while he wouldn't exactly call your first time together making love, it at least didn't feel like a mistake anymore and if you wanted to remember a fast, dirty fuck that way, he won't deny it to you.

"I could never forget that, baby", he says, his fingertips joining yours now in their little dance, tracing their own soft patterns down your arm and over your back, and it's like you're both still caught in the quiet spell of the night before, speaking in hushed whispers, coming together slowly, tenderly.

No other woman before has taken this much time to lavish such attention to his cock either, and he's amazed that at 48 he gets to have some first times still. You give him so much.

"It hurt a little bit", You say softly, your index finger now making its way all the way from his tip down to the fleshy, loose skin of his ball sack, and all of a sudden you turn your face back up to look at him again "Not bad!" you tell him, in a rushed breath, and you only settle back down into the little spot you have carved for yourself against his body once he gives you a small nod and a smile of understanding, because he remembers that part too, how you went a little still, tensed up at the first push of his engorged tip into your tight little passage.

"The guys I was with before, they didn't feel like you" you go on.

And he knows that too, he remembers the almost jealous feeling in his gut when he first discovered you were not untouched, kneeling halfway down his staircase, his nose getting that first wif of your decadent scent, his tongue lapping up the sweet elixir of your precocious youth, and his fingers sliding into you so... easy.

Not his cock tho, that, you had really felt.

Your hand starts moving with a little more purpose now, your fingers griping and pushing at his foreskin, making the spongy head pop completely out, moist, and exposed to the chill of the room.

You make him feel so fucking wonderful.

"How do I feel when I'm inside of you baby?" he asks, he really wants to know where this is going, and he wraps his arm around you now, his fingers tracing their patterns against your hip, there is no rush, and he just realized as well, that while there's heat gathering in the pit of his stomach, and the hum of want is starting its vibrations, his dick's not really gonna be doing much for him... or you, this morning.

"Good" Your voice is all but a whisper, as you wrap your hand around him "Big and hot" You start stroking him now, he's only half hard and he knows that's how he'll stay, but it's still so good "Mmm yeah? You like it when I'm inside of you baby?" he asks and you just nod, pulling on his foreskin a little bit, rubbing it between your fingers like he had taught you how to do, and after a few moments of pushing and pulling and stroking, you look back up at him with a frown and a pout on your pretty lips.

"Am I doing something wrong?" You are so fucking sweet, he smiles down at you and shakes his head "No baby, I'm just tired, but it feels really nice" He brings the hand that had been resting at his side, up to your face, and he cups your check while you look at him "Some times this happens pretty girl, and it's ok, I still love your hands on me" he pulls you closer and tilts your face up to kiss that little pout away from your lips and he whispers against them "Go on sweet girl, tell me how it feels when we make love" and that's the first time he's used those words out loud when you're together, but he knows that's what you want it to be, so it's not just sex or fucking anymore, not ever again, not with you.

"It feels so good Joel", you say, and kiss him back and it amazes him that you keep touching him, stroking his mostly flaccid cock so carefully, so lovingly.

You spend the morning like that, talking and kissing and caressing each other, holding your bodies close and bringing each other over into a different kind of pleasure, and the look of wonder on your face when you still make him cum even in his current state makes the moment all the sweeter.

And he can quietly admit to himself while he watches you lick at the mess on his belly, that he's well and truly head over heels in love with you.

And in his head, he starts to formulate a plan, because he wants this, he wants you.

For a looong, long time.

Last week changed something.

You're not exactly sure what it was, at which moment it occurred, but you feel the shift, you feel it in the way Joel looked at you all through Saturday and well into Sunday, in the way his touch lingered more and more, in how he talked to you, and how he kissed you.

You notice it in the days that have followed, in the way that afternoons spent making love have turned into afternoons where you share meals and have conversations, in the way you realize that you didn't actually know Joel at all, and in the way you're starting to.

Little things, like how he doesn't like the taste of mayo and how he can smell it on a sandwich from 5 feet away, or that he hates the way that bar soap feels on his skin and that he actually uses proper face wash.

You learn that sometimes he just wants to lay down on the floor as soon as he arrives on his 3 pm lunch breaks because his back is killing him, and his knees ache, and how it makes him happy when you lay down next to him just because you want to feel him near, he doesn't say anything about it, but you know because when you turn your head to look at him, from his shoulder or his belly or his chest, your most favorite spots on his body to lay your head on, there's a big dimpled smile on his face.

You learn about the big things too, like his divorce, and how Olivia had walked out on him years and years before, leaving him with two crying toddlers to raise on his own, and he tells you about Ellie, who you are shocked to learn is actually Joel and Olivia's niece, adopted after her brother and sister-in-law had passed away in a freak accident while on vacation when Ellie was just one year old. He tells you about the happiest day of his life when Sarah was born, and he got to hold his baby girl in his arms for the first time.

He tells you about Tess too, about how they met through Maria, only a few months after her husband had died, and about how she never made him feel the way that you do, not even once, but he also tells you that she's a nice lady, who's been nothing but good to him, and you know he doesn't want to hurt her, so you tell him it's ok when he asks you to give him a little more time to break up with her.

And in exchange, you tell him things too, even if you feel a little funny at the way you are so far apart in experience, your life is so free of any real worries and stressful problems, but he never makes you feel like anything you tell him is unimportant, he listens to you talk about how pressured you feel to get into a good school because your parents have worked so hard to give you every opportunity, and he gets excited for, and, with you when you tell him all about your secret dreams of becoming a Pre-K teacher, and he holds you when you cry after a girl at school had been mean to you, and he soothes you and he peppers your face with little kisses when you tell him how sad it makes you that you can't talk about him with your friends, that you can't tell them how happy you are, how happy he makes you.

And you tell him about all the naughty things you think about him now, and all the naughty things you used to think about him before you'd really met, you tell him how he gave you your first orgasm when you were only just fifteen and still learning how to touch your own body, you tell him how it was his face you saw, the first time you pushed the thick handle of your hair brush into your pussy, and about how the first word you ever moaned when you were lost in pleasure was his last name because you didn't know his first name yet, and he chuckles and teases you about how you can call him Mr. Miller any time...

And he never makes you feel small, or dumb, when you ask him about things that you don't understand or that you're curious about, and he's so patient and so kind when he explains them to you.

And he teaches you so much every single time you make love, about your body, and about his, and about all the ways in which you can make each other feel good, even during those times when it takes him a little longer to recover, and during those when he doesn't recover at all.

You learn more new terms and what they mean like creampie and soft cock play, and double penetration, and he shows you how to use all the little goodies you had finally shown him from the sex shop, and every day he gets out his little toys with the heart-shaped gems and he does that thing that he likes to do the most and that still makes you blush like crazy.

And he gets you ready.

He lets you call him your boyfriend, while you pose for him so he can take pictures, and he laughs and kisses your cheek while you sit on his lap and change his contact name on your phone for the third time, and he lets you change your own in his.

You make little videos together now, so that you can watch, your phones in your hand or set up on the dresser, or the table, once even, next to you on the kitchen floor, and you try to be careful, only from behind, or bellow the neck, never saying each other's name or showing your face, and it's sooo hot, that neither of you thinks about the risks.

You love each other fully, on that 5th floor, between those four walls, behind a closed door.

And everything is perfect.

He's so fucking scummy.

Really that's all he can think about, his back is sweaty and his hands are slipping and his breath is heavy and harsh, panting from the exertion of repetitive movement, and there's so much noise, too much noise really, bouncing off of the walls. Squelching and slapping, and squeaking.

And he's just fucking scum, the worst.

He still grips her tighter, and his hips still thrust a little harder, and the way she screams and pushes back against him makes his cock ache for more.

"Fuck yes!! Fucking take it!" He grabs a fistful of auburn hair and pulls her head back as he fucks her, and really he had come here with the best intentions, he swears to God he was going to keep his promise, he loves you so much, sooo fucking much.

He slaps her face, just once, open palm against her already marked cheek "You fucking like that don't you?" And he's a bad baaad man, a pig, a dirtbag, and you deserve so much better.

"Aaah yes... Fuck yes... fucking spit in my mouth!" she groans through clenched teeth, and he does, 'cause she might like it in the dark, under the covers, and once in a blue moon, but... Tess could be nasty as fuck if she wanted to, she could get him going zero to sixty in the time it took her to drop her panties.

And he had come here with such good intentions, he'd come to keep his promise, to let her down gently, tell her it was over.

And he really doesn't love her, he never lied, not to her and not to you, she's never made him feel the way you do all shiny and new, he doesn't even really know how they ended up here, they just had a lovely dinner and 2, maybe 3 glasses of wine and next thing he knows she was kneeling on the floor and his cock was down her throat and well... one thing leads to another really.

And he's sorry, he's so fucking sorry.

"Fucking turn over" he growls, his fist still gripping her hair as she pulls off of his cock and gets on her belly, and he can't stand to look at her face, can't fucking stand himself right now either, he's a douchebag, a fucking jerk, scum of the earth.

He spits down into her pussy, and slams back into her so hard her head knocks against the headboard, her hands coming up to push against it, as the bead creaks and rattles.

"Oohh.. oh fuck" She drops a hand down and pushes it under her body, her tiny fist wrapping around his cock where it's pushing in and out of her body before moving lower to tug at his balls, and all he can picture is your pretty mouth, so sweet and innocent as it wrapped around them for the first time just a week ago.

And he feels sick, he really does, his stomach hurts and he wants to cry and maybe throw up a little, and he's so close, soooo fucking close.

It's almost over.

He closes his eyes and grips her hair tighter and he fucks the sloppy, dripping hole of her cunt as fast and hard as he can, and when he comes, it's to your pretty face, that dimpled smile, and those pouty lips, and your voice in his ear 'I love you so much, baby'.

And he's almost fucking 50 years old, but when he brings a hand up to wipe at his face as he falls back against her mattress, there really are tears there, he's still trying to catch his breath, and before he can think of what he's doing, what he's saying, the words are spilling out of his mouth, and it's like a car crash in slow motion, a thundering storm, and even if he tried there's nothing he can do to stop it.

"I'm seeing someone else", he says, lying next to his girlfriend of 3 fucking years, panting and both covered in sweat, and she's looking at him, still on her stomach, her hair a tangled mess.

"I'm pregnant", she responds. Her face a blank mask, no pain, no anger.

Joel leans his body over the side of the bed and retches, spewing his guts into her trashcan.

And he loves you. He really does.

#joel miller fic #joel miller smut #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #mia's fic #bfd!joel #best friend's dad #not intended for minors #18+

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zoohand3 · 1 year

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The Greatest Guide To Rare snow falls on San Francisco's Twin Peaks as California

San Francisco, California gets 25 ins of rain, on ordinary, every year. These truths, with each other with his keep track of report and job amounts aim to the requirement for a severe and major strategy from our chosen representatives to handle with real, systemic concerns of worldwide warming. As such, some of you will definitely acknowledge that these are our largest worries – and those of our personal individuals. What our elected authorities and the authorities ought to center on is handling these concerns. The US standard is 38 inches of rainfall per year. The ordinary rainfall has fallen through over 6 inches since 1984, depending on to NOAA. The brand new dry spell was presently creating information when a document from CNN highlighted a brand-new El Niño-like design on Tuesday. The US weather body is warming, according to gps record in December and January. Warming temperatures have not maintained hot temperatures from cooling down the air, the brand-new El Niño took note. San Francisco averages 0 inches of snowfall per year. Last year, a total of 24 ins of snow fell, according to the Bay Area Environmental Protection Agency (EPA). It is likewise the second year in a row that San Francisco has not experienced the same amount of snowfall. Final time in 2004, the area balanced just one in of snow every year -- down coming from 30 inches final year and 28 inches that year. Currently, thanks to new snowpack, San Francisco's snow conditions remain the same. The US average is 28 ins of snow per year. Most in Mexico and Canada are about 21 inches. And through a third, it is getting darker. The final time snow reached 25 inches per year was in 1983, when concerning 20 percent of the nation was under 30 ins. That year, that body dropped to about 13 inches, according to a U.S. Department of Agriculture file on snow. Even right now, snow is down 3 per-cent every year.

On normal, there are 259 bright days per year in San Francisco. The majority of in December and January are bright. Some areas use full-time work, such as San Francisco County, San Francisco Municipal System, and San Francisco Bay Area. California pays out laborers concerning twice the government minimum required wage, depending on to the San Francisco Association of State Legislatures. But that's not great good enough to always keep San Francisco's sky-high employee pay down. The US average is 205 sunny days. On that evening, he took a excursion to Germany where the air took up a little of the early morning's sunshine, producing it his principal night. The the majority of he performed on the 2nd night, he devoted in Berlin on the evening of 16 December. In add-on to taking a shower coming from the Berlin wall, the Germans likewise took exclusive treatment to take photographes with their mobile phone phones to help make sure any kind of potential adversaries were spotted before producing the experience back. San Francisco obtains some kind of rain, on normal, 72 days per year. This has to be a low-friction rainfall unit. For a snowmobile I favor to remain on a high height and hang around for the sunlight to set for about seven or eight hrs. One more consideration. Some bikers might believe it's raining, but they only possess a pair of gauges to go. When they're not in the seat the snow can receive quite hot as you might acquire in to the spine of a cars and truck. Precipitation is rainfall, snowfall, sleet, or hail storm that drops to the ground. The majority of folks, and even most individuals soaring plane in aeronautics and in public, fall under such an sunshade, but few of us drop under so many different umbrella covers. The sunshade covers the entire aircraft. It deals with the plane so that it is under the wings and it's not flying it's under the wings, it's flying it's under the airfoils, it is functioning. In purchase for rainfall to be calculated you possess to get at least .01 ins on the ground to measure. The volume of altitude that's provided to the rainfall in meters is presented in the image under. Keep in mind that not all waterfalls have the exact same altitude, though. I understand there are some in some locations, but a great hunch is an altitude of 80 feets in one. The Most Complete Run-Down creates up about half of all of the waterfalls. Allow's take a appearance at that one. Weather Highlights Summer High: the July high is around 67 degrees Winter Low: the January low is 46 Storm: averages 25 inches of storm a year Snowfall: standards 0 ins of snow a year BESTPLACES COMFORT INDEX The annual BestPlaces Comfort Index for San Francisco is 8.5 (10=absolute best), which indicates it is a lot more relaxed than a lot of location in California. Listed here are the best 10 ideal locations for each city located on Comfort Index.

#Does It Snow in San Francisco?

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your-dietician · 2 years

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Max Q: Oh my gourd

New Post has been published on https://medianwire.com/max-q-oh-my-gourd/

Max Q: Oh my gourd

Hello and welcome back to Max Q. Will every October issue have a Halloween/autumn pun as its title? I’LL NEVER TELL. In this issue:

Blast off for Crew-5

Russia’s rethinking on the ISS

News from Firefly, TK and more

By the way…We are a little over ONE WEEK away from TechCrunch Disrupt, which is returning live and in-person to San Francisco on October 18-20. Use this link to receive 15% off passes (excluding online and expo).

SpaceX continues to set the industry standard for launch cadence, successfully completing three separate missions in the span of five days. The first was Crew-5 on Wednesday (more on that below), followed by a Starlink mission a scant eight hours later. To cap it all off, it launched two satellites for Intelsat on Thursday night.

Crew-5 was a milestone for a few different reasons. The mission (so named because it’s SpaceX’s fifth crewed mission with NASA’s Commercial Crew Program) took off from launch pad 39A at Kennedy Space Center. The crew of four — which includes American astronauts Nicole Mann, mission commander, and Josh Cassada, mission pilot; JAXA astronaut Koichi Wakata, mission specialist; and Russian cosmonaut Anna Kikina, mission specialist — are traveling to the station in a Crew Dragon dubbed “Endurance.” It separated from the Falcon 9 rocket shortly after launch and arrived at the station on Thursday.

SpaceX has now delivered 30 humans to space across eight human spaceflight missions. It also marks the first time that a cosmonaut has flown on a SpaceX Crew Dragon and the first time a cosmonaut has flown on an American spacecraft since 2002. Cosmonaut Kikina’s spot on the spacecraft is part of a recent astronaut transportation deal between the U.S. and Russia. American astronaut Francisco Rubio flew to the ISS on a Russian Soyuz last month as part of the deal.

Looking ahead, SpaceX’s next CCP mission, Crew-6, will launch in February of next year. The Ax-2 mission, Axiom Space’s second private mission to the ISS, will follow in May.

Russia is having internal discussions over continuing its participation in the International Space Station (ISS) beyond 2024, despite statements made earlier this summer that the country will pull out of the station program by the middle of the decade.

Sergei Krikalev, head of human space programs at Roscosmos, said Monday that the Russian space agency is in discussions to extend its “participation in [the] ISS program with our government and hope to have permission to continue next year.”

The about-face comes just a few months after Roscosmos head Yuri Borisov announced Russia’s plans to leave the station after 2024, and instead construct its own orbiting station. The ISS is operated in partnership between the space agencies of U.S., Russia, Canada, Japan and Europe. America has committed to operate the station through 2030.

However, Krikalev admitted that a new Russian station may not be ready by 2025. “We know that it’s not going to happen very [quickly], so probably we will keep flying [on the ISS] until we have any new infrastructure that will allow us to do continuous human presence on low Earth orbit,” he said.

More news from TC and beyond

ArianeGroup conducted a successful hot fire test of the Ariane 6 second stage, a key milestone in stage qualification testing. The European Space Agency is hoping to launch the Ariane 6 rocket sometime next year.

CAPSTONE, NASA’s orbit-charting satellite, has regained three-axis attitude control and remains on track to enter its target orbit around the moon on November 13.

Firefly Aerospace can now count itself amongst a small number of space companies to have reached orbit. The company launched its Alpha rocket from Vandenberg Space Launch Complex 2 on October 1 and declared the mission “100% successful” in achieving its primary objectives.

Inmarsat is collaborating with U.K. company Livewire Digital to create a “network of networks” for connectivity across Inmarsat’s geosynchronous satellites, terrestrial 5G and a new constellation of satellites in low Earth orbit.

Jared Isaacman, the billionaire who bankrolled and flew on the Inspiration4 mission last year, outlined his ambitious plans for the Polaris Dawn series of private human spaceflight missions. The first is expected to launch in partnership with SpaceX in March next year.

Redwire is buying QinetiQ Space, a Belgium-based supplier of small satellites and other space infrastructure, for €32 million ($31.1 million).

Rocket Lab’s punnily-named “It Argos Up From Here” mission blasted off from the company’s New Zealand launch site on Friday. The dedicated launch carried a General Atomics satellite bus carrying an environmental monitoring payload named Argos-4.

Skyrora’s head of government affairs, Alan Thompson, expressed concern over the ongoing vacancy of a key science minister position in the British government. “The new Tory administration has yet to recognize and prioritise the massive opportunities held within the UK Space sector, a truth echoed in 80 days of absence despite the previous incumbent’s commitment and readiness to champion UK Space and Science,” he said in a statement.

Space billboards could turn a profit despite costing up to $65 million, according to a new study from Russian researchers at the Skolkovo Institute of Science and Technology and Moscow Institute of Physics and Technology.

SpaceX’s Falcon Heavy will see its first launch in over three years. The mission, scheduled for October 28, will deploy two satellites to GEO for the U.S. Space Force.

SpinLaunch completed its tenth successful flight test using its suborbital accelerator. Unlike other tests, this one carried test customer payloads from NASA, Outpost and others. SpinLaunch said the test “demonstrated that SpinLaunch partners’ standard satellite components are inherently compatible” with the company’s unique kinetic launch system.

United Launch Alliance launched two SES satellites aboard its Atlas V rocket from Cape Canaveral Space Force Station in Florida. The mission is part of SES’ effort to collect almost $4 billion in government payouts to clear the C-band.

Virgin Orbit has completed a full launch rehearsal for its next flight from Spaceport Cornwall. It will be the first orbital space launch to ever take place from the United Kingdom.

York Space Systems is selling a 51% majority stake to AEI (Firefly’s owner) in a deal that values the company at $1.125 billion.

Max Q is brought to you by me, Aria Alamalhodaei. If you enjoy reading Max Q, consider forwarding it to a friend.

Read full article here

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magnhild · 3 years

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every important/interesting/fun detail i noticed in roman holiday for anyone who can’t and does not want to read the book (SPOILERS AHEAD)

-roman was a teenager (an old enough one to be a strong fighter) when neo was eight, making him most likely 8-10 years older than her.

-at the same time, lil miss malachite was in her 30s. With this in mind, roman was probably also in his 30s by the time of his death in v3, meaning neo was at least 20 years old at that time.

-lil miss has apparently had the same outfit for roughly the past 15 years.

-neo played video games as a kid, including plenty of driving and flying simulations. gamer neo confirmed.

-neo seems to be able to vocalize as far as things like gasping, sighing, and laughing. her laughing is said to sound like hiccuping.

-neo’s heterochromia is natural, and her parents would be her wear a brown contact lens over her pink eye when in public.

-neo’s imaginary friend, who she got her current name from, was purely in her head as a younger kid, but later became one of her illusions.

-neo uses texting to communicate when she can’t do so with gestures.

-roman was a member of the spiders

-melanie and miltia did indeed once live with their mother in mistral, and roman shared a safehouse with them, as he was the only person lil miss trusted to protect them. roman seemed to care for them as younger sisters, though finding them annoying.

-the twins are a year older than neo

-roman worked with a woman named chameleon while part of the spiders, who had a one-sided friendship with and crush on him.

-capivara - giant ratlike grimm with glowing red streaks running along its body, with white barbs on the end of a long tail, long, sharp claws, and double rows of finger-length teeth. comes from the deserts in menagerie.

-neo had a tutor named aurelia, rather than attending any school.

-roman was kicked from the spiders after undergoing side jobs for his own purposes, after which he moved to vale.

-the mistrilian city of kuchinashi, the setting of the grimm campaign, in mentioned, as is a character from it, lemon.

-roman’s mother left him in an orphanage in the town of wind path as a child, kickstarting his inability to trust people.

-neo literally tried to learn to pick locks from online tutorials.

-neo picked up the idea of using a parasol as her weapon after she used one to slow her fall from jumping out of a window after accidentally setting the family mansion on fire.

-’the girl that fell through the world’ was named alyx- very clearly an alice in wonderland reference.

-after the fire incident, neo’s parents sent her to an all-girls academy.

-two huntsman show up named roch szalt and kandi floss and i’m laughing my fucking ass off. and you guys thought trivia was a bad name.

-we meet junior’s father, hei xiong, and the three bears references are very blatant. the guy loves oatmeal. he knew neo’s father and used to bring her fairy tale books as presents.

-roman got his pumpkin motif because it was the first thing offered to him to cover up the tattoo he’d gotten while working for the spiders.

-hey howdy hey the malachite twins ended up at the same academy as neo. they were bitter enemies.

-neo was made to use a voice app to communicate at the academy, which she hated.

-the fairytale ‘the gift of the moon’ is referenced.

-neo knows how to sew.

-neo does indeed use her semblance to make half of her hair pink to begin with, but later dyed it in order to save aura.

-neo met roman for the first time after following the malachite twins and saving him after the twins and a bunch of spiders corner him.

-neo’s emblem comes from the symbol of the academy, and represents harmony and balance, which is explained to her by the academy’s headmaster after she approves of neo’s change of look.

-neo was secretly tasked by her headmaster to keep an eye on and capture roman, and she properly learned to fight there. of course, as she gets closer with roman, she ends up wanting to help him instead.

-the first time neo referred to herself as neopolitan is when she introduced herself to roman. it was initially a cover to not reveal too much about herself to him, but she decided it felt right and took on the name for real.

-there is an initial bit of what (ahem) some people might consider ship tease when neo and roman talk for the second time, but this is dropped very quickly and can probably just be passed off as neo being an at-the-time 18yo girl who’d not really had any close encounters with older men before. she does give him a kiss on the cheek near the end, but then she also tussles his hair, implying more of a familial bond (but we knew that already).

-roman had been wearing a bowler had for years, but it was neo who gave him the one he wore in the show. the feather has a transponder in it that neo uses to find him. she also later gives him the outfit he wears.

-neo designed her weapon, but roman ordered it for her from a weaponsmith in mistral.

-remnant has a ‘dr pepper’ copycat called ‘dr piper’.

-a car described as a sedan is mentioned. either real-life names for types of cars are used in remnant, or this was an oversight.

-neo’s been able to pilot aircraft since she was 18. she learned from online training videos.

-lisa lavender plays a role in saving roman and neo at the book’s climax. not joking.

-at age 18, neo was too short to see over a steering wheel :’)

-roman doesn’t kill neo’s parents :/ they instead end up killed, along with hei xiong, when their mansion explodes.

-glynda is apparently vale’s most famous huntress.

#rwby #rwby spoilers #roman holiday spoilers #blaire rambles

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13uswntimagines · 3 years

Text

Better To Be Friends Than Competition (Lindsey x Reader)

Author’s Note: This Technically wasn’t requested, but @literaryhedgehog and i had a blast writing this. It’s the Harry Potter AU. Basically, reader is a muggleborn who really wants to be a chaser, but maybe there’s a better position for her on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. This is the beginning of what will be a multi-part series following the building romance between two amazing characters and how our golden octet help them out along the way.

@sleep-deprived-athlete

“Alright, you’ve all been told the rules and had the chance to warm up. So let’s start by dividing into groups. Anyone who wants to be a seeker follow Mia there to the far side of the field. Beaters to the left with Foudy. Keepers to the goalposts with Hope. And chasers with me up top,” Brandi said with a wave of her hand, kicking off of the ground and heading towards where her group was going to meet.

You snuck a glance to either side of you as you also kick off and head to your position, trying to guess who out of the eight students around you is going to be your biggest competition. Surely you thought more people would have wanted a chance at a spot on one of the best teams at Hogwarts. Tryouts had been packed for the last two years.

You wondered which drill Brandi was going to start with as you approached the group (said woman was idily tossing a quaffle lightly in her hands as she talked to another one of your competition). For the last 2 years it was always a set of passing drills, where would-be chasers played a very complicated game of catch up and down the pitch.

Maybe those tryouts were supposed to be private, but how else could you prepare for them if you didn’t know what to expect?

Quidditch was honestly a really weird sport. Well, American football made less sense, but you hadn’t exactly studied the rules as extensively as you had Quidditch. Like, the game literally would not end until someone caught the snitch. According to Quidditch through the Ages a game had literally lasted for months. You remembered watching a tennis game that lasted for four days before, but generally the muggle sports you grew up with were more consistent in how long each game took.

“Oh yeah”, you thought, watching the beaters line up across the pitch, “and there is also a ball charmed to try and knock people off their broom. That’s not normal.” Though it was something your dad found hilarious.

Sports were always something the two of you could talk about, even before you found out you had magic. He loved the fact that you loved football as much as he did, and was thrilled by the fact that you had enough talent to play it in your primary school.

Though with your hand eye coordination you had done better with cricket, and baseball the few times you had a chance to play it in gym. So when you had joined the wizarding world you naturally had gotten into quidditch. Learned everything you could about the game so you could give him detailed play by plays about the games when you sent owls home.

At this point you were dying to play. You were too short to be a beater or a keeper, but you knew you could be a chaser. You could catch like nobody’s business, and you had at least half of the tactics in The Beginner's Quidditch Playbook memorized. You were going to be the best damn chaser Hogwarts had ever seen.

“Hey space captain, you ready for this?”

“What?” You froze, heat flooding your cheeks at being caught not paying attention. You slowly turned to face the new presence.

You knew the girl. Well. You knew of the girl (it was impossible not to know about the very pretty blond girl). She was in your house and year (and therefore in your dorm as well as all your classes) but the two of you had never really interacted before. She seemed to already know everyone and everything when she got to Hogwarts, so it didn’t really seem like she was looking for friends, and it was hard enough trying to figure out your new life without having people look at you strangely when you didn’t know a word they used. Not that Lindsey, you thought that’s her name anyway, had done that, but other purebloods did. It was easier figuring things out on your own to start, and by the time you did, you and Lindsey had already established yourselves in different friend groups. Was her name Lindsey? A Slytherin in your year was always calling her strange nicknames, so it was hard to tell.

“The drill. Are you ready for the drill space captain?” The girl asked again.

“Yeah, but I’m not a captain. I’m a second year, like you,” You said softly, your eyebrows furrowing. Maybe that was a wizard saying, but you had no idea what she was talking about. Your heart also dropped just a touch because if she thought you were a captain then she had absolutely no idea who you were.

She shook her head with a giggle (showing off her dimples). “My dad says that’s what muggles call a person with their head in the clouds,”

You cocked your head to the side, your brain running a million miles an hour to try and figure out what she meant. But then it clicked. “Oh you mean space cadet,”

“I guess,” She shrugged, seemingly unbothered about the correct verbiage.

The whistle blowing brought both of your attention back towards Brandi and the first set of would-be chasers beginning the crossing drill. You coughed to hide a scoff when Lynn Williams raced at breakneck speed up the pitch, and released the quaffle at least 30 feet off where the chasing captain had instructed.

You shook your head at the play. It was too sloppy, too open and it would never connect well with JJ and Alex up top.

“Not impressed by what you see?” Lindsey asked, her eyebrow quirking up (trying very hard to pretend she wasn’t interested in your answer. You were her competition after all).

“Not after Alex basically destroyed the same course last year. She’s got an 85% accuracy rating on goal and nearly 60% of her shots come off of left crosses. Williams isn’t getting high enough on the pitch to provide an adequate pass,” You mumbled out quickly, wincing when Lynn made the same mistake on the way back, nearly sending her partner (a girl in the year below you named Mal) into the stands to catch it (though you were slightly impressed that Mal managed to grab it before it landed in the seats).

“Yeah, I see what you mean. Her throws tend to either go too short or too long. Even if it doesn’t go directly to her partner it at least needs to be consistent so during a game the person she’s throwing it to knows where to intercept it before the other team does,” Lindsey said, taking a hand off her broom to shield her eyes.

“She’s fast but it won’t help if she forces the other chaser off her line to provide service to Alex in front of the posts,” You huffed. Having her on that side would be a positioning nightmare. It left the team open and vulnerable to so many different attacking options.

“I am not entirely sure what that means,” Lindsey said, smirking as she looked sideways at you, “but it sounds like you don’t think she’s competition, which is good news for us!’

You opened your mouth to respond, only to be cut off by Brandi’s whistle. “Alright next pair up,”

You gulped and tightened your fingers on your broom “Guess it’s showtime,” You muttered, surging forward to the starting line.

“Good luck space captain, you’re gonna need it,” Lindsey called back towards you with a wink, taking the ball from Brandi.

You shook your head. You wouldn’t need luck. A fucking golden retriever could beat out the performance you had just whitnessed. As long as you didn’t fall off your brooms, you both would be fine.

***

You raced towards the hoops, reaching your arm out to pluck the perfectly timed ball out of its arc towards the ground. Okay, Lindsey was good. Really good. She HAD to have known how bad Lynn’s throws were, because hers were positively perfect. Your throws were good, but Lindsey had this way of arching the ball up through the air if a perfect loop so it practically fell into your hands. There was no way she didn’t practice over the summer.

You neared the posts, starting to make your u-turn to pass the ball back when a flash of gold caught your eyes. Before you really thought it through, the hand anchoring you to your broom had already lifted to snatch it out of the air on instinct. You had played cricket for most of your life- it was instinct to reach out and grab a ball that looked like it was about to fly into your face.

The next few seconds happened almost in slow motion. As your fingers closed around the cool metal, you realized just how far to your side you had to lean to reach the object, and how far off balance it had put you. Your legs crossed tightly as you flipped completely upside down on your broom, entirely unwilling to let go of the object you had just caught or the large quaffle still tucked tightly under your arm. Before you really knew what was happening, you were staring straight at the ground, your legs the only thing keeping you in the air.

“Holy shit, holy shit. Um, hey Lindsey?” You called, eyes on the ground below you.

“What?” You heard her call. You idly wondered why one of the captains hadn’t put a stop to this yet and put you out of your misery.

“Catch?” You threw the quaffle, well tossed it really, up into the air towards where you thought the other girl was. You knew it was going to be short, but also knew that she was going to catch it anyway. She really was that good. With your now free hand you reached up and grabbed the handle of your broom so you could pull yourself to it and rotate back to an upright position.

Only then did you look down at the tiny ball fluttering in your hand. The tiny, almost leathery, wings flapped like it was waving hello. You stared at it in awe, your lips ticking up. You had just caught the golden snitch. You never thought you would get to touch the snitch, much less catch it.

“Hey you” a voice called from the pitch behind you. You turned to look as Mia flew from where the seeker candidates were staring hopelessly at the sky around them to land on the pitch. “Get down here. Yeah, you on the drills.” She motioned down to the pitch, indicating where you should land, then turned her head to call over her shoulder, “Brandi I’m taking number 2.”

You quickly flew towards where she had pointed, shakily dismounting from your broom. You weren’t sure if it was fear, adrenaline or nerves, but your legs felt like jelly. You clutched the little ball in your hand so tightly that you were sure there was going to be an imprint in your palm later.

“What in Merlin’s name are you doing in the chaser section?” Mia said, tucking her broom under her arm and throwing her hand up towards the group of would be chasers throwing a ball around at varying distances. (You tried not to wince when Lynn nearly pegged Mal in the face again).

“Um, trying to be a chaser? I was always a good forward so I thought it might fit?” You mumbled with a shrug, scratching the back of your neck with your free hand. a light shade of pink covered your cheeks. It was a little embarrassing how clueless you were with the magical world sometimes, and how even after being here for two full years, you still felt completely out of your depth.

“That’d be like using a cauldron as a teacup because they’re both the same shape. It’d work but what a waste!”

“I…- I have no idea what that means. I know I caught the wrong thing, and I’m sorry. I’ll leave now if that’s what you want,” You stuttered out, suddenly finding the way your shoe poked the pitch underneath you interesting.

“No, kid you misunderstand me. Look, you, what’s your name again?” Mia stepped closer, tilting her head as she looked at you.

“Y/n. Y/n Y/l/n,”

“Right, Y/n, you could play chaser. You’d even be a decent one with a bit of work. But that’d be a damn waste of talent. You’re a natural seeker. I’m not upset with you for catching the wrong ball, I’m upset you weren’t over in my section trying to catch the snitch in the first place. Look at that lot over there, they still think it’s somewhere over the stands.” Mia stepped next to you and turned, gestured to the group of seeker hopefuls flying in circles near the Ravenclaw seats.

“Oh,” You breathed out, following her hand to look at the large group. They were squinting towards the stands and swooping low at whatever they thought they had spotted, seemingly oblivious to the fact that the snitch had been caught on the other side of the pitch and that Mia wasn’t even paying attention to them anymore.

“I’ve had a lot of practice spotting this ball,” Mia said, tapping the snitch trapped in your hand. “I was able to see it within about a minute of it being released, and have been watching it since. None of them saw it when it was on their side of the field, but you saw it instantly- even when you were focused on something else. That is a talent Y/n. Why didn’t you try out for seeker in the first place?”

“I didn’t know how to practice for it, and that-. It wasn’t like any of the other positions I have ever played,” You muttered, trying to cover your insecurity with a nonchalant shrug. It seemed like the position that required the most innate ability, and as a muggleborn you didn’t think you had any.

Mia nodded slowly looking at you. “Right,” she said, turning and mounting her broom, “I wanna run you through some drills. Come on.”

You blinked at the woman as she hovered in front of you. Your eyes darting between Mia and the object still clutched tightly in your hand. Where were you supposed to put it? Were you supposed to let it go?

You brought your palm up so it was level with your eyes and opened your hand, half expecting the snitch to fly away. It didn’t. It’s wings slowly unfurled and it waved docilely at you. Like an old friend.

“What’re you waiting for?” Mia called down at you.

“It won’t fly away!” You called back, looking up at the woman, who rolled her eyes indulgently.

“Of course not, it’s yours. You caught it, and you can watch it like some love-struck puppy later- stash it in your pocket and come on!”

***

You were having a fucking blast, even though you had no idea what you were in for when you joined the seeker group. Every year when you watched tryouts, you never payed attention to what they had to do, as you never thought you would have to do it. Even without the advantage, you were killing it.

You had been separated into pairs, just like the chasers were, but Mia had enchanted clear balls (the size of tennis balls) to randomly fly through the air. The balls were given a 5 second head start before you and your partner were allowed to race to catch it. Now this was familiar, the jostling of arms while racing after a ball and trying to prevent someone else from getting to it before you. Only once out of five rounds did your opponent get to the ball before you, but really, that elbow to your ribs was a red card if you’d ever seen one.

Then everyone took turns hovering in the air as Mia took ten of the enchanted balls and flicked them up haphazardly one by one every five seconds. The goal was to catch as many of them as you could before they hit the ground, even as they were sent up in different directions and some much higher in the air than others. You didn’t get all of them, but the seven you saved still seemed to impress the other seeker candidates who didn’t scowl. The second highest number saved was six, but that girl still congratulated you as you got off your broom, since “those last few of them went way further out than they did for me- and you were an inch away from that eighth one!”

You nodded, smiling at her, though you were probably more embarrassed than she realized about that eighth one. That one had been sent towards the far side of the field, where you looked up to meet Lindsey’s eyes. You had been placed perfectly to catch the ball as it started falling from it’s apex, but in the moment your hand faltered, and it brushed by your hand instead. You cursed and considered going after it, but then you flew back to where Mia had already released one of the last two on the other side of the field.

“Alright, for our last drill, we’re going to try to catch a real snitch again,” Mia said, pulling another golden ball out from inside her robes and holding it between her thumb and pointer finger. Its wings sprung out and flapped wildly, unlike the slow waving of the one in your pocket.

Everything in you wanted to catch the little golden ball. To tame it like you had the other one. For it to sit calmly in your hand and wave hello like an old friend.

“Isn’t the other one still out there?” The same girl asked, her head tilting to the side.

“It’s been taken care of,” Mia smirked and shook her head, sending a little glance in your direction. The girl stared at her wide eyed, opening and closing her mouth as though she wanted to say more, but Mia again cut her off with a stern glare. ”As I was saying, the first of you to catch it gets to keep it and also gets a boost to the points on their scorecard. Now line up,”

You all flew low on the pitch, forming a circle with Mia and the snitch at its center. Your eyes never left the frantically flapping little ball as you waited for her whistle to blow. There was no way it was going to escape you and if you got to show off for the would be chasers watching you near the posts, that was fine with you too.

***

“Congratulations Y/n! There’s no way you won’t get picked to be seeker,” the girl said, after Mia released you, promising that the results of the tryouts would be posted next week.

“Oh, um thanks-...” You said trailing off towards the end, awkwardly rubbing the back of your neck. You didn’t know her name.

“Oh, sorry. You missed introductions at the beginning. I’m Savannah, from two years above you.” Savannah grinned at you, a bit ruefully. “You know, I thought this was going to be my year to nail the seeker position. But with you on the team, there’s no WAY we’re gonna lose to Slytherin. And Lloyd can stop looking so smug about the cup win last year.”

“The only reason they were better is because they had Amy and Sydney scoring. They won despite her and her stupid tactics. If Slytherin actually got a decent seeker then we’d be in trouble,” Lindsey said, throwing her arm over your shoulder and stepping to walk between you and Savannah.

“Carli’s decent, just distracted I think. She had NEWTS along with scouters and stuff,” you muttered, a bit defensively. You know you weren’t supposed to like the Slytherins- house competition and all that- but Carli’s strategy was pretty impressive. The recruiters certainly seemed to think so, you heard rumors that the recruiters from the Wasps and Arrows had a bidding war before the Harpies showed interest.

“Pshh it was just the Harpies recruiter. Even if they have Potter, she’d still probably tank their win streak. At least that’d help my team,” Lindsey snorted, shaking her head.

Your eyebrows furrowed. The Harpies were the second oldest team in the league, and since they recruited Ginny they had been on a tear taking down the Cannons and the Magpies in the final games of the European cup three years running. You thought Carli’s strategy would fit nicely in their ranks.

“I’m pretty sure there were Wasps recruiters and Magpies guys here too,” Savannah said to Lindsey. You noticed her eyes glanced towards Lindsey’s arm around your shoulder as she smiled widely. Lindsey dramatically rolled her eyes.

“Which team is yours?” You asked softly, leaning your head on Lindsey's shoulder as you trudged towards the locker room, ignoring Savannah.

“The cannons of course,” Lindsey said confidently. Savannah seemed to be hiding a smirk, and waved goodbye at you as she headed into the locker room.

“They’re pretty alright, but Ronaldo is a little too cocky for me. Sinclare and Potter together are a lethal combo for the Harpies and with Angerer in goal they’re like unstoppable,” You hummed thoughtfully. You also liked that the Harpies were an all female team.

“Ugh, you sound like Emily,” Lindsey said, rolling her eyes. “She and Sam are giant Magpies supporters.”

“I mean the Magpies have a 75% score rate while the Cannons are only at a 60. And Messi catches the snitch within the first hour 80% of the time, while Ronaldo’s catches take about 85 minutes on average,” you rattled off. So maybe you were a little too into statistics. At least your dad never had to worry about your math skills.

“No way, they’re super into team stats too! Maybe you can help me convince Emily and Sam that the Cannons are the best team!”

“But Emily and Sam, whoever they are, are right. The stats don’t lie,” You said with furrowed eyebrows.

“Oh, Emily is my friend in Slytherin and Sam‘s in Hufflepuff. I’ll introduce you later.” Lindsey said waving a hand in the air. “Anyway, the Magpies may have Messi, but the Cannons have heart! And isn’t that what really matters to make a good team great?”

You paused, pulling Lindsey to a stop beside you. “I know they don’t teach math here, but Statistics beat heart any day.”

Lindsey laughed and shoved you playfully to the side. “You haven’t even met them and already you’re ganging up on me.”

“I’m just stating facts. The hat almost put me in Ravenclaw cause I just love random factoids so much,” you smirked, tucking yourself back under her outstretched arm (it was just so warm and it made you feel… safe).

“Well, I’m glad you’re in Gryffindor. It's way better to have you as a teammate than competition Space captain. Now let’s go- if we hurry we can probably get to the library to work on that potions essay before curfew.”

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagines #uswnt imagine #literalhedgehog #harry potter au #hogwarts au #quidditch au

156 notes · View notes

stylesluxx · 4 years

Text

waiting – p.lahote

[warnings: poorly written angst and like one swear]

summary: in which y/n is tired of waiting for paul | requested!

word count: 2,688

masterlist

Paul moved in next door when you were eight, so you can't say that you knew him your whole life but it felt like it. You two were inseparable. If people saw Paul, they saw you. The only time you two might be separated is when you're in your respective homes, but even then Paul stayed at your house a lot.

When your parents went through their divorce, Paul was your shoulder to cry on. His parents went through a divorce and that's how he ended up in La Push. He knew the sadness you were feeling and was always there. He's the main reason you wanted to stay with your dad, so you'd still be neighbors. Your mom was only moving to Seattle but you didn't think you could be away from Paul.

While your parents were separating and settling everything, you two would have movie nights, dinner dates, walks, literally anything that would distract you from whatever was happening at home. He was always the one to initiate it and he was so thoughtful. He was your anchor.

And when he was getting into more and more arguments with his dad, you'd sneak him in so he could sleepover and clear his head. Paul was always easily angered but it just got worse as he grew up, so the arguments got more and more intense. The fights became so frequent that your dad eventually found out you were sneaking him in but he never questioned it, just told you that you didn't have to sneak him in anymore. And if it was a school night, Paul would leave early the next morning, so that he could get ready and walk back to your house since you were his ride.

It was one of those days. He left around 6:30 to go shower and eat but was back at your house at 7:30 on the dot.

"You okay? You look sick," You asked him.

His face was red but he wasn't angry, and his eyes were low as if he were tired.

"I don't feel good. I don't feel sick but I just feel weird. I saw my dad and just I don't know... felt disgusted. I don't know. Let's just go," He tried to articulate but failed.

He trudged over to your car and got in the passenger seat. You followed and got in the driver's side, starting the car but not pulling off right away. You sat for a second and looked over at him.

"Do you want to stay home? I'm sure Dad wouldn't mind," You asked, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

"No, I'm okay," He huffed and looked out his window.

You hesitantly nodded before putting your seatbelt on and pulling off.

Once you got to the school, you both got out of the car and grabbed your bags. As you walked toward the building, you wanted to reach for him and wrap an arm around his waist like you normally did but decided against it.

You went to your lockers and then met back in homeroom, where he immediately rested his head on the desk. And within seconds he was quietly snoring, making you chuckle and shake your head.

The rest of the day went by like this until you were in algebra. The other teachers had let Paul rest but this one wasn't having it with him today. He had been pestering Paul to wake up every ten minutes and you understood why but you also just wanted him to leave your friend alone; he was clearly having a rough day.

You were working on a problem when Paul shot up from his seat next to you and started to make his way to the door. Startled, you didn't say anything and just settled with the thought that maybe he was going to grab some water. But the teacher wasn't going to let him slip away that easy. You sighed and started packing up you and Paul's things; you knew this probably wouldn't end well.

"Mister Lahote, you can't just walk out of class," His words stopped Paul, whose hand was on the doorknob.

"Who's gonna stop me?" Paul challenged and turned back to face the teacher who was looking beyond awestruck.

"Paul, relax," You spoke up and quickly walked over to him, his bag on one shoulder and your bag on the other.

"No, he's been bothering me all-"

"Okay, let's go," You cut him off and dragged him out of the classroom.

You gave the teacher an apologetic look but caught the eye of Jared Cameron. He wasn't someone you'd talk to on a regular but he also wasn't someone you avoided. You looked away, assuming he was just another nosy classmate, nothing more.

"Hey what's wrong with you? You can't just snap at teachers like that!" You scolded Paul but he just rolled his eyes as if he were being reprimanded by a parent.

"I need to go," He said and took his bag from your shoulder.

"We only have two more periods left," You tried to reason. "We can hang out in the library for the rest of algebra-"

"I need to go."

His voice was solid and unwavering so you knew there was no arguing with him.

"Alright, I'll take you. Come on."

You took the risk and reached to hold on to his wrist as you walked out of the building. He didn't protest and only pulled away once you got to the car.

"My house or yours?" You asked him once you got close to home.

"Mine."

You simply nodded and pulled into his driveway. It was weird that he didn't want to go hang out at your house but today wasn't the day to question him.

"I'll be back after school," You told him and watched as he got out the car.

He grabbed your hand and squeezed it before shutting the door behind him and walking into his house.

A small smile graced your face as you drove back to the school and carried through for the rest of the day. You thought it meant that he'd be okay and maybe he was already starting to feel better. You didn't think it meant he'd disappear for weeks.

You arrived back at his house after school, knocking on the door and ringing the doorbell feverishly but you never got a response.

"Alright well, I'll just leave your homework here then. See you tomorrow? Text me," You sighed and set the papers down.

You placed a rock on top of the papers so they wouldn't fly away and walked back to your car.

Maybe he was sleeping or maybe he went out. But his truck was there. It never crossed your mind that he was ignoring you, especially since you did nothing to him.

The next morning came and it was radio silence from Paul. It was 7:30 and he still wasn't at your house. Maybe he got into a fight with his dad and was running late. But he always texted you when he was going to be late, no matter what. If he was a minute late, you'd get a text. But today you got nothing. It was 7:40 when you texted him, saying you'd leave with or without him at 7:50.

You wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt since he had a rough day yesterday but it was hard when he didn't communicate with you.

At 8:00, you stood up from the couch and turned the tv off. You walked to the door and snatched your bag from off the floor and stormed out the house, slamming the door shut behind you.

If there was anything you hated, it was your time being wasted and your kindness being taken for granted.

Your spot was still empty when you got to school but you didn't see Paul's truck. So he must've still been home. And Paul wasn't the type to come late. If he was already an hour behind, he just wasn't going.

It was weird spending a month looking for someone you were usually attached at the hip to. For a month, he wasn't in school and his truck never moved from his driveway. You tried texting and calling but the texts never delivered and you were always sent straight to voicemail. And you didn't want to ask his dad where he was simply because you didn't like him so at this point you didn't even know if he was alive.

Friday morning, Paul walked through the main doors, Jared Cameron by his side, laughing up a storm and looking smug.

You wanted to confront him, you really did, but seeing him so happy halted you where you stood. After seeing how miserable he was the last time you saw him, you didn't want to bother him. And if he had to be away from you to be happy, you'd accept it, even if you were stuck in a void.

You never really sat down and processed how Paul's absence affected you. But seeing him, everything was starting to crumble. He left and it was so abrupt and unwarranted. You questioned if it was something you did even though you knew you didn't do anything. Maybe you weren't there for him in the way he needed you to be. The way Jared supposedly was. You were angry, sad, and confused but at the same time, you were relieved. It was good to see him safe but you couldn't shake the feeling that you were unwanted.

For a month it felt like you were drifting away, here but not really. And now it felt as if you were sinking and quickly.

You pulled your hood on over your head and slammed the locker shut. You walked to homeroom, weaving in and out of people so you could get a spot in the back of the classroom.

Sitting in your usual spot was no longer an option since it seemed like Paul was avoiding you at all costs. And if he wants to play that game, you can play it ten times better.

Avoiding Paul was easy since he seemed he wasn't even worried about you. But avoiding all the eyes of your nosy classmates was a task itself.

At lunch, you couldn't even stay in the lunchroom. It was as if everyone was talking about you and Paul. You heard a few theories about why you weren't close anymore, all of which were silly. You overhead people saying that you finally confessed your feelings for him and he rejected you so now you're avoiding each other. But that one wasn't nearly as popular as the theory that Paul ditched you to go join a gang and do drugs.

It was all so tiring and eye-roll worthy, so you got up, tossed the food that you barely touched away, and walked out the lunchroom, not bothering to look back at all the eyes you knew were on you.

You started toward the lobby for the school, deciding it was time to go home. You should've figured it was going to be a bad day once you saw that Paul's truck wasn't in the driveway when you left for school.

You were halfway through the parking lot when you were stopped by someone calling your name.

"For fuck's sake," You mumbled to yourself and turned around.

It was a senior named Zander. While Paul was still your friend, he made it very clear how much he didn't like the older boy. He always just said he gives off weird vibes whenever you asked why he didn't like him. But now that you're standing in front of him, you completely understood what Paul meant.

"Hey," He said as he jogged toward you and when he stopped you finally got a good look at him.

His brown hair was styled into a quiff and his brown eyes pierced into with fake concern. Paul's eyes always matched his intentions, he was never one to fake anything. And despite Paul ghosting you, you were looking for him to come and save you.

"I'm sorry about what happened with Lahote," He continued.

At first, you were shocked by his boldness but you decided it'd be best to play dumb and mess with him.

"What happened with him?" You asked and titled your head to play the confused role perfectly.

"He like ditched you and joined a gang," He spoke as if that were the most obvious thing in the world.

"He ditched me? It's weird that you know more about my life than I do," You were being sarcastic but the boy in front of you just wasn't getting it.

"Well, enough about him. I was wondering if you'd let me take you on a date."

You were truly dumbfounded now. The jump from gossip to dates gave you whiplash. In what world did he think that that was a good segway?

"Uh... I'm actually really busy. I just started a new job that I'm already running late to so I'll see you-"

"I've been wanting to ask you but you've always seemed so attached to Paul like you couldn't breathe without him. Maybe if you started talking to other people, you wouldn't be so dependent on him," He scoffed.

"Are you, like, kiddi-"

"Paul!"

You sighed at the sound of another voice and looked over Zander's shoulder. Paul was storming down the steps of the school with his new best friend in tow.

"What part of 'no' don't you understand?" He hostilely questioned Zander, getting in his face.

"And look who it is. The boy that ditched his only friend to go do drugs. Honestly, I don't think you have any say in what she does," Zander bit back, not stepping back from a fuming Paul.

Now that the boy was standing next to you, you noticed how different he looked. He grew a few inches and now towered over you. He was muscular, not scrawny like he was a few weeks ago. And if your eyes weren't deceiving you, he had a tattoo that was peeking out of the short sleeve.

Paul's face was now a bright red and his entire body was shaking profusely. You've seen Paul angry but you've never seen him like this.

"Paul?" You called out and looked up at his face. "Paul, are you okay?"

"Paul, not here,” Jared tried to get through to him.

You moved yourself to stand in between the two boys since you saw that neither was going to back down.

"Paul," You spoke calmly and looked up at his eyes.

He looked down at you, his eyes meeting yours, and he relaxed almost instantly. He stopped shaking and his face was back to a gentle composition.

"Freaks," Zander mumbled and walked by to the school.

You took a step back from Paul now that you had space behind you.

"You okay?" You asked, your eyes never leaving his.

"Y-yeah-"

"Great," You nodded and moved to go around him and to your car. You didn't want to talk to him any more than you needed to. What did you have to talk about unless he was apologizing?

"Y/N, wait!" Paul objected and grabbed your arm, pulling you back to face him.

"Wait for what? Don't you think I've done enough waiting, Paul? I waited around for you for far too long. And now you only want to admit I exist when some other guy wants to talk to me? We're not friends anymore. You made that very clear. I've waited for you but now I'm done," You ranted before looking back at Jared. "Good luck with... whatever."

You pulled your arm out of his grip and stalked to the car just as the rain started.

"Wasn't even supposed to rain," You mumbled to yourself and pulled out of the parking spot.

As you drove out of the parking lot, you watched as Paul stood there, mouth agape. You watched as he got smaller and until you eventually didn't see him anymore.

Now he'd know how it felt to be left stranded and waiting.

[AN: I don’t think I’m gonna write a part two for this just because it’d be super cliche and I try to avoid stuff like that lol. but shoutout to the anon that requested this because this inspired me to write; I’ve been trying to write for like a month or two now but like I’ve been stuck. and also to the anon that sent the embry request, I didn’t forget about you ! xoxo]

#stylesluxx #paul lahote #twilight #paul lahote imagine #paul lahote x reader #twilight x reader #twilight imagine #wolf pack imagine #paul lahote angst #Paul Lahote blurb #paul lahote fluff #twilight blurb

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grailfinders · 3 years

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Fate and Phantasms #199

Today on Fate and Phantasms we're making the Jotaro Kujo of FGO, Semiramis! (Seriously, how does that cape/hair... thing work? It's wild.) The queen of poisons is a Graviturgy Wizard to make building a floating castle slightly less difficult to make and cooler to live in, plus a Witherbloom Druid for some dove friends and extra poisons. If you've seen our builds for Waver and Edison, you might know already that building things with magic is costly and time-consuming, and for once that is 100% accurate to the character. Get ready, this is gonna be a weird one.

Check out her build breakdown below the cut, or her character sheet over here!

Next up: I'm 40% appendicitis!

Race and Background

Semiramis is technically an aasimar, but she doesn't fly around or heal people, so we can just focus on her human side. .... Oooor we can focus on those ears, because we need to nick some stuff from being an Elf. Specifically, we're going with the Vahadar Elf from Plane Shift Kaladesh, since they've got the ears, the proficiencies we'll need later, and their backstory's still about living in general society, unlike wood elves and other Kaladeshian elves. Thanks to Tasha's Cauldron of Everything, this gives her +2 Intelligence and +1 Wisdom, as well as Darkvision, Fey Ancestry against being charmed, a Trance instead of sleep so she can't be put to sleep, Keen Senses for proficiency in Perception, the Mending cantrip to piece together the castle later, and most importantly Elf Weapon Training. Normally this would give her proficiency with four weapons, but thanks to Tasha's we can swap this out with four tools instead. Carpenter's, Glassblower's, Mason's, and Smith's Tools proficiency should give us everything we need to build a castle later- we'll go into the why when we get there.

Semiramis is also a Noble- grab History, but swap out Persuasion for Deception. Yeah, not even her background can escape how weird this build is.

Ability Scores

Poisoning skills come from Intelligence (I think. WotC are really nonspecific about how to actually fucking make poison), and it's also your main casting modifier: put that first. Second should be your Charisma, nobody drinks poison on purpose, so you'd better get good at lying. After that is Wisdom. If your poisons aren't made with Intelligence it'll definitely be wisdom. That means your Dexterity isn't great- yeah, you fight in a dress, but if you're fighting and not your lackeys, something's gone wrong. We're not dumping Constitution because we're not stupid, so dump Strength instead. You've got minions to carry rocks around for you.

Class Levels

Wizard 1: Starting as a wizard nets you the weakest hit die in the game, but it also gets you proficiency in Intelligence and Wisdom saves, plus the Arcana and Medicine skills. You're half caster, and if you want to ruin someone's bodily functions you have to know what those are first. Starting as a wizard also gets you Spells that you can cast and prepare using your Intelligence. You get six at first level and two each level after. That's a lot, so we're just going to over spells that are important for the build here, though there's a full list of what we'd get in the character sheet. For cantrips, grab Infestation and Poison Spray for poison damage. For once infestation is completely kosher as is, since Semiramis can summon any creature as long as its poisonous. Also, grab Message. Castle halls are big and echo-y, and it's probably not a good idea to shout at people to find out which glass they put the poison in. Aside from that, grab Mage Armor so you die less, Magic Missile for Assassin balls, and Tenser's Floating Disk to carry all the raw materials you'll be using later. Finally, you get an Arcane Recovery once per long rest, letting you recover a couple spell slots on a short rest. The total level you recover is equal to half your wizard level, rounded up.

Wizard 2: Going into second level of wizard gives you a school of magic, and it's hard to lift several tons of stone into the air if you're not into Graviturgy. When you take the subclass, you can Adjust Density as an action, doubling or halving a large or smaller creature/object's weight for up to a minute with concentration. If you reduce a creature's weight it'll increase their speed by 10', double their jump distance, and have disadvantage on strength saves and checks, and vice versa if you increase it. I checked, and stone is roughly 1,000 times denser than air, not 2, so we'll have to do some brewing later to make this work out. Make your strong minions stronger, your fast minions faster, or do the opposite for your enemies.

Wizard 3: Third level wizards get second level spells. You won't get any dragons in this build, sad to say, but you can use Dragon's Breath to turn just about anything into a dragon. They can even spit poison breath, which is really good with the poisoner's feat. Speaking of..

Wizard 4: First Ability Score Improvement of the build, so grab the Poisoner's Feat for more poisony goodness. All poison-based damage rolls you make ignore resistance, you can coat weapons as a bonus action, and you get proficiency in the poisoner's kit. You also learn a special poison that'll force a dc 14 constitution save on the creature you use it on, dealing 2d8 poison damage and poisoning them for a round.

Wizard 5: Fifth level wizards get third level spells. Animate Dead will help you make dragontooth warriors, a.k.a. skeletons. You can make one per casting right now, but you can recast the spell to retain control over up to three skeletons at once. Otherwise they'll be uncontrollable monsters, which is probably less of a goal.

Druid 1: Semiramis might be known for her poisons, but she's really a multifaceted person. Well, not really, but if you want poisons, you're going to get them from animals. If you want animals, you're going to get them from druids. First level druids learn Druidic- it's a language! They also get another set of Spellcasting using their Wisdom to cast and prepare spells. Check the multiclassing table to figure out your spell slots. Grab Guidance and Resistance to be a bit better than everyone else. For first level spells, look for Entangle and Snare to summon chains to slow down enemies, and Speak with Animals to make sure your dovey-woveys know their work is appreciated. We haven't gotten dovey-woveys yet? Don't worry, they're coming.

Druid 2: Second level druids join their circle, and you're so goddamn smart you just joined another school. At the college of Witherbloom, you'll learn how to turn the vitality of nature into deadly poisons. Right off the bat you get circle spells, which are always prepared for you and don't count against how many spells you can prepare. Right now you get the Spare the Dying cantrip as well as Cure and Inflict Wounds. Now you don't literally have to summon a whip every time you want to hit someone. You can also tap in creatures' essences with your Essence Tap. As a bonus action, you empower yourself for 1 minute, gaining one of two options. Overgrowth lets you heal yourself with a hit die each turn as a bonus action, adding your wisdom modifier to the amount healed. Withering Strike lets you change your damage to necrotic when you hit someone with any sort of damage, ignoring resistances to make your poisons even deadlier. You can use this proficiency times per long rest. Most importantly, you gain a Wild Shape / Wild Companion. Both features use the same two charges per short rest. You're limited to what you can turn into based on its CR and movement options, but those limits and how long you can transform/summon a creature for grows as you level up. Currently I'd stick with Wild Companion for dove familiars, but some versions of Semiramis' story include her turning into a dove herself at the end, so Wild Shape isn't out of the question. As long as we sink eight levels into druid, at least.

Druid 3: Third level druids get second level spells, like your freebies Lesser Restoration and Ray of Enfeeblement. Look, if you're going to make poisons it only makes sense that you'd have antidotes on hand. You can also grab spells like Animal Messenger to send your doves out for ingredients, and Locate Animals or Plants to find them yourself.

Wizard 6: Sixth level graviturgists can make a Gravity Well when you cast a spell, moving the target 5 feet in any direction if it is willing or you successfully hit it with the spell. Speaking of spells that push people, Pulse Wave does just that, stepping in for the big stompy dragon animation. Creatures in a 30' cone make a constitution save, and if they fail they'll take force damage and get pushed back 15', or 20' with Gravity Well. You can also pull them, but that's not really stompy at that point. You can also Summon Undead to create a stronger skeleton to lead the others.

Druid 4: At fourth level, druids can transform into swimming creatures, and you also get another ASI. Bump up your Intelligence for stronger spells. Also, grab the Control Fire cantrip, it'll be cold in your castle without it.

Druid 5: Fifth level druids get third level spells, like Revivify and Vampiric Touch. Neither of those are in character, but you can also Conjure Animals (as long as they're poisonous) and Dispel Magic to keep your throne room free of nonsense.

Wizard 7: Seventh level wizard get fourth level spells, including the one we've been working our way up to, Fabricate! As long as you have the raw materials, you can turn them into products of the same material. Since you're working with stone, you're limited to creating Medium objects this way. Just line the outside of the medium objects you make with halves of smaller objects, then mend them together, and eventually you'll have a castle. This will take a while. For a decent-sized castle of 300'x400', you'll be looking at roughly 480 medium-sized blocks per floor. At level 20 you'll have 12 spell slots of fourth level or higher, so you can knock out a floor in roughly 40 days, not including things like doors or other furniture. Also worth noting, you can't make fancy things like glass without proficiency in the tools required to make them normally, hence all the tool proficiencies from your racial bonuses.

Wizard 8: Use your next ASI to bump up your Wisdom for better healing and stronger druid spells. You also learn Mordenkainen's Private Sanctum, so you can prevent creatures from spying into your hanging gardens. Especially useful is the ability to block creatures from teleporting or plane shifting onto your grounds, as that's probably the only way to approach your gardens safely. Or at least it is after you learn Ice Storm, a long range spell that pelts enemies with ice and turns the area into difficult terrain. Of note, it doesn't say the ground, so the entire cylinder will be difficult to fly through. If you want to build giant arcane cannons instead for authenticity, I salute you. Just remember that'll have to come out of your budget.

Wizard 9: Ninth level wizards get fifth level spells, and Wall of Stone will help you speed up construction by making ten 10'x10' panels or ten 10'x20' panels. You can also use this spell to create bridges or the like, and if you hold concentration for 10 minutes the stone remains permanently. If you want to skimp on materials so you can just get this fucking thing in the air already, this'll help with that. You're also learning Geas. If you can't summon a dragon, forcibly controlling a dragon is the next best thing.

Druid 6: Did you think we were done with druid? I said we were stuck here for 8 levels, didn't I? Sixth level witherbloom druids can make a Witherbloom Brew thanks to their new proficiency with Herbalism kits. At the end of a long rest, you can use that kit to make Proficiency brews, which last for 24 hours. A Fortifying brew gives a creature resistance to a damage type chosen at brewing (cold, fire, necrotic, poison, or radiant) for an hour. A Quickening brew heals its drinker, and ends one disease or an effect of charming, frightening, paralyzation, poisoning, or stunning. Again, antidotes might be useful to have on hand, but the real reason we're here is for the Toxifying brew. You can apply the brew to a weapon, and the next time within an hour that weapon hits a creature, they take 2d6 poison damage and have to make a constituiton saving throw (DC 8 + your wisdom modifier + proficiency) or be poisoned for a minute. This is literally so much better than the poisoner feat what the hell.

Druid 7: Seventh level druids get fourth level spells, like Blight and Greater Restoration for stronger poisons and antidotes respectively. You can also Dominate Beast to hold any poisonous critters still while you milk them, or summon Giant Insects instead. They obey you and stay giant until they drop to 0 HP, dismiss the effect, the spell ends.

Druid 8: Our last level of druid finally lets you turn into a dove with a second Wild Shape Improvement. You also get another ASI, so bump up that Wisdom for stronger spells and poisons.

Wizard 10: Tenth level graviturgists can create a Violent Attraction between a creature's face and a weapon, causing a nearby weapon attack to deal an extra 1d10 damage. Alternatively, you can increase the attraction between a creature and the ground, adding 2d10. I doubt your hanging gardens need help making the fall more deadly, but now you can help out of need be. You can do this Intelligence modifier per long rest.

Wizard 11: Eleventh level wizards get sixth level spells, like Guards and Wards. This will make it so much harder for enemies to breach your castle it isn't even funny, if the "hanging out in the stratosphere" thing didn't tip them off already.

Wizard 12: By twentieth level you should have a castle set up, so grab the Lucky feat. Basically, everything that can go right for you does while you're in your castle, so now you get 3 luck points per long rest to make sure that happens, letting you re-roll your attacks, saves, and checks, as well as attacks aimed at you.

So how the fuck do I get a flying castle?

So, admittedly this is up to DM fiat, but let's be real, a flying castle sounds sick as hell and gathering resources is a great reason to go adventuring. If I was your DM, it'd go something like this; After x months of research, you find a way to prepare materials so Adjust Density is permanent on them if you concentrate for the duration. Then you make and fuse together castle chunks as described in level twelve, and eventually you lighten the load on the special rocks so much they're lighter than air. Boom, liftoff, you're fucking awesome now. If you want to go down, just make the float rocks heavier again.

Pros and Cons

Pros:

Even if you don't build a giant floating castle in your adventure, that doesn't mean all this prepwork went to waste. You are a master at protecting areas from invasion, so no matter where you lay your head you know it's going to be safe. Not as safe as a floating castle, but still, safe.

By mixing together all your tool proficiencies with Fabricate, you can make pretty much whatever you need from raw materials. No more paying a smithy for fancier armor!

If you do get your castle in the air or you're near a cliff, you are incredibly deadly, with plenty of ways to shove opponents around or otherwise control movement. Slow them down, trip them up, or shove them off a cliff it's so good. Pulse people off the edge of your garden and laugh at them as they fall.

Cons:

There's literally no rules about building your own castles & poisons, so most of this build is entirely dependent on your DM. If you get a cool one, cool! If you don't, this build is pretty much a writeoff.

You need to hide away in your castle and send out minions because you're kind of pathetic in person. With only 14 AC and less than 100 HP, you'll go down faster than Medb if you don't use your Wild Shapes well.

A lot of that can be chalked up to mixing caster classes, meaning we have to spend more ASIs to make both spell modifiers good, and we miss out on higher level spells. Also, spending 8 levels in druid just to turn into a dove isn't that great unless you really want the flavor. I highly recommend skipping out after 6, the last graviturgy effect is great both to knock people out of the sky and make them bow if they get to your throne room.

But, getting to your throne room is 90% of the fight. This build is one that emphasizes patience, and that's what puts you above the common folk. Hang out in the stratosphere, attend social events in style, and let your poisons and skeleton warriors do the fighting for you. Just be glad there aren't any wacky knights riding hippogryphs around.

#fgo #fate grand order #D&D 5e #DND #Semiramis #Wizard #Druid

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quazartranslates · 3 years

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Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH30

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

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Chapter 30: Star Death Reality Show (XIII)

"This place between the back of the head and the neck is very dangerous, it's easy for you to cause a brain hernia and kill the person. I’m telling you, the correct way is to hold her carotid artery—the place on the side of the neck, and she’ll pass in a few seconds, safe and harmless," Dr. Lu, who had committed several occupational malpractices, prattled on.

Qi Leren tried to breathe: "She’s not dead, I controlled my strength."

Dr. Lu raised his head: "When did you learn this? How did you suddenly change your style and go straight to James Bond?"

Qi Leren looked helpless: "It was all forced out."

"Qianbei is very fierce, almost too much! So handsome!" Du Yue, the fanboy, wore the awestruck expression of a hopeless fan and looked at Qi Leren with stars in his eyes. "Can qianbei teach me? I also want to learn!"

"Well, let’s wait... let’s wait until the show is over," Qi Leren said. "Hurry up and find out if there’s anything important in this basement. Hurry up, Mark may come back soon."

The three men were busy again, especially Dr. Lu, who, like a hamster whose hidden melon seeds had been lost after the sawdust was changed, searched anxiously. He plunked his ass on the ground and looked into the gap under the bookcase, and pulled Du Yue to help when he was met with heavy objects that couldn’t be moved.

Qi Leren looked around the basement. It wasn’t like a private laboratory, but rather a utility room, with cabinets and bookcases everywhere and some metal barrels and strewn about tools in the corner. Qi Leren even saw homemade explosives… This former owner was good at playing around.

Since there were explosives, it wasn’t strange that there had been an explosion here, and the scope of the explosion wasn’t small, which had left the basement a mess, with huge blocks of stones around the collapsed passageway. Although it could be seen that someone had cleaned this passage that led to an unknown location, they still can't do anything about the heavy stones.

Had anyone entered this passage? Had He Yi entered the passage, or were He Yi and Mark both in it?

Considering that the audience voted to prove that Mark had knocked out Xue Jiahui, it seemed that Mark probably hadn’t entered it. With such a thought, the situation at that time was that Mark had tried to go against He Yi. He Yi discovered the passage in the attic, entered the basement, and discovered the explosives. He wanted to kill Mark with these, and accidentally discovered that there was a secret passage here, which he used to escape?

"Oh, come and look at this! Is this the legendary ID card?" With a loud shout, Dr. Lu held up a plastic card to show it to the others.

When Qi Leren took the card, he still couldn't understand the words on it, but the metal identification strip embedded in it made it distinct. The plastic casing was also tied with a rope, which seemed to be hung around his neck to prevent it from being lost.

"You can give it a try. Come on, let's go back to Jing Siyu’s house" Qi Leren was also excited.

The three people left Annie knocked out, quickly left the building, and headed for the temporarily unoccupied house of Jing Siyu.

In the basement of Jing Siyu's house, with a "di-" sound, the heavy metal door opened upwards, revealing the dark metal passage inside. The emergency lights along the bottom of the passage’s walls were on, and the miserable green light source made this corridor look like a ghostly hell.

Sure enough, there was electricity inside. But intelligent life on this planet had gone extinct, yet there was still a power supply in this underground place? It was incredible.

Qi Leren stuffed the ID card into his pocket: "Turn off the cameras."

He was worried that there would be some accidents that would make him have to use his skill cards. Although doing so would arouse the suspicion of the audience, it was better than direct exposure.

"I'll go in first and see. Wait here. I'll call you when I get to the other end," Qi Leren said cautiously.

"Be careful, if you’re injured, come back quickly. I’ll curse you to death if you don’t!" Dr. Lu said.

"Qianbei, you can do it! You’re the best!" Du Yue clenched his fists.

Qi Leren felt a little tired. Why were all his little friends so funny? Couldn’t he get better ones?

In the deep and otherworldly green light, Qi Leren took the first step. His footsteps were as light as a prowling cat, and he didn't make a sound. This disturbing color touched his nerves and made him feel that he was in constant danger.

One step, two steps... Qi Leren moved forward, and the uncertainty of stepping on a censor haunted Qi Leren at every moment, making him more alert. He believed in his intuition. He knew he could even accurately sense the threat of flying knives when he was blindfolded, as Chen Baiqi had already confirmed.

And this passage was not safe.

Just when he was thinking about it, his hunch came true!

[Rain-Day Laundry: At present, the remaining sensing times are 2/3.]

Dididididididi— The shrill alarm sounded! Even if the ID card had been used to open the door, Qi Leren, an illegal intruder, was still caught! The metal door behind him slammed shut, cutting off his escape route! Dr. Lu and Du Yue shouted at the door in alarm, and at the end of the metal corridor, dazzling laser beams were generated!

Qi Leren's pupils suddenly contracted. The knee-high red laser beam quickly rushed toward him from the end of the corridor! Qi Leren couldn’t think about it, he could only jump! The timing and height were just right, avoiding this laser beam perfectly. But this was not the end. More laser beams were coming from the end of the corridor!

Calm down, calm down, calm down... I can't fucking calm down! Qi Leren was extremely nervous. He made a save with the Save/Load Data, but he knew that S/L wasn’t a good solution for this situation! After he saved, he would be cut into pieces of meat by the laser beam. After his resurrection, he would still be standing in place, waiting for the next laser beam to cut him again!

Shit, it was a dead end! This C-rank task was poisonous!

Qi Leren, whose brain had gone blank, recalled watching the movie "Resident Evil" with his father when he was a child. The laser corridor that cut a group of special forces into meat had left a deep shadow on his childhood. He remembered that there was an escape hatch above the laser corridor in the movie.

Qi Leren suddenly looked up, and under the green lights, he saw a neat metal ceiling without any cracks.

All those movies are so deceptive... Qi Leren scolded mentally as the four laser beams scattered in front of him approached within five meters, and the alerts from his "Rain-Day Laundry" skill sounded one after another, directly entering the cooldown period. Qi Leren, who was under high tension, broke out again. He got up and ran towards the laser beam—Jump! Over the first laser beam! Roll forward on the spot! Second beam!

The height of the last two laser beams were very tricky, and there was no way to dodge! They were too low to lie flat, and it was too late to jump. Qi Leren, who had already rolled on the ground, couldn't avoid the oncoming pitfalls. Even at this critical juncture, he used the strength of his arms to prop up his body and did a backflip, with his waist folded into a perfect arc.

The two high and low red beams reflected their dazzling deadly light on the metal wall, and the scorching temperature seemed to cut his arm and lower back, leaving burn marks on his skin. But when Qi Leren landed, he discovered that the laser beams were gone, and he had escaped them!

In these five or six seconds, Qi Leren had made a 180 between life and death. If Chen Baiqi was here, she would be shocked. Qi Leren’s blank mind suddenly flashed such a sentence.

The exit was seven or eight meters ahead, and the door there was open. It seemed that the personnel who had set up this trap didn't think anyone could pass through it alive. But before Qi Leren could breathe a sigh of relief, the laser beam at the end of the corridor lit up again. At first, it was the first one, then the second one and the third one... They were woven over the same position, forming a laser net comparable to a fishing net! It was finer than the laser wall placed by the producers outside this village!

No wonder this laser corridor didn't need to have a closed door! Qi Leren couldn't help but admit defeat and decided to run away—Nonsense, his save point was behind him. If he didn't retreat, he would be barbecued by the laser net once in his present position, then resurrected at the save point behind him, and then be chopped up again!

This round was a disaster. He hoped the laser net would disappear after one use. S/L could only restore his body to the position and state where it was saved, but the material world around him wouldn’t be turned back to the state where it had been. Otherwise, it would be too fatalistic... But it was meaningless to complain about this at this time.

Qi Leren sighed, closed his eyes, and forced himself not to think about the pain of dying. The countdown for the save was eleven seconds, ten seconds, nine seconds...

The scorching temperature kissed him on the cheek, and before he could taste the pain carefully, he was resurrected at the save point, and the laser net that destroyed any living creatures in the corridor disappeared.

This time, Qi Leren started to rush forward without hesitation. Hurry up. He didn't know whether there would be a second group of laser nets at the end of the corridor. If there was one, he had to hurry before the laser nets formed, otherwise he would be trapped and would die here, and would die completely after the S/L skill’s three resurrections were consumed!

As he ran to the end of the corridor, less than two meters away from the exit, the first ray of the second laser net appeared, just at the height of his neck. The next moment, the second one, at the position of his knees, and then the next moment...

It was too late. Engaged in a 100-meter sprint, Qi Leren couldn't adjust his body posture and could only run into the laser beams—his head was separated.

The file was read for the second time.

This time, Qi Leren's reaction is faster than the last time. He must run faster than the last time, otherwise, when the beams at the end of the corridor appeared, he would definitely hit them head-on and make a clean break!

Faster, faster... Qi Leren's feet ran like they didn't touch the ground. Under this extreme test of life and death, he ran faster than he had in any training! Because this wasn’t training, it was a test of life and death.

Here we are, we'll be ready soon...

The red laser beams lit up amidst the continuous shrill alarm sound, and the running Qi Leren closed his eyes in despair. The moment before his death was short, but it was long. The laser cut his body, but his brain was still running. He tried his best to think about how to break this stand-off. Every ten seconds, a laser net would appear at the end of the laser corridor and move forward. This laser net didn’t appear only once, otherwise, he could easily use the S/L Data to escape.

Unless he could "break the shell", as Chen Baiqi had said, and break the limits of his body and enter another state, he was destined to draw the line on the end of his life here.

He could only see the glimmer of hope if he tried his best and gave it a go.

He didn't want to die here, no matter what. He still had too many words to say to Ning Zhou, to tell him of the love he had never dared to express and to let the words hidden in his heart overflow. Even if he died, he couldn't close his eyes peacefully.

He couldn’t let Ning Zhou be sad.

The file was read for the third time and final time.

Qi Leren cleared his brain and drove away all his distractions. His body forgot its exhaustion and weakness in the moment that he finished reading the file. His eyes looked directly at the gate leading to heaven ahead, and he rushed there like lightning.

He didn't think about whether it could be done or the consequences of failure. There was a firm belief that made his soul burn at this moment. Willpower poured energy beyond his limits into his limbs. He was as fast as a meteor. In this dark tunnel, the wind sprinted and rushed to the exit!

The first laser beam lit up, and in the next second, more laser lines would be woven into an impassable net at this position, and anyone who tried to cross this barrier would be cut into pieces. The second laser line lit up, but Qi Leren had already rushed to it, jumped up in this extreme sprint, and jumped between the two laser beams. The world was as silent as when he jumped from the boat and his head became submerged beneath the water.

In the moment when he fell heavily to the ground, the alarm came to an abrupt end. Qi Leren didn't realize that he had passed through the corridor. He pushed up from the ground, rolling and crawling, and looked behind him in a panic. The newly formed laser grid sensed that there was no intruder in the corridor and was automatically dissipated and he, who had already pulled off his seat belt, had escaped this nearly inescapable danger.

-----

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#Welcome to the Nightmare Game #欢迎来到噩梦游戏 #danmei

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theotherjourney7 · 4 years

Text

"We're going back in time a little for the next hour or so. I am going to live-tweet the atomic bombing of Hiroshima, which occurred on 6 August 1945. Exactly 75 years ago.

This is a sad, horrific day but we need to remember it.

T-1 hour. The bombers are en route, having taken off from Tinian. B-29 Superfortresses, the plane that carries the atomic device - Little Boy - is the Enola Gay. The name was after the pilot, Col. Paul Tibbets MOTHER. Taken from the usual pilot for the mission.

She was only named on 5 August.

They set off about 4 1/2 hours ago. The Enola Gay's callsign is Dimples 82. There are 6 other planes: three for weather recon over targets, one strike obs, one spare.

Enola Gay picks up a message from Dimples 85: "Straight Flush". The plane's job is to assess cloud over Hiroshima.

"Cloud cover less than 3/10th at all altitudes. Advice: bomb primary."

Hiroshima will be the target.

Down below, the city has just sounded the all-clear.

The mission includes one future Nobel prize winner. Accompanying Enola Gay is The Great Artiste, which will do measurements of the blast. On board is Luis Alvarez, who will win the Physics prize in 1968 for developing the hydrogen bubble chamber.

The bomb is a uranium atomic weapon, a type that has never been detonated before: the first test was a plutonium, more powerful, 'Fat Man' bomb. Little Boy is a misnomer, though: the bomb weighs 9700 pounds and is around 3m long.

It is already armed.

Tibbets has ordered no formation flying. The planes with him - Great Artiste and (I am not making this name up) Necessary Evil, are just in visual range.

The Sun is up now. They are slowly rising to about 31,000 feet. On board, the crew says very little.

In Hiroshima, people are beginning their day. They do not know about atomic weapons. It is HQ of General Hata's 2nd Army, controlling the defence of southern Japan. Around 350,000 people live here.

The target of the bomb is the strange, T-shaped Aioi Bridge in the city heart.

T-30 minutes. On board Enola Gay, the mission commander, William "Deak" Parsons, does the final arming, removing the safety devices that could have caused it to detonate if it crashed on take-off. The duty falls to his assistant, Morris Jeppson.

There are 12 men on board. Only one of them, Robert Lewis, is keeping a minute-by-minute account.

Japan comes into view. For Navigator "Dutch" Van Kirk, it is the first and only mission he will fly over the country.

The Enola Gay's flightpath goes over the island of Shikoku and on to Hiroshima. The city becomes clear into view about 50 miles out.

It's a beautiful day.

A total of 3,243 troops have begun physical training in the ground of Hiroshima Castle.

They will all be dead in 15 minutes.

T-13 minutes. Bombardier Thomas Ferebee, in the nose, recognises Hiroshima. He asks Dutch, who confirms they have the target. They will make their bomb run shortly.

T-6 minutes. Ferebee takes control of the plane. The Enola Gay has begun its bombing run. Only Ferebee, Tibbets and Parsons know what the bomb can do: everyone else has been given black goggles and told to expect a flash.

This is what Hiroshima looks like from the air.

Eizō Nomura, is working in a concrete basement of the Rest House, about 200m from where the blast will happen. He will be the closest survivor of the atomic bomb attack.

The other 36 people in the building above him will die.

T-2 minutes. Tibbets begins to count down to his crew.

The worst weapon in history will soon be used.

"10...9...8...7..."

8.15am 6 August 1945. Enola Gay releases the atomic bomb.

It will take 43 seconds to reach the ground. It is already caught in a crosswind and will miss the target. Enola Gay veers upward and immediately begins a 160-degree turn to escape.

The bomb misses its target, and detonates directly over the Shima Surgical Clinic. It releases 16 kilotons of energy, levelling everything in a mile’s radius of the blast. There is a flash… then a blast. Then death.

Within a four-mile radius, fires rage.

Devestation. Carnage. Thousands die instantly. Thousands more will die soon. Around 70% of Hiroshima’s buildings are destroyed. Among the casualties is the mayor, killed instantly while eating breakfast with his son and granddaughter.

Enola Gay is buffeted by the explosion, the men in the flight cabin dazzled like ‘a photographer’s bulb going off’. They continue to fly away, in an arc northeast then southeast of the city. From their vantage point, they see only dust and smoke, “like a pot black, boiling tar.”

On the ground, the death toll is catastrophic. Many more are severely injured, such as from thermal flash burns. Already a firestorm has begun to sweep through Hiroshima. There is no one to help: 90% of the city’s doctors and nurses are casualties themselves.

At the Red Cross Hospital, only one doctor, Terufumi Sasaki, is able to remain on duty and help survivors.

Yoshie Oka, a high school student, messages Fukuyama HQ: “Hiroshima has been attacked by a new type of bomb. The city is in a state of near-total destruction."

Field Marshal Hata is only slightly wounded and trying to take control but many of his staff are dead.

12 American airmen are imprisoned in the city. Eight die instantly; two are executed; two are badly wounded and left to be stoned to death next to Aioi Bridge.

The mushroom cloud has begun to form over the city. On the outskirts, fires rage. Tibbets, exhausted, hands over controls and decides to take a nap. Enola Gay returns safely to base and will arrive at 3pm.

In the carnage, a firestorm has begun (pictured).

In total, 20,000 Japanese soldiers and 70-120,000 civilians will lose their life. It is the worst death toll caused by a single weapon in history.

Three days later, a more powerful bomb will be dropped on Nagasaki.

Please remember why we do not use these weapons.

This has been a very horrible to write but it is important we remember.

This story needs to be told, shared, and memorialised.

Lest we forget.

For those wondering, Enola Gay is currently a museum display at the Udvar-Hazy Center near Dulles Airport in Virginia, US (part of the Smithsonian).”-Kit Chapman

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heavcnslyre · 3 years

Text

ricky bowen x reader second series!! part one

— (continuation) starstruck au!

first series | series masterlist, part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six, part seven, part eight, part nine, part ten

IN WHICH you cherish the last few days you have with ricky before he leaves for california.

WARNINGS n / a

NOTES first part of my new series!!!! super cheesy but it’s sweet hope you enjoy!!

text dividers from @writeyourmindaway

lowercase intended

( tags: @hesvoid34 @omgdani17 )

you smiled at ricky’s last message and clicked your phone off, cuddling back into your sheets. ricky had been staying with you the past few days and it was nice to be able to spend time with him, but he was leaving tomorrow. you constantly thought about how different it’s going to be— with him in california and you in new york. you lived such different lives: you were a high school senior in a random city in new york and he was a famous singer in los angeles, california. you were nervous to be away from him for so long, but you knew it wasn’t forever.

you had almsot drifted off to sleep again when you heard your bedroom door open and close. you opened your eyes and peeped over at ricky, who grinned at you when you made eye contact.

“good morning,” he said. he was carrying a box of donuts which he set on your bed close to your feet.

“morning!” you replied cheerfully as you sat up and grabbed the box. he sat on the bed carefully next to you. you pulled out a jelly filled donut.

“i am going to make such a mess on my bed,” you commented, powder already falling from your donut onto the sheets. he laughed and grabbed a glazed donut.

“no surprise there.”

you laughed and took a bite of your donut. after a minute, you turned to him. “what should we do today?”

“hm,” he thought for a moment. “good question.”

“i wish it wasn’t your last day here,” you said. “i have to go back to real life when you leave.”

ricky laughed. “yeah, it’s really been a nice escape, being here with you.”

you snuggled back into your blankets and looked up at him. “you could just stay. my whole family loves you, sure it’d be fine.”

“you know i would if i could,” he brushed your hair behind your ear. “i guess i have a career to get to, though.”

you hummed. “yeah. guess that’s sort of important, huh?”

“i guess,” he said. “you’re more important though, obviously.”

you smiled and grabbed his hand, tracing lines on it. “will you be recording ‘common sense’ when you get back?”

“of course,” ricky grinned. “i’ll release it as soon as possible.”

“i want to be the first to hear the recorded version.”

“well, it is about you, so sure.”

the two of you sat and talked for a while before you heard a knock on the door. you told them to come in and camilla peeked her head in the door.

“oh— uh, hi. sorry,” she said nervously. she had started to get used to the fact that you were dating ricky, but she was still a huge fan of his and wasn’t quite used to seeing him in her little sisters bed.

“hey cam. what’s up?” you asked.

“mom and dad wanted me to let you know we’re going to go out and get dinner tonight since ricky’s leaving tomorrow,” she said ricky’s name somewhat nervously, as if she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to address him casually.

“sounds great,” ricky smiled at camilla. she smiled back, in a you’re-my-sisters-boyfriend-and-i-think-i-approve type way. you nudged the box of donuts with your foot.

“donuts, if you want some.”

she peeked in the box. “any jelly filled?”

“should be a couple more in there,” ricky said. she grabbed one from the box.

“thanks guys. i’m thinking about going to a few shops today with my friend, if you wanted to tag along,” she said as she moved to the door. you looked at ricky and he shrugged.

“yeah, sure. just let us know when you’re going,” you said and camilla nodded before leaving your room. you turned to ricky.

“i think she’s getting used to having you here.”

he nodded. “definitely an improvement from when i came over after the dance.”

you laughed at the memory. when you returned home that day with ricky, ashlyn, and big red, you swore that camilla’s eyes popped out of her head. her face was red the whole time she spoke to him and she rambled on and on. of course, ricky listened and didn’t mind, but you thought her behavior was funny. shes usually so confident, and seeing her nervous was weird for you. you were just glad that she was getting used to him now and that they got along. you weren’t sure what you would do if your family didn’t like him.

“you ready to go?” your mom asked, walking into the living room where you and ricky were watching a movie. you looked over at her and nodded.

“yeah. are we driving together or seperate?”

your mom shrugged. “you guys can drive seperate, if you want. cam’s meeting us there.”

“okay,” you turned to ricky. “you wanna drive or should i?”

“do you really want to drive?” ricky asked teasingly. you laughed and rubbed your eyes.

“maybe not. maybe you should,” he laughed and stood up, offering you a hand. you grabbed it and pulled yourself up.

“what restaurant is it we’re going to?” ricky asked your mom.

“applebee’s on third street. (y/n) knows where it is if you can’t find it.”

“okay, awesome.”

ricky grabbed his keys and the two of you left right behind your parents. ricky rested his hand on your leg and you scrolled through your phone. as you were on twitter, a thought popped into your mind.

“hey ricky? can i ask you something?”

“of course.”

“when do you think you’ll say something about us being together?” you asked gently, in a tone that hopefully portrayed that you weren’t mad, just curious. he thought for a second.

“maybe when i release common sense?” he suggested, glancing over at you. “i feel like by then things will be calmed down enough and i can be truthful about who it’s about.”

you grabbed his hand and intertwined your fingers. “that’s perfect.”

“so, ricky,” your dad asked as you were sitting at the restaurant. “do you have anything you’re working on when you get back to california?”

ricky hummed. “i actually have an album in the works and theres potential for a role in a movie as well. but i’m also going to be focusing on spending time on myself and people i care about.”

you and ricky made eye contact and you smiled. you had had a conversation about how he puts too much on his plate and that he needed to focus on doing what he wanted to do, and he really took that to heart. he planned to spend more time writing his music and he was only going to do this movie if it felt right for him.

“that’s a great plan,” your dad said. “i’m excited to see how you do in the future.”

“thank you, mr. (y/l/n), that really means a lot to me,” he said. “when do you think you guys will make it out to california next?”

“definitely the summertime,” your mom said. “i’d love if we could go sooner but... going across the country isn’t necessarily a weekend trip.”

“yeah, i get that,” ricky laughed. “summers not too far, though!”

“yeah, in the meantime you can just take a drive to glendale and become best friends with my grandma,” you teased. ricky laughed.

“very true.”

the five of you sat and talked at dinner for over an hour, and your family got to know ricky. it was really nice to see them getting along. eventually, you all decided it was time to leave and let other people have your table. as you were walking out in the parking lot, ricky turned to your parents.

“i think (y/n) and i will go for a bit of a drive, if that’s alright?” he asked. your dad nodded and checked his watch.

“sure thing. just drive careful and be back before 12?”

“awesome, thanks!” ricky said and the two of you walked hand-in-hand back to your car.

“so, where are we going?” you asked as you got into the passengers seat.

“just for a drive. nowhere specific. besides, i know nothing about your city. we might get lost.”

you laughed. “this city isn’t that big. but getting lost is not that big of a deal. we’ll figure it out.”

“i’ve said this before— no one i’d rather get lost with than you,” ricky said, then grinned at you. you grinned back and grabbed his hand.

“right back at you.”

you and ricky ended up getting ice cream then finding a park to walk around in. but then, you quickly realized that it was new york in the middle of january, and you were freezing. you sat in the car together, sitting and talking as you looked at the stars. you had learned a lot about each other recently and you just continued to learn new things about him. you were able to pick up on little things he did; like run his hand through his hair when he was talking a lot and how his ears turned red when he got embarrassed.

ricky drove the two of you back to your house right around 11:30. everyone was asleep, as you assumed they would be. you made your way upstairs and into bed and ricky slipped in next to you, a few minutes later. you cuddled up next to him and he wrapped his arms around you.

“i’m going to miss this when you leave,” you sighed. he held you tighter.

“yeah. me too.”

“are you sure you have everything?” you asked ricky nervously, handing him one of his bags at the airport. your parents had left to go look at some of the shops to let you say goodbye. he gave you a light smile.

“yes. and if i forgot anything, you can just mail it to me. or, we can use it as an excuse to see each other sooner,” you laughed.

“are you sure you’ll be okay flying by yourself? are you comfortable?” you asked, he lifted your chin so you would look him in the eye.

“love, i’ll be fine. don’t worry,” your face softened and you leaned in to kiss him. he moved his arms to your waist and you moved yours to around his neck. when you pulled back, you rested your forehead against his.

“i can’t believe you’re going to be across the country from me, and in a different time zone,” you said. he rubbed your back.

“i know. but i’ll call you, everyday. call, not just text. and... i’ll update you on everything i’m working on, my songs, the movie, whatever.”

you nodded and pulled away from him. “just... take care of yourself, ricky. and don’t find another girl to be with in california.”

“trust me, i won’t,” he laughed. “my heart is here, with you.”

“so cheesy,” you teased. ricky rolled his eyes fondly.

“flight 258 to los angeles, california is now boarding!” you heard over the loud speakers. you sighed.

“guess you should go,” you said.

“guess i should.”

you smooth out his sleeves distractedly. “text me as soon as you land, okay? and say hi to big red for me, and your parents.”

“i will. my parents are excited to meet you for real, soon.”

“i’m excited to meet them. june, hopefully. then you, me, red and ashlyn will be altogether again. that’ll be nice.”

“yeah it will be! and i can finally show you more of california. it’ll be great,” you nodded.

“okay, enough of these cheesy goodbyes. no ones dying. facetime me later, i’ll see you soon.”

you kissed him again quickly and he turned to get to his gate as the warning was called for his flight. you sighed as you watched him leave. before he walked onto his plane, he turned around and waved at you. you waved back, a big smile on your face, and he turned to walk onto his plane. as he disappeared from your vision, your parents and camilla approached you.

“he board his plane?” your dad asked. you nodded.

“you okay?” camilla asked you gently. you looked over and nodded. she put her arm around your shoulder. “c’mon. lunch is on me.”

#ricky bowen starstruck au #high school musical the musical the series #hsmtmts #olivia rodrigo #ashlyn caswell #bowen #joshua bassett #ricky #ricky bowen x reader #drivers license #hsm the series #ricky bowen headcanons #ricky bowen

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 3 years

Text

Don’t Treat My Love Like a Habit Part Thirteen

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist Pairing: Santiago Garcia x Reader Rating: Mature (this may change) Warnings: Cursing; canon-typical violence (not terribly descriptive); flirting; pining Notes: Set before the movie. Not beta-read. Reina is Spanish for Queen. Happy New Year! 🥳 Summary: Pope and Alex had pulled a couple of stakeouts together in that time, and when neither had come back with black eyes or missing teeth -- in fact, when both had come back and neither had mysteriously ‘disappeared’, you’d taken it as a sign that things were improving.

“I’ve got eyes on ya,” You said, watching Alex through the monitor. “Well, now I feel self-conscious. I knew I should’ve worn tighter jeans today,” Alex’s voice was quiet as it crackled through your earpiece. “Not a problem from my point of view,” Was Pope’s retort; he was only a few feet from Alex’s position. You rolled your eyes. The two of them had continued to be somewhat combative over the last couple of weeks, but it had defrosted slightly and taken a turn for the teasing. At least, Pope had stopped openly griping to you about him. He and Alex had pulled a couple of stakeouts together in that time, and when neither had come back with black eyes or missing teeth -- in fact, when both had come back and neither had mysteriously ‘disappeared’, you’d taken it as a sign that things were improving.

“Glad it hear it, Garcia. You know, I picked these with you in mind?” Alex answered, and you huffed a laugh, unable to help it. “You know, you two were bad enough apart, you’re insufferable on the same channel,” You teased. “Oh, ouch--” “He and I are not as bad--” “How dare you, Reina--” “If anything I make it better--” Santiago and Alex hurried to correct you over one another and you groaned, “Alright, alright, I take it back, fuckssake! Eyes up, you’ve got a car approaching.” It had been a tip from one of Santiago’s informants that had gotten you there. When he’d told you that he had a new informant, you hadn’t gone out of your way to ask the questions that you usually would’ve asked. When Isabella had first come up, before she’d disappeared with your best (and only) lead at the time, you’d made fun of him a little, asked if she was hot, if he bothered to get dressed up for her, if they went to his place or hers. This time you’d just taken the information in the same way you did when the guy handed you a tequila shot - with one solid nod and a wince once he’d turned his head. Whatever feelings you had toward the methods Pope sometimes employed, now was not the time to take issue with them. The man was letting you stay in his apartment - sleep in his bed for goddsake. Besides that, the two of you had never been closer. It was beyond being around him so constantly. You felt like you understood Pope on an entirely different level now. “What’ve we got?” You asked as you watched the car pull to a stop on the live feed. “I am seeing… Three people in the car…No one’s making a move to get out,” Alex relayed. “Just give it a minute,” Pope grumbled. Neither you nor Alex replied, just waited for a few tense seconds. And then the passenger side front door opened. “Alright, hang on, hang on,” Pope was cautioning, even as you were working to enhance your stream. You froze, fingers over the keyboard as the picture became clear. “Guys,” You mumbled, “Is that-- Are you seeing--” “Yes,” Alex breathed, even as Pope hissed, “Fuck.” That was Camilo Hernandez. You’d been looking for the man for months. He was distinct, even on a grainy camera feed. “Guys,” You warned quietly, “We stick to the original plan. I know that this changes things, but it doesn’t change how many people we have at our disposal. I’m calling for backup now,” You added, fingers moving swiftly over the keys again, “But if they can’t get there in time--” “Understood,” Alex grumbled. Pope didn’t even answer you. You couldn’t imagine what was going through his head - and fuck, you wanted to ask, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. He needed to be focused on what was right in front of him. You were resolved to only speak up again if it was absolutely necessary - reinforcements were on their way, or another car pulled up. You watched as the other two people got out of the car - one of them being Pope’s informant. She was cute. You whacked the thought back down as suddenly as it appeared. There was no time for that, and the fact, while true, was not a helpful one. The three of them started toward a house not too far from where they’d parked. “I’m moving into position,” Alex warned through the comm. “Right behind you. How are we doing on reinforcements?” Pope asked. You glanced at the messages that had come through. “Eight minutes out.” “You can’t speed them up?” Pope growled. “If I could, I would,” You gritted out, leaning against the desk and watching as the two crept into position around the car. You held your breath as Alex slid under the car to place a tracking device. “Get out of there, ‘Brano, they’re coming back out,” Pope hissed. “I’m not finished--” “Alex, move--” You ordered as quickly as you could. But it wasn’t quickly enough. When you were on that side of the screen, it was never quickly enough. The feed was hazy and sluggish, the actions of the people unclear and moments behind what you were hearing. You balled your hands into fists as you heard gunfire, yelling, the squealing of car tires. You took in a shuddering breath as quiet fell on the other end. “Zambrano?” You finally dared to speak, “Garcia? Someone talk to me.” “‘Brano’s been hit.” --

The way that Santiago had delivered the news was flat, but you knew him better; his voice was tight with the fact, with worry. When you’d finally been able to leave, to meet the two at the hospital, you found Alex in one piece with a woozy ‘just-given-painkillers’ smile and his arm in a sling. The bullet hadn’t hit anything vital - it had passed through his abdomen; the stitches could come out in a week or two. Pope looked like he could’ve eaten the world twice over - his brow was drown low, in frustration or upset, you couldn’t tell; his jaw was clenched as if he was the one that had been shot. “I’ll get him home,” You told your boss quietly (because right now, that was what the man was to you - your boss; this was still work). He gave a short nod and hardly met your eye as he left the hospital room. You sighed, turning back to Alex and shaking your head. “It’s always something with you, isn’t it, ‘Brano.” “Gotta keep it interesting, Q,” He retorted, “Now help me stand up, the room feels like one of those spinny horse up-and-down rides.” “Carousel, ‘Brano,” You smiled in spite of yourself, in spite of the situation as you gave him your arm to steady himself, “A carousel.”

-- You didn’t make it back to your Pope’s apartment until very early the next morning - it was nearly 5:30; the sun had yet to rise. You’d gotten Alex to his apartment and stayed to get him settled. You’d made sure he’d had something to eat, helped him get changed into more comfortable clothing. You’d tucked him in, too, after he’d sworn up and down to call you when he woke up. You only left to check in at the office. The tracker was working. The damn thing that Alex had crawled under the car to place and nearly died working on was working. On the other side of town, while you, Pope, and ‘Brano had been in that situation, Diego’s team had hit a stash house and been able to seize a fair amount of product, cash, and several workers. The night had viable leads, tangible results, a functioning tracker to show for it.

-- You moved around Pope’s apartment gingerly. You showered first, trying to rid yourself of the night's grime, taking twice as long, as if you could scrub off the feeling of helplessness that had lingered with you. You hadn’t heard from Pope all evening. You hadn’t reached out; you’d figured he’d have his own ends to wrap up, his own questions to ask of his informant, and you didn’t want to interrupt that...Situation. You stepped into Santiago’s room, peering around. You’d laid your pajamas out for yourself the day before, and they were still there, undisturbed on your side of the bed. You crept closer, towel wrapped tightly around yourself as you eyed where Santiago lay, back to you. You reached out, tugging your sleep shorts on. You eyed the tank top you normally slept in next. You were still a little damp from the shower, and you knew that you’d be chilly. You stepped over to his dresser, opening one of his drawers rather than yours and pulling out one of his few long-sleeve shirts. He wouldn't mind, right? They didn't get much use, anyway.

You dropped your towel and tugged it on, sighing at the immediate feeling of warmth and comfort that washed over you. You shut the dresser drawer gingerly before scooping the towel off of the floor and creeping back out of the room. Coffee. You’d make coffee, head back into the office to see how the tracker was doing and then get some food to bring over to Alex’s. That was the best course of action. You took yours and Pope’s mugs out of the dish drainer, pouring freshly brewed coffee into your mug. As you waited for it to cool a bit, you found yourself bracing yourself against the counter and closing your eyes. You were tired. It had been a long night. You hadn’t taken a moment to rest at Alex’s, more concerned with getting him situated so that you could follow up with the rest of the op. Of course, it was a relief that everything was running smoothly, but-- You glanced back as you heard a creak in the floorboard, your hand instinctively flying to your thigh, where you typically had your gun strapped. Of course you’d just showered - there was no gun to be found. “It’s just me,” Santiago’s voice was somehow soothing even when it was rough as sandpaper from sleep. You sighed quietly, nodding and straightening up to pour coffee into his mug as well. “That’s a relief. I was about to reach for the spatula.” You smiled as he chuckled and crowded up behind you. He curled his arms around you, his face pressing into your neck. “Your nose is cold,” You grumbled. “Give it a minute,” Was his muffled reply. You smiled.

“How are you feeling? Bout last night, I mean,” You clarified. Santiago took a moment to answer. And when he finally did, he mumbled, “We almost got him.” “I know. You’re gonna get him.” “We’re gonna get him. The dual raids were your idea.” “Yeah, yeah. But you guys did all of the heavy lifting.” You glanced down, absently trailing a finger over one of Santiago’s arms where it was wrapped around you. “Your coffee’s getting cold.” “I can handle lukewarm coffee, Reina.” “...You’re cuddly first thing in the morning.” “Mm.” “Are you always this cuddly first thing?” “Mm.” You rolled your eyes as Santiago lifted his head, nudging his nose against the hinge of your jaw before he stepped away, leaning against the counter. That’s when you realized how… Well, how shirtless he was. You and Santiago always slept with your backs to one another, and you hadn’t exactly gone over to get a good look at him when you’d gone in to get dressed. Did he always sleep shirtless? You turned away as quickly as you had looked, not wanting to be caught out. You’d certainly gotten an eyeful. Whoever this informant was, she must’ve been less territorial than Isabella was. Santiago was hickey-free -- from what you could see, anyway. “How’s Zambrano?” Santiago asked after a few sips of coffee. “In one piece. He’s hopped up on pain meds and has eight stitches on his left side. He’ll be fine. He’s had worse,” You answered, warming your hands around your mug. You felt a tug on the hem of your shirt and glanced down to see Pope fiddling with it. Your eyes trailed up his arm to his face, giving him a bashful smile. “Uh… Ha, yeah, sorry. I took a shower and I was chilly so I kinda… Borrowed it.” You raised a brow as Pope tugged at the hem again. “You want it back?” You teased. “Would you hand it over right now if I asked?” Santiago’s eyes were as dark and as warm as the coffee he was sipping. You huffed out a shaky laugh, feeling yourself flush as you raised your own mug to your lips. He always did like to fuck with you; you took his flirting with a grain of salt. “I’m gonna head out soon, check on ‘Brano and see how things are at the office. Also, considering how picky you are, you’d probably just tell me I was taking it off wrong,” You added as you headed out of the kitchen. You were well into the hall when you choked on your coffee, hearing Santiago call after you, “I could show you how it’s done.” Tag list: @justanotherblonde23 ; @revolution-starter ; @emurlemur ; @badbitxhbuckybarnes ; @supernaturalcat7

#Don't Treat My Love Like a Habit #Santiago Garcia #Santiago Garcia/Reader #Santiago Garcia x Reader #Santiago Garcia x You #Santiago Garcia/You #santiago pope garcia #Santiago Pope Garcia x Reader #Santiago Pope Garcia x You #Santiago Pope Garcia/You #Santiago Pope Garcia/Reader

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tripleaxeldiaz · 3 years

Text

maybe one day i’ll fly next to you

chapter 1/8

read on ao3

The sun is just rising when he gets to the rink, the early morning light streaming in through the high windows, making the ice glow. He’s the first one there, just like he planned, so he gets to take his time getting ready. He stretches a bit in the locker room before lacing up his skates and heading to the ice. Placing his guards on the boards, he takes a minute to just look, relishing in the stillness, the quiet, the smooth surface of the untouched ice. He takes one step, two, and he’s off, gliding through the mirrored surface, carving his path as he goes.

Buck can’t remember a time when skating wasn’t his entire life. He first put on skates at four, wobbling on the side of the rink while Maddie was in lessons. He started lessons of his own at six, and after that, he never stopped thinking about being on the ice. And he was good, too — by eight he was competing in the regional circuit, already landing a handful of clean triples when most kids were still struggling with doubles. He qualified for his first nationals at 10, won gold in Juniors at 11, and by the time he qualified for Junior Grand Prix at 13, people already knew his name. They knew his “modern artistry” as they called it, his powerful jumps, and talked about him like he was someone worth watching out for once he made it to the senior level.

It helped that by then, Buck was already addicted to competition. He loved skating on its own — the power he felt when he jumped and flew across the ice, the beauty of well-executed spirals and step sequences — but nothing made him feel more alive than doing it in front of a crowd and a panel of judges. Landing each element perfectly sent a thrill through him that he never wanted to stop feeling, and seeing his scores, usually much higher than others, was something that never got boring. He wanted to be the best, was on his way to being the best, and those hazy dreams of an Olympic gold medal didn’t feel quite as hazy anymore.

For a while, at least. Until he showed up.

But Buck doesn’t want to think about him right now, he just wants to enjoy the peace and quiet while he can. He’s not skating to anything in particular, just the music in his head taking him wherever feels right. He’s so lost in it, trying to nail the bit of choreo he just made up, that he doesn’t even notice Bobby until he hears him clapping from the benches.

“Looks good, Buck. Talk to Hen, I think that would work in your new short.”

“Thanks Bobby,” Buck says, making his way to the boards. Bobby hands him his guards and his water bottle, heading back towards the locker room.

“Come on, we’re just about to get started.”

Bobby and Athena have had this beginning of the season meeting for as long as Buck has been at their club. They go over assignments for Grand Prix and the Challenger series, figure out general training schedules, and do a “goal setting session” for what they want to accomplish this season.

Bobby calls it a “family meeting”, which is cute but also annoying. Skating isn’t a team sport. Families don’t win medals. And that’s all Buck wants to accomplish every season until he retires: he wants to win.

He sits down on a bench next to Maddie, who’s deep in conversation with Athena about her and Chimney’s programs, he’s sure. She’s been planning them since Worlds, so they’re probably fully choreographed and ready for competition. The Buckleys are nothing if not overachievers.

Bobby clears his throat, standing in front of the roll-away white board, and gets started. Buck’s half paying attention — it’s the fifth time he’s heard the “athletes aren’t born, they’re made” speech, he gets the point — letting his eyes wander over the small crowd of skaters. Chim’s on Athena’s other side, nodding along with Bobby. May and Hen are standing along the lockers, whispering quietly. The Juniors kids are sitting on the floor, in awe of their coach as he talks about hard work and victory. Buck gets it, he’s still a little in awe of Bobby himself, but not so much of his recycled speeches.

There’s one face, though, that he doesn’t see, and for a minute, he’s hopeful. He’s gone, he moved, he went to work with Rafael in Lakewood or something, so I’ll only have to see him maybe four times a year instead of every goddamn day thank god—

The doors to the locker room burst open, and fuck.

Because, nope, he’s still here. Windswept and out of breath and 15 minutes late, yet somehow still oozing confidence and jackassery.

Eddie Diaz. Olympic Bronze Medalist. Two time reigning World Champion. And the absolute bane of Buck’s existence.

Bobby doesn’t even say anything, just waves him in and keeps talking. If Buck had been that late, even if it was for a good reason, he would have had his ass handed to him in front of everyone and would’ve had to run laps or something after his ice time. But of course, Eddie gets a pass.

Whatever.

Buck doesn’t pay much attention to the rest of the meeting, too busy trying to keep himself from glaring at Eddie every 20 seconds. He tunes in enough to hear that they’ll both be going to Skate America and NHK because of course they are and spends the rest of the meeting trying to keep his blood pressure down. When it’s finally over, he makes his way through the crowd to get back to the ice for his first session with Bobby. He’s scrolling through his phone, trying to find his music, when he feels someone walk over and join him on the bench. He looks over, and lo and behold—

“Eddie,” he says with what he hopes is a low level of contempt.

“Buck,” Eddie responds, looking over and nodding as he laces up his skates. “Good summer?”

“Fine.”

“Ready for the season?”

“Always am.”

Eddie smiles, easy and charming, and Buck hates his fucking guts. He nods at him again as he heads onto the ice, and Buck gives into the temptation to thump his head against boards a few times.

It’s going to be a very long year.

~~~~~~~~~~

Buck has hated Eddie since they were 16 years old.

Okay, maybe “hate” is a little strong, but whatever emotion it is when just looking at a person makes you feel like smoke is coming out of your ears, that’s how he feels.

It was his first season in Seniors, and he had been doing better than he expected in the first half — a silver and a bronze at his Grand Prixs, and fifth at the Grand Prix Final. Nowhere near perfect or the best in the world, but he was the best US men’s skater and poised to win gold at Nationals. He hadn’t even heard the name “Eddie Diaz” until he got to Nats, and even then it was just whispers — some small town kid from Texas who was landing clean quadruple jumps at a time when some of the highest ranked skaters couldn’t. Buck was working on them — his coach kept harping on how important they’d be to the sport one day — but he’d hit a growth spurt just before the beginning of the season, so he was still getting used to his new center of gravity.

But the rumors were true, Buck saw it with his own eyes at a practice session. He remembers the mix of awe and dread as he watched Eddie jump — the thoughts of damn I want to be as good as this kid and he’s about to take everything from me.

Eddie won Nats by about 30 points. Buck came in second. The US only had one spot at both Four Continents and Worlds, and Eddie got picked for both. Something about having “a better chance with his abilities and consistency in the international field” or some other bullshit.

He didn’t podium at either. Buck felt shamelessly vindicated.

Over the next three years, they became perfect foils of each other — Buck with good jumps but better artistic expression and connection to the music, Eddie a little stiff but a blur of height and speed in the air. They flip-flopped at competitions — Buck got silver, Eddie got gold. Buck got gold, Eddie got bronze. Nats turned into a yearly showdown, the media always highlighting their “friendly rivalry”. Buck must have been a better actor than he thought if he was coming across as “friendly”.

He won Nats right before the Olympics, pretty much guaranteeing his chances of getting named to the Olympic Team. Two days before the announcement, he broke his leg on a bad landing and felt his dreams shatter along with the bone.

Eddie went instead. He placed third, higher than any US man had placed in 12 years.

Buck watched it all from his couch, unsure if he’d ever be able to skate again.

Fast forward three seasons, and while Buck is still struggling to get his consistent jumps back, Eddie keeps skyrocketing. He hasn’t lost a major competition in two years and is the overwhelming favorite to win the gold medal in Beijing. It was bad enough to hear about it from other skaters or see at competitions, but then Eddie moved to Bobby and Athena’s club a year ago, so now Buck gets to suffer through first hand observation.

It simultaneously pushes him harder and makes him want to die.

Which is the exact feeling he has right now as he watches Eddie land a perfect quad toe triple toe combo. He tried the same combo yesterday and landed flat on his ass, so now he just wants to practice it over and over until it’s perfect and he can rub it in Eddie’s smug face. See, you’re not the only one who can do it. You’re not that special.

“You better watch how hard you’re frowning, Buckaroo, you’re gonna get wrinkles,” Hen says as she walks over to him. She follows his line of sight, and her expression turns from vaguely worried to exasperated. “Staring that hard at Eddie isn’t gonna make him fall.”

“It could,” he says. “Maybe I have untapped psychic powers that are just waiting to come out.”

She gives him a flat look. “Sure, and I’m the long lost crown princess of a small European country. Can we go over your free instead of fantasizing about stupid things, please?”

“Fine, fine,” Buck says, finally turning away from Eddie as he steps on the ice.

He loves his programs this season — he usually doesn’t get used to them for a few months, but this time around, he already feels connected. His short is more modern, melancholic and gritty, while his free is more classic, hopeful, makes him feel like he’s floating rather than skating. He’s always been good at choreography — either taking it and making it his own or creating steps himself — and he feels like both really highlight his talents. Plus Hen, being the amazing choreographer and friend that she is, let him have a lot more input this time around, so it all feels more authentic. He likes to think that no matter what happens, he’ll be proud of whatever he puts out with these pieces.

They work on his free for an hour, and he stays an extra two to work on his short and his jumps on his own. By the time he leaves, the sun has set, his legs are already sore, and he has a lovely bruise blossoming on his right thigh from falling on his quad flip three times in a row.

It’s all worth it, though. Because as much as he wants to be happy with his programs no matter what, he knows he won’t be unless they get him to the top of that podium, hearing the national anthem play with a gold medal around his neck.

~~~~~~~~~~

He’s floating away in his dream, higher and higher like a runaway helium balloon. He can see the whole world below him, spread out and endless, rolling hills and forests and oceans. He wonders if he’ll ever come back down, or if he’ll just keep moving up and up, into the atmosphere, into space, into a different universe. He thinks that might not be so bad.

Suddenly, he’s falling, plummeting back down to Earth like an asteroid. He’s racing and racing towards the ground, bracing for impact, for everything in his body to break, he’s falling and falling faster and faster—

He wakes with a yell, covered in sweat, his leg twinging. He takes a few minutes to breathe and get his heart rate back down, but even then, he’s still shaking.

He looks at the clock. 4:30am. He could go back to sleep — he doesn’t have practice until noon.

Except his mind is churning now with the phantom memory of breaking. The feeling of going from standing to not being able to move, pain radiating from his leg into every other part of his body. The panic, not just for his body, but for his whole life and what it could turn into. What he could lose.

He lays there for another half an hour, but the memories just keep burning. So, he does what he always does when he needs to shut his mind off.

He goes to the rink.

First practice isn’t until 8am, so he uses his keys to unlock the back door. Chuck, the janitor, was sick of waiting two extra hours to lock up after him, so he gave him his own set after his first season. Buck gives him a giant cookie bouquet for Christmas every year in return.

He feels better after just a few laps around the ice. The chill that bites as he speeds up his pace, the white noise of his blades in the ice, it all settles him like nothing else. He speeds up still, setting up for a triple Salchow — easy, almost second nature, a jump he could do in his sleep. He pushes off, but as soon as he’s airborne, something jolts through him, makes his stomach turn over. He pops the jump to a single and lands on the wrong edge, losing his balance and sprawling across the ice on his back. He stays there, staring up at the lights, letting the cold leech in through his sweatshirt.

Almost four years later, and this is still happening. He scares himself out of jumps like he expects each one to end badly, even though he knows — logically, statistically knows — that it’s unlikely.

And yet. Here he is. On his back. After another failure.

He’s too tired to feel pissed or frustrated like he usually does, so he’s just resigned. Today is not the day for jumps. That’s just how it is.

He gets up finally and skates over to his bag, digs his headphones out and queues up his short program music. He works through the step sequences, over and over, making little tweaks as necessary, thinking through where the judges could take off points until it’s perfect. The repetition quiets the last of his racing thoughts, and he finally feels like himself again.

He’s moving into his last spin when he sees movement out of the corner of his eye. He slows down enough to recognize Eddie, inching towards the locker room like he’s trying not to be seen.

Buck stops, staring Eddie down. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Eddie freezes eyes wide, looking suspiciously guilty. He walks forward, hand rubbing the back of his neck. “I have an 8am and wanted to beat traffic on my way in. The back door was open when I got here, and I saw the lights on, so I—” he swallows, looking anywhere but Buck’s face. There’s a blush crawling up his neck, and he looks nervous.

Nervous like he just got caught somewhere he shouldn’t be, Buck thinks. He narrows his eyes as he checks his watch — it’s 7:00. He gets wanting to beat traffic, but a whole hour?

He quickly makes his way off the ice, grabbing his bag from the bench. “Well, I’m done for now, it’s all yours.”

“Thanks,” Eddie says quietly. Buck’s just about through the door when he hears his name. He turns back to Eddie, his blush now all the way up to his hairline.

“You looked good out there. Can’t wait to see it in competition.”

Buck freezes, processing the compliment. A compliment. From Eddie. They hardly talk unless they have to, and even then it’s never friendly. Cordial, sure, but not friendly.

So why is he being so nice now?

Buck just narrows his eyes again before stalking off to the lockers.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Mads, I really think he’s gonna pull a Tonya Harding on me.”

She looks at him over her wine glass, unimpressed. “Yeah, because that worked out so well for Tonya the first time.”

“I’m serious!” he says, taking a sip from his own glass. Neither of them drink during the season, so they’re taking full advantage of their weekly wine nights while they can. Buck’s not a lightweight by any means, but two glasses in and he is starting to feel a little fuzzy. And a little crazy, trying to figure out what Eddie was up to this morning. “You haven’t seen any weird guys lurking around have you? You’d tell me if you did, right?”

Maddie rolls her eyes. “You sound insane.”

“I’m not insane if I’m right. Why else would he be watching me?”

“We all watch each other, Buck! He was watching Chim and me yesterday too while he was on break. He even said our twizzles were really in sync.”

“You better watch your back too, maybe he’s trying to take the whole club out.”

“Oh my god,” she says, pouring another, very full glass.

“He’s just so— he’s—”

“Annoyingly perfect? Obnoxiously talented? I know, Buck, you only bring it up every 15 minutes.”

Buck deflates at that. “I don’t— it’s not that often.” Sure, he rants about how clean Eddie’s edges are and how good his quad flip is, but that’s because it’s so irritating. Buck works just as hard as Eddie, and he knows he’s not flawless. But somehow, Eddie is. Stupidly flawless and perfect and—

“I’m just saying,” she says, squeezing his hand across the table and bringing him back to the conversation. She pours him another generous glass, too. “This energy is great, but it would probably be better to put more of it into practice and less of it into worrying about one of your competitors. I know you’re nervous about this season, but you can’t let that turn into this weird paranoia. Don’t let it take your head out of the game.”

He sits back and sighs. She’s right, of course. She always is.

He doesn’t tell her that, though. Just takes a gulp of wine and tries not to think about Eddie’s annoyingly perfect anything.

~~~~~~~~~~

There’s a news truck parked outside the rink when he gets in the next morning, and he spends about 15 minutes contemplating just going home and telling Bobby he’s sick.

The lead reporter — Taylor, he thinks — claims they’re here to do a profile on the club and how they’re preparing for the Olympics, but he knows they’re mostly here for Eddie. They want any and all sound bites they can get from him to use over and over and over in coverage leading up to Beijing. Quotes about hard work and following his dreams that they can play over footage of him skating and smiling after winning again. Buck’s already annoyed at the prospect of seeing them on NBC Sports for the next six months.

To their credit, they do film everyone practicing at some point. They get Maddie and Chim doing their new rotational lift, May landing her triple lutz that she’s been working on for months, and Buck’s nearly perfect (if he does say so himself) flying camel spin. So at least they have good footage of him, not just random shots in the background of Eddie’s. Maybe he’ll even get his own little promo.

Bobby calls him into his office after lunch, where the news crew has set up an interview space. He wasn’t expecting to talk to anyone — maybe a quick question at the boards, but nothing this fancy. He sits in one of the chairs as someone puts powder on his face and tries to do something with his hair. Taylor sits down across from him, a 1000-watt smile turned on as the cameras start rolling.

“So, Evan. Or do you prefer Buck?”

“Evan’s fine.” As much as he hates his first name, it’s how the general public knows him. Buck is reserved for friends and family.

And Eddie, an annoying voice reminds him. Fine, friends and family and...competitors.

“You came in second at Nationals and Four Continents last year, and fourth at Worlds. How do you feel about the momentum going into this Olympic season?”

“Every season is different,” he says as diplomatically as possible. These reporters always want drama, someone slipping up and bragging about themselves when they have no right to. He’s not wrong — every season is different. No matter who’s expected to win or who has the most medals, you never know how everything will play out. “We haven’t had a men’s field this strong in a while, so it’ll be interesting to see what happens. But I’m as prepared as I can be at this point.”

“You were injured right before the last Olympics. Do you see this year as a bit of redemption for yourself?”

He feels his smile go tight. “It’s every kid’s dream to go to the Games. It’s certainly still mine. I’m ready to do whatever I can to make that dream come true.”

“Eddie Diaz has been with your club for just over a year now. What’s it like training with him?”

There it is, he thinks. He’s surprised she asked so many questions about him before getting to Eddie. The first responses he thinks of are all variations of he sucks and I can’t stand the sight of him, but he knows any petty answers will be worse for him personally than anyone else. So, as much as it pains him, he settles on the nicest version of the truth he can muster.

“Eddie’s an amazing skater,” he says, surprising himself at how genuine he sounds. “He’s been paving new paths in the sport, and he’s pushed everyone to be better to try and get on his level, myself included. He definitely brings that same energy to the club.”

“Do you think you can beat him this year?”

Wow, she’s not holding any punches.

He shrugs, smiling through the sudden burst of anxiety in his veins. “We’ll just have to wait and see.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Despite his less than fiery interview, Taylor asks him what he’s doing after practice right before they leave. It’s easy enough to turn her down — he’s got an early PT appointment in the morning, plus the way she’s been looking at him all day is making him itchy. He can tell she only sees him as an object — as a means to get her name on a lead story or a body to keep her bed warm or both — and that’s just not something he’s interested in. Maybe a few years ago, when sex was a way for him to forget about the potential end of his career, but not now.

As nonchalant as he was in the interview, this season really could make or break him.

He can’t afford any distractions.

#buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 fox #buddie fic #911 fic #9-1-1 #SHE'S HERE #I HOPE Y'ALL LOVE MY CHILD AS MUCH AS I DO #and if not that's okay this is pure self indulgence #fs au #ficcery

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willykappymarnsmatts · 3 years

Text

Angels Like You (Can't Fly Down Here With Me)(A. Matthews/M. Marner)(Chapter 2)

As soon as Mitch closes and locks the door to his apartment, he slumps against it, dropping his bag to the floor in the process. His cheeks are scratchy and dry from the tears that had been falling for like half an hour, but at least he’s finally stopped crying. He pulls his phone out of his sweatpants pocket and glances at the notifications. There’s only a snapchat from Dylan Strome and an Instagram message from Kasperi, probably from before his practice started. Nothing from Monica, which hurts more than he thought it would. He clicks his phone off, and puts it on the tile floor next to him. He leans his head back but misjudges how far he’s sitting from the door and ends up banging the back of his head against it. “Fuck,” he mutters, shutting his eyes closed. He isn’t about to start crying again, and definitely not about bumping his goddamn head.

His stomach rumbles, but he doesn’t want to get up from the cool tile floor. His entire body aches like somebody just cross-checked him onto his face. Not even Zeus, his dog, is there to cheer him up, since he’s visiting with Mitch’s brother for the week. Usually Mitch would call Monica after practice, but after her surprise showing up in the locker room, he doubts that will ever happen again. Maybe he could call Auston, but after the whole teary-hug-thing, he doesn’t know if that’s the best idea ever. Auston would just not stop asking if he’s okay, rather than pretending like nothing happened, which is honestly all that Mitch needs right now. It hurts too much to even think about it.

He has to go get wasted.

Even though it's not even six p.m.

So he scrolls through his phone to find Willy’s number and sends a quick text.

Drinks?

The ‘typing’ dots show up almost right away, and a second later a message pops up.

Mitch it’s 4:30

And?

Yeah ur right

I’ll be at ur place in 15

Mitch nods at his phone and slowly gets up from the floor. He thinks about texting Fred and Mo and maybe Zach, but he’s not really in the mood for a big party thing. He just wants to get drunk with one of his best friends.

So he goes into his room and pulls off his shirt to change into something a bit nicer when his phone dings with another text from Will.

Auston coming?

No and don’t ask him

I just wanna hang u and me

He does feel kind of bad about not asking him, because when do they ever go out without each other, but Mitch knows Auston well enough to know that he won’t let Mitch breathe if he were to come. Instead of overthinking it, Mitch grabs his keys and goes to wait outside his apartment building for Will’s car.

He’s outside for a couple of minutes before Will gets there, and when he pulls up Mitch jumps up and runs the couple of meters to his black car. “William,” Mitch states when he opens the passenger-side door.

“Mitchell. Where are we heading?” He taps the steering wheel lightly and runs his hand through his blonde hair. He is really pretty, Mitch has to admit but he’s definitely not his type, the whole ‘I’m beautiful and I know it’ thing a bit too obvious.

If he were gay, that is. He’s not. Definitely not.

“The usual place.” Mitch replies, and Will nods and puts the car in gear. It’s silent for the first few minutes, Will focusing on getting through the Toronto traffic, Mitch staring blankly at his phone. He opens Instagram, but the first picture on his feed is from Monica’s account, so he quickly unfollows her and shuts off his phone, dropping it onto his lap when he’s done.

“So,” Will starts, unsure of how Mitch will take the question he’s about to ask.

“If you’re going to start with ‘how are you doing with the breakup, Mitch?’ don’t even bother. I don’t wanna talk about it right now.” Mitch puts on a deep voice and waves his hands in the air in an attempt to mock Will, and it’s obvious he’s only half-joking. Will doesnt take it personally, though, telling himself that his friend is going through a lot.

“Um, first of all, that is not how I sound, and second of all, I was going to ask what’s going on with you and Auston? Usually the three of us go out, and after this afternoon…” he trails off.

“Nothings going on with me and Auston,” Mitch says slowly, unsure of what exactly Will is getting at. “What are you even talking about? I didn’t ask him to come because I knew he’d be weird about it and not let me live.” Will just nods, looking straight ahead. He turns his blinker on and Mitch starts again. “What are you talking about?” “Nothing. I just assumed something might have happened, that’s all.” Mitch gives him a look and Will lets out a breathy laugh. “Seriously! That’s all.” Mitch nods at him cautiously and the conversation kind of trails off. They talk hockey for a couple minutes, but it’s painfully obvious that the two are waiting to get at least one drink down to talk about their relationship, or, in Mitch’s case, ex-relationship, problems.

Will makes another turn into the parking lot of a small bar you wouldn't notice if you didn’t know exactly where it was. The two walk into the bar and realize it’s busier than they would have thought it would be at 5 in the afternoon, but what difference does it make at this point. They’re already there, so Mitch finds a booth while Will goes to the bar to order them beers. Mitch pulls out his phone and sees a text from Auston that reads it was sent five minutes ago.

how r u mitch? everything ok? :(

Mitch has a weird sinking feeling in his stomach when he reads the text, but he tells himself he shouldn’t feel guilty. It’s not like he did anything wrong. He ignores the text and forces a smile he knows looks fake when Will comes back to the table, a beer in each hand. He sets one down in front of Mitch and the two sit in silence for a second. “Spill. Everything.”

“I don’t even know what the fuck happened, Willy. I knew something was coming, because she always gets kind of distant and stops responding to my texts and calls before she pulls some drastic bullshit like this, but I didn’t think she’d make me choose between my two favourite people on the planet.” He looks up suddenly, as if the words are falling out of his mouth faster than he can process them. “No offence, you’re obviously also my favorite person, it’s just...” Will just shakes his head, smiles a bit and waves him off, taking a sip of his drink. Mitch does the same, and Will takes it as a chance for him to talk.

“Did you ever actually love her, Mitch? Like, I know you always said she’s so great and makes you so happy, but when you really think about it, was there ever even one full day where you were completely and utterly happy with her?”

He pauses and racks his brain for something, anything, literally one fucking memory of the two of them together when Mitch wasn’t berated for something he did wrong, or when she wasn’t on her phone the entire time they were together, or that time she ditched him for her friends on their six month anniversary where Mitch had planned a dinner at a fancy restaurant and they would walk through downtown Toronto in the evening and watch the sunrise on the beach. He was devastated that day, and suddenly the sadness he was feeling turns to anger and guilt. Anger at her, for everything she put him through while somehow convincing him it was love, and guilt, for all the times he ignored his friends while they told him how bad she was for her. He feels like he’s about to start crying again, and he knows he will if he looks up at his friend, so staring at the table, he says, “I can’t.”

Will nods, cocking his head to the side. “It’s okay, Marns. And it’s okay that you’re still hurting over her, because trust me, even though now you realize it was never real, it’s gonna hurt like hell. You have to let it, otherwise it’ll never get better.” “I’ve been through a breakup before, William,” Mitch snaps, but he’s smiling.

“I know, I just want you to know that I’m here for you. And so is Auston.” He doesn’t realize what he’s implying until it’s out of his mouth, but he’s almost 100% sure Mitch missed it too. Just to be safe, he adds, “And the rest of the team, too, obviously.”

Mitch nods and downs half his beer, then looks at Will. “Honestly it doesn’t even hurt now that I realize that. I’m just really fucking angry.”

“So you know what you should do?”

“Hm?” Mitch tips the glass of beer back to finish it off and sets it back on the table, never breaking eye-contact with Willy.

“When you get home, you pack a box of her shit together and fucking set fire to it. Burn everything. Pictures, souvenirs, ticket stubs, everything. It’s what I did when I broke up with my high school girlfriend, and it’s honestly really freeing.”

Mitch nods, kind of unsure about the idea of setting their relationship up in flames. Will reads him easily though, so he laughs and continues. “Or, you could put her shit in a box and tell her to come pick it up, otherwise it's going in the trash.” The two of them smile and Mitch nods.

“That sounds like a much better option. And still freeing.” There’s a lull in conversation, and honestly Mitch doesn’t have much more to say about his predicament other than long, angry rants, so he decides to prompt Willy. “So, you and Kas…”

“Oh my God my turn! Okay so he called me last night, right,” he leans forward and props his elbows up on the table, and Mitch smiles and leans his head in his hands.

The two of them spend the next few hours in their booth, Mitch downing beer after beer, Will stopping after one because he’s going to be the one to have to drive them both home. Close to eight pm, Will realizes how long the two of them have been sitting there, as well as just how drunk Mitch is. He’s slurring his words and isn’t really focusing on Will, looking around the room unfocused while he attempts to keep up with the conversation. He smiles to himself and tells Mitch it’s time to get home.

“No,” he states like a five year old. “I don’t wanna go home.”

“Yes, you do, bud. We have a game tomorrow night, and you don’t wanna be too tired and hungover to play, do you?”

Mitch shakes his head while Will stands, stuffs his phone into his pocket, and pulls out his keys. He waits for Mitch to stand, then wraps his arm around his waist to help him to the door. He could probably walk on his own, but he doesn’t want to take that chance in a crowded bar with a guy who is heavier as dead weight than he looks like he’d be.

The drive home is silent until Mitch picks up his phone and quickly realizes he can’t read what’s on the screen. “I’m drunk,” he announces, and Will laughs. “Can you read it?” he attempts to hand his phone to Will, then realizes shit, he’s driving, and pulls it back to himself.

“After, Mitch,” and he nods exaggeratedly in response. They pull up to Mitch’s apartment, and getting him up to his floor is slightly easier than Will imagined it would be. He does have to help him into bed, though, and doesn’t bother undressing him. He pulls the covers back for Mitch and sits him down on the mattress. He takes the phone from him while he lies down and glances at the screen. There's five text messages from Auston, all spaced out over the three hours they’d been out.

if u need to talk, u know im here

mitch?

ur probably busy or smtg… text when u get a chance

did i make things weird tdy? im sry if i did

call me mitch plz

“Jesus,” Will mutters under his breath and unlocks Mitch’s phone to respond. Mitch gave him his passcode a long time ago, so he knows he won’t care.

Hey its Will

Everything is fine, Mitch is super drunk, that's all

Dw about him

u guys went out?

Will knows how bad it looks that the two of them went without Auston, but he should be able to understand.

He needed some one-on-one w someone not as close to him I think

It def wasn't a party, we drowned in our emotions, man

alright i get it

shit, can u plz delete the messages from before?

including these actually

Ofc np

“Night, Mitch,” Will whispers, although he already realizes Mitch is passed out. He sets his phone on the night table next to him and makes sure to lock the apartment door behind him. Mitch honestly cannot be more blind about his literal soulmate being madly in love with him, but he thinks he has a plan to help him figure it out now.

U should pick him up tmrw for the game. He's gonna be hungover af and moody

ofc, was planning on it anyways :)

#auston matthews #mitch marner #william nylander #kasperi kapanen fics #dylan strome #auston matthews/mitch marner #auston matthews x mitch marner #mitch marner x auston matthews #mitch marner/auston matthews #unrequited love #toronto maple leafs #nhl #nhl hockey #boys are dumb and i love them #willykappymarnsmatts

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