#might go back for day five but nothings still sticking

[linopls]

kinktober day six

teasing minho x fem!reader summary: minho can be a real menace at the movies warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, public teasing 0.4k words

“keep your hands to yourself, i’m trying to watch the movie,” you whispered.

“i’m just holding your thigh, relax,” minho whispers back. 

minho and you both loved movies, any chance the two of you got, you went. he loved surprising you with tickets and then treating you to all the snacks you could desire. you both learned after a while that the theater was freezing and to start bringing a blanket. this gave minho the perfect opportunity to grab at your thighs.

“well, it’s not helping me relax, knock it off.”

minho chuckles before rubbing small circles with his thumb on your outer thigh, moving his hand closer and closer to your clothed core.

“min,” you snap at whisper, “we’re in public.”

he doesn’t say anything, his eyes glued to the screen.

after a couple minutes pass , he still hadn't moved his hand. it’s all you can think about, his thumb rubbing circles on the top of your thigh and his pinky finger resting innocently against your core. 

“min,” you whisper again. 

“shush, i’m trying to watch the movie and you’re distracting me.” 

he traces his pinky up your clothed folds and brushes his gently against your covered clit. you whimper softly at the feeling. he then moves his ring and middle finger agonizingly slow back down so that they rest on where your entrance would be and his palm flat against your clit.

your hips slowly rise to try and feel more of his hand. you can feel your panties stick to your folds, wanting nothing more than for minho to relieve you in the theater.

minho chuckles at your body’s response, but his attention is still fully on the movie in front of you. you’ve completely lost focus on the movie, the only thing you can think about is him and how bad you need him.

minutes pass, could’ve been a hundred or five you wouldn’t have known the difference, before minho makes his next move. he moves his ring and middle fingers back up to your clit, at his same, slow pace. once he reaches your aching bud, he rubs small and slow circles on it. 

you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding and set your head on minho’s shoulder. you hear him giggle and he places a kiss on your forehead. you close your eyes and let your body relax. all you can feel is pleasure.

for about two minutes. minho pulls his hand away and you open your eyes and lift your head up. 

“ready to go?” minho asks, a small smirk painting his face. 

you refocus your attention on the screen and see that the credits are rolling. you roll your eyes and lean your head back on the chair.

“come on, babe.” he leans in to whisper in your ear. “let’s go home and i can take care of you.”

a short and sweet one <3

@rockstrhanji @hyunjinhoexxx @mixtape-racha @euphoric-univers @haruharu-egypt @shit-why-what @twiggoblin @kookiesbunny @virgohannie @nataliee10 @ihrtlix @aaasia111 @lolli4me @lilcutieana @changbinsrightboob @hanjisunglover @chansducky10 @elissasimp @boi-bi-ahaha @lilquokka04 @anglerfishiey @sirenscall1031 @might-be-a-rat @jihyun2monster @kpflyn @samsmitty @imwithurmother @meilix @summer3sworld @mysweethannie @kittykattime @linoots @yaorzu-blog @sofiaeli 

@alemi-i @cupidsmoons @yoongles2025 @vixensss @chlooooop @lemontried @idkluvutellme @superiorbrownskinn @ana-stasssiaaa @amayaaseees @ilikecatsanddoritos @alnex05 @esairevmp @greysweaters-blog @sanzusfavgf @jutannies @faraonatojishady @hanniemylovelyquokka @chloeskzboomboom @quinnluvsmoney @burningupp-replies @aisha-md @jo-dinner @jeannie-beannie @httpsimmy @hazneezs @cuffier 

@dvbkie099 @il0v3skz @chrishak@quokkaaah @bex90997 @sheeshhhhfelixsworld @leeknowyah @tumadreposts @hyunniebunni @cipher-ipher @alice630 @jinnies-princess @bangtancultsposts @evrythinghqppened @rebellescauses-blog @juicypebbless @fawnpeaks @the-life-of-stella @lakoya @compersian @seung-mine 

#linopls: minho #linopls kinktober 23 #linopls #skz smut #stray kids imagine #stray kids smut #skz #skz x reader #stray kids #stray kids x reader #skz imagines #lee know smut #lee know imagines #lee know x reader #minho x reader #minho smut #minho imagines #kinktober 2023 #stray kids kinktober #skz kinktober #minho imagine #lee know imagine #minho x you #minho x y/n #lee know x you #lee know x y/n

[pixiemunsons]

baby, baby, baby (sh)

steve's always discovering new things about himself, usually with your help

breeding kink!!! i can't state enough if this isn't ur thing click off because that's all it is. unprotected sex, p in v (f! reader), fingering, discussion of babies and breeding, hint of jancy, rough-ish sex, bit of misogyny surrounding birth control (reader goes on the pill.) one use of the word daddy during sex but not rly daddy kink. no use of y/n, no spoilers, no reader description. steve’s into cringy pet names i don’t make the rules (2.2k words)

a/n; a really lovely reader made it clear to me that some of my language wasn’t POC or plus size friendly. this absolutely wasn’t my intention and i’ve edited this language out to ensure that this is a fic for anyone, as intended. pls let me know if i do make any mistakes like this - being exclusive is absolutely not something i ever intend to be. thank you angels<3

it had started growing in him one day, and he hadn’t felt the end of it since.

a sort of weird, deep urge he felt in his bones, gnawing at him from the inside out and churning his brain and boiling his guts. if he hadn’t known better, he might have called it animalistic. neanderthal. his most base instinct. for months, he hadn’t been able to think about anything else. twisting his mind and driving him crazy.

steve harrington wanted to fuck you full of his babies.

you hadn’t even known you were doing it. how could you? you knew he wanted kids, and a lot of them, but it felt miles off in your mind. when he told you about you and the six kiddos and the camper van, you thought he meant five, maybe even ten years off. so you’d thought nothing of it when your friend liz had asked to come over for a coffee with her almost brand-new baby and you’d spent the afternoon playing with her in front of steve. 

he’d seemed a bit more tense than usual, and you thought maybe he was uncomfortable around the baby. you knew he had a relatively small, relatively disconnected family, and the last kid born was more than ten years ago, so he’d never really even been around infants. he seemed to be watching intently as you picked her up, smoothing her tufts of hair back and nuzzling your nose into her hair to absorb her uniquely baby smell. you’d never brought it up though, never thinking much of it. until it started happening more.

you’d see a toddler sticking their tongue out at the grocery store and stick yours back before steve would half drag you away by the arm. you’d mention your hairdresser’s imminent due date, and he’d find a way to change the topic. hell, you’d cooed over the baby in look who’s talking one time and he’d switched the channels, claiming he hated john travolta even though you’d watched saturday night fever with him at least four times. you were starting to get confused. the two of you had talked about kids; why was it becoming such a problem now?

───

‘i got on the pill, y’don’t have to bother with a condom.’

steve stopped stock still. in seven years, he’d never been able to go without. shitty blue state indiana had made contraception for unmarried women a fucking nightmare, and while he really wanted to marry you eventually, he wasn’t about to do it just so he could go raw. steve’d half-hoped he wouldn’t be able to until you were married; he didn’t know what he was capable of if you let him do that to you. but you’d sprung it on him. while you were naked under him and he was halfway to the bedside table, you’d laid a small hand on his arm and looked up at him with that expression on your face he loved so much and stuck out your bottom lip. he’d never said no to you before. how could he ever start now?

‘a-are you sure? y’know i don’t mind, sweetness, i’m happy to wear one.’ he was frowning now, deep lines etching the ordinarily soft skin of his forehead, and you reached a hand up to smooth out the creases.

‘kinda thought you’d be a bit more excited than this, honey.’ you were half-smiling, half-worried, head tilted as you observed steve. you’d known him for fifteen years, been dating him almost half as long. knew him like the back of your hand, knew when he was worried about something, when something was playing on his mind and he just couldn’t shrug it off. he shook his head vehemently, stroking your face with a shaky hand.

’s’not that, babe. i’m really excited, like, really excited. didn’t think we’d be able to do this until- well…’ he trailed off, leaning down to kiss your bare shoulder in a feeble attempt to hide his reddening face from your eyesight.

you sat up a little then, peering down at him. the pill wasn’t even something you’d thought much of until nancy had told you all about it, hush hush over a coffee.

‘it’s changed my life, honestly. everything’s more… regular, and well, you know…’ you’d raised your eyebrows at her to hasten her explanation and she’d blushed bright red and hidden behind her hair when she whispered ‘jonathan loves being able to, like… y’know, do it inside. everything’s so much better in the bedroom.’ 

you’d left your lunch date hot under the collar, and almost sprinted straight to your family doctor. the idea of being so intimate, so close to steve for the first time ever without having to worry about the consequences excited you.

‘until what, stevie? we can carry on using a condom if you w-‘ steve’s eyes shot open, shaking his head wildly until his hair bounced.

‘no! no, i just.’ he cleared his throat, itching the back of his neck nervously.

‘i’m worried if we do it without, i won’t be able to hold back. the idea of doing that to you, of cumming inside you… it makes me so hard i can’t think.’

his confession left your mouth open and mind whirring, thinking back to the last few months and the way he’d been acting around you and babies and all of a sudden, everything clicked.

‘stevie,’ you cooed, smirking at the expression on his face. ‘you wanna get me pregnant, don’t you?’

a guttural groan broke free from his throat and he lunged forward like a man possessed, capturing your lips with a ferocious heat that had you moaning into his mouth. large, rough hands gripped your stomach, your hips, and squeezed so tight you groaned. steve took his chance, tongue surging into your mouth and licking the top of your mouth, the back of your teeth. he pushed himself up so he was kneeling above you, manhandling you up so you were facing him, knees touching.

‘y’can’t say that to me, baby,’ he looked frantic, still kissing you between words. ‘god, you’re so… so fuckin’… h christ, can’t believe you said that.’ your mind was reeling, all consumed with the idea of it. 

‘i’d be lying if i said the thought of trying for a baby with you wasn’t on my mind recently, stevie.’ you looked up at him, eyelashes fluttering, and his fingers dug into your flesh so hard you were sure there’d be bruises the next morning. ‘when liz came over with the baby, y’have no idea how much i wished she was ours.’

steve was totally fucked.

he couldn’t get his breathing under control listening to talking about carrying his babies, and his head was swimming in pictures; you, lying on the beach in a bikini with a cute bump. lying on your front cautiously while steve rubbed your tired back muscles. tying your shoes for you ‘cuz you couldn’t reach over your swollen tummy. most of all though, he couldn’t stop imagining the sight of his cum seeping out from your pretty little pussy, your hips propped up on a pillow, hoping it’d take.

‘think we should?’ he spoke before he could even think about it, and he almost apologised. almost. because when he looked down at your face, instead of seeing shock or disgust, you were fucking smirking up at him. a manicured nail traced its way up through his chest hair, the other hand gripping the back of his neck, and steve felt lightheaded.

‘you gotta be off the pill at least a week before it stops working, you know.’ you cocked your head to the side. ‘doesn’t mean we can’t start practising though.’

steve helped you onto your knees so you were face down, ass up. his favourite, especially when he wanted to go a bit harder, a bit rougher, and the anticipation sent shivers down your spine. behind you, the bed shifted, and the distinctive sound of elastic cracking skin rang out from behind you as steve shed his boxers, the final (and only) barrier left between the two of you.

‘you want me to lube up, baby? i’d ask you to do it with your mouth, but i think i’d bust.’ you laughed together and he grabbed your left hand, intertwining your fingers. no matter what, steve never made you doubt how much he loved you, and small moments of intimacy like this always made you wanna cry every time.

‘just a bit, babe, ‘m ready for you,’ you whined your hips back into him, ass brushing his hairy thighs, and he groaned at the trail of slick you left against his hot skin. reaching into the drawer and, for the first time, straight past the open box of johnnies, steve grabbed the half-empty bottle of lube that lived there. you could hear him squirting it into his hand, slathering it all over his thick cock, all the while muttering away almost mindlessly.

‘you’re gonna be such a good mommy, honey, s’ good for me and our baby. so full of our children, so beautiful and round for me, gonna look after you. gonna be the most gorgeous little family, sweetness.’ he reached down, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

‘baby, i really need to just fuck you full,’ he whispered, and you looked over your shoulder at him. there was an almost feral gleam in his eyes, and you swallowed thickly. he pushed two long fingers into you, whining when he found you were already soaking wet and more than ready to take him. you keened your hips back again, pleading, pretty eyelashes fluttering.

‘take me, steve.’

he was up to the base by the time you’d taken a breath, heavy balls resting at the curve of your thighs and ass, and the sensation was like nothing either of you had known before. you could feel every ridge, every vein pumping through his cock, and he felt so warm in you it could have almost been too much. steve had never felt anything so hot, so tight, so unbelievably natural in his whole life, and he had to stop still as soon as he was balls deep lest he cum in seconds. 

‘oh fuck,’ he was groaning behind you, legs trapping the bottom half of your body to the bed in an attempt to stop you squirming. ‘this is- jesus christ, this is something else, baby.’ under him, you were desperately trying not to rock your hips back into steve’s. he was so heavy and hard inside you, twitching and leaking precum already and he hadn’t even moved, hadn’t even started to fill you up.

steve’s hips pulled back slowly, leaving just the head still wrapped in you, before plunging back in and starting up a brutal pace. his hands were gripping at your pelvis and your head was buried in the pillow at the head of your bed, fingers reaching behind you to intertwine with his own against the fat of your hips. he thrust particularly hard into one spot that had your mind reeling, almost screaming his name into the pillow and pulling forward from the pleasure of it all. steve chased you, the front of his thighs almost stuck to the back of yours with sweat. by now, he was barely even pulling out, just chasing his own thrusts deep within you as he panted above you, sloppy kisses pressed into the skin at the back of your neck. skilled fingers reached around to your clit, rubbing it in that way only steve ever managed to do it, and your legs felt like jelly under you. if it wasn’t for the way he pressed right up against your hips, you’d be on your front by now, crushed under his weight into the bed.

‘’m really, really close, baby, fuck. c’mon sweetness,’ he was rambling behind you, hips working even quicker to turn you to goo under him, melted into the mattress and taking what he gave you. you could feel it building deep in your stomach, and you just needed something else, something to push you over the edge-

‘cum for me, let’s make me a daddy,’ steve was crying out and you were cumming, thighs clenching and back arching, screams buried into the pillow and teeth clenched so hard your jaw popped. steve wasn’t long behind you; the way you gushed when you came, the vice-like grip on his leaking cock? it was all too much, and for the first time, steve harrington came inside the love of his life, hot and gasping and flashes of you with a baby bump running through his mind. carefully, gently, he pulled out, cock softening against his thigh and then growing half hard again. your pussy was swollen, his cum leaking out of your hole. unthinking, steve reached up to push it back in with two fingers, rubbing your ass with the other hand when you flinched away from the stimulation.

‘sorry, baby, just gotta make sure it takes.’

you rolled onto your back, and he couldn’t help but smile at the way you rolled your eyes at him.

‘told you stevie, gonna be at least a week until i’m all fertile and shit again.’

he flopped on top of you, grinning.

‘i guess we’re gonna have to practise over,’ a kiss to your cheek.

‘and over.’ your shoulder.

‘and over.’ your nose.

‘and over again.’ finally, your lips. ‘i love you.’

#Steve Harrington #Steve Harrington smut #Steve Harrington x reader #Steve Harrington x you #Steve Harrington x f!reader #Steve Harrington x female reader #Steve Harrington imagine #Steve Harrington fluff #Steve Harrington angst #Steve Harrington blurb #Steve Harrington headcanon #Steve stranger things #Steve the hair harrington #stranger things smut #stranger things imagine #stranger things blurb #stranger things angst #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #Steve Harrington fanfic #Steve Harrington fanfiction #stranger things masterlist #stranger things vol 2 #stranger things s4 #stranger things steve

[seresinhangmanjake]

The Favorite

dad!Jake "Hangman" Seresin x reader

Summary: The Daggers meet your and Jake's baby girl for the first time and arguments over who will be her favorite aunt or uncle quickly follow.

Notes/Warnings: part of the Oh, Baby Universe, but can be read alone. Based on a suggestion from @tgmreader

Words: 1288

Between the ‘She’s like your clone, Jake,” from Nat, the ‘Is anyone else surprised Hangman beat us to the baby train?’ from Bob, and the offended ‘Wait, you two were hooking up and you didn’t tell me?’ from Javy, Jake is clearly exhausted. Not that he didn’t anticipate being worn out after introducing his daughter to his team, you both did, but the last forty-five minutes have far surpassed expectations.

Being confined in a room with the Daggers historically proves to have its drama—whether in the form of unnecessary argument or playful teasing—but with your new baby girl at the center of everyone's attention, drama has started to take on new meaning in the form of obsessively watching Eve as if she might start doing tricks or giving you both grief for not spilling every detail of your ‘sneaky, secret relationship’ before this moment. To your relief, though, they’ve steered clear of asking questions about your absence over the majority of the past year. They don’t push, knowing that information will be revealed with time.

“It’s just…” Mickey begins as his eyes snap back and forth from the baby to Jake, “...so weird.”

When you chuckle, Jake rolls his eyes. “It’s not weird,” he counters. 

“It’s pretty weird, man. You’re, like, a dad.”

“Lots of people are dads,” Jake says as he runs his knuckle down the cheek of the infant in your arms—his new little love. 

“Yea, but you’re the dad of Y/N’s baby.”

As Bradley snorts at the obvious, you look to Jake to check on the effect of Mickey’s unfiltered words. His eyes are on your face and you smile to soften the sudden twinge of uneasiness speckled amongst the various green flecks in his irises. 

Though Jake has expressed mental security in his place within the lives of you and your child, you fear what might occasionally be running through his mind. The last thing you want infecting his confidence is the consideration that maybe this situation is weird, that maybe he isn’t meant to be the father of your baby because he wasn’t intentionally chosen for that role. 

Eve wasn’t planned. You can’t change that. And the choices you made when you discovered your pregnancy are enough to have any man reasonably questioning himself. But there is no other man you want as your baby’s father. Jake is it. You’re pretty positive he was always meant to be it, because your brain refuses to picture another in his place. 

Jake’s stare breaks when Bradley starts to speak. “We all knew how these two felt about each other, even though they were doing nothing about it,” he says, shooting you and Jake a smirk so quick it’s barely acknowledged before he looks back to the group of pilots. “I promise you guys, once it fully sinks in, it won’t feel so wild that they accidentally made a tiny human.”

Nat’s head snaps up from Eve, but her finger remains wrapped in the infant’s smaller ones. “When, exactly, were you given enough time for it to sink in?” There is suspicion in her tone. Then her eyes go wide. “Did you already meet the baby?” she asks before turning to you and Jake. “Did Rooster meet her before the rest of us?”

As if sensing the shift in the room, Eve lets out a little whine and starts to wiggle in your hold. 

“Yes, Nat,” Bradley answers for you. You can feel the sass bubbling around him as his arms cross over his chest. “By a whole three days.”

“Three days matters,” she retorts. “It could be the difference that makes you Eve's favorite. The earlier the interaction, the better.”

“She’s only a few months old. You might still have a chance, Nat,” Reuben chimes from the sideline.

“Don’t bet on it,” Bradley snorts. His sass is so expertly conveyed you’re shocked his tongue doesn’t stick out to accompany his words. 

You’d scold him if not for the fact that these two often enjoy ruffling each other’s feathers when the opportunity arises. It’s all in good fun, but sometimes, depending on the topic, the teasing aspect goes over their heads. 

You suppose it’s flattering that being your child’s favorite is enough to cause a bit of an upset, but it’s wasted energy. Jake will be Eve’s favorite. The Father and The Favorite are not mutually exclusive, and you know in a room full of the people she loves most in the world, Eve will never fail to run straight into her father’s arms.

Nat, however, does not consider that inevitability as she carefully slips her finger from Eve’s to face the six-foot-tall brunet head-on. 

Jake mutters a curse, fingers rubbing across his forehead.

With his hands raised, Javy takes a step forward as if to prevent a physical altercation. “Alright, everybody take a breath,” he says. The winning, cocky grin that has tempted a woman or two or thirty is spread across his face. Then he points to himself. “I'm going to be the favorite. I'm her father's best friend.”

“I don't think that guarantees anything,” Bob says, only to receive a scowl in return.

It’s then that Mickey throws his own name onto the ballot. “You know, if we base this on entertainment value, she’ll obviously like me best. I’m the funniest.”

“Also the most irresponsible,” Reuben adds.

“What’s that got to do with it?”

“Um, everything,” Nat clarifies as Bob nods in agreement. “For one, you’ll never be the babysitter.”

“If you were the babysitter you’d need a babysitter,” Bradley chuckles, patting Mickey on the back. 

Bob clears his throat and pushes his glasses up his nose. “That is very true; it would be chaos. What baby Eve here could use is a calming presence, and that’s me, so–”

“I’m calm,” Reuben interjects, pulling a scoff out of Javy.

“You also come up with insane ideas that make everyone miserable,” Javy says. “What are you going to do, have the baby compete in challenges only to suffer through two hundred push-ups if she loses?” he asks. “I think that’s grounds for immediate disqualification.”

Reuben’s response is drowned out by the additions of each pilot arguing their case for favorite aunt or uncle, and you’re too drained from the last hour to attempt untangling voices.

Jake sighs and shakes his head before taking your hand in his and leading you out of the living room, up the stairs to where Eve sleeps. You’re thankful that, at some point, despite the noise filling the room where your friends remain, your little girl managed to fall asleep. As you place her in her crib, you glance at Jake. 

He’s sitting on the loveseat on the opposite side of the room, one hand running down his face, the other reaching out for you. When you take that hand, he pulls you onto his lap, shifting around until you’re comfortable with your back leaning against the armrest. A palm draws a lazy line of warmth up and down your leg.

“You’re a trouper, Honey,” he says, eyes unmoving from your knee.

You chuckle. “It could’ve been worse.”

“We should’ve done it one at a time; single-file line. The last thing I wanted was for you to be overwhelmed.”

Sitting a little straighter, you reach up to cup Jake’s cheek and guide his face toward yours. “Jake, I wasn’t overwhelmed. I’m fine and so is Eve,” you promise him. “Besides, they’re my friends, too. I knew what we were getting into.”

Jake leans into your touch before turning his head to kiss your palm. “They’re all crazy,” he says.

“Yes, but they’re ours,” you reply. Then you nudge your head in the direction of the crib. “And now hers.”

---

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @sailor-aviator @penguin876 @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @emilyoflanternhill @wretchedmo @shanimallina87 @crowsreadsarahjmaas @mamachasesmayhem @sky2nd @jessicab1991 @rosedurin @averyhotchner @horseshoegirl @roosteraloha @b-bradshaw @memeorydotcom @ryiamarie @ateliefloresdaprimavera

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun maverick #jake seresin fic #top gun #jake hangman seresin fic #jake hangman seresin x y/n #top gun hangman #dad!jake seresin #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin fanfic #jake seresin fluff #tgm #tgm fic #dagger squad

[seravphs]

lazybones

wc — 2k

tags — 18+ only, fem dom, sub gojo, riding

Have you been too hard on Gojo lately? 

You peek at him from the corner of your eyes. He’s next to you on the couch, freshly back from a mission. Even though he’s just sitting there, he’s being annoying again. It’s his presence, the general lack of respect that exudes from him. You clench your teeth against the urge to scold him. 

Playing teacher is a leftover habit from your school days. Yaga couldn’t control him, so you took it upon yourself. It took a lot of trial and error to figure out what made Gojo obedient. Taming the strongest is a delicate balancing act, never giving him too much of the carrot or the stick - right now, you might be teetering too much on the side of punishment. How long has it been since you gave him a reward? 

Gojo might be irritating, but he’s still deserving of respect as the pinnacle of Jujutsu society. He works hard, even if he doesn’t show it. 

You glance over at him again. He’s never injured when he comes back from missions, but sometimes there’s another problem he has to take care of. Since you first checked on his condition five minutes ago you've been waiting for him to ask for help or deal with it alone, but the visible bulge in his pants hasn’t gone away. The five minutes you gave him clearly wasn’t enough. 

You glance meaningfully between his thighs. “Are you going to take care of that?” 

“Nah,” he shrugs. “I’m exhausted. Too much work.”

Nodding, you return to your work. Halfway through shuffling papers, you realize that your threshold for normalcy has changed since knowing Gojo Satoru. He has that effect on people. Adapt or die. 

The couch shifts. Exasperated, you look over - only to see Gojo rolling his hips gently, grinding on nothing. His mouth is open and his eyes are closed as he pants softly. 

“Are you serious,” your voice is completely toneless. 

One eye cracks open, brilliant blue all the way to its core. “Hurts,” he groans. “This is the first time all week-“ 

“Can’t be that bad,” you say, even as you wonder why you’re entertaining this conversation, why you’re not getting up and leaving. “You look like you have all the time in the world. Can you even get off like that?”

“No.”

“Are you stupid?”

He moans. You know he’s only doing it to fuck with you. “Yeah, be meaner,” he goads. 

You don’t know why you’re saying it. “Do you need help?” 

He blinks. “Sorry?”

“Forget it,” your face burns. “If you don’t-“

“No, no,” he rushes to get the words out. “Help is good. Help would be great. Can you just, ah, can you-“

You reach over to palm him over his pants. He shudders, his spine taut as he arches instinctively towards your touch. His eyes roll back in his head. How badly did he need this? You shove his shoulders back so you have more room to work, preventing him from hunching over you. He grins up at you as you climb over him, straddling his thighs. 

“Shh,” you murmur. You don’t recognize your own voice. It’s sensual in a way you’ve never imagined you could be, especially not for him. There’s something soothing about it, melodic and low. “Don’t say anything. Just let me handle it.”

“Okay- ah, fuck,” he hisses as you grip him a little more meanly. 

“What did I say?”

Wisely, he doesn’t say anything. He’s always been a quick learner, usually the first to pick up on lessons. 

“Good boy,” you coo. A soft breath escapes through his half open lips. You settle on his lap, continuing to work him through pants until he can’t take it anymore and throws his head back, baring his throat. His Adam's apple bobs as he heaves for breath. It’s too tempting. You kiss a bead of sweat arcing down his neck, tasting the salt of his skin before you bite down. 

His muffled groan would tell you how much he liked it even if he wasn’t shaking with desire. Your lips curve into a smile against his neck before gracing him with another piece of evidence to carry with him tomorrow. 

When you pull back to survey him, there’s more red on his body than you left. He’s so wound up that he’s nearly bitten through his lower lip. You make a humming noise of disapproval at him, but it’s not a major concern when you have such an easy solution. 

He grabs at you as you climb off of him, but you shove his hands away. “Patience,” you scold as you tug your stockings off. His eyes light up, but you pity him. He doesn’t know what’s coming. 

You shove the black mesh into his mouth. “Keep that there until you can learn not to hurt yourself.” 

Whatever complaint he can voice through the fabric is lost as you drag his zipper down and reach into his boxers. His cock drools as you stroke him lazily, not putting too much thought into his enjoyment. This part is for you. 

It’s not enough, you know. He needs more stimulation. But you like the way he’s growing more and more needy. You want to drive him insane, want to see him lose everything for you. You want to peel back the persona of the strongest sorcerer and make him lose himself in lust. 

It’s almost sick, the way you want to see him brought low. A part of you wonders if you need to consider some kind of professional help for the enjoyment you’re deriving from this, the other, greater part is simply enjoying the high color in his cheeks. 

You know how to take him apart, piece by piece, and you do it with a beautiful, precise brutality. He breaks for you, lets you arrange him to your liking. 

“You can speak now,” you tell him, tugging your stockings out of his mouth. He moans in relief. 

“Can I- can I please come?”

“No one’s stopping you, sweetheart.”

He’s so out of it that he can’t control his expressions. You giggle at the face he’s making, almost sexier for how silly it is. You reach forward fondly to wipe the saliva at the corner of his mouth, doting on him. 

“So messy,” you murmur.  

The noise he makes in response is barely even human. 

“I can’t, not like this,” he whines. “Why are you torturing me?” 

“I’m not doing anything. You know what you have to do if you want to come.” 

He grins up at you, dazed. “You’re really going to make someone as pretty as me beg?”

“It’s because you’re pretty that I’m making you beg. Now come on, gorgeous. Put that mouth to work.” 

“You’re evil,” he whines. You can feel him twitching. 

“And?” 

“So mean,” there’s a slight hitch in his breath when your other hand reaches towards the nape of his neck, your nails gently scratching at his scalp. “You’re hurting my feelings, you know.”

Dragging your nail over the head of his cock produces a delicious shiver from him.“Come on, pretty boy. Don’t you want it?” 

He drops his head again, hanging over the back of the couch. “Fuck,” he pants. “Yeah. Please. I’ll do anything, please let me come.”

“Try a little harder.” 

He groans, throwing a hand over his eyes. “Damnit, what do you want from me?” 

You pull away. 

He yelps, scrambling towards you. “Wait. Wait! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. Please, come on?” 

“Tell me something I want to hear, princess.” Your strokes are slow, matching the tempo of your conversational tone. There’s a ruddy blush already spreading across his cheeks, dappled strawberry on cream. You want to bite it, so you do. Noise tears out of his chest, entirely authentic surprise. It’s only a second before you pull away, no harm done but the idea of it. Gojo scowls at you. 

It doesn’t change the fact that he got naked for you, or that he’s staying under you. You like him best like this, understanding of his place. 

A monster of a man, tamed just for you. 

“You’re obedient like a dog. Can you bark like one too?”

He gives you another scathing look which only merits a laugh. 

“No? Maybe next time.” 

You grip him a little tighter, rubbing your thumb into the sweet spot right under the head of his cock. He tries and fails not to twitch. It’s not good enough. You want to see him flail, sob, choke. You tease the sensitive tip and watch him crumble. 

“Fuck,” he whimpers. “Fuck, fuck, I’m so close, please.” 

His breath breaks on a moan, a strangled noise as he tries and fails to control himself. You love it, this part of him, still holding onto a quickly crumbling idea of pride or strength. It endears him to you so much you cup his cheek, comfort enough that he might be convinced to let go. 

His next word is lost in the sound of a hiccup as tears begin to build in the corner of his eyes. You can sympathize. He’s at the point where pleasure feels too good and everything begins to feel too sensitive, too painful. His nerves, already more refined than the average person’s, must be burning, yet he holds on. 

Not for much longer. You’ve built a rhythm now, stroking him fast, but he seems to love the manhandling. The rough treatment pushes him closer to the edge, closer to what you know he needs. His hips jerk with minute movements, trying not to drive you away once more. He wants to be good.  

He’s practically drooling as you push him around. The slick noises of your palm against his skin quicken as his abs clench, finally unraveling for you. You keep at it, stroking him through it to the edge of overstimulation. 

“Too much,” he whines. “It hurts!” 

You slow down. “So you don’t want more? Too bad, I was going to let you fuck me.” 

Gojo’s voice sounds ruined, but his hands are going to your hips instead of pushing you away. He tugs you even closer. You can feel him growing hard again, his cock pressed between your bodies. Even though he looks like he might sob if you keep toying with him, he nuzzles his head against your chest. 

“More, Satoru?” 

“Anything you’ll give me,” he promises. 

You test him first, offering nothing to test the limits of his sensitivity. He doesn’t whine anymore, knowing by now to let you do as you please. His big hands are splayed over your hips as he helps you bounce in his lap, fucking between your thighs, but not where he wants. 

“Can you even go again?” 

“I told you-” You decide that he can. “Oh god-” 

You’re hot and wet and tight around him. After so much teasing, his brain short-circuits. He said he could, but with the way he’s acting, you really don’t think he can handle it. You go to climb off him again, but Gojo moves before you can. 

“No,” he whimpers, hands pressing you down harder. He bucks his hips up, trying to get deeper, trying to fill you up. You don’t know how he still has the strength to carry you, but he’s the strongest, after all. He picks you up just to drop you back down onto him. 

You’re fucking like animals now, wet and messy. You can hardly hear anything over your combined moans and the noises coming from between the two of you, filthy, slick sounds. His hands are digging into your hips so hard that you can feel the bruises he’ll leave tomorrow. 

Every drag of his cock against your pussy is bordering on painful as he chases his own pleasure, blind to everything but his need to mark you. You’re so full it aches, but beautifully, until it transforms into something else, satisfying an all-consuming need inside of you. 

When you come, your orgasm wracks through your body. You clench down on him involuntarily, gasping as your pussy throbs around him. It ruins you, the way he presses up into you, trying to fuck you through it. Your thighs can’t stop trembling, your eyes rolling back in your head. You don’t want to imagine how you must look right now. 

“Close,” Gojo gasps out. He’s been reduced to monosyllables for the past few minutes, all wit vanished from him. No sooner than he says it, his head drops onto your shoulder as he presses you down onto his lap, spilling inside of you. You whimper at the feeling, heat spreading through your core. 

“What the fuck was that?” Gojo breathes shakily into the silence that ensues. 

“Just- just shut up,” you reply. You hadn’t expected it either. 

Gojo laughs and tucks a sweaty arm around you. “Were you hiding that from me all along? I mean, I knew you were into me, but-” 

You do the only thing you know will shut him up. You kiss him. His eyes are hazy when you pull back. 

“Um. Okay,” he says. “One more time?”

#sera writes #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo smut #gojou smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #ns.fw

[vividwritinglove]

his boat - Carlos Sainz

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pairing: Carlos Sainz Jr x fem!reader

words: 1.8K

warning: smut (minors dni)

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Now you are lying here. In the blazing sun, in a skinny bikini, on the most beautiful boat you've ever seen, in a bay of a Balearic island. You could not have imagined a more beautiful summer. In general, five weeks ago, you didn't expect to experience such a summer at all. And that with him, Carlos Sainz Jr.

You met him in a nightclub in Budapest at the after parties of the Grand Prix. He was the one who saw you first and immediately took the initiative to approach you. A casual conversation turned into a playful flirtation, which ended in a hot make-out session. After just a few hours, he desired you so much that he had to see you again! He wanted you. He needed you.

For you, it was a harmless fling that might end in a one-night stand. No kiss in the morning, no hard feelings. You enjoyed the moment and let yourself go. And before you knew it, you were smitten by him! Never before did you get this kind of attention. He made you feel like the most beautiful woman on earth. The sweet nothings he whispered in your ear with his strong Spanish accent would haunt you for months. You were sure of it!

He took you back to his hotel room and quickly it was clear where it was going. But he didn't just take what he wanted. He gave so much back. He was very attentive, immediately noticed what your body reacted to pleasurably and applied it conscientiously in the following rounds. Rounds, several. This man had the highest sex drive you have ever experienced. It is still a mystery to you how you kept up with him. Probably the curiosity and the secrecy he brought with him.

There was no thought of sleep and as soon as the first rays of sunlight fell into the room, you squirmed out of his arms and packed up your belongings. Your cell phone lay on a nightstand cabinet right next to him. As you were about to reach for it, his hand held you back by your wrist. Earlier, he had been sound asleep, so you look at him, a little startled.

"Stay." he murmurs in a raspy morning voice, with tousled hair and a sleepy dreamy look on his face, "At least for breakfast."

And breakfast turned into dinner, another night once again filled with lustful and mind-blowing sex, leading to another breakfast including a day on the golf course. He invited you to the Grand Prix in Belgium. You declined, your plane was going back home the next day and your work was already waiting for you. You exchanged numbers and wrote animated messages since you parted ways at the airport. You weren’t looking for anything. Men like him only break your heart. So stick to: Only sex, no hard feelings. You kept telling it to yourself.

The messages became more intense. More intimate. Until he wrote how much he missed you and couldn’t wait to see you again. You would be lying if you said you didn't like it. He wanted to get to know you and remained persistent. After Spa was the summer break and he wants to spend it with you. Only with you. All alone. He persuaded you with the tongues of angels. He's damn good at it. And in the end, he succeeded. You requested a workation and before you knew it, you were already spending the third week with him on Mallorca.

He pampers you from head to toe. Takes you out to the best restaurants, goes shopping with you, shows you his favorite places on the island and night after night you have uninhibited and passionate sex. It feels like a dream. Almost too good to be true. You enjoy every second of it. Like now, when you're tanning in the Spanish sun on his boat as your peace is suddenly disturbed by cold drops of salt water. You wince and pull your new sunglasses off your nose, "Hey!" you exclaim indignantly. You blink up at him, and he stands triumphantly above you, blocking out the sun. His facial expressions were barely visible because of the shadows. More drops of water roll off his well-toned, tanned torso and continue to land on you. He runs a hand through his hair and tucks it back.

"I don't want you to get burned..." he warns you, presumably referring to the sun.

"I won't." you reply confidently, but you don't really know what you mean by that.

Carlos runs his fingers over his mouth. He can't deny it. He is crazy about you. You've flashed him and he needs you in his life. Slowly, he gets down on his knees and settles between your legs. Gladly, you open them invitingly and grant him the space he needs. He leans forward and props himself up on his forearms next to your head. Immediately, you sink into his warm brown eyes, which seem so dominant and caring at the same time. His nose lightly touches yours and as soon as you feel the contact, you close your eyes and lift your chin. With a grin on his lips, he kisses you. Gently, almost tentatively. Rarely has anyone kissed you so well. His kisses taste salty from the seawater. Your hands wander into his wet curls as your kiss intensifies. He moans into your mouth and breathes your name excitedly. You want more. You want him. Now. In the middle of the day, on this boat. You don't care if or who sees you. Fortunately, today Carlos has headed for a bay that no one but you have visited so far.

He will follow your request. Immediately. His lips wander and now they caress the sensitive skin of the crook of your neck. In response, you wrap your legs around his middle and draw in a sharp breath as his wet and cool swim trunks touch your inner thighs. You feel more than just that. Greedily, you bite your lower lip as you feel his already stiff cock against your clothed core and you know what to expect. Carlos, on the other hand, continues to kiss your neck undisturbed and now goes down on your body. Starting between your breasts. With his hands, he parted your bikini top and caressed your two nipples. Meanwhile, you could no longer suppress a moan and lift your chest lustfully towards him. A sign for Carlos not to stop. On the contrary, he must take it to the extreme. His mouth wanders further down from your breasts to your belly and now lingers at the cuff of your bikini thong. He looks up at you and sees how you continue to bite your lower lip and squirm with pleasure under his touch and kisses. Grinning, he lets one hand wander up to your breasts again and grabs one of them hard. You moan louder now and press your thighs together.

He takes advantage of the moment and inserts his other hand into your thong. First he only lightly strokes your Venus mound with his fingers, then he goes with two fingers through your already wet folds. Again, you moan loudly and your grip in his hair becomes more hearty. "Carlos, please..." you beg for a release. Quickly, he strips the piece of fabric from the thong that is annoying for him from your hips and replaces his fingers with his tongue. Greedily, he sucks your clit into his mouth. Again and again he looks up at you and this time your eyes meet. He is so eager to give you the pleasure of your life that you are unbridled by his passion, which drives like electricity through your body. He adds his fingers and continues to watch you. You were about to explode. He knows exactly which buttons to push on you to get you where he wants you to be. Whimpering and begging for more. He loves to see you like this.

"Need you inside me. Now." You sigh demanding and it sounds like music to his ears. You don't have to tell him twice. He straightens his upper body and quickly strips his swim shorts off. He moans in release as his cock is finally freed from the now too tight shorts. You prop yourself up on your forearms and can't take your eyes off his beautiful body. Everything about him is perfect, as if he were made for you. He positions himself in front of your core, slowly and gently enters you and places his hands on your hips. Your hands run over his upper arms. His skin feels warm and soft under your fingers. He starts to move and quickly finds his rhythm, which gives you this special feeling. His thrusts become faster and stronger. Just the way you like it. You grip his upper arms harder as the knot in your abdomen tightens. By now, you are moaning together. Some strands of his hair have fallen into Carlos' face. Over and over, your eyes meet. His eyes are almost black and have something animalistic about them that makes you go crazy. You want to feel him more intensely, so now you put your legs on his shoulders. Carlos understands immediately. He loves this position. He wraps his arms around your thighs to keep you close to him. His rhythm increases again and lets you see stars. 

His gaze continues to be directed at you. Your pleasure satisfies him more than anything. As you let your eyes roll into the back of your head, he loses all restraint. He squeezes his arms so hard now that you swear he will leave bruises on your thighs. But you don't care. You would wear them with pride. His thrusts become messier. It won't take him much longer and neither will you. The knot is about to burst.

"Carlos, I... I..." you gasp out, but you're lost for words. "Cum with me, Bebé." he hisses through his teeth, dropping his head back into his neck now and a loud howl escapes his throat. He looked so damn sexy right now. That sight makes you climax immediately. Your legs tremble and exhausted, you let them slide off his shoulders. Carlos is also out of breath. With a satisfied smile, he leans forward again, laying on top of you and burying his face in the crook of your neck again. His weight on you just feels divine.

Your nails roam in gentle circular motions over his broad shoulder blades. You hear a satisfied sigh and enjoy this intimate moment with him. "I wish I could stay here forever..." you whisper in his ear. He turns his head to look at you. He smiles at you, the sun's rays falling into his eyes, making them look amber, almost golden. "Join me. Next week. To Zandvoort." His previously demanding look now changes to a begging one that you can't resist. You have to grin and say, "I'll think about it..." already knowing your answer is yes.

#Carlos Sainz #cs55 #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz one shot #f1 x reader #f1 smut

[wheels-of-despair]

The Best $7 Eddie Munson Ever Spent Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: In the fall of 1983, Eddie bought something he thought was cool… but he didn't realize how important it was until a year later. Contains: Uncle Wayne, shopping, time-jumping, snuggles, a little bit of Eddie and Evil Woman's early days. Words: 1.3k

The best $7 Eddie Munson ever spent was at a thrift store just outside of Hawkins, Indiana, in the fall of 1983.

But he didn't know it until a year later.

The night before his Uncle Wayne disappeared for Thanksgiving - the man had worked overtime on every holiday he could, since he'd determined that Eddie could take care of himself - he slapped $40 on the kitchen table between their TV dinners.

"Wha'sis for?" Eddie asked through a mouthful of noodles.

"Don't talk with your mouth full."

Eddie swallowed and repeated, "What's this for?"

"Sales everywhere on Friday. Go get yourself a new coat, it's supposed to be a bad winter. And a pair of gloves that still has the damn fingers in them. Looks like I'm raisin' a hobo."

"Does not," Eddie mumbled as he swirled his fork around the pasta in his bowl. He liked his old coat… even though it was faded. And coming apart at the seams in a few places. And the cuffs were so frayed, every time he tried putting it on, his fingers got caught in the threads. And there was that hole from when he'd gotten caught on a chain-link fence during a high-speed getaway. But he'd patched it! And the gloves he'd cut the fingers out of were cool!

Wayne looked up from the piece of bread he was buttering to give his nephew a pointed stare.

"Fine," Eddie gave in. "Thanks, Uncle Wayne."

"Yeah, yeah." The old man's eyes twinkled as he waved off his nephew's thanks and took another bite.

Being a practical and frugal-minded teen, Eddie started the search for a coat at his favorite thrift store.

"Hey, kid," greeted George, the store's owner, who barely looked up from the battered Tupperware he was sticking price tags on. "Just got a pile of 8-tracks, haven't even priced 'em yet, you interested?"

"Business before pleasure," Eddie grinned at the gray-haired man. "I come seeking winter-wear."

"Winter-wear, huh? Good call. Heard it's gonna be a rough one."

"Yeah, that's what my uncle said, too," Eddie nodded.

"Check the back wall, might be somethin' back there that'll fit ya."

"Thanks!" Eddie carefully treaded through the crowded aisles of discarded treasures and found the wall of outerwear. He flipped through cheap plastic hangers holding neon windbreakers, matted fake fur, and load of crunchy raincoats that reeked of cheaper cigarettes than his. And then… he found it.

It was long, and black, and it was way too big for him.

But when he put it on and turned around, it swished around his calves and made him feel like a vampire in a cloak.

Eddie walked to the grubby mirror leaned up against the wall and checked himself out. It was whole. Almost new, even. It was warm, and he could easily fit it on over the lighter leather jacket and battle vest he wore year-round. He lifted his arms out, and the fabric rippled to his sides. He reached for the edges and pulled them away from his body, holding them out to see just how big the coat was.

It made him look like a bat.

He lifted the paper price tag attached to a button-hole by a string.

$10? Sold.

He twirled in the mirror, watching the fabric rustle and sway around him like a creature of the night. He held up an arm to cover his mouth, like he was hiding his fangs. Yep. This is it. This is the one.

He took it off and draped it over his shoulder, deciding to see if any cool t-shirts had arrived since last he'd looked. He sorted through the rack quickly. Nothing new, but you can't win 'em all.

Eddie returned to the front with the coat, and George laughed when he spotted it. "Kid, I could fit five of you in that thing."

"I like it," Eddie grinned. "It's roomy. How 'bout those 8-tracks?"

George heaved the box full of newly acquired 8-tracks onto the counter so Eddie could dig through them. It was mostly show tunes and Christmas music, but he enjoyed the hunt nonetheless.

"Nothin'?" George asked when Eddie looked up.

Eddie shook his head. "A Partridge Family Christmas isn't really my style."

George laughed and scribbled ".50 each" on the flap of the cardboard box. "Will you find a spot for that in the front window?"

"Yessir." Eddie picked up the hefty box and walked it to the front of the store. He moved some creepy dolls and nudged a red tricycle aside to make room, placed the box down with the price facing the window, and returned to the counter.

"Just the coat, then?"

"Yessir."

"$7."

"$7?" Doesn't the tag say $10?

"That thing takes up too much room. I can fit four more in its place."

Eddie grinned and passed his cash to the man behind the counter.

"I'd ask if you want a bag, but I don't think I have any I could fit that monstrosity in," George teased as he handed Eddie his change.

"Thanks, George," Eddie laughed and collected his coat. "See ya soon."

"Stay warm, kid."

The morning Wayne came home from his long and tiring holiday stretch, he found far more change than he'd expected on the table, two pairs of new gloves… and a hulking mass of black draped over the back of a chair.

Wayne picked up the coat and held it out in front of him, marveling at its size. Well, it was warm, didn't have any holes in it, and clearly hadn't cost an arm and a leg. He folded it and put it back where he found it, spotting a note underneath the cash.

"Coat was $7. It'll come in handy when I finally become a vampire."

Wayne snorted.

"Gloves were buy one, get one free. I can show you how to cut the fingers out of yours if you want to look as cool as me."

He rolled his eyes at the boy snoring down the hall, put down the note, and started getting ready for bed.

"Why is it so fucking cold? I'm freezing my balls off."

Eddie raised an eyebrow at his girlfriend of three months in the Hawkins High parking lot. Most of the sensible students went on inside when it was this cold, but his girl - who hated this place as much as he did - decided to stick it out with him outside until the bell rang and forced them in.

"Shut up, you know what I mean." Her eyes rolled and her teeth chattered.

He checked his watch - seven minutes before the bell - and took one last drag off his cigarette. He exhaled as he dropped the butt on the ground and put it out with a twist of his boot.

"Wanna go in?"

She shook her head and wrapped her arms around herself. Stubborn.

"C'mere, then." Eddie unbuttoned the massive black coat he'd bought the year before - now decorated with band buttons on the lapels - and held it open to her. Now it was her turn to raise an eyebrow. "Come on," he urged.

She looked at him suspiciously. Shit, was this weird? Was inviting your girl into a coat cocoon more of a six-month thing? And then she walked into him. He wrapped his arms and his coat around them both and felt her relax against him almost instantly. She slowly slid her arms around his middle and rested her head in the crook of his neck. Oh god, oh god, did she just nuzzle her cheek into him?!?

Eddie was glad she couldn't see the grin on his face. He tilted his head down and let his hair fall around his face so no one else could see it either. He leaned his cheek against her head and inhaled the scent of her, closing his eyes and wishing the bell would never ring so they could stay just like this forever.

What had George said the day he bought this coat? That he could fit five people in there?

Eddie was quite happy with just two.

#writings of despair #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x evil woman

[moonlightspencie]

Everything Goes Wrong

Description: A few bouts of bad luck aren’t all that bad.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gn!Reader

Warnings: none. this is straight fluff

Word Count: 2.4k

The case had been a hard one, especially in the dead of winter in North Dakota. Not only had we been working tirelessly for a week and a half, but the cold had pretty much knocked me on my ass. I was sure I could say the same for the rest of the team, too. We were groggy and exhausted by the end of it.

Not to mention, we were all a little irritable with the fact that the hotel had screwed up our sleeping arrangements, leaving many of us pairing up in rooms that didn’t exactly accommodate two people.

I didn’t exactly pull the short end of the stick, getting paired up with Hotch this time around, but we definitely all were over having roommates. I needed alone time desperately a few times over the course of the time we spent, and never got it. I couldn’t have been the best person to room with considering how snappy I could get.

Then, right as we thought we were going home, plans changed again.

“You’re kidding,” Derek said as we stepped out of the local precinct.

We looked around at the snow pouring out of the sky. We could hardly see a few feet ahead of us.

“How are we supposed to get home in this?” Emily asked, groaning. “I hate the winter.”

Hotch let out a harsh breath. “Let’s try to get back the hotel, at least. I’ll call and see if we can take off, but don’t pack up yet.”

We were a chorus of annoyance as we trudged to the SUVs. It was a hard drive back, and I was more than thankful I wasn’t the one trying to drive in this. Our five minute drive to the hotel took thirty. The roads were a mess, and visibility only got worse as the minutes ticked by. It was a miracle we made it back at all.

Though, as expected, halfway through the ride Hotch got word that we would be staying the night again. Nobody took that news real well.

I sighed as I stretched out on the mattress almost an hour later. It felt more than good to finally rest after a full day on my feet. I couldn’t wait until it was my turn in the shower. I could practically feel the hot water soothing my sore muscles already.

Suddenly, silence fell over the room. It was already quiet, save for the sound of running water, but now… Something was off. Literally turned off.

I stood up, walking towards the heater with hopes that this wasn’t what was wrong. I should have known better. As my hand reached out to feel the warm air rushing out, there was nothing. I sighed heavily, retreating back to the bed to take a seat once more.

It was several minutes until Hotch was walking out of the bathroom, a towel around his shoulders, dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt. At least he looked comfortable before I had to deliver the news.

He took one look at me and knew something had happened.

“What is it?” he asked, voice exasperated.

I gave half a smile, nodding towards the heater in the room.

“I think we might be sleeping without heat.”

He furrowed his brow, doing the same thing I’d just done. He groaned quietly when he, too, felt no warm air against his hand. He mumbled something about calling the front desk, but judging by his facial expressions alone, there wasn’t much they could do about it at the moment.

He hung up the phone, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry. First we don’t have enough rooms and you have to get stuck with me, and now this. This is ridiculous,” he huffed a sigh, looking around the room.

“It’s alright. You didn’t choose this place, and you certainly didn’t make, well,” I paused, gesturing around vaguely, “all of this happen.”

He shrugged, reaching up to rustle his wet hair with the towel around his shoulders as he stepped past me. I stood for a moment, just watching as he sat on the edge of the mattress. Then, I decided now was as good a time as ever for a hot shower, in hopes that the water would still be warm.

It was.

I got out of the bathroom almost an hour later to find Hotch already asleep in bed. For him to immediately hit the hay proved that we’d worked too hard on the case. I snuck into bed next to him after shutting out the remaining lights, curling into the comforter for some warmth. The cold seeping into the room from the broken heater was getting a little bit noticeable, but luckily for me, he definitely ran hot. I realized it the second the warmth under the blankets hit me. I effectively passed out within a few minutes.

The next morning was especially warm as I woke before my alarm went off. The heater must’ve kicked back on sometime in the night. I went to stretch, but found it much more difficult to do than I had anticipated.

I looked down to see Hotch curled up against me, and my eyes immediately widened. I swallowed a lump in my throat that formed quickly. I certainly hadn’t been expecting to see him like this, with a strong arm holding me to him. It was… attractive?

It would be a lie to say I’d never noticed him before. Who couldn’t? Even if he somehow didn’t catch an eye the second he walked into a room, he just had an aura around him. Some kind of presence that could pull a person in before they knew what was happening.

But, now, in the same bed with his arm draped over my stomach and his breath against my neck… This was a whole new feeling.

It was butterflies and warm cheeks and— something that I probably shouldn’t feel while next to my boss. But, then again, he definitely shouldn’t be cuddling with a subordinate. We were both a little guilty.

He shifted in his sleep, his arm around me moving a bit until his fingers were just under the hem of my shirt. Cuddling was one thing, but if I felt his hand on much more of my stomach, I felt I might combust.

“Hotch,” I whispered.

He didn’t budge.

“Hotch,” I said, a little louder this time. “Hey.”

He shifted again, this time squeezing his eyes together a little harder.

“Time to wake up,” I said, my hand on his arm.

His eyes slowly opened, though they suddenly snapped open when he realized where he was. He pushed himself off of me, quickly glancing over me to confirm he really was doing what he thought he was.

“I’m sorry,” he rushed out.

“It’s alright. It was cold last night,” I said quickly, trying to soothe the nerves that were obviously eating at him. “At least it warmed up this morning.”

He shook his head as he stood from the bed, running a hand through his hair quickly. I swallowed, knowing he felt like he crossed a line.

“I really don’t mind,” I tried again.

“We should be downstairs soon,” he replied, glossing over my attempts. “I’ll be out soon.”

He walked into the bathroom without much of a glance in my direction. I huffed out a breath, quickly getting dressed before I heard the water in the sink stop. He opened the door right as I sat on the edge of the mattress again, hardly catching my eye as he did.

“Hotch,” I called, determined to get his attention.

He hummed in response, immediately ruffling through his bag as if there was something he was actually looking for. I stood, taking a few steps in his direction.

“Can you at least listen to me?”

I watched as his shoulders dropped with the breath he let out. He straightened, turning to face me.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, not meeting my eyes again.

“I’ve already told you it’s fine. You really need to take my word for it.”

“I was practically on top of you,” he said, looking at me at last.

Unfortunately, he finally looked right as my cheeks were heating up a tad. I didn’t expect that innocent of a phrase to have any effect on me, but apparently my brain had other ideas.

“You didn’t mean to. It was freezing last night, and we were kind of forced to share a bed.”

He was quiet again.

I continued, “Besides, when have I been the type to hide my emotions that well? If I was upset you would’ve known immediately. Honestly, you were keeping me warm.”

He cracked a small smile, though he tried to hide it.

“I promise I was okay with it. Really.”

He nodded. “Alright. Just— Don’t report me to HR.”

I laughed. “Deal.”

Half an hour later, the team was waiting in the lobby of the hotel for news on our travel arrangements. Hotch and Morgan had gone off to figure it all out, leaving the rest of us to sip on coffee and watch the blizzard outside.

“Well, technically, the blizzard ended 4 hours ago. Now, it’s really just a heavy snow,” Reid stated, hardly glancing away from the magazine in his hands.

Prentiss rolled her eyes, looking towards me for some kind of understanding. I smiled at her, sipping at my coffee. We heard voices soon thereafter coming towards our small group. Hotch and Morgan walked up, chatting quietly.

“We should be able to take off within the next few hours,” Hotch stated, glancing around at us. “I’ll be getting a call when they’re ready. Until then, let’s get lunch and make sure we’re packed up and ready to go.”

“Eating on the company dollar?” I asked with a smirk.

He looked at me, a small smile on his face and… a bit of a blush on his cheeks?

“Yes. So, make sure you all decide on someplace good.”

Now, when I looked back at Prentiss, she was the one with a smile on her face. One that wasn’t sympathetic in the slightest. I knew what was happening in that head of hers from the twinkle in her eye alone.

I started walking towards the elevator, knowing she’d follow me, but still hopeful that maybe she’d leave it be. My former assumption was correct.

She caught up just as the doors started shutting, crossing her arms as she stood next to me.

“So,” she started.

“So?”

“What was that?”

I sighed. “What was what?”

She quirked a brow when I looked at her. I shook my head, looking away again.

“You know what. I’ve got to say, I never expected to see Hotch blushing. What did you do to him?”

I chuckled. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Oh? Who did?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I asked, stepped forward as the doors of the elevator opened on our floor.

I hoped that line would shut her up for the time being, but that was once again wishful thinking. She practically chased me down the hall.

“You’re not getting away that easy.”

“Ugh,” I groaned. “Nothing actually happened.”

“He was smiling. And blushing.”

“You ever think it’s just because I’m charming?”

“No.”

I made a sour face, finally reaching my door. She raised a brow, giving me a proud smirk.

“I’ll find out, you know?”

“You’re sure about that?”

She shrugged. “Pretty sure.”

“Sure about what?” Hotch asked, walking up on us.

I looked away quickly, hoping to catch Emily’s eye before she said something she shouldn’t. Luckily for me, she got some sense in her head at the last second.

“Nothing. Just can’t pass up an opportunity to tease her.”

He raised a brow. “Right. Well, pack up. Sooner we’re done here, the sooner we can eat.”

She nodded once, sending me a quick wink before she turned and walked towards her own door. I finally unlocked the door, walking inside with Hotch hot on my heels. We silently packed the rest of our things, though neither of us had really unpacked all that much to begin with. He finished first, standing near the door to wait for me rather than leaving for the lobby. I glanced over my shoulder as I put my toiletries bag in the suitcase.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Just about.”

He hummed. “Prentiss was bothering you, huh?”

“When isn’t she?”

“What about?”

I shrugged. “I don’t even really know.”

He chuckled as I turned around. “You’re not a great liar.”

Maybe I liked him better when he was being shy about being all over me. He seemed a little too self confident now.

“Says you,” I replied with raised brows.

We made it to lunch in one piece, deciding that even though the roads were mostly cleared now, we’d stick close by.

Prentiss nudged me a few times during lunch, trying to get information out of me, but I refused. Though, it certainly didn’t help that I found myself looking at Hotch much more often than I usually would.

Maybe I’d had a small crush on him before, but now my brain wouldn’t stop reminding me of it. Every time he laughed or talked or moved or breathed. He was stuck in my head. It was ridiculous.

Embarrassment really came when I looked at him again only to find him looking at me. He quirked a brow as my eyes widened a bit at being caught.

Emily definitely caught that interaction.

I shook my head at her as she teased me, definitely noticing the self-satisfied smirk Hotch tried to hide at the interaction. He knew. Bastard.

We started the leave the restaurant when we got the okay from our pilot, but I didn’t get far before I felt a hand on my arm keeping me behind the others. I turned.

“I’d like to see you in my office when we get back,” he said with a quirked brow.

“What about?”

“We’re not sharing a room anymore, I need somewhere where I can speak to you in private.”

“You going to try to cuddle me again if I agree to be alone with you?”

“Not yet,” he replied, a smile barely there on his face. “Maybe next time. We’ll have to see how that talk goes when we’re home.”

I nodded, hiding a smile of my own. “Deal.”

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x gender neutral reader #aaron hotchner fluff #gender neutral reader

[nathaslosthershit]

After All This Time

Summary:(Part 2 to The Truth Behind it All) After years of no contact, watching as his career continues to thrive, getting a message from Charles is the last thing she had expected, but she wasn’t the only one surprised after finally reconnecting. 

He had thought about this for a long time. The urge to reach out is one he had felt for years since they separated, but he could never push himself to do it. Then one day, five years later, he couldn’t take it anymore and sent her a message. Charles hadn’t thought he would be able to easily get into contact with her. Five years of silence on both sides didn’t give him much hope, so when she had answered his message hours after he sent it, he felt relieved.

---

From Charles Leclerc:

Hello. It has been a long time and I know this is sudden. I understand that it might not be okay for me to be doing this, and if it isn’t I understand if you do not answer but I still wanted to try. We left off on bad terms, our relationship had gone bad quicker than I think we had thought possible. I was hoping if we could meet up, for closure if anything else. I await your reply, but know that you do not need to give me one.

All the best, 

Charlie

Reply to Charles Leclerc:

Charles,

It is a surprise to hear from you, I won’t lie. But it isn’t an unwelcome one. I hope you are well! We did leave things badly and I would also like to get the chance to speak. Thank you for reaching out. I await your reply now.

---

After much back and forth, the two had decided when Charles traveled to her current country of residence for a race, they would meet. It took a few months, both waiting nervously for the day to arrive. When it did, they both met at a restaurant close to her place.

The first thing he noticed when he saw her was how much more beautiful she was. She still looked the same, maybe a little more wear and tear but she wore it with this air of maturity and wisdom she didn’t have last time he had seen her. She had grown a lot in the past five years and he could tell. It was nice to see.

He also looked the same but also different. She had noticed he too had this air of confidence that was less cocky and more founded on the fact that he had achieved so much, not just that he thought he could.

“You look… beautiful.” Charles said.

“You are very handsome yourself, although I think you have enough people telling you that regularly that it probably has lost all meaning.”

“Ha, It is nice to hear it from you though. How have you been? What are you doing now?”

“Still working in my same field. I got offered a better job here though, that's why I moved. I’d ask how racing is going but I already know the answer to that.”

“You watch my races?”

“I have never missed one. Even when we had just broken up. I am so proud, Charlie.”

“I thought you’d have stopped, especially with how cruel everyone was.”

“Nothing could ruin my love for it. Though we weren’t together, I still wanted to support you.”

This made Charles tear up. And watching him tear up made her do the same. They could feel all the love they once had for each other, but it was different this time.

“Are you seeing anyone? Have you settled? It must be hard to do that when you are on the road so much.” She asked.

“Ah no. I have tried but it is hard to get people to stick around through all of it. All the good and the bad.” This made her feel guilty. She had realized long after that she had put him in a hard position. He could have fought harder for them, but she could have too.

“I am sorry, Charles. You deserve someone stronger who can get through it. I wasn’t that person but I know they are out there.” “It is okay, I promise. We both weren’t ready for everything that came our way. It wasn’t fair to either of us but I should have tried to fight harder. I am sorry too.” They were silent as they held each other’s hands, until he asked, “What about you? Have you settled down?” She couldn’t miss the hopeful tone in his voice that just broke her heart.

“Yes actually. I met someone 5 months after we broke up. Married a year later. Had two kids after that. Twins.” It almost killed her to watch as his heart broke a second time hearing this. But even as hard as it was to tell him she moved on, she couldn’t stop how her eyes would light up talking about her family.

How could he be mad when she was so happy? 

“I am so happy to hear that.” He said. He was, deep down, even if it still hurt.

“My kids love watching your races. My husband says they are destined to go into motorsports, we are looking to put them into karting as soon as they are old enough. They love it.”

He laughed. The apple didn’t fall too far from the tree then. It made sense her kids would have inherited her love for the sport.

 “When they are older I would be happy to invite them onto the paddock. If you are comfortable, of course.”

“They would love that! Oh, Charles, thank you.” 

Conversation flowed easily after that. Two people, once so connected, catching up after all this time.

After a couple hours, she had a family to get back to, and he had a plane to catch later. He smiled the whole way home, it was a bittersweet moment. But once he got to his hotel, he let himself cry, mourn what could have been. What he didn’t know was that she was doing the same. She loved her husband with every fiber of her being. If she had the chance to do it over again she wouldn’t change a thing, too happy with her life now. But it still hurt to imagine a different version of their story, one where they stayed together. 

In another universe maybe.

Taglist: @mirrorball-6, @itsjustkhaos, @janeholt3, @loloekie, @babelllllllll, @ivegotparticulartaste

(Names crossed out couldn’t be tagged for whatever reason)

#formula 1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula 1 x reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine

[icallhimjoey]

Reinvent Love

♥ ♥          Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader 

Summary: You and Joe are treading new waters. You’re no longer flatmates, but still close. More than friends, but nothing defined. Nothing labeled. Determined to not lose what you have, though. But, can you?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, adult themes, jealousy, accusations, soft fluff, season 3 of my flatmate!joe

Author’s note: we got trouble in paradise !!!!! same sidenote once more: you don’t need to have read define close or explain us, but it’ll obviously give you backstory, which might help!

Wordcount: 3.8K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

Excruciating, if he thought about it too long. Fine, if he just sucked it up and went with it. If he didn’t spend hours and hours and hours of his time stuck inside his own head, it was fine.

Your pace.

He was going to have to go with your pace.

If Joe was going to win this... contest he was having, mainly with himself, he was going to have to stick to your pace. Like he had done before. And yea, it was slow. Maybe even stagnant most days. But he had always let you take the lead and had always let you find new normals between the two of you.

It had worked like that when you lived together, and it was going to have to work like that now that you no longer did.

Was it awful?

Yes.

Because in which direction were you even moving? Joe had no idea. You might as well have been going backwards, there was no way for him to tell, and it was eating Joe alive. But he was just going to have to deal with it.

Your lead. Your time. Your pace.

With your new flatmate, your inside-the-flat behaviour had drastically changed. What was once the exact location of all the intimacy was slowly turning into a place that resembled outside. Where strangers were (Josh). Where people could perceive you (Josh).  

The safety was gone, a little.

When you stirred awake after falling asleep on your sofa, and Joe was still sat by your feet, casually holding onto an ankle still, the first few seconds of seeing him there made you smile. He was watching TV, which was showing something you hadn’t put on, and the changing lights that illuminated him gave you a good look at his profile. At the curve of his nose. At his slightly parted lips. His tongue working along his teeth. Along the inside of his cheek.

God, he looked fucking perfect.

Even with his hair too short and unstyled.

Even with his tongue pushing his face into weird expressions.

You got to wake up slow, felt like you’d been out for over an hour, easily, and loved the little fragment you got of how things used to be. Just the two of you on the sofa. TV on. Soft touches. No one else there to make it weird. To ask questions. To give looks.

Just closeness and gentle affection, a touch of protectiveness as you were being held by the ankle as you’d napped.

But then you heard a kitchen drawer close behind you, and you immediately balled up in a knee-jerk response. You pulled your feet right from Joe’s lap as you tucked in your knees. Ripped your ankle right from his grasp.

And it was silly.

It was just your feet.

Josh likely would’ve seen them on Joe’s lap already.

He would have had to have let Joe in too. You remembered the key you had meant to slip back into his coat pocket but had forgotten about.

All Josh really knew about Joe was that he used to live in the flat, and that you still remained good mates. Close friends. Sort of flatmates still, but not, because, location.

You had gone through every which way of describing you and Joe whilst trying to remain an air of casualness.

Yea, Joe would still come over a lot, since you were friends, you know? Normal stuff.

But then your friend had gone, “Ha. Yea, all right. Good mates. That’s one way of describing it.” Like she’d known anything – she didn’t.

She had no idea.

Not a clue.

She couldn’t have, because you and Joe weren’t like you and Joe were around others.

You didn’t blame her, but you’d quickly changed the subject anyway. Swiftly moved onto a different topic. Asked Josh if he liked pizza, because you had pizza a lot in this flat. Josh did like pizza. But, only without any cheese on. “I’m vegan.” You didn’t think that technically even counted as pizza. But, sure.

It was just your feet.

And it was just Josh in the kitchen, likely not even paying attention to where your feet were.

You realised it a second too late though. Your knees had already been tucked in, and Joe’s face had already fallen. You could see how his eyes darted from you to your new flatmate over the back of the sofa a few times.

In a bid to save yourself, to save the situation, you straightened your legs again and pushed both feet into Joe’s thigh. Masked it as a tired post-nap stretch and smiled through a yawn, doing your best to move on as quickly as you could.

Unbeknownst to you, there had been some quiet conversation going between Joe and Josh. Soft spoken words, no louder than the TV, but not quite whispers either. Voices hushed and kept low because, she’s asleep. And she’d come home and looked like her Friday had lasted a whole month, Josh had chuckled as he picked up the empty pizza box, tidying up.

Joe had scrunched up his eyebrows and couldn’t help his little pout as he’d cast his eyes down to look at you.

“Yea, the pizza sort of gave it away.” He’d said, and for a moment, Josh’s mind swam as it tried to make sense of what Joe’d just said.

And Joe saw, but he didn’t really want to explain it. Didn’t want to tell him that, pizza sort of meant a lot. It was just food, and not even your or his favourite, but there was comfort and routine and pizza sort of belonged to the two of you.

Pizza was yours.

Josh didn’t need to know that.

“Oh, no, this was mine – I had this.”

And, oh, my God, Joe could really fucking kick himself for thinking the worst.

In casual chat, Joe puzzled it together. You’d gotten home. Seemed annoyed. Tired. Overall just in a terrible mood. And Josh had offered you a bite of his pizza – the one he was already eating when you’d walked in. And you’d looked at it for a second and then had gone, “Not hungry. Thank you though.”

Joe was the worst.

He watched you sleep and you looked so peaceful. So soft. He was the actual worst person ever. Drawing conclusions where there wasn’t even anything to be drawn in the first place.

Joe watched you as Josh quietly cleaned the kitchen. Listened as he complained about not being able to open the window in his ensuite, how it would get stuck all the time, and asked if Joe knew anything about that. Joe didn’t tear his eyes away from you as he said, “Yea, she was meant to get that fixed, but ended up just opening the bedroom window to air the room out.”

Your cheeks were slightly blushed, and you sounded a little congested. Joe could hear your breath rumble a bit, like it was getting stuck in your chest. Start of a cold, maybe, he thought, and he knew that it was probably one more thing that had added to all the bad today. All the bad that had made you text him to come over.

To fix it.

And he fucking loved fixing it.

Joe wanted to make you tea and feed you soup and stick you into one of his hoodies. Stuff your hot water bottle into the pocket for good measure. Hold you close to his chest where, sometimes, if he held you there for long enough, you’d suddenly cry. You would sob without explanation, bury your face into his neck, and it was weird but Joe would fucking glow on the inside from the knowledge that you deemed Joe safe enough to get your tears out.

God, he was so fucking gone for you.

Loved you.

Loved you loved you.

Did he not want you to have a nice flatmate? Did he want you to have one that didn’t offer you pizza after a long, rough day? Was he really that terrible of a human being?

No.

He did want you to live with a nice person. One that did offer you pizza after a long, rough day.

It just upset him that it wasn’t him.

He wanted to be the nice flatmate.

Like he had been.

Well.

Fucked that up all by himself, didn’t he?

Joe had to remind himself of all the reasons why he made those personal choices. And the plan had been working. It truly had been. But then you’d just pulled your feet from his lap because Josh was there and... were you embarrassed of him? Was that what this boiled down to?

You pushed your feet into Joe’s leg as you stretched and yawned, and Joe waited for Josh to walk out of the room to tap you just above the knee. To squeeze you there.

You looked up and around, just to make sure you were alone, before you held out your hand that Joe then grabbed hold off. He pulled until you sat up and then, in a rogue move that he didn’t see coming, you leant in to kiss him.

Josh was just down the hall, door wide open.

And you kissed him.

Surprise.

Not moving backwards, then.

It was only short. Just a quick small little thing, but it was lips against lips, and it startled Joe so much, he couldn’t even think to be quiet about it. To not let his lips smack the way they naturally would when giving someone a kiss.

If that bothered you, you didn’t show it, mind too sluggish to catch up to what was happening maybe, and Joe grinned as he softly said, “Hi.” after you broke apart.

“I’m sorry.” was the first thing out of your mouth. You meant for texting him to come over and then promptly falling asleep on the sofa before he had even made his way over. You hadn’t meant to do that.

Joe heard your apology and took it to mean, sorry for the hard flinch away from him, which seemed silly now. You had just gone and kissed him. There was hardly anything left to be sorry for now, was there?

Joe had taken a step forward by being casually intimate with you in front of a stranger - held your feet in front of Josh - and, at first, you had shied away, only to then meet him there on your own terms a second later - be casually intimate with Joe with Josh just in the other room.

A new normal.

Your pace.

It went like that for a while then.

Joe would take your whole hand without asking, only for you to snatch it back and then give him a finger.

Which was fine.

Made Joe secretly smile every time it happened. He started being able to predict it a little too. Knew that if he’d overshoot, he’d end up with what he wanted in the first place too. Which, if you zoomed in on that a lot, could be classified as manipulation.

But you were happy.

So it was fine.

You were trying and so was Joe.

You were trying when, a couple of days later, you found yourself in a pub with Joe and a couple of his friends and he’d convinced you to just get a quick drink, just the one, and yea, that was okay. You could have a drink with Joe’s friends. They were kind, fun people.

You ended up meeting everyone outside, and after a round of greeting, you offered to go get drinks inside. When you came back to join the group, Joe had sat down on a barstool and you went to stand beside him. Handed him his drink. Cheersed him before you went for a sip. And then you felt his hand curl around your hip.

You tried the whole time.

Blushed the whole time too.

You couldn’t hold his hand as you walked home from the pub after that one drink.

But you could accept his scarf getting draped around your neck when he noticed you were cold.

And you were also trying when the two of you were on the tube together, and Joe had spotted someone subtly point their phone at him. Instead of acting like he was alone, like he was just out and about on his own for a second, he sat forward a little and moved his arm to touch your opposite outer thigh. It was meant to be protective, and it did shield you from having your picture taken, but it took a lot for you to not move his arm away and get up to stand near the doors where you could pretend you didn’t even know who he was.

You couldn’t turn around on the escalator to look at him after.

But you could accept the hand on your lower back as Joe guided you towards the exit of the busy station.

You were trying. Actively trying. And it felt like agony if you thought about it for too long. But it was fine if you just sucked it up and went with it.

Joe tried too.

Joe tried his best to be normal about you going out with Josh and some of his friends. Just told you to have a good time. To call him when you got home.

Joe tried his best to be normal when you told him Josh really wanted a dog, and maybe that would actually be so fun, wouldn’t it? You would go to pick out one with Josh, because if it was going to live at the flat, you would have to get along with it too, and wasn’t that smart thinking? Joe had to remind himself that you weren’t getting a dog together, but, that was sort of exactly what was happening, wasn’t it?

And Joe tried his bestest best to be normal when after being buzzed up into your flat, he found your front door left open for him to make his way in by himself, because you were too busy in the living room where Josh was playing guitar and making you laugh by singing about what you were doing and trying to make things rhyme. And then Joe had to try even harder when the song quickly turned into rhymes that made fun of him, which only made you laugh louder.

Yea.

Josh was a nice guy.

But, fuck Josh.

After hearing the giggles Josh was able to pull out of you, Joe became determined to let Josh hear what other noises Joe was able pull out of you.

And for a little while, you relished the attention. Joe had learnt a thing or two about what you liked in bed by now, and he knew how to drag it out for maximum pleasure too.

Joe had laid you down on your own bed, spread you out and undressed you real slow. When you’d gone to grab the hem of his T-shirt, he’d taken hold of your hand and brought it up to his mouth to kiss it.

Just you, then.

All about you.

Which was... you weren’t going to lie, this was fucking fantastic.

But it became a little weird how Joe kept turning his head to look at your closed bedroom door every time you let a moan slip out.

It became a little weird how he kept softly instructing you to be louder for him.

“Come on, let me hear you.”

It didn’t feel wildly out of place, but... something felt a little off about it.

You didn’t mention it until afterwards, when you were sat with your backs against the headboard, and you could see how it lingered on his face; something was off.

“Hey...”

Joe was quick to turn his head to look at you, and he immediately smiled to hide whatever you knew was brewing underneath the surface.

“Hey.”

“Are you okay?” you tried to hide your worry with warmth, which was silly, because Joe’d already seen it.

Joe lifted his arm to throw around your shoulder and pulled you into his side, warm sticky skin to warm sticky skin, and he kissed you on your hairline before casually answering, “Yea, of course.”

And you knew he was lying, but you kept quiet. Silently played with the folds of your duvet over your lap and waited until, finally, you heard Joe sigh.

“Promise not to make fun of me,” Joe started, to which you didn’t respond with words, but instead found the hand that wasn’t curled around your shoulder and intertwined your fingers with his.

Joe took a moment to find the right words.

“But...”

The silence gave your brain time to panic. A million things went through your mind. Every single little thing you’d done that could’ve maybe upset him.

Something was wrong, and you were the problem, because you had definitely fucked up, hadn’t you?

What had you done?

The key.

Fuck.

You kept forgetting about his key. It was there on your dresser. You could get out of bed and give it to him right now if that was–

“I don’t like that there’s a guy in your bedroom.”

And...

Oh.

Was he... was he being serious?

You moved away from him a little to get a proper good look at his face, and followed his gaze to see he was looking at your bedroom door again.

And... oh, God.

You didn’t like that.

That left a weird taste in your mouth.

Made you frown at him. Made you grimace a little.

You understood what he meant. But Jesus fucking Christ.

“Joe...” you started, moving even further from him, sitting up properly now.

“No, I know... I know,” he sighed, lifting both hands that he then dropped into his lap as he made a stupid face. “It’s stupid.”

Which was exactly right.

Joe was being stupid.

Joe had moved out and had forced you to get a new flatmate and now he was being a real child about it. Was calling your former bedroom your bedroom still, which it wasn’t. Was calling your flatmate ‘a guy’, like he was some random dude, which he wasn’t.

“Josh is my flatmate,” you said, trying to make the point that it was normal for him to be in the flat with you.

And then Joe felt it.

Joe felt whatever was inside of his chest, that stupid dark little monster that had been bouncing around in there all night, he felt it crawl up into his throat. Into his voice box.

It was too quick, the reaction too fast.

Joe knew the words were unfair and undeserved and ridiculously accusatory without any real legs to stand on.

Joe heard himself say it. Heard himself snap the words, and they were out of his mouth before he could even begin to try to stop them from even being formed at all.

“Yea exactly.”

That green fucking monster.

Joe saw how your face dropped. Saw the disbelief and the confusion. The did-he-really-just wheels turning behind your eyes that slowly clicked into their yea-he-did slots.

You knew what Joe meant, but desperately tried to find the humour in Joe’s face, because surely, he must have been joking.

It wasn’t a funny joke.

And then, you realised it wasn’t a joke at all.

Joe didn’t smile or laugh. Just looked at you, expression slightly stern but otherwise blank, and holy fucking shit.

No.

You remained calm.

Wanted to fucking scream at him, yell, “What do you think you’re accusing me of exactly?!” and, “Please say that again, but slower, will you?!” but, you didn’t.

Instead you turned around and slowly got out of bed, taking one of your pillows with you.

“No, baby, wait,”

Baby.

“I’m sorry, that’s not what I– I didn’t mean it like that. That came out wrong,” Joe rambled, but you slowly stalked towards the door.

“I’m just,” Joe rubbed an anxious hand across his forehead. “God, I... I don’t know.”

Jealous.

He couldn’t even say it.

But that was okay. You heard him loud and clear, anyway.

“Please come back to bed.”

You reached for the door handle and had already decided you weren’t going to come back to bed. You’d sleep on the sofa and Joe was going to have to think about what he’d just said.

Just before you stepped out, you turned your head over your shoulder and looked at him.

Joe.

Sat in your bed in his old bedroom, chest bared, leaning forward into his own lap like he’d been reaching out for you as you’d taken the four steps it took to get to your door.

And it was the cruelest thing in the whole fucking world to realise right then and there that you... shit.

You fucking loved him.

What he said had hurt, but what he hadn’t said hurt worse. The silent, I know what you are like as a flatmate because I have lived it and now you have another one, rung loud in your ears, and you understood right then that the only reason it felt like your heart was bleeding was because you loved him.

Fuck.

You opened the door without looking, but then heard the soft sounds of an acoustic guitar being played in the living room, and looked towards where it came from.

“Baby,” Joe tried one last time, and one of your hands shot up in warning. He had to stop calling you baby. Had to stop talking all together.

“I’m sorry.” Joe apologised again, voice much softer, much more sincere this time, and you only thought of how Joe wasn’t allowed to be the cause of your pain. Had he not learnt from the past? Had he not listened to you then?

You looked back towards Joe, who was about to open his mouth again to say more apologetic words, you were sure, but you stopped him before he could.

“Joe,” you warned again, but stepped into the hallway anyway, reaching for the door handle on the other side to close it.

Just before you did, you made direct eye-contact with a man who knew he had said the wrong thing at the wrong time, but you just needed him to know extra well.

So you dropped your shoulders and said, “You’re the guy in my bedroom.” before you shut the door.

Joe didn’t move.

Just stared at the wooden panels of the door.

And shit...

You were right.

He was the guy in your bedroom, and why the fuck was he even thinking about anything else?

What else was more important?

Joe had to really force himself to not go after you. You left because you wanted space from him and he didn’t really have any other choice but to take your lead on this one, did he?

Your lead.

Your time.

Your pace.

Fuck.

---

The Taglisted

@ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson,

@choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @djoseph-quinn,

@dolcevit4, @eddies-puppet, @emma-munson, @emotionaldreamer, @everythinghasafacee,

@figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @hanahkatexo, @harringtonfan4,

@hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven, @kennedy-brooke,

@lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @mandyjo8719, @mexicanfolklore, @munsonluvrr,

@munson-mjstan, @nadixq, @nglharry, @notverywise, @pepperstories,

@phyllosilicate-s, @royale1803, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @solzi1420,

@songforeddiemunson, @sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73,

@werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

#Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn Fanfic #Joe Quinn fanfiction #Joseph Quinn Fanfic #Joseph Quinn Fanfiction #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n #icallhimjoey #define close #explain us #reinvent love

[kingtomura]

Deja Vu | 1 | January Embers

summary: Your best friend died years ago. He went up in flames until there was nothing left — so why does it feel like you can still see him sometimes? content: touya todoroki x female reader, childhood friends au, reader has a quirk, time skipping, flashbacks, fluff, heavy angst, bullying, eventual smut, eventual meaning next chapter, soft touya, hurt/comfort, tragedy, mdni wc: 4.5k | Chapter 2 | m. list | read on ao3

You meet Touya Todoroki when you are four years old.

He was a redhot firecracker that demanded the attention of you and all those around him. 

Touya Todoroki was also the first in your class to have his quirk maifest. It was the talk for about a week, everyone expecting nothing less from the son of the flame hero, Endeavor, himself. 

You would watch him some days, flaunting his newfound power on the playground in front of others, knowing he would be some great hero one day. Even better than All Might, he would yell to anyone that would listen. It was a decent dream, you believed. Maybe someone could actually be better than All Might. 

It didn’t seem like that would be in the cards for you, as it became more apparent as the days went by that you may not have a quirk. The excitement of watching every other child’s quirk manifest began to fill you with a pit of dread.

Quirkless. 

It’s something you never thought you would have to think about. The realization hadn’t caught up with the rest of your class yet and you could only thank the stars.

But it was only a matter of time before a group of three noticed. 

They cornered you while you tried drawing shapes in the sanded area of the playground. 

“Hey,” one kid dragged, horns proudly peeking out of his head. “What’s goin’ on with you?” 

You spared him a glance before going back to your sand, gliding the stick you found through the yellow grains. “What do you mean?”

One girl behind him pipes up, curly pigtails bouncing with the tilt of her head,  “Where’s your quirk? Aren’t you turning five soon?”

The emphasis on five makes you jolt a little and you try to play it off — offering a little shrug to the trio. “I dunno. Mom says I'm a late bloomer.” you pray they will be satisfied with your answer and leave you alone. 

The third kid finally speaks, sporting a new pair of bat-like wings. “No way, I bet you’re gonna be quirkless!”

The other children erupt in a loud laugh that calls the attention of your other classmates — much to your dismay. 

“That’s so sad for you!” the girl yelled, grin on her face showing not an ounce of pity. 

“Yeah, really!” The first boy laughs, taking a step forward and kicking the sand you were drawing in towards you, effectively ruining your picture and your day. 

You go to stand, brushing the sand off of your dress before the girl rushes forward to push you, sending you down to land flat on your bottom. Your bottom lip wobbled as you tried to hold back the tears and humiliation threatening to spill over and out. 

The bat-winged boy pointed to you, “Look, guys, she’s gonna cry!” Yelling out to anyone who could hear, only causing you to dip your head in shame, now unable to stop the warm tears from trailing down your cheeks. 

And you thought today couldn’t get any worse.

“Hey! Knock it off!” You hear a voice yell, familiar. “Flashfire fist!”

You feel the heat before you see it, hot and swift.

The screams make you look up. Its Touya, red hair and fist aflame, standing in front of you and effectively blocking you from the trio of bullies before. 

“Ouch, Touya! You could have really hurt us!” the girl with pigtails cried, holding her own wrist as tears flowed freely down her cheeks.

The boy who kicked sand at you spoke up next, voice wavering on the verge of tears as well, “Yeah, you jerk!”

Touya shrugged, flames dissipating and points a finger at them, “I don't care. Bullies’ feelings dont matter!” 

You could only stare with wet lashes as the trio ran off — no doubt to tell the teacher. Touya didn’t seem to mind, as a matter of fact he seemed proud as he turned to you and reached out a hand to help you up. He was all smiles and warm eyes, “Are you alright?”

You take his hand, noting how warm it still was from his previous quirk use and nod, “Mhm, thank you.”

“It’s no problem,” he helped you to your feet before continuing, his smile almost blinding, “I’m Touya Todoroki, the next number one hero.” 

You nod and introduce yourself, cheeks warm and smile dancing across your face. His mood is infectious. “Nice to meet you, Touya, next number one hero.” 

Later that day you realize Touya does get in trouble for improper quirk use and can’t help but apologize. 

“It’s fine!” He returns, not bothered in the slightest. “I’d do it again and again, if I had to.”

After the incident Touya insisted on being by your side the rest of the day. During lunch, arts and crafts and even nap time. He would go where you would go and you couldn’t say you minded. Once school had finished for the day and it was time to break apart Touya insisted you both hang out more.

Even going as far as to introduce himself to your parents as they came to pick you up. 

His foot tapped in excitement as he told them about your days and how you should hang out more. 

That’s how you both find yourselves in some forest on the weekend, walking together through the fresh snow, because Touya just had to show you this cool training spot. 

“But, don't you think we’re going too far, Touya?” You ask, nerves trembling as you look around the forest. You wouldn’t know your way back without him and you’ve never been this far out alone. 

“No,” he singsongs, “C’mon– don't be such a baby,” 

You puff your cheeks, running to catch up with him,  “Don’t call me that, but okay!” 

He grabs your hand once you are by his side and it's warm. Touya is always warm. 

“We’re almost there, anyway!” 

This special place looked the same as any other place in these woods, but you wouldn’t let Touya know. He’s so excited to show you what he came to do. 

“My dad and I train here sometimes.” He starts, smiling as he backs away from you to show you a flame in his hand. “He thinks my flames will be hotter than his one day.”

You can’t hide the way your eyes fill with sadness as you look to the ground. 

“I don’t think I’m gonna get a quirk, Touya.” 

The boy’s smile drops instantly, as he rushes over to you, taking your face in his tiny hands. Still so warm, like always. 

“Hey, don’t say that! Maybe you aren't trying the right things.” He dips behind you before you could turn to stop him, “Maybe you can see in the dark!” His hypothesis being tested by covering your eyes. 

You bite back a laugh, “No, Touya, I don't think it works like that.” 

The boy lets you go and runs to a rather large, fallen log – climbing atop it and looking down to you. “Well, maybe you can fly. Have you tried that?” 

You shake your head, unable to hide the worry in your face. Touya was up pretty high. “Hey… you shouldn’t be up that far.” 

“What do you mean? It’s fine!” he reassures, continuing his musing while walking along the fallen log. “Besides, it’s not like I'm clumsy or anything—!” 

The boy’s words were cut short by his shoe stepping down and slipping on the ice below it, sending him crashing down to the patch of snow and debris below. 

In that moment, your hand shoots out before you can think and there’s ringing in your ears. Your eyes squeezed shut as you wait for the impending crash. But it doesn’t come. 

You slowly open your eyes and see… Touya. He’s okay. Better than okay because he’s floating above the snowy patch of grass below, debris and everything brushed away. Your hand is still out as you meet Touya's wide eyes. 

“Whoa!” You finally pull your hand back and watch his feet gently touch the grass below. “Dude, you have mind powers! So cool!” 

You will your breathing to go back to normal as you take in the new information. You do have a quirk. All hope was not lost. 

The feeling of warm liquid creeping down your nostril catches your attention. Bringing a finger to your nose, you pull back and see the crimson drop. Blood. The sound of Touya’s steps through the snow breaks your focus. 

“Hey, what happened? You're bleeding.” He takes your finger in his hand, red brows furrowed and cerulean eyes filled with worry. 

You shrug, taking your hand back and wiping your nose with your sleeve, unaware of the tiny smear of blood you left across your face. “I dunno. I’m not hurt, though.”

At this, Touya smiles, bringing his own hand to your face to wipe the remainder of what you smeared. “You better not be! We’re gonna be heroes together — you and me!”

It’s so infectious, the way he lights up with a smile, you can’t help but return it. “Yeah, we sure will.”

—----------------

The first time you think you see Touya it’s while you are on your way home from the bustling area of downtown. 

The shops are crowded with people trying to get their last minute gifts for the holidays and you promised your parents you would be home hours ago. It’s a flash – so quick you almost miss it. 

Almost. 

Through the crowd there's a glint of white hair and blue eyes. You stop, sending the people behind you nearly barrolling into your backside and profusely apologize, half heartedly hearing their grumbles as you make your way through the flurry of people. 

The snow white hair is a little further ahead, but you can see bits and pieces where the sea of heads will naturally move. 

Was that…

It couldn’t be. Your heart picks up as you nearly chase your way through, mumbling faint excuse me’s and pardon me’s to those around you as you lock onto the moving person. It's becoming harder to keep up and you break out in a light sprint. 

The person takes a sharp left into an alley and you follow behind, only to be met with the emptiness of a damp back alley. 

There was no way it could be him. Your mind was playing tricks on you. 

You shake your head, hoping you could physically shake those thoughts from your brain and turn to head home. It had been a long day.

There is a battle raging in your mind — one that you are not sure is formed from grief or from anxiety. it is an all consuming inferno of blackened dust in your heart and you cannot stop yourself when you bring it up to Fuyumi.

You both have been sitting in silence for a while, wrapping gifts for the upcoming holidays. She has been in her own little world, humming christmas tunes, while you have been in a fit of inner turmoil. 

“Hey, Fuyumi,” you start, instantly catching her attention in the otherwise quiet home. 

“Hm?”

Your nerves are eating your confidence and you start to second guess yourself. Only the warmth in her gray eyes gives you the resolve to continue. “Something weird happened at the market the other day.”

She tilts her head, flowing ponytail following the direction, “What’s that?”

“I was walking and,” you stall — unsure if bringing up your friend's dead brother before the holidays would be a good move. “I swear, I thought I saw Touya. It was a flash, but the guy had his white hair and,” unwanted tears are blurring your vision, “and his eyes were so much like Touya’s i don't—” you're choking up, tears fighting their way through your throat, “I thought i was going crazy.”

Surprisingly, Fuyumi takes it well, reaching a hand out to touch your shoulder, a comforting motion you’ve grown to know over the years. 

“Hey, it’s okay. That could have been anyone, you know?” She smiles, and it’s bittersweet like the flowers at a funeral, “it’s the holiday season so everyone is out right now.”

You nod, reluctant, but logical. “Yeah, yeah you’re right. It was pretty crowded in that area.” the tears would force their way through your resistance whether you fought them or not, so you give up – letting them flow down your cheeks. “I’m sorry for bringing it up, Fuyumi.”

“No, it's okay! Don't worry about it." She looks to the side. “It’s only been three years since it happened, and the anniversary of his death is coming up too. It's harder around this time of year. For all of us.” 

You can only nod as Fuyumi brings you into a tight hug. Your resolve melted away in her arms as you cried, it felt like things would never get easier. 

A life without Touya wasn’t a life you could see yourself living happily in.

You wished and prayed for him everyday — unwilling to believe your best friend was really truly gone. It felt so surreal. Like something that happens in movies and not to you.

Fuyumi said nothing as she held you and rubbed soothing circles on your back. She has been a pillar for you in these times and you couldn’t be more grateful. Only wishing you could show your gratuity in a more effective form than just sobbing into her shoulder. 

There is an anguish in your heart that will not go away. A part of you died when Touya did, there was no denying that. 

Fuyumi pulls away, holding you by the shoulders as her eyes meet yours — she's started crying too and it's enough to make you shake with sobs again. 

“Hey, hey,” Fuyumi starts, her voice unwavering despite the tears. You wish you were strong like her. “We’ll get through this, okay? We just have to be strong.”

You give her a pathetic nod, one more for her sake than yours, and try to sit up straighter. 

You knew that Touya wouldn’t want to see you like this.

—-------------------

When you are five years old, you notice there is a change in Touya.

You gasp when you see him again, “Touya! Your hair!” 

His eyebrows scrunch at your pointing and then widen in realization. “Huh? Oh, don’t worry about that.” Touya huffs, “were you even listening?”

The question startles you and you quickly nod your head, knowing you didn't hear a word he said. “Mhm!”

Touya keeps talking, now bringing a hand to his hair, rubbing a lock between his forefinger and thumb, “Okay, so what’s the deal?” 

You can't stop the confused look in your eye as you watch him, cheeks rosy from the cold. It snowed again yesterday, and Touya never seemed bothered by the cold. You were freezing though. 

Somehow you let him bring you back to this forest — it’s become your go to hangout. A place where the both of you could practice your quirks in peace. 

“Do you like All Might or something?” 

You shrug, indifferent to the well known hero. Your parents weren’t heroes and neither was anyone in your family. He seemed more like a comic book character than an actual person. 

“Well, it doesn't matter. My dad told me I’m gonna be even better than All Might! So he better watch out.”

You smile, seeing his eyes light up, “Oh, yeah? How are you gonna be better than him, Touya?” 

You don’t know why but it makes your heart dance when he gets this way. Stars in his eyes and world in his hand. He’s your hero, you absently wonder if he knows that. 

Touya shrugs, scrunching his nose in thought, “I dunno. I haven’t gotten that far yet.” He snaps his fingers and turns to you, “I know! I’ll look it up. It can’t be too hard, right?”

You laugh now. Of course he doesn’t have a plan.

“Don't you think if it were that easy he wouldn't be the number one right now?” You test, and Touya gives you a look, pout strong on his face.

“Hey, whose side are you on, anyway?”

“Yours! So, I don't want you to waste your time on silly stuff.” You offer, looking at the leaves you're making dance in your hand. 

He groans, the frustration evident in his voice, “Whatever! I’ll figure something else out.”

In that moment, there’s a great gust of wind — whistling and blowing the leaves in your hand away. It’s chill makes you wrap your arms around yourself, shivering. 

“Touya, don’t you get cold?” You ask, arms doing little to warm yourself as you continue to shiver. 

The boy looks at you, brows furrowed and eyes confused. “No, do you?”

“Yes!” You shout, “all the time! It’s so c-cold out here. I don’t know how you do it.” 

He walks over to you, pondering and examining your face. “Yeah, your nose is all red. Rudolf.” 

He takes your face into his hands and closes his eyes, rubbing his nose against yours back and forth. It’s warm and it makes you flush. Your cheeks burn when he pulls away, stunned at the smile on his face and stars in his eyes.

“Better?” He asks, innocent question ringing in your ears and you realize yes, you do feel better, but you also feel warm and fuzzy like there are butterflies dancing around in your belly and you can’t get them out — so, you just nod instead, slow smile creeping on your face and Touya grabs your hand again.

“Good! Now let’s keep going! There’s this cool new move I wanna try.” 

And you follow behind him. He was your best friend after all. You feel as though you would even follow him through the icy storms of Antarctica if you needed to. 

—-------------------

Christmas with the Todoroki’s has always been interesting. For one, half of them were not present during the dinner. Rei being sent to the facility, endeavor choosing to work on his hero duties and little Shouto desperately trying to eat with all of you without Enji coming home to find him out of his room. 

The silence is eerie – other than the sounds of metal clinking against porcelain plates. 

You couldn’t help but break the tense air, words sounding loud in the quiet of the room, “Thank you all for inviting me over. The food is really good, Natsuo.”

At this, Natsuo perks up, a smile so wide on his face it makes his eyes squeeze shut. “We love having you around! You’re like the big sis we never had!”

“Hey!” Fuyumi squawks, ready to scold her little brother, “I’m the one who knows where you sleep Natsu, so watch it!”

You can’t help but laugh at the threat, knowing Natsuo has been a victim to many of Fuyumi’s pranks. Shouto only watches on, eating as much as he could before he would inevitably go back to his side of the home. There wasn’t much expression to his face, but he seemed content to watch his older siblings bicker back and forth. 

Times like these were nice, you decide. It pulls your mind away from the reality and into the more lively parts of growing up.

After the dinner was done, and the gifts were passed out, there was a somber air growing about you all once more. 

Shouto went back to his room and Natsuo found his place in the living room, playing video games and insisting that since he cooked most of the meal, he shouldn’t wash dishes as well. 

Much to Fuyumi’s dismay, you agreed with Natuso, but offered to help her with the dishes. It was something to prolong the inevitable walk home. 

“What did you get for him this year?” Fuyumi asked, passing you another plate to dry.

You glanced at her, noting how she avoided your gaze, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth instead. “It’s something I’ve been working on for a while. A necklace — with charms and things I think he would like.”

She nods, bringing an arm up to wipe her eyes with her wrist, “Yeah, I’m sure he would love that. He always liked your gifts.”

It’s impossible not to find yourself tearing up. 

Once you were done washing dishes with Fuyumi, she went to join Natsuo in the living room, offering unwanted tips on the current game he was playing and receiving groans of irritation in return. 

You take that as your cue to leave and make your way to the place you’ve dreaded all night.

Touya’s shrine.

His memoriam stared back at you as you dropped to your knees, lowering your head in prayer and then placing the small decorated box onto the shelf of his shrine. 

“Oh, Touya… it’s been three years.” You say to his photo hanging above the shrine. It’s his school photo. You were both in the same class, already talking about what high schools you would be choosing in the upcoming years.  

It doesn’t feel like three years. It feels like everyday is the same — you wake up and he’s not there. Like a day you’re doomed to repeat until the reality of it all finally sets in. 

What would he look like now, you wonder. Would he have gotten taller? He had always been smaller than the other kids. Would he still have dreams of being a hero? You didn’t know. You wished you knew. 

Your fists clinch in your lap and the tears flow freely from your eyes. Even with your head bowed you can’t stop seeing his picture etched into your brain. Those blue eyes staring into your eyes. 

A sob escapes your lips and it all comes crashing down after that. 

“God, Touya..!” Your words break down, sending your resolve with it. It feels like your heart has been ripped out of your chest and you’ve been openly bleeding out for three years. 

You are only sixteen years old and expected to spend the rest of your life without the boy who would put the moon in the sky for you. 

Unthinkable.

You’re not sure how much time has passed once you’ve calmed down, but you know it’s late now. 

It was time to head home, and you wished Fuyumi and Natsuo well as you hugged them. They wave you off, faces somber and words tight. If they heard you crying, they didn't mention it and you’re thankful. 

The trek home would not be not a long one, but you couldn’t stop yourself from taking a detour. 

The forest where you and Touya always hung out was nearby and you can't stop your feet when you make a sharp right turn and head that way. 

It was getting dark and snow was beginning to fall, but you felt at home.

There's a river you like to walk along. It's such a small little stream that never seems to freeze over, no matter how cold it is outside. It is where you find yourself trailing beside. The water being the only noise breaking through the quiet of the forest.

It kept you company until you reached the familiar open patch of grass, which was currently covered in snow. 

Some trees were still charred from the incident, but others were still standing proud. It’s strange how that works — some things can remain the same through adversity while others are damaged beyond repair. You wonder if things could ever grow back from such tragedies.

Maybe the growth of something new could come from the ashes of the old. Like a phoenix.

The snapping of a twig snatches you from your thoughts. 

It's a forest, yes, but this area doesn’t have much food for the animals. You stand to your feet, absently wondering when you had taken a seat in the first place, and look around. Maybe it was a trick of the wind, or something falling. 

The snow crunches under your feet as you begin to take your leave — you’ve been out long enough. 

You make your way through the thick of the trees until something brings you to pause. 

Your steps were not the only steps you were hearing. 

“Hello?” You call out into what you hoped had been an empty forest, only to be met with silence. It is not a comforting quiet, it was a quiet that crept underneath your skin and gave you goosebumps. 

It felt like you were being watched. 

“This isn’t funny!” You yell, taking cautious steps backwards, preparing yourself for a sprint in the opposite direction. 

You turn, ready to take off when a glimmer of silver catches your eye, the flicker making you halt your movements.

Your heart hammered against your chest.

There was no way. 

It was so faint, but you knew the necklace you crafted like the back of your hand.

“Hey! Stop fucking around, whoever you are!” You don’t know where this brave face is coming from, but you aren’t backing down. You could fight if need be.

Against your better judgment, you take a few steps forward, and like you thought, whoever was around took those steps with you. Your breath hitches when you see it. 

A flash of white hair. 

You break off into a sprint, and the person is already off, having a headstart and leaving you behind. 

You couldn’t see as well through the snowfall, but you didn’t need to. White hair and the shimmer of a necklace around the person’s neck has you chasing them deeper into the woods. 

“Stop..!” You cry out, reaching a hand forward in an attempt to activate your quirk. 

The force of it causes branches to fall from a tree further ahead of the person and he only changes direction. 

You follow behind, lungs burning as you struggle to keep up. There was another attempt, bringing an already leaning tree down in front of the running man. It still did not work, he simply jumped over it and continued on. 

You were approaching your limit with your quirk and desperate. If you let this slip through your fingers it would drive you mad. 

“Wait!” You try again, reaching both hands forward and focusing all you had on the man before you. It was hard to ignore the blood trickling from both nostrils with your quirk use, but you had to, this was your only chance. “Touya..!”

And in that moment, the man stopped — whether it be from your quirk holding him in place or his own will, you weren't sure. All you knew was that the man stopped, and turned.

Your vision began to blur as your head pounded from the overexertion — your quirk was difficult to use on a living being, but it didn’t matter. You would know those eyes even in your darkest hour.

The cerulean blue was the last thing you saw before your world went dark. 

And in your final moments, only one thought rang in your mind.

Touya is alive.

#todoroki touya #touya todoroki #todoroki touya x reader #touya x reader #dabi x reader #dabi #touya todoroki x reader #my works #mha x reader #dabi x you #todoroki touya x you

[peachyloveswriting]

Hi can u do a Jealous Kyle?(THXS)

"Yeah. But you're mine." --- (Kyle Brovloski)

SUMMARY: Eric has always had the feels for you but it's really starting to get to Kyle.

WARNING: Slight smut, just making out that's it. Nothing too serious, recording. :).

NOTES: I've written in first person before and I do like it better than second person idk if it's gonna stick just lmk what you think.

⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝

The lunch table around me is loud, I can barely hear any coherent conversations other than my own. I find myself shouting over the table, bickering with Eric. He glares at me smugly, a glassy film over his eyes. Usually it's Kyle who yells at him but I find that the space beside me has gone silent.

"Just shut up fatass!" I snap.

He snickers at me. "Only for you."

I cringe and shake my head, adverting my gaze to the untouched plate in front of me. It's likely cold by now from being so enthralled in my argument but it's much more appealing than looking at Eric's face. I'd rather look at death in the eyes than listen to Eric make such comments about me to my face. Eric has always flirted with me though, but I've never been interested in him. It's been happening everyday since fourth grade and occasionally I stop to think; If I just said me and Kyle were dating he might stop but for the sake of my privacy, I say nothing. At the start of our relationship, we agreed to not tell anyone so we could keep it to ourselves. I was and still am perfectly fine with that, until Eric started flirting with me again.

"I'm going to go roll me one, y'all coming with me?" Kenny pipes up from the end of the table.

Kyle's hand grips mine as he stands to his feet, turning everyone's attention to us. "I'm coming." He announces. After being quiet this whole time, I feel surprised to see him suddenly jumping to volunteer for skipping class. That's not much like Kyle at all.

When we snuck out the back with our stuff, there were five of us, Kyle, Kenny, Stan, Craig, and I. Sneaking out was almost a hassle but we all managed to get away unscathed, leaving the rest of our friends behind. Now that I'm further away from school, I can collect my thoughts. Kyle never wants to openly skip like that, especially not to smoke weed.

"You sure you wanna smoke with us?" Kenny asks, looking at Kyle with curiosity. Looking over at Kenny, he shakes his head. With my hand in his, he lightly tugs me closer to his side.

"I just wanted to get out." Kyle admits sheepishly before looking ahead.

I watch Kenny's eyes widen, exchanging glances with Stan in surprise. I was honestly thinking the same thing, Kyle hasn't smoked a blunt a single day of his life and he suddenly went to smoke with Kenny. Now I know that's not actually true but that he wanted out and that never happens. Something about this whole thing is off, from openly holding hands to skipping school. It's just not like Kyle.

"If you don't mind I'm going to my car." Kyle points back towards the student parking with his thumb. Everyone bids us goodbye and he begins to pull me towards his parking spot. The silence between us feels thick on the walk over, his grip on my hand is tight. So tight that my palms are beginning to sweat. I look up at Kyle, his face is contorted into disgust and discomfort, in his eyes dances a quiet anger. One that I know is settled in his belly. I don't say anything until we reach the car, close our doors and settle in. At first I'm honestly unsure of what to say, he doesn't seem sad, but he seemed disappointed and angry. Like he's confused on what to feel and it confuses me.

"Hey." Kyle is looking out the back windshield, his arm spread to the back of my seat for leverage while he backs out. He's not looking at me. I wait until he's at a stop at the exit to grab his attention back. "Kyle, I need you to pull over up here." Kyle wat he's where I'm pointing. Though he's looking with furrowed brows and wandering eyes, he does what I ask and pulls over onto the aide of the road. His gaze meets mine, he's questioning me silently, confused by what I'm doing. I know he wants answers but I take a second to put the car in Park for him.

"Why?" He finally asks stiffly. I look back up, meeting his gaze. His eyes are searching mine for any clues. Softly taking his hand into mine and intertwining our fingers, I frown at him. There's just something he's not telling me, it's been happening for a while now. I just didn't know how to address it.

"Is something wrong?"

His face scrunches up. "What? No, Why- I'm good." Fumbling his words, Kyle shuts his lips. His gaze starts to shift away from mine, looking out the windows at other things. He's biting his lower lip, rolling it between his teeth before repeating it again. I squeeze his hand, pulling his attention back to me.

"Baby, you're not acting right. Is something wrong? Be honest."

He stares at me with contemplation falling over his looks, he's looking from my eyes, to my lips, to my hands, and finally back at my eyes. "Kinda." He says, lowering his gaze from mine and shaking his head. Suddenly a smile breaks out on my face, I knew he would say something sooner or later. A little convincing is all he needed, that satisfies a part of me that looks out for him, the one that feeds off his emotions. Not in a bad way of course.

"Tell me, I'm listening." My thumb softly brushes over his knuckles, smoothing out the skin there in time. It's a soft way to let him know I'm here, that he can speak to me. Kyle tends to shut down over certain things, some of which I haven't exactly figured out yet, but his well being matters to me. That includes whatever this is.

Slowly, Kyle shakes his head again. "I just don't like the way Cartman treats you." His eyes meet mine again. "He flirts with you all the time and it pisses me off." Venom flares from his tongue, creating a hateful edge in his voice that tells me he's annoyed. I can't help but wonder if it's because he doesn't trust me or if it's just him becoming uncomfortable.

"I'm not going to let him do anything. I promise." I squeeze his hand again, just to accentuate what I said but he shakes his head again.

"it's not that I don't trust you, it's that I don't trust him. Sure, you could ignore him or tell him off but what's going to stop him from continuously thinking of you like that." A shudder rolls off his shoulders. "I don't like the thought of that."

"I don't either, but it's best if we leave it be. It's been almost seven years and he hasn't made a real move yet. I'm sure it's fine." Part of it is true but the other half doesn't feel as reassuring outside of my head, really my only goal is to sooth Kyle's worries but I seem to be interjecting myself now. He scoffs at my words and I furrow my brows. His eyes shift from discomfort to stern and sharp, an assured glare in his gaze. Maybe not directed towards me, but it sure feels like it.

"Yes, but you're mine." The roughness in his voice washes over me in a rain of tingling sensations, like tiny pellets raining down from the sky, pelting my skin. A shudder runs down my spine again. "I don't like him thinking he has a chance with you at all." Kyle finishes. Frustratedly, he points back at the school and groans at the end. Laughing softly and taking my hand away from his, I cup his cheek with it. The grin on my face can't be helped and neither can the heat, but I press forth.

"Yes, I'm yours. But maybe you should give him a reason to stop."

Suddenly it's like a fire lights up in his eyes, creating an evil grin right along with it. The cogs turning in his head are so obvious that I can practically feel the thought forming in his head. I'm unable to get my own thoughts out before he snaps his seatbelt back and presses a hard kiss on my lips. I hum in shock, my chest squeezing strangely in response. Roughly, our lips move together, a sort of sloppy manner tied in with it. Along my shoulders are his hands almost daring to pin me back against the seat and climb over. Still, they are teasingly holding me in place. I can feel one of his hands disappear from my shoulder but I'm not really looking to see what he's doing.

His teeth sink harshly into my bottom lip, pain shooting through it. Opening my mouth with a gasp, a small noise that can only be heard as a moan escapes me. Kyle begins to smile into the kiss, his other hand sliding down to my waist while slipping his tongue into my mouth. We've made out before but it's never been this intense before. I can even feel the tension building in the pit of my stomach, the kind that begs for attention. I didn't mean for it to slip out, but when it did I think both me and Kyle were shocked. "Please." The whimper is nothing more than a pathetic cry for attention, something that hitches the breath in the back of his throat for just a moment before he pulls away grinning like crazy.

"Yeah. That's right, beg for me." Callous in his voice sends a feeling of arousal between my legs, I squeeze them together in hopes of creating more but I get nothing in response.

"God damnit, Kyle." I huff.

Very slowly, with hazy half-lit eyes, Kyle pulls away. That's when I hear it, the sound of my own small plea repeating itself. My stomach twists, Kyle lifts his phone to reveal the whole thing on recording. My cheeks flood with heat and I look away, shy.

"I'm saving that for me." He mutters.

Looking back over I can see him saving it to his phone before opening up his messages. That's when I realized the name at the top is Eric's. Face red as ever I look back up at Kyle, my lips slightly agape and eyes wide. "Shit, that was hot."

Kyle snorts. Clicking the phone off, he looks at me. "I know it was. But it won't be for him."

"What if everyone sees?" I ask.

He puts the car back in drive with a proud grin on his lips. "They can look all they want." His hand comes to rest on my knee, squeezing softly. "At least they'll know you're mine."

#south park x reader #kyle broflovski x reader #south park headcanons #eric cartman x reader #kenny mccormick x reader #stan marsh x reader #craig tucker x reader

[ckret2]

Chapter 43 of suddenly human Bill Cipher is pretty eager to remain imprisoned inside the Mystery Shack:

The Eclipse: Part 1

Gravity's disappearing in Gravity Falls. Bill has an explanation for what's going on that has absolutely nothing to do with him, and also doesn't make any sense. Fiddleford has an alternate theory that makes a lot of sense, and has a whole lot to do with Bill. Ford trusts Fiddleford.

####

"An eclipse," Ford repeated. "Gravity's vanishing, you're floating, and you expect me to believe that it's due to an eclipse."

Bill shrugged. "I don't expect anything out of you. Believe whatever the heck you want. That's what it is, though."

"Even if it wasn't a ridiculous notion, there aren't any solar or lunar eclipses anywhere near Oregon this summer—"

"Did I say the eclipse was solar or lunar?" Bill asked. "No. I didn't." He breezed past Ford, heading to the kitchen. "Hey, is anybody gonna eat those pancakes?"

"Mine." Dipper ran past Bill to his abandoned plate.

"Then what kind of an eclipse is it?" Ford demanded.

Bill leaned on the kitchen counter, crossed his arms, and pursed his lips thoughtfully. Finally, he said, "Gravitational eclipse."

"There's no such thing!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Dr. I Think Having A Mere Five PhDs Means I Know Everything! Please, enlighten the trillion-year-old all-seeing eye who spent a year correcting all your math with your superior knowledge of physics!"

"It's twelve PhDs and you know it."

"Oh, so what! I can still count 'em on one hand." (Dipper gave Bill's hand a puzzled look.)

"Is that how it is!" Ford huffed angrily. "Fine, great teacher—would you be so kind as to educate your student on what the devil a 'gravitational eclipse' is!"

He fully expected Bill to start spouting some absurd science fiction explanation; but instead, Bill hesitated, gaze flicking nervously toward the ceiling. Ford looked up, but didn't see anything.

"Just don't worry about it." Bill rubbed his right eye. He turned away from Ford to watch Dipper struggle to squeeze pancake syrup out of an uncooperative bottle. "Everything will go back to normal in three days. Just—don't look at the sky."

"Why not?"

"Don't worry about it," Bill repeated.  "Hey, take off the lid and stick a knife in, you're never getting anything out that way."

"I've got it," Dipper said testily.

Soos came downstairs at about the same time Stan joined them from the hallway. "Dudes, I think something weird's going on," Soos said.

Ford turned his back on his fruitless conversation with Bill. "We've noticed. Gravity's decreasing."

Soos paused. "Oh," he said, slightly deflated. "I thought I was developing super strength."

"Sorry to disappoint."

"So what's causing it?" Stan asked.

"I don't know yet."

From the kitchen, Bill called, "I just told you!"

Ford didn't look at him. "I don't know the real reason yet."

Stan asked, "Think it might be a portal thing? When it was powering up, gravity got kinda screwy. It wasn't like this, though. Any time there was a surge, gravity hiccuped for a few seconds. It never just... went down a little."

"And not for this long, either," Soos said. "It's been like this all morning." He paused; then asked, hopefully, "You sure we aren't just all developing super strength at the same time?"

Ford shook his head apologetically.

"Aww."

"I suspected the portal first," Ford said. "But I just looked it over and checked the equipment. There's no way any of it could have powered on. It's been completely disassembled since last summer." 

Stan shrugged. "What else could it be?"

"The gravity anomalies occurred whenever the portal was connected to the Nightmare Realm. All I can think is that perhaps it's something else with a connection to the Nightmare Realm that might be having a destabilizing effect on the fabric of reality. Something much weaker, but steadily regaining power..." He turned to cast a venomous look at the kitchen. "Power like the ability to float..."

Bill had been preoccupied with dipping a strip of raw bacon into a stolen uncapped syrup bottle; but at the accusation, he stared at Ford in disbelief. "What—are you kidding me?"

"Have a better explanation for why, the moment all this starts, you can suddenly hover down the stairs?"

"Sure," Bill said. "I'm better at floating than the rest of you because I've been doing it longer."

"Oh, that's stupid!"

"You're stupid."

"You're up to something," Ford snarled. "I know it."

"What could I possibly be up to!" Bill spread his hands, exasperated. "Seriously! Tell me! What could I possibly be up to?"

Ford screwed his face into a scowl, trying to think of any way Bill could have orchestrated the gradual decline of gravity while imprisoned in the Mystery Shack. "You are up to something," he said firmly.

Bill groaned and rolled his eyes. "Well if you ever figure out what, let me know! I'm dying to find out what I'm plotting." He chugged from the syrup bottle like it was a flask. And then had to keep holding it up while he waited for the reduced gravity to work on the syrup.

"Hey, Dr. Pines?" Soos held up his phone. "Just got a text from Tate. He says Old Man McGucket wants to know if you can come discuss the gravity issue?"

"I was just thinking the same thing. Let Fiddleford know I'll be there as soon as I can. Does he want me to bring anything?"

"Nope. Just your handsome face." Soos chuckled. "He—he didn't say that part, though. I did. I just think guys should compliment each other more."

Ford nodded solemnly. "Thank you, Soos."

"Grunkle Ford, can I come too?" Dipper dumped his dirty dish in the sink. "I could—I dunno—help brainstorm solutions, or something...?"

"I'd be delighted." Ford had wanted to spend so much more time with Dipper this summer. By now, he'd thought they would have had at least one hike through the mountains around Gravity Falls and maybe dug into a couple of old mysteries he'd never solved. At least this was one mystery Ford could bring him along for.

Dipper's face lit up. "Hold on, let me go get my journal." He ran upstairs, bouncing up two steps at a time in the reduced gravity.

Ford murmured to Stan, "You can hold down the fort while I'm gone?"

Stan nodded slightly. "I'll keep a close eye on him."

"Good."

When Dipper had returned and they were headed out the door, Bill called from the kitchen, "Keep your head down out there. And get inside as soon as you can."

Ford shot a dark look at Bill, but said nothing. "Let's go." He shut the door behind them a bit harder than necessary.

Soos headed into the kitchen to make breakfast. As he passed, Bill said, "Hey. Does the 'guys complimenting guys' thing only apply to humans, or what?"

"Oh. Uh..." Soos pulled his head out of the fridge to look at Bill. "You... look good in yellow? Is—is that a good compliment? I don't know what triangle demons consider a compliment."

Bill considered it. "Sure, it'll do." He dipped another strip of bacon in the syrup. "I look even better in gold."

####

A quarter mile from the shack, Ford drove over a small bump in the road he'd gone over a hundred times before.

The car bounced so high that Ford's head hit the car roof.

Somewhere, he just knew, Bill was laughing at him.

####

Dipper's knee had been bouncing for three minutes straight by the time they approached the gate to the Northwest Manor. "Dipper, are you alright?"

"Sorry." Dipper planted his foot flat on the floor. "It's just—we're driving really slow, and this whole gravity thing is kind of an emergency..."

Just nervous. "I know," Ford sighed. "I can't go any faster without losing control. Lower gravity means lower traction between the tires and the road." But it was driving him mad.

At the manor, Tate greeted them at the door with a slight nod. "Hey. Dad's in the lab."

"Thank you, Tate. I know the way."

When they entered the lab, Fiddleford was working with a soldering iron on an electronic device the size of a toaster. He looked up as soon as they came in. "Stanford, Dipper! Good timing. Come in. How's the shack?"

"Down a few rubber balls."

Ford left Dipper to drift around the lab inspecting Fiddleford's equipment and listening in on the conversation as he and Fiddleford caught up. Fiddleford had first noticed something was wrong during his usual morning post-coffee rambunctious rollick, when he leaped high enough to bang his head on the ceiling. ("All the way to the ceiling? In this house?" "Well, I was standing on the counter, you see." "Ah, of course.") He'd immediately built a vacuum chamber he could drop various tools and cutlery in so he could measure the acceleration of gravity. Usually, objects on Earth fell 9.8 meters per second. When Fiddleford first measured, falling objects accelerated by 7.9 meters per second—almost 20% slower than they were supposed to. Now, it was 7.7 meters per second. If that rate of decline was steady, gravity must have been going down overnight without anyone noticing. By Fiddleford's calculations, gravity was decreasing by around 1.5% an hour—and, if it continued at this rate, it would be gone the day after tomorrow, by early afternoon.

(Bill had said three days. That wasn't even two and a half.)

Fiddleford had done some scans and called some old college pals down in Texas to ask if they'd noticed anything strange—and it seemed that Gravity Falls was the only place in the country experiencing anything unusual, at least according to NASA's data. Fiddleford had asked Tate to drive around town dropping things; quelle surprise, the gravitational oddity seemed perfectly contained to the circumference of the town's weirdness barrier.

"If you're in communication with NASA, I don't suppose you could ask if..." Ford winced at himself, "they've... noticed any astronomical anomalies?"

Fiddleford stroked his beard. "I reckon I could, but—why?"

Ford sighed. "Bill said this is being caused by what he calls a 'gravitational eclipse.' Which sounds like patent nonsense, but—on the one percent chance he's telling the truth..."

"I getcha. That Bill's as trustworthy as a rattlesnake with rabies—but until we know what's happening, we ought to consider every possibility."

"Yes. Precisely." Ford paused. "Can... rattlesnakes catch rabies?"

"Absolutely not! Which is why you should never trust one what says he's rabid."

"Ah. Yes. I see," Ford said uncertainly.

Like Ford, Fiddleford's first suspicion was that this had something to do with the portal—a suspicion that was scuttled when Ford informed him he'd already checked the portal. Ford's own next theory was that Bill personally was somehow behind this. His gravity already seemed to be far lighter than the rest of the town. But Ford didn't know whether that was because Bill was causing the gravity-reducing anomaly, or because the gravity-reducing anomaly was disproportionately affecting Bill. And even if Bill was causing it, as yet Ford had no idea by what mechanism he was doing it.

Fiddleford had the first idea that might explain how this was physically happening: dimensional rips.

At the end of last summer, the town and surrounding woods had been lousy with small dimensional rips torn in spacetime by Weirdmageddon and its aftermath. A few had been large enough for a grown man to stumble through, but many were barely as long as a fingernail. Ford and Stan had spent the last few days of summer running through the town and the woods with the kids, armed with alien adhesive, glueing shut the rips; and then—after traveling back and forth to California to attend Dipper's bar mitzvah and to get hollered at by Shermie for disappearing and/or faking a death—they'd spent most of the next month taking care of even more rips. (Just enough time for gnomes to steal Ford's new Journal 4.)

The remains of the rips could still be seen throughout Gravity Falls: odd invisible seams in the air that seemed to make the woods behind them bend strangely, like the transition between air and water where light refracted differently. Sometimes the sun would line up just right with a gap in the leaves so that you could see a sunbeam bending in midair.

Fiddleford had two theories:

Theory one: even after they'd sealed up all the rips, the distressed fabric of reality around Gravity Falls had grown threadbare. Rather than a few huge rips tearing through to the Nightmare Realm, countless micro-rips were forming—hundreds of thousands of holes between the fibers of reality, too tiny to be seen or detected—and they were reaching critical mass. The structural integrity of reality itself was about to catastrophically fail. The barrier between here and the Nightmare Realm could shred apart at any minute, ripping open a massive maw too wide to ever be repaired, irreversibly swallowing Gravity Falls into Bill's dying dimension of madness and leaving a frothing pustule of chaos trapped inside the weirdness barrier, ready to spread across all of Earth if anything should ever pop it!

Or two: something else was happening.

Ford thought it was worth investigating. The damage was already there; maybe Bill knew it, was exacerbating it—perhaps by his mere presence—and was just hoping the humans wouldn't figure it out before his homecoming.

"You remember the wormhole detector I built last September to sense when new dimensional rips were openin' up?" Fiddleford asked. "Well, it ain't detected a thing in town since March—but if these micro-rips are real, they'd be too little to detect from any farther than forty or fifty feet. So's I whipped up a portable scannermadoohickey!" He picked up the object he'd been working on when Ford and Dipper arrived. "You can take it to the places with the most damage and wave it around to see if it senses anything!"

Ford inspected the scanner. "It says it's detecting eighteen right now."

Fiddleford waved him off. "That's fine, a few itty bitty little tears oughta be expected for the kinda damage we got last year. But if my theory's correct, there's somewhere in Gravity Falls that'll have hundreds of thousands of tears within the scanner's radius. That's what we're looking for."

"Great. And, what do we do if we find them? Such small rips would be impossible to individually seal with my adhesive applicator."

"I thought of that, too!" Fiddleford scrambled over two tables, knocking tools on the ground as he went, to grab a plastic cone-shaped object the size of a football. He scuttled beneath the tables back to Ford. "Look! I made a glue grenade!"

"A—a what?"

"Once you figure out where the micro-rips are concentrated, just pour that alien adhesive of yours into this spout here, pull the pin, and chuck it! It'll instantly seal up all the micro-rips in the area and then cover the whole town in a cloud of alien adhesive, closing any remaining rips!"

"Hmm... It sounds risky. It would use up the rest of our andhesive all at once," Ford said. "And the environmental impact could be devastating."

Fiddleford blinked. "Environmental impact?"

"Just think of an adhesive this powerful settling over the whole town and forest in a thin film. It would glue people's pores shut! They wouldn't be able to sweat! Imagine. And that's just one example of the potential consequences."

"Hm." Fiddleford scratched his head. "I could invent a body lotion with alien adhesive solvent?"

"Or, maybe we should only use the grenade once we're sure that such an extreme measure is necessary."

"Aww." Fiddleford kicked his foot in disappointment. "Hold on—let me at least whip up a spray attachment for your adhesive gun. So's you can patch up any clusters you find as you go." He darted between several tables, searching through drawers and tool chests for supplies, and then returned to his soldering station.

"Wait, hold on," Ford said. "In the space of a morning, you've built a vacuum chamber to calculate the gravitational acceleration in Gravity Falls, called NASA to get ahold of somebody to collect data across the rest of the United States, built a handheld version of your wormhole detector, and built a grenade to distribute alien adhesive?"

"I sure did!"

"And, how long have you been awake?"

"An hour and a half!"

Ford stared. "Where do you get your coffee?"

Fiddleford glanced across the room at Dipper, and whispered, "I'll tell ya later."

Dipper had drifted over to the miniature particle accelerator and was slowly circling it, inspecting all the pipes, trying to figure out how it worked. He was leaning over the trash can when Ford drifted over to join him. "Hey, Grunkle Ford? I... think there's a cat in here?"

"You don't know that!" Fiddleford shouted. "It could be dead!"

"No it's not, I can hear it meowing."

"That might be something else! You can't tell!"

"I could just open it—"

Fiddleford chucked an empty plastic spool of solder wire toward Dipper. "Don't you touch that!"

Dipper withdrew his hand from the trash can lid and looked at Ford, baffled.

"I'll explain how it works," Ford said.

While Fiddleford worked, Ford caught Dipper up on the details of the fuel they needed for the Quantum Destabilizer, the contraption Fiddleford had built to synthesize it, and the complicated way they'd tried to paradoxically (not) observe the experiment in progress. When Fiddleford came over to offer the completed spray nozzle, Ford asked, "Any progress on figuring out how to get this thing working?"

"No," Fiddleford sighed. "I've been lookin' into more stable paradoxes to replace the cat. But as far as the observer—I'd hoped usin' twins might just get close enough, but I've redid my cac'lations three times and I'm afraid the only way to get this thing working is by gettin' one person to both observe and not observe it at the same time. If we can just do that, we'd have all the fuel we need. But for the life of me I can't figure out how."

"Maybe if we had two versions of the same person from different dimensions..." Ford mused. "But that would require opening up a portal to reach another dimension, and there's the risk that uniting parallel versions of the same person might destabilize our entire dimension. It's not worth the risk."

"It sounds like one of those impossible riddles," Dipper said. "Like, 'If only a barber shaves people who don't shave themselves, and if anyone who shaves himself isn't a barber, then who shaves the barber?' Because if he shaved himself he wouldn't be a barber but since he shaves other people he has to be a barber..."

Ford said, "A second barber shaves him."

Fiddleford said, "He just don't shave at all."

Dipper paused. "I think I told it wrong."

Ford patted his shoulder. "But I think you're on to something. We need to think of this as a riddle; and every riddle has a solution. We just need to find it."

"After we save the town, right?" Dipper asked.

Ford smiled wanly. "One crisis at a time."

####

They agreed that investigating all the potential micro-rip hotspots around town would probably necessitate a camping trip—which was the only bit of good news to come out of this mess so far. Due to all of this summer's Bill bullsoup (as Stan had taken to calling it in front of the kids), Ford and Dipper had hardly gotten to see each other so far, much less do any serious paranormal investigating together. Hiking and camping while in search of the strange sounded like exactly what they'd been missing out on—and it would've sounded even better if the situation weren't so dire.

Ford and Dipper came back in the Mystery Shack as Shandra Jimenez said on TV, "Today's top story in Gravity Falls is that gravity isn't falling. Many residents recall similar incidents around this time last summer, when gravity intermittently shut off entirely, leading many to ask: could this possibly be another devastating effect of global warming? Temperatures today are—"

Ford scoffed. "Global warming. Of all things. Gravity is probably the only part of the environment it isn't affecting."

"I dunno, Ford, maybe you oughta consider it." Bill was sitting cross-legged on the couch, chin in his hand. He had his eye patch over the eye he'd been squinting that morning. "As long as you're already rejecting the real explanation to make up one you like better, why not go whole hog? Let's adopt a real crackpot theory."

"You want to talk about 'crackpot theories'? Global warming sounds at least as likely as an eclipse."

"That says a lot more about your education than it does about the theories."

Ford grit his teeth. "You know I'm one of the most educated men on Earth."

"And that says a lot about your planet's educational system."

Stan, sitting in his armchair reading the paper, folded it down to glower at Bill. "Stop antagonizing my brother."

"Tell him to stop making it so easy."

Ford grit his teeth harder, but ignored Bill. "Dipper, go pack your backpack. I'll check the basement and meet you when I'm done."

"Right!" Dipper hurried up the stairs.

Ford crossed the living room, checking the micro-rip scanner—88 detected rips, over five times higher than at Northwest Manor, but still nowhere near the 100,000 rip danger threshold. He'd see whether that remained true next to the portal. He paused next to Stan's armchair, "Stanley, do you remember where we stored the alien adhesive applicator?"

"Uhh... when's the last time we used it?"

"Last fall, right before we headed to Seattle."

Stan lowered his paper, staring at the ceiling. "I think we stored it in one of the lockers in the basement, right?"

"It's not there," Bill said.

Ford gave him an exasperated look. "And how would you know."

"Because the first day I came here, I emptied out all those lockers and hid their contents while I was waiting for the rest of you to get downstairs."

Ford smacked the back of the armchair, making Stan start. "So that's what happened to my infinity-sided die! Where the devil did you hide it?"

"Frankly, I don't think you're responsible enough to handle that kind of power," Bill said archly.

"Where's the adhesive applicator!"

"What do you need it for?"

"That's none of your business."

"Pity." Bill turned up the volume on the news.

Ford moved between Bill and the screen. "If you don't tell me where you hid it..." What threat could he make? This was the demon willing to threaten suicide if his captors didn't keep him entertained.

"Tell me why you need it."

"As if you'd give it to me if I did!"

"Maybe I'll find your cause noble," Bill said flatly. "Try me."

Oh, what did he have to lose. "Fine. I'm testing to see if imperceptibly small rips are opening between Gravity Falls and the Nightmare Realm. If they are, I'm going to��seal them shut." He hoped the revelation would throw Bill off—he hoped he was close enough to the truth to shock Bill into giving something away.

Bill's eye widened, eyebrows shooting up; and then he burst out laughing. "That's what Specs filled your head with? Embryonic wormholes? That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard! And you're turning to him for an explanation when you've got a being with infinite answers sitting in your living room?"

Ford scoffed. "Sure, infinite answers—and just like the infinity-sided die, whatever I get is infinitely more likely to be trouble than anything useful. Now tell me where you put my adhesive applicator."

"I didn't put it anywhere." Bill held the remote out to the side to change the channel and stared at the TV straight through Ford, as if he didn't exist. "It's still in the basement. A little adhesive leaked out, I couldn't get the locker door open."

"Ha!" Stan slapped an armrest.

Ford whirled around to glare at him.

Stan held up his hands appeasingly. "Sorry! Sorry. That's not funny. Wasn't—wasn't funny at all. How dare you, Bill."

"I know, I'm just the worst."

Ford held in a harsh sigh and stalked out of the room. He didn't have time for this—not when they were on a deadline to prevent whatever was happening. (What if it became too late to reverse before gravity even reached 0%? What if they were approaching a tipping point when the whole sky would rip open?)

He opened the vending machine and headed downstairs.

####

He had to break the locker door to get the alien adhesive applicator out. He'd have to figure out how the nozzle had leaked before he stored it again.

According to the sensor, there were over a thousand micro-rips detectable just from standing near the portal controls. The number increased as he approached the portal itself; the highest quantity the scanner detected was nearly 5,000. Over fifty times higher than on the shack's ground level. It was clear some sort of damage had been done here.

But Fiddleford had said, for them to be concerned about reality shredding, there should be hundreds of thousands of micro-rips in one location. And Ford trusted any numbers Fiddleford gave him; wherever Ford tended to double-check his math, Fiddleford quintuple-checked his.

Even at the interdimensional portal itself—the spot where the veil between Gravity Falls and the Nightmare Realm had been ripped open and stitched shut so many times, the spot where the rift that nearly ended the world had been formed—there were less than 5% of the rips they needed before they started reaching dangerous levels.

Ford looked up at the portal, frowning.

The portal's torn and crumpled pieces lay against the cavern walls where he'd left them last summer.

Never mind. There were several other places that could be hotspots for micro-rips. He couldn't draw any conclusions about what was happening here until he'd checked them too.

But whatever was happening, it certainly wasn't an eclipse.

He added Fiddleford's spray attachment to the adhesive applicator and filled the chamber with a mist of glue, until the scanner read less than 200 micro-rips; then stopped by his study to grab a couple maps of the mountains around Gravity Falls, his antique lantern, and a tent; and headed back up to the house.

####

During their past year of travels, Stan and Ford had started keeping two emergency backpacks stocked in case they needed to flee on short notice. The backpacks contained everything they'd need to survive in the wilderness or a strange city for three days; and Ford had thirty long years of experience to teach him exactly what supplies that necessitated. He grabbed his backpack out of the guest room, and then spread out his map on the kitchen table to show to Dipper.

"If our micro-rip theory is correct, there are four potential places where I suspect they'll be most densely concentrated: the place where the interdimensional rift formed; where it was unleashed; where it was suspended for the majority of Weirdmageddon; and where it was sealed."

"And you've already checked the portal where it formed," Dipper said. "What about the place it was suspended? It was floating in the sky over town. There's no way we can get up there until gravity's completely gone, and by then it'll be too late."

"I've considered that. The closest we can get is Gravity Peak, but from there we should be able to get the sensor close enough to tell if there's an unusual amount of rips." Ford circled three spots on the map, and drew a dotted line connecting them. "We're heading out late, but we should be able to hit the locations where Weirdmageddon began and ended today. We can cross the lake to camp in the cavern behind Trembley Falls, get an early start, and take the hidden cave tunnel up to Gravity Peak."

"Not the best time for a hiking trip," Bill said.

Ford shot him an exasperated look. Bill was leaning in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, smirking condescendingly. "Or maybe it is, if you're trying to avoid as much effort as possible," he says. "But I still wouldn't go if I were you. You don't want to be outdoors during an eclipse—and you don't want to be on a mountain when gravity comes back."

"Nobody asked you," Ford said, turning his back on Bill. "Now—cooking will be difficult as gravity decreases, but not to worry—" he unzipped his backpack, "—I've already prepared everything we'll need." Grinning, he pulled out what looked like a toothpaste tube with a "beef and vegetables" label. "Astronaut food!"

Dipper grimaced. "Great."

"You should have asked me," Bill said, a bit louder. "Considering that Specs is sending you on a wild goose chase. But hey, if you're that determined to waste your time, just don't say I didn't tell you so."

"You haven't even told us what an 'eclipse' is," Dipper said. "If it's not important enough to explain, I don't see why it's important enough for us to listen to you."

"Well said," Ford muttered.

"It's too important to explain," Bill retorted. "I've told you everything you need to know!"

Ford said, "Ha," and started folding his map to pack.

There were a few seconds of blessed silence; and then Bill walked into the room, leaned on the fridge, and glowered at Ford. "Listen. As far as you're concerned, the eclipse is probably harmless. It should peak in three days—"

"Fiddleford said at its current rate of decrease, it should be the day after tomorrow."

Ford expected Bill to argue; but instead, he frowned uneasily. "I—Sure, fine, whatever, he's probably done the math, I've just been eyeballing it. Did he say what time?"

Surprised, Ford said, "early afternoon, by his measurements."

Bill nodded vaguely, glancing again toward the ceiling. "Whatever time it happens—gravity will gradually decrease until totality, and then it'll come back very quickly, so—if you want to help your town so much, tell them that they don't want to be climbing trees in zero G. Otherwise, the best thing you can do is stay inside, wait for it to pass, keep your eyes shutduring totality—and do not look up."

"Why can't we look up?" Dipper asked.

Bill laughed derisively. "Would you stare at the sun during a solar eclipse? It's like I'm talking to babies!"

The last fraying thread of Ford's patience snapped. He seized Bill's hoodie by the strings and dragged him closer. "Enough!"

Bill flailed, kicking the table as he tried to back out of Ford's grip, and ended up losing his footing and landing on the floor. It was too easy to drag him around—he was so light. Ford leaned down to glare straight in his eye. "If you're so worried about how we're handling this eclipse of yours, maybe you should come with us!"

Horror bloomed in Bill's eye. "What? No no no, that's—that's fine, I told you everything you need, I'd just slow you down, I'd really be much happier in here—"

"I bet you would be," Ford snarled. "As far as I'm concerned, the fact that you want to stay inside so much is reason enough to bring you along! Either something out there scares you, or there's something in here you want to be close to during totality! Maybe something will happen at the portal! Whatever it is you want, I don't want you to get it."

"Grunkle Ford?" Dipper had gotten out of his seat and was looking uncertainly between Bill and Ford. "I'm not sure about..."

Bill's gaze snapped from Ford's face to Dipper's, and Ford could almost see the gears shifting in his head as he latched on to a more vulnerable target. "Kid. Remember when I told you there are things out there you don't want to meet? Stay inside—let me stay inside—find a good book to distract you the next couple of days, and don't worry about things you don't want to know too much about. As far as you should be concerned, this is a weather phenomenon. You don't want to dig any deeper than that. Stay. Home."

The corners of Dipper's mouth turned down. He grabbed Ford's coat sleeve and said, voice low, "Great Uncle Ford, I... I'm not sure he's lying. I've never seen Bill scared like this before. And when he told me about things in other dimensions, this gravity thing hadn't even started, so he couldn't have..."

"Unless Bill was expecting this to happen, and everything he told you yesterday was the groundwork to make us believe whatever he wants us to believe." Bill had wormed deeper into Dipper's head than Ford had realized, if it was enough to make him consider Bill's nonsensical claims. Ford should have asked more about what Bill told him yesterday. The monster could have been filling his gnephew's head with all sorts of nightmares. "Doesn't it seem a little lucky that he told you all that one day before this?"

Dipper grimaced. "I mean..."

Ford glared at Bill again. "I'm not buying it. And the more you make up ridiculous explanations like 'gravitational eclipses' and 'things from other dimensions,' the more you insist that this is somehow both no big deal and incredibly dangerous just to witness, the less I believe this is anything but a patently ridiculous attempt to keep us from interfering with whatever is about to happen! And frankly, that makes me want to interfere even more!"

Bill let out a strangled laugh. "You've gotta be... If you think I'm that suspicious, how do you know this isn't reverse psychology?! Maybe I want you to take me outside!"

"Maybe you do. That's the awful thing about you, Bill: I can second-, third-, and fourth-guess everything you say, and I'll never be sure I've figured out the truth! At some point I just have to make an educated guess."

There was a knock at the doorway. "Hey, Dr. Pines?" Soos leaned into the kitchen. "I heard furniture and anger. Is everything... uh..." He trailed off, taking in the scene—Bill on the floor backed up against the fridge, Ford crouched over him, Dipper watching anxiously. "Everything cool here?"

Ford got to his feet. "Dipper and I are going on an expedition—and unfortunately, he has to come along. Soos, do you have a spare backpack we can use for his supplies?"

"Uh, I think so—"

"Great," Dipper snapped. "This is just perfect. I've been waiting a month and a half for us to do something cool together, and when we're finally about to go on an expedition, it's ruined by him?" He gestured angrily at Bill. "He's already ruined the rest of summer!"

Bill said, "Hey, I didn't consent to this plan either."

"You shut up," Dipper snapped. "This is all your fault! You could have just left us alone, but...!" He let out a frustrated noise. He pushed past Soos out of the room and ran up the stairs.

Ah. Ford's shoulders slumped. Sometimes he wasn't quite sure where he'd misstepped in a conversation, but this time it was pretty obvious. Between this and the nearly-disastrous trip to Portland, Ford was well in the lead for Worst Grunkle of the Summer.

"Wow. You broke that kid's heart," Bill said. "Not too late to make it up to him by going back to the original plan."

Ford shot him a dirty look.

Bill shrugged. "I'm trying anything I can think of at this point!"

Ford sighed harshly, and left to follow Dipper upstairs.

Bill sat up and waited until Ford's footsteps had receded. Voice low, he said, "Questiony, listen, I need your help. Stanford's gone completely insane. You didn't see how he was ranting and raving before you got in here. Who knows what he'll do to me if he gets me alone outside the shack with only his junior sycophant as a witness—?"

Soos looked deeply uncomfortable, but he shook his head. "Not buying it, dawg."

Bill groaned.

####

Ford knocked, and gently pushed the kids' damaged door open a crack. "Dipper?"

Dipper grunted. He was sitting on his bed, chin in his hands, glaring down at his journal in his lap.

"Can I come in?"

Dipper grunted again. Ford wasn't being ignored, so he took that as permission to enter. He delicately sat next to Dipper and tried to figure out what to say next. (He was surprised at how firm the mattress was—and then realized the real reason he wasn't sinking as far into it as he expected.) "Dipper..."

"You don't need to say anything," he sighed. "You're right—Bill probably is up to something. If he wants to be in the shack so much, and won't give us a straight answer why, then... it's probably safer to keep him out of it." But he sounded so terribly resigned.

"All the same, I understand your disappointment," Ford said. "I'd far rather go hiking with you than with him."

Dipper nodded. "Yeah. It's just..." He trailed off.

"I know. I wanted this summer to be different, too." Ford sighed. "As soon as he's gone, I owe you another hiking trip."

Dipper nodded again. He mumbled, "I've never gone hiking before."

This was some way to experience it for the first time. "We could treat this like a practice round? A warm-up with lower gravity to make it easier. Next time will be a real trip—without any crises to worry about, and without Bill."

"I don't mind the crises," Dipper said. "I'm kind of used to them, actually. They're almost fun now."

In his mind, Ford knew that this was probably another thing that should earn him a Worst Grunkle award. But in his heart, he was proud of Dipper. That was an adventurer's attitude.

"It's just... I haven't been able to get away from him all summer," Dipper said. "And even when I'm avoiding him, Mabel's spending all her free time either with her friends or trying to reform him, and you're spending all your time trying to figure out how to kill him, so I barely see you two..."

And that wasn't even something Ford could blame on Bill, was it? He hadn't been spending his time trying to figure out how to kill Bill since he'd handed over the Quantum Destabilizer design to Fiddleford. He'd simply been... obsessing. Hiding and obsessing. Ford stared down at his hands guiltily. "Tell you what. As soon as this is over, we can go do—something. I don't know what yet, but we've got a couple of days to think it up. I've spent too much time underground the last few weeks, anyway. We may not be able to go on that big adventure until Bill's gone—but it's something, for now."

"Yeah, I'd like that. Thanks, Grunkle Ford." 

Ford nudged him. "And as long as you do have to put up with Bill for this trip... look on the bright side. Haven't you been wanting to get a crack at him without your sister around? See if you can pry out any more alien wisdom before his execution?"

Dipper huffed—but one corner of his mouth reluctantly quirked up. "Thanks, but I'm starting to think that's a bad idea. Every time I try, he just says stuff that gives me nightmares."

"Well—consider it an intellectually broadening experience."

Dipper gave him a weak smile.

"Anyway, with a little luck, it won't be long before you'll never need to deal with him again."

####

Soos had an old Monster-Mon backpack with cracked vinyl around the straps that he hadn't used since he outgrew it in fifth grade. "Lucky I didn't throw it out when we moved. You never know when you're gonna need old stuff!"

Bill had no idea what he was supposed to take on a forced camping trip. He knew what humans took, but humans craved all kinds of material comforts that meant nothing to him. After a couple minutes staring at the bag forlornly, he stuck in a spare shirt and leggings—he doubted he'd need extra underwear or socks, right?—and the Pony Heist bedsheet he'd been using as his sole blanket the last month, his toothbrush and toothpaste, a cider six-pack, two boxes of cereal, a kazoo, and the TV remote.

"I need some first-aid supplies. In case of emergency," Bill told Soos.

"Sure, whaddaya need?"

"Bandages, painkillers, matches, and a knife."

"You got—" Soos paused, then pursed his lips at Bill disapprovingly.

Bill sighed. "Bandages and painkillers. And cold medicine. Woods get chilly."

He glanced up as he heard footsteps upstairs. Not much longer until he was dragged outside. He grimaced. "One more thing, Jesús. This is important."

"Whoa. Full-first-name important?" He stuck a bottle of cold syrup in the backpack, hit something hard, and peered in confusion at the six-pack.

"Stanford's being petty and refusing to believe anything I say, but I know you're not that stupid," Bill lied. "So listen: this thing will peak in a couple of days and then go back to normal. It's mostly harmless to humans—but once the peak has passed, gravity's coming back like that." Bill snapped his fingers. "So anyone you want to come out of this intact needs to do two things. One, the moment gravity completely disappears, they need to anchor themselves, as close to the ground as possible, before it comes back. And two, do not look at the sky. Got it?"

Soos hesitated; but then nodded. "Y-yeah, got it."

"Understand?"

"Understood."

"Good."

"So are you like... trying to protect the town now?"

Bill laughed bitterly. "I'm trying to cover my base. When this is all over, even if all my warnings were ignored, at least nobody will be able to say I didn't try. I could have sat on everything I know! But I didn't! And I'm going to rub. It. In. Ford's. Face." He punctuated each word with a jab to Soos's chest.

Soos endured the jabbing with a patience Bill didn't deserve. "Byyy protecting the town?"

Bill opened his mouth, reconsidered, and said, "Sure! Of course I'm protecting the town! Why would I want any harm to befall the citizens of my once and future capital?"

"I mean, no offense, but you befelled a lot of harm on us last year—"

"I did not," Bill snapped. "Everyone was perfectly comfortable in my throne of frozen human agony." He yanked the backpack's zipper shut, pulled it on, and pushed Soos aside to leave the kitchen.

Stan had stopped Ford at the foot of the stairs. "But if this is some nightmare dimension thing, isn't that just another reason not to take Bill outside? What if one of those wormholes opens up and he dives through? Maybe escaping back to his dimension will give him his power back, we don't know."

"I've considered that—but if that is what he's planning, all the more reason why he should stay with Dipper and me, so we can stop him if he tries anything."

"Are you nuts? It'll be two of you in the woods versus four of us here in the shack! We outnumber him more than you do! Plus walls and doors!"

"We have the hexed bracelets, he won't be able to escape us," Ford said.

"Aww, I get to share matching friendship bracelets with someone?" Bill gave Dipper and Ford what he hoped was his most obnoxious smile. "Who's the lucky guy?"

Scowling, Dipper raised his hand.

Bill's smile dimmed. "You are the lesser evil," he admitted grudgingly. "But I'm surprised ol' Six-Fingers doesn't want to keep as tight a grip on me as possible."

"We decided that if you try to kill your bracelet partner and escape, Grunkle Ford would have a better chance of avenging me than I would have avenging him."

Bill's brows shot up. "Ruthlessly utilitarian. Was that Stanford's idea?"

Ford ignored the question, pushing on with his conversation with Stan: "And anyway, there might be more people in the shack, but none of them would be me. I know him better than anyone else."

Bill laughed hard enough that his feet momentarily lifted off the floor. "Oh do you!"

Ford's gaze shot to Bill's face, eyes blazing with fury. "You know I do. I've spent thirty years learning every trick, every lie, every betrayal that's made you who you—"

"What's my favorite food."

Ford's mouth worked uselessly. "That—doesn't matter—"

"You think you know my innermost soul when you don't even know my favorite food?"

"Favorite... human food, or...?"

"Oh, sure, I'll give you a fighting chance. Human."

Ford chewed on the inside of his mouth for several seconds. Finally, he said, "Jalapeños."

Bill crossed the entryway, leaned into the hallway, and took a deep breath. "HEY, MABEL!"

From the far end of the house (where Mabel was seeing how high she could jump in the floor room), she shouted, "YEAH?"

"WHAT'S MY FAVORITE FOOD?"

"NACHOS WITH CHOCOLATE SAUCE AND SUMMER-SHAPED SPRINKLES!"

Bill gestured down the hall, ta-da. "THANK YOU!"

"I was close," Ford grumbled. "Nachos have jalapeños."

Stan said, "You're not even out of the house and he's getting under your skin. Are you sure you wanna—?"

"I am not," Ford said, "leaving him in the house. And if you'd heard how he was fighting to stay under this roof, you wouldn't trust him in here either."

Stan looked at Bill.

Bill looked Stan dead in the eyes and said, "I don't know what he's talking about. I agreed to go as soon as he asked."

"Oh, shut your—" Ford snatched the bracelets off the coat rack, flung one end at Bill, and handed Dipper the other. "Put these on. We're leaving."

Bill scowled, but considered his odds of successfully resisting, reluctantly put his end of the bracelet on, and yelled down the hall, "BYE, MABEL! I'M BEING KIDNAPPED BY YOUR UNCLE AGAINST MY WILL! I MAY NEVER RETURN!"

"I'LL MISS YOU FOREVER!"

Ford opened the door and gestured impatiently. Bill took a couple reluctant steps closer, but stopped to look at Soos and say, "Remember what I said. Do not let Mabel be in the air when gravity comes back, you know if someone doesn't watch her she'll launch herself as high as she can—"

Ford snapped, "Either you walk or I drag you, Cipher."

"I'm coming." He stepped outside, paused, and cast a worried look at the sky; then squeezed his eyes shut, lowered his head, and walked into the sunlight.

####

(That's this week's chapter! I'd love to hear your comments and thoughts. Next week: I'm gonna do my level best to shatter your hearts. Look forward to it!)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #grunkle ford #stanford pines #(for the chapter) #fiddleford mcgucket #(for the art) #gravity falls #gravity falls fanart #gravity falls fic #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

[libraryofgage]

Mermaid/Pirate Steddie Five

One | Two | Three | Four

*slaps top of the fic* this bad boi has everything: mermaids, fluff, reunions, Eddie being a simp, protective mom Steve

Anyway, stick around to the very very end for a meme hot off the presses about this part lmao

as always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;P

----

It takes Robin and the guppies three days to reach the ship Erica mentioned. They're all irritable, and the only thing that keeps them from snapping at each other is the idea that Steve might be hurt or in danger. Robin thinks they might have torn each other apart otherwise, and she can't even say for sure that she would have stopped the guppies from engaging in a full-on brawl.

So, to say she's beyond relieved when they finally catch up to the ship is an understatement.

But now they need to plan. The ship is way too close to a port city; close enough that any of the pirates could survive long enough to swim that way and spread the story of a murderous pod. Which, honestly, wouldn't do much for keeping all mermaids safe and on good enough terms with humanity that regular humans don't hunt them for sport. It does nothing to stop the pirates, but still.

"We could just make sure to drown everyone," Max suggests, watching the bottom of the ship with narrowed eyes.

Robin almost agrees, but then she stops. Because she knows Steve. If even one person on that ship wasn't an asshole to him, he'd say to spare them, and that could result in the aforementioned spreading of murderous pod stories. But after he's been trapped for so long, Robin wouldn't be able to argue with any request. She's already imagined him dead and strung up like a trophy more than she'd like to admit. She couldn't stand to see him frown after that.

So, she shakes her head, a frustrated bubble pattern flaring from her gills. "We need to be smarter about this," she says.

"We didn't strategize before sinking the other one," Will points out.

"That one kidnapped him. This one might have rescued him, and we should show mercy if that is the case," El says, stretched out and floating on her back. She's the most relaxed of them, and Robin wonders if it's because of that sixth sense she's got going.

"El is right," Robin says, crossing her arms and studying the ship. "We should be more careful about this."

"We could try signaling him," Dustin suggests. "Like, uh, dolphin noises or something."

"If we do that," Lucas says, "we'll need to give him enough time to respond without anyone around."

Robin nods, agreeing with both of them. "Okay, here's what we're gonna do. I'll swim closer while you guys stay here. We have that dumb screech system Steve made us memorize, so I'll use that to signal him. Then we'll wait until the sun rises tomorrow. That should be enough time for him to respond. If he doesn't, we'll sink the ship," she says.

"What if he's not on it?" Mike asks.

"We'll keep one human alive for questioning," Will says, looking at Robin and flashing a tiny, relieved smile when she nods in agreement. "We'll probably have to drown them either way, though."

"Well, we don't need to tell them that," Erica says, snorting as she reaches out to pet a fish that swims by. It's tiny enough to weave through her fingers twice before swimming on.

"Yeah, definitely won't be telling them," Robin agrees, trying and mostly failing to hold back an amused smile. "Okay, stay here. I'll be back after a few minutes. While I'm gone, Erica is in charge."

A chorus of protests chases after Robin as she swims away, heading toward the surface. The sun shines brighter the closer she gets, and she winces when her head finally breaks through the water. It reflects off the ocean, sparkling and blinding as the water shifts and flows.

Robin huffs and sinks down until only her eyes are above the water. The ship is a few yards away, and she can't see anyone moving around on the deck from this distance. She slowly moves closer, her ear fins straining as she tries to listen for any sign of life. Or Steve. Actually, she'd love to hear any sign of Steve from the ship.

Unfortunately, she doesn't.

Once she's close enough to touch the ship, hiding in the shadow it casts over the water, she circles it once. There are a few windows along the hull, but none of them are actually open. That could make it harder for Steve to hear her, but Robin will just be extra loud to compensate.

Robin clears her throat, rolls her shoulders, flicks her tail, and rises until her chin is above the water. She then lets out a sound that can only be classified as the dying shrieks of a dolphin and seagull's abomination of a love child. She makes this noise twice, but each one lasts a few seconds.

Robin can't risk any of the humans seeing her when they investigate the noise. If they are holding Steve captive, they might hurt him even more if they know another mermaid is around. So, she dips below the water, completely submerging and waiting anxiously for a response.

----

Steve has discovered the wonders of just sprawling on a solid surface, his arms thrown to the side and his tail stretched out as he stares up at the ceiling. It's oddly calming, and Steve can almost trick himself into thinking the bobbing of the ship is the ocean itself.

That's what Steve is doing now, forcing himself to relax and brace himself for telling Eddie that he has to leave for a while to find Robin and the guppies. His eyes are closed, and he's running through every possible outcome of that conversation. The second best case scenario (Eddie decides to come with him in a tiny boat) is playing out when he hears it.

The Emergency Shriek.

The last time he'd heard it, Dustin was desperately crying out for help as he struggled against the net that dragged him to the surface. Steve's reaction then had been the exact same as his reaction now. He jolts, his eyes wide and all of his fins flaring in preparation for the fastest swimming of his life, and his lips are pulled back in a vicious snarl to display his fangs and scare off the threat.

But he's on a boat, in the captain's cabin, and that window is way too small for him to climb through. Steve doesn't really think (he can't, actually; his brain has officially gone into Guppies and Robin In Danger Mode). He drags himself to the door of the cabin, digs his fingers into the space beneath, and uses all his strength to rip it off.

The wood groans and the hinges shriek and then the bottom half of the door comes off in his hands. Steve tosses it to the side and crawls through, his tail twitching and flopping in a vain attempt to move faster. If anyone were to actually witness this, they'd probably find it somewhere between utterly terrifying and unfortunately hilarious. A giant fish is dragging and flopping along the floor, but it's also exuding the most intense aura of bloodlust most creatures have ever encountered.

And that bloodlust only gets worse when Steve comes to the stairs that lead to the deck. He stares at them, anger building in his chest at the obstacle they present and just how long it will take to climb them. By the time he reaches the top, Robin and the guppies could be dead, and Steve will have wasted time by uselessly trying to climb some stupid stairs.

He grits his teeth, claws digging into the wood beneath him. And then Steve suddenly realizes that he doesn't have to climb the stairs himself. He takes a deep breath, his gills flaring some to pull in more air, and screams as loud as he can, "EDDIE!"

Steve is absolutely going to reward Eddie for his speed (later, after his guppies and Robin are safe) because he immediately hears something crash above him, followed by swearing and frantic footsteps that stop at the stairs. "Stevie, what the fuck?" Eddie asks, panting as he hurries down the stairs.

"On the deck," Steve says, pushing up onto his tail and wrapping his arms around Eddie's neck when he starts leaning down. "Right now, Eddie. Actually, two minutes ago. As fast as you can. And to the edge of the ship. The railing. Now!"

Eddie, his wonderful and incredible Eddie, doesn't question him. He just scoops Steve up and carries him back up the stairs, fingers digging into Steve's waist when he nearly trips over the final step. He finds his balance again, barely, and strides over to the railing.

Steve can't see anything wrong with the water, but he knows the surface doesn't actually tell him anything useful. He frowns and looks at Eddie. "I'll be back," he promises before letting go of Eddie's neck and twisting to place his hands on the rail.

In one swift motion, he launches himself over the side, grimacing when he feels the edge of his tail fin smack Eddie's cheek along the way. But Steve doesn't let himself linger and focuses on the rush of water around him as he dives below the surface. His gills flare and he breathes for the first time in a while, his hair and body familiarly weightless, and Steve fully realizes how much he fucking missed being in the ocean.

But he can't linger on that relief and joy either.

Steve shoots through the water, swimming to wear he thinks the Emergency Shriek came from, only to be tackled as he rounds the edge of the ship. He yelps, his breath knocked out of him as he goes careening, arms wrapping around his waist like he's going to disappear. It takes exactly one second for him to recognize Robin, her hair floating in front of his eyes and her claws digging into his back.

"You're okay!" she shouts as their momentum starts to falter.

Steve wraps his arms around her and holds her close, one hand on the back of her head and the other around her waist. "Where's the danger?" he asks, scanning the water around them and frowning when he sees nothing.

Robin laughs and pulls away, grinning at him with relief clear in her eyes. "There isn't any, dingus. I was trying to see if you were on that ship," she explains.

Before she can say anything else or Steve can respond, several bodies crash into him from behind. "STEVE!"

They all go careening through the water again, and Steve can't help laughing this time. He tries to hug as many of the guppies as he can, running his fingers through their hair and over their shoulders to reassure himself and them that they're together again. They don't let up, though, and Steve is getting pulled deeper and deeper as they pile on top of him, each trying to get closer as Robin wraps her arms around his neck and buries her face in his nape.

"Okay, okay!" Steve says, a stupidly happy grin on his face, "I'm fine, I promise. I'm not hurt."

"But you were!" Will shouts, managing to push forward long enough for Steve to see the red in his eyes from crying. "We saw your scales in the other ship."

"I healed," Steve promises, gesturing at his tail. This gets the guppies to back off long enough to inspect his tail, all seven of them circling around and inspecting for new injuries.

"What's this?" Erica asks, pointing at the new scar.

"That's the wound that healed."

"I'm so glad you're okay," El says, finishing her inspection first and grabbing Steve's hand.

"Yeah, now we can wreck that ship!" Max says, her eyes lighting up with a vicious glee as she looks at the Corroded Coffin in the distance.

Steve blinks. "Wait, what?"

"This has been healed for a while, Steve," Max explains, gesturing to his tail, "So, they must have been keeping you captive, right? Let's sink them."

"I bet they've got some great treasure on there," Dustin says, lingering closer to Steve's shoulder even as he looks at the ship, studying it with the same face he studies squids he wants to try trapping.

And, yeah, Dustin would be right. There is some great treasure in the Corroded Coffin. Steve's treasure. Eddie. "We are not sinking the ship," he says, his voice firm. It's his official Caretaker Voice, and it makes all the guppies stiffen slightly as they look at him. "The...humans there saved me."

A few seconds pass, and then Robin behind him gasps. "You fell in love!" she shouts, using Steve's shoulders to brace herself as she pushes up and leans over his head. "With a human!"

"Wh-how could you tell?!" Steve asks, looking up at her as the guppies start clamoring for his attention as well.

"Was it the captain?" Will asks, eyes a little brighter but also warier.

"Is he ugly?" Mike asks, his tone implying that he already believes the answer to be yes.

"Dude, how could you fall for a human?!" Dustin shouts, his nose wrinkled up in slight disgust.

"Have you been courting a human the whole time we've been looking for you?" Erica asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Yeah! How long have you been healed, then?" Max adds, moving next to Erica and glaring at Steve.

"Wait, so we're not sinking the ship?" Lucas asks, failing to cover his disappointment as he gazes at the ship longingly.

"Congratulations, Steve. I'm sure he's very nice," El says, smiling at him, and Steve almost cries at her simple and accepting response.

"I want to meet him," Robin says.

And her words get the rest of the guppies to quiet down. They all share a few looks and then nod at Steve in sync. "Yeah, we need to meet him," Dustin says, apparently the spokesperson for the group.

Steve blinks, looking at the guppies and Robin. He wanted Eddie to meet his guppies and Robin, of course, but he's a little worried about what they'll do to Eddie. "Only if you promise not to drown him," he says, shooting each of them a hard look.

"I'm insulted you think we would," Robin says, scoffing as she swims to the guppies, facing Steve. "Now, go get your soft and very drownable human down here."

Steve rolls his eyes and motions for the guppies and Robin to follow as he swims toward the surface. He doesn't plan to let them out of his sight, and he knows the feeling is mutual.

----

Exactly twenty minutes and 13 seconds have passed since Steve threw himself over the rail of the ship, and Eddie hasn't moved. He knows his crew is a little concerned, especially when they notice the red cut across his cheek, but he waves them off when they try to pull him away from the railing to focus on something else.

He just can't risk Steve surfacing and not seeing him.

And his paranoia feels validated when Steve does surface and immediately smiles brightly at him, looking somewhere between relieved and ecstatic. "Eddie!" Steve shouts, waving like he doesn't always have Eddie's undivided attention, "Jump in!"

Here's the thing. When a gorgeous merman that Eddie has spent a bunch of time courting (and then kissing) tells him to jump into the ocean, Eddie is going to jump into the fucking ocean. "Just a second," he shouts back.

He kicks off his shoes, waves off Asher and Jeff when they try to convince him to not jump off the ship, and then launches himself over the railing. For a brief moment, Eddie feels weightless, and then he hits the water. His legs sting a little where they broke the surface, the cut on his cheek practically screams in protest, and a cascade of bubbles block his vision just as much as the salt that stings his eyes and makes everything blurry.

The blurriness does nothing to keep him from recognizing Steve when he swims closer, though. Steve is still grinning at him, and Eddie's grin in return falters slightly when he tries to kick to the surface and Steve stops him. Before Eddie can try to signal that he cannot, in fact, breathe underwater, Steve kisses him.

As they kiss, Steve's tongue pushes against Eddie's lips, carefully prying them open. Eddie leans closer to Steve, figuring he doesn't mind dying like this, and falters when he feels a bubble of air roll down his tongue and lodge in his throat. Steve pulls away, and Eddie inhales on reflex. The bubble in his throat gets a tiny bit smaller, and Eddie doesn't get any water in his lungs.

"Tug my arm when the bubble gets too small. You won't be able to talk underwater, but you won't drown." And then he notices the cut on Eddie's face. His smile drops some, and he leans forward, gently tracing his finger along the wound. "Sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you," Steve says, his voice echoing and surrounding Eddie in the water.

Eddie shakes his head, waving his hand dismissively. It's at this point that he notices some blurry shapes a distance away, but he doesn't pay them too much mind. He focuses back on Steve and takes his hand, squeezing reassuringly before kissing his palm.

"It doesn't hurt, right?" Steve asks, his voice a little softer and slightly muffled but still one of the most beautiful things Eddie has ever heard.

Eddie shakes his head again and wraps his free hand around Steve's waist, pulling him closer. This is much easier to do in the water. He kisses Steve again, tasting salt more than anything else, and Steve takes the chance to replenish the air bubble despite its minimal use so far.

When he pulls away, he looks more relaxed. "Promise you'll let me know if you need more air?" he asks, his tone insistent and firm. Steve waits for Eddie to nod before grinning. "Great, because my guppies and Robin want to meet you. And, uh, they're really disappointed about not getting to sink your ship, but don't hold that against them."

Eddie blinks, suddenly wondering if maybe he shouldn't have jumped into the ocean at Steve's beck and call. But then he notices the way Steve moves so naturally in the water, how his hair floats and moves around him, how bubbles rise from his gills as he speaks, and Eddie knows he'd jump without thought all over again.

So, yeah, he guesses it's time to meet some guppies and Robin.

----

Tag List (the tag list is full! I wasn't able to fit everyone, so if you aren't on here, I'd suggest following #high seas steddie. I think you should still get updates on your dash if you do)

@mugloversonly, @raisedbylibrarians, @thegirlwiththelibrarybag, @savory-babby, @vankaar, @beckkthewreck, @itcanbepalped, @imfinereallyy, @finntheehumaneater, @mightbeasleep, @weekend-dreamer7

@whenindoubtb72, @troublemaker2azz, @just-a-tiny-void, @upallnightogetloki, @mxmakessense, @ellietheasexylibrarian, @haelreadsshit, @y4r3luv, @starman-jpg, @littlewildflowerkitten, @estrellami-1, @stevieschrodinger, @gaelicblue, @they-reap-what-we-sow

@5ammi90, @noodle-shenaniganery, @acrolius, @hallelujahimatheist, @rainbow-freckle, @desidrarry-wolfstarshipper, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @79chevyimpala, @aliea82, @hopefulcookieoperatorpersona, @sani-86, @queenie-ofthe-void, @goosesister, @hello-fellow-nerds, @luthienstormblessed, @xtkxkrzrizir, @potato-of-the-lord, @geekymagicalpotato, @child-of-cthulhu, @aizawa-emma, @m-owo-n, @newtstabber, @cartercaptainofthemoon, @spectrum-spectre, @a-little-unsteddie

And, if you've made it this far, here's a little meme for your entertainment

#steddie #steddie fic #high seas steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #merman steve harrington #pirate eddie munson #robin buckley #the party #mermaid/pirate au #stranger things fic

[strangersteddierthings]

Daily Ficlet 7

I’m challenging myself to write a little ficlet every day, using the prompts from this list. Today’s prompt is recipe book.

-

Steve finds Wayne in the hallway, pulling what items he can from the closet there.

"Need some help?" Steve asks as Wayne struggles with a bigger box that seems wedged in pretty good.

"Sure. Just get yer hands up here and ready to catch," Wayne answers, shimmying the box to and fro while Steve moves to follow his instructions. The box isn't by any means light when it falls into his hands, but it's not the heaviest thing Steve's had to catch -don't think about it, don't think about Eddie's limp body awkwardly shoved through a gate. Don't-

"Thanks, son," Wayne climbs back down the stepladder he was on and takes the box from Steve' hands, walking down the hall to place it on the counter. The front half of the trailer is missing, the gate took it, but a decent amount of of the trailer remains (Eddie's room remains) and the government has finally allowed Wayne to return to pack up what he can.

It's better than starting over completely.

"What's in the box?" Steve asks, because it's the only item Wayne hasn't just demanded he load into the moving truck outside.

"It was supposed to be Eddie's graduation gift," Wayne says softly. "'Suppose it'll have to be a 'glad you woke up from yer coma' gift instead."

"Yeah," Steve says, even if he doesn't believe it. Eddie's been asleep months now. They saved the world, killed Vecna, closed the gates, Max woke up, and the kids have started Sophomore year; Eddie remains comatose. "Can I get a sneak peak at the present?"

"It's not much, and ain't nothin' new," Wayne says, opening the box and beginning the process of pulling things out. It looks a bit like the contents of a hope chest. Things to start living on your own with. Robin's mom has one for her that Steve's seen, and even contributed to. There's an envelope of $500 tucked along the side of Robin's chest.

"This was his grandpa's. My dad's," Wayne says, pulling out a belt buckle. "And my ma made this, not for anyone in particular, mind you, but just because she liked to keep herself busy." It's a blanket, thick and a little scratchy when Steve touches it. "And this. This is the most important." Wayne pulls out a binder from the bottom of the box, handing it over to Steve for inspection.

He takes it carefully even though it looks sturdy. Holding it in one hand, he flips it open. He was thinking maybe it would be a photo album or something but it's not. It looks like a recipe book. All the recipes are hand written on looseleaf paper, with post it notes sticking out randomly. "What makes this special?"

"That's his mom's handwriting," Wayne smiles but he sounds sad. "Eddie lost her when he was five. She got real sick, y'know, and never got better. But she wrote out all them recipes. I'm amazed Al kept the thing, but I guess I shouldn't be. No real value in a binder of recipes 'cept to the people close to the author."

Steve looks back down at the binder. He still has both his parents, however distant they might be, so he doesn't know if he'll ever fully understand the significance of getting this piece of someone back. "Does he not have anything else with her writing on it?"

"No, not writing. We got plenty of things they used to own. Eddie's caseworker let us go through the whole house, after Al'd been shipped off to the penitentiary, to gather anything Eddie might want or need. Was supposed to just be his stuff, mind you, legally speakin', but I think that lady knew if we didn't take other stuff, Eddie'd never see it again.

"So, Eddie's got things that were hers. But nothing that's uniquely hers. There's jewelry, and a coupla blankets, but all that stuff is replaceable and not... Well, I dunno what I'm tryin' to say, but that's just stuff that was hers. But this. This was her. Y'understand?"

And Steve does. There's a difference between having something that belonged to someone once, and something that really feels like them when you hold it. Steve doesn't have anything like that, personally, but he knows there will come a time when the difference matters. When everyone grows up and scatters into the future. He imagines a hand written letter from Dustin will mean much more for him to find after a long time of no contact than it would to find his old Roast Beef t-shirt in the back of a drawer or something, moth bitten and musty.

"I can't wait to find out if Eddie's an angry emotional, or a sad one."

Wayne laughs. "He can be both."

#wayne and steve #daily ficlet #just a lil thing for if eddie lived but didn't like... live #bittersweet #my fic

[builtbybrokenbells]

CAPITAL VICES | PRIDE

Pride: an excessive view of one’s self without regard for others

Masterlist

Listen while reading: Little Wing - Jimi Hendrix, Nobody Home - Pink Floyd

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 14k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, morning sex, quickie (ish), fingering (f!receiving), choking, praise, degradation, name calling, sir kink, begging, dom/sub, overstimulation, rough sex, dirty talk, touch of bratty sub, showering together, fluff (lots), angst, arguing, fighting, crying, breakups/mentions of breakups, mentions of death/dying, mentions of loss of a parent, grief, swearing, sorry if i miss any!

I wasn’t going to post this today but I just couldn’t help myself 😁 don’t hate me too much ;) as always, enjoy, be kind, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes!

“Wake up, sweetheart.” A soft kiss was placed on your shoulder, the light tickle just the right amount of sweetness to wake you up in a good mood. You had grown accustomed to Jake’s presence in the early mornings; your defence was down, and in some strange way, you’d even grown to love it. You hummed in response, neglecting to open your eyes and see what he wanted from you. You could still feel him wrapped around you, your back pressed tightly against his chest and his touch warming your soul. A light hand was on your hip, his fingers lazily holding you in a show of clear affection. Whatever he wanted was nothing important, and that you were certain of.

“Five more minutes.” You protested, pulling the blanket closer to your chest. He chuckled at your reluctance, continuing to pepper kisses across your shoulder.

“It’s late, angel. You should get up.” He tried again, the little white lie slipping past his lips to encourage you to open your eyes. His hand drifted a little further downwards, his fingertips now grazing your bare thigh.

“I have nothing to do today.” You argued, trying not to give into his gentle touch. The temptation was impossible to resist, but you put up the fight for as long as you could.

“Nothing to do?” He teased. “Not even me?” Even with your eyes closed, you had to fight off the urge to roll them at his shameless flirting.

“You’ll be here all day,” you grumbled, struggling to ignore his hand that was drifting towards your heat. You had only been awake for a moment, but the familiar ache was already growing too strong to ignore. “I’m sure you can wait a little while.”

“Haven’t you learned that lesson already?” Your breath hitched in your throat as his fingers slipped between your legs. “I don’t like waiting, angel.” A rush of arousal ran through you at the memory of the night before. Although he gave you what he thought was a punishment, it did not seem to deter you from wanting to deny him again. Whatever he was trying to teach you did not seem to stick. Whether that was due to his poor teaching ability or your undying need for him, you did not know. What you did know was that despite his efforts, he could not seem to fuck the brattiness out of you and his form of punishment was highly enjoyable. You were eager to press the same buttons just to experience sex like that again.

In truth, there were a million lessons he had tried hard to teach you, but you never cared to listen. It had nothing to do with his ability, and everything to do with your own stubbornness.

Perhaps if you listened, you might have avoided the disaster that was looming just overhead.

“Maybe you need to remind me again.” You yawned, and although it was not on purpose, it seemed to fit the narrative perfectly. “Not sure if I remember correctly.”

“Come on, sweetheart. Don’t start with me again.” He sighed, his fingers finally reaching your cunt. You took in a sharp breath in reaction to the feeling, still sore and sensitive from the night before. “I thought I fucked that little attitude out of you?” His finger ran through your wetness, trailing it all the way up to your clit where he began tracing slow circles. You shifted, rolling over on your back to allow him easier access to you. His eyes drifted over your face, a small smile stuck on his lips as he admired your beauty in the light of the early morning. “Nothing to say?” He questioned, keeping his movements steady, but light.

“Wouldn’t want to hurt your feelings.” You lied through your teeth, knowing that he was right. You had zero arguments, and the only reason you felt the need to talk back was because you wanted him to touch you. Now that you had gotten what you wanted, you felt that you could comfortably remain in silence.

“Right,” he chuckled, unable to find the desire to chastise you.

His eyes were fixated on your face as he drank in every detail you had to offer. The specs of brown that floated amidst the color of your irises, the way your eyelashes drooped down and dusted the dark circles under your eyes every time your eyelids fluttered closed. He stared long enough to notice the speckled freckles that littered the bridge of your nose, barely noticeable from a distance but mesmerizing when he got close enough. He studied the few scars that were painted on your skin, reminding him of a lifetime that he did not know about but so desperately wanted to. They were so light now that they barely even existed anymore, but he was so immersed in the constellations they formed across your face that he was sure he would never miss them again.

He watched as your lips parted as waves of pleasure washed over you, wishing so desperately that you would let a moan slip past your lips just so he could have the chance to hear the melody again. He wanted to kiss you, or to at least speak his adoration into the universe, but he seemed frozen in place. He had locked himself in with lust, stalemating his own feelings and making it so they could never surface. What he felt for you in that moment was a feeling stronger than love; it was adoration, safety, happiness, and a sense of home he hadn’t felt since he was young, nestled in his childhood bedroom after his parents tucked him into bed. He felt all of the things for you that he was certain this lifetime would never grant him, and he had no idea what to do with all of it.

That night at the bar, he found you so compelling that he could not force himself to walk away. Your beauty was blinding, and your charm was irresistible despite your rejection. Had he known at that moment that you would be so important to him, he never would have spoken a casual relationship into fruition. Dating was not his forte, and he never wanted to do it again, yet now that he sat face to face with his love for you, it was the only thing he wanted. He wanted all of the things he previously denounced as long as it was with you, but he was terrified of his own revelations. It made him want to run, to hide and never be seen again just to ensure that his heart would be safe. Then, he looked at you for a second too long and he realized he would run for so long and so far that he would land straight back in your arms. If he left, he would search for you until the day he died, and if he still could not find you, he would spend the next life searching, too.

Through the weeks of hookups and long nights spent sleeping beside you in bed, he’d fallen for you unintentionally and beyond anything he’d ever known. He fell in love with you in the most sincere and honest way, and the intensity in which he felt it nearly gutted him. He loved you without expectation, nor any requirement. He loved you silently, and he loved you loudly. Through smiles and shared touches, through small stories about the young girl that lived through travesty so the young woman he adored could flourish, and through memories made by the cumulative hours spent holding each other and laughing with each other after sex. He loved you through spoken words, shared jokes and playful banter. He loved you enough that it was hard to be away from you, and he loved you enough that his apartment felt like it belonged to you more than it ever belonged to him.

As he watched your face, the man who had seduced you into bed for the first time ceased to exist. He was no longer a devilish being that was driven by concupiscent thoughts; he was a boy who wanted more than just the sex the two of you had based your entire relationship around. For the first time since knowing you, the last thing he wanted to do was fuck you. He wanted to hold you until the morning bled into the afternoon, cocooned in blankets and suffocating in the sweetness of your laughter. He wanted to ignore every single growl of hunger, and every scorching sensation of thirst. He didn’t need anything other than you in his arms, and he didn’t want anything more than the simplicity of loving you.

The devil had finally met his maker, and it was far more sinister than anything he ever imagined before. You were everything all at once, the very thing that breathed life into his soul, and the only thing that could take it away. If he had half a brain, he would have already ran out the door, but he could not fathom leaving your side. His fear made him withdraw, and his love made him stay. He was being ripped apart by his own moral struggle, but he felt so much love for you that it completely overshadowed the pain that came along with it.

Instead of facing his conflict, he slipped his thumb to your clit as his fingers rested on your entrance. Before he could debate the consequences, he began pumping his fingers into you as he moved his thumb in time. With his eyes still fixated on your face, he tried to harness the same energy as the first night he met you. The filthy desire for you, rather than the love that ran so deep it made his veins dry of blood.

“That feels so good, baby.” You whimpered, your eyes fluttering open to catch sight of his own. Had you not been so lost in bliss, you might have noticed the pain that was shining through the cloud of desire. He could not respond, fearful that a confession might slip out instead of an encouragement. Instead, he leaned down and pressed his lips to your own. It silenced you from spewing any more beautifully venomous words that would in turn convince him to tell you all his heart felt for you.

As he kissed you, it did nothing but worsen the ache in his chest. His hand continued working at you, begging for an orgasm to hopefully lessen the discomfort of love and heighten the lust that so often burned in his chest. He was desperate for you to orgasm, but it was for a reason much different than all of the times before. It had absolutely nothing to do with remembering, and instead, everything to do with forgetting. He watched your expression twist into one of pleasure, and he hurt at the thought of you being so oblivious to the things that he was feeling for you. He wondered, just for a moment, if you had ever felt that way about him in the time you had spent together. He could not focus on the thought, because it pained him to know that you did not.

“Fuck, Jake.” You gasped, feeling the pit of your stomach ignite with a fire he so often caused.

“Yeah? Does that feel good, angel?” He crooned, his eyes heavy and a lazy smile plastered on his lips. He did a great job at covering up the damage he had done to himself. “Do you want to cum for me?”

“Yes, please.” You groaned, your hand clasping around his bicep in hopes of keeping him there forever. You had a slight mistrust for him since he denied you of the pleasure so many times the night prior. Little did you know, denying you anything was nearly impossible for him, especially in that moment when sleep was still threatening your eyes and your need for him was primal.

“You sound so pretty when you beg for me.” He muttered, imagining the sight of his hand driving you to insanity underneath the blanket. He took in a long breath as his eyes fluttered closed, listening intently to the noises falling so delicately from your lips. “Cum for me, sweet girl.” The silky smooth tone of his voice was all it took to push you over the edge. You clenched around his hand, uttering ugly curses painted with the beauty of his name. The vulgarity of the scene would turn any man to his knees before god, yet somehow it was so ethereal when the obscenities were doused in his name, like holy water working to rid you of the sin. “That’s it, angel.” He coaxed you through it, gentle and sweet as if he wasn’t opening the gates to hell and pushing you inside.

As you rode out the euphoria, your eyes settled on his face in a similar manner as he had been watching you. You thought your heart might stop and you would ascent to the heavens from the picture of his beauty alone. He was looking down at you, his warm brown eyes casted down upon the bridge of his nose to soak in every inch of your expression of pleasure. They were warm, inviting you in and promising to keep you safe. The permanent upturn of his lip made your chest ache and your eyes cross with stars. The smirk, although infuriating at first, had quickly turned itself into something you could not live without. The soft locks of brown hair hung down to frame his rosy cheeks, flushed at the sight of you in such a state. His eyebrows were furrowed slightly, barely enough to notice, but too much for you to bear. His dark eyelashes casted a shadow over his stare, but it did not offset the intensity of his eyes burning into you. The blemishes and scars left behind on his skin were in tune with your own, allowing you to realize that the man you’d made out to be a godless entity was nothing but a boy who was mindlessly trying to make it through life alive, strikingly similar to yourself.

When you breathed out the last of the pleasure from your orgasm, you expected the fleeting moment of adoration to fade away with it. When your chest was steady, back to its normal rhythm, it did not seem to disappear. The cloud of sexual tension dissipated, and so did the sensation in the pit of your stomach and between your legs, but the swell of your heart did not seem to want to follow. He gave you a few slow blinks, the smirk turning into a smile as he recognized the far away look in your eyes. It was the same one he had been watching you with, but he would never speak a word to you about it. The confirmation in your expression was enough for him to move on from it without speaking it into existence.

You bit down on the inside of your lip ever so gently, holding back the words that were begging to be spoken. He didn’t interrupt your moment of clarity, but he did admire you while the reality washed over you. He withdrew his hand from you, but you were too enthralled in the details of his face to notice, the ones that only you had access to. You loved him in every way you knew to be possible, but it felt like you were choking on the confession. Slowly, the words would suffocate you and you would never get the opportunity to speak the truth.

“You’re beautiful, Jake.” You choked out, managing the compliment if nothing else.

“As are you, sweetheart.” He leaned down, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. You were struggling to find another word to speak, but your train of thought was cut off by the ring of the doorbell. You snapped out of the trance in a panic, wondering who would be knocking at your door so early in the morning. Before you could scramble out of bed to investigate, he laid a gentle hand on your stomach as if to tell you it was okay.

“Almost forgot why I woke you up.” He chuckled, sending a soft, reassuring smile your way. You raised an eyebrow as he stood, adjusting himself in his pants before he retreated to answer the door. “I ordered food, and I didn’t want it to get cold before you got the chance to eat.”

“Oh,” you breathed, your head still swimming with confliction about the feelings arising in your chest. “Thank you.” He watched you for a moment, his head cocking to the side in confusion at your lack of argument. When you didn’t follow your statement up with any kind of rejections or insults, he gave a slow nod before walking out of the room.

You collapsed against the pillows as soon as he was out of sight, heaving a heavy sigh of relief. You were so disoriented that you almost considered asking him to go home so you could sort through your thoughts, but the idea of him leaving struck a painful nerve in your heart. You had no idea why you were so infatuated with him, or why the sight of his face brought you to such weakness. He was the same Jake that had laid in your bed dozens of times before, and it was the same hand between your leg giving you the same, earth-shattering orgasm. Although those were all good things, they weren’t any different than the days that came and passed before. What changed, you did not know.

Denial is a disease, and you were plagued with it.

You were so deep in your pondering about the strange feelings sparking in your chest that you failed to realize Jake was bringing you not only breakfast, but was intending to bring you breakfast in bed. It was the furthest thing from your agreed upon rule, but it was so minuscule to you now that you barely even thought twice about it. Breakfast was the least incriminating thing the two of you had done together in regards to romance, and you knew that, even if you didn’t want to face the truth.

So, instead of either of you digesting the feelings and speaking up about them, you compartmentalized them and simply pretended they did not exist.

Sloth still had its deadly hold on your hearts, and it was slowly beginning to take a control of your lives.

Before Jake returned, you stood and made your way to the kitchen in attempt to mitigate the effects of breakfast in bed. You were still dazed and completely lost in your thoughts when you took post by the kitchen island. When he returned and noticed you were not in the same spot he left you, he stood beside you without a word, a takeout bag in one hand and a tray of coffee in the other. When he sat the items on the counter, relief flooded you instead of fear. You were not relieved to be sharing such an intimate meal, but because you would have something to occupy yourself with while you tried to swallow down your confessions of love.

Then, when your hand grabbed the bag, you could not seem to bring it any closer to you. Your body was rejecting the thought of food, and the smell was nearly sickening. You were so distraught from your revelations that you couldn’t even stomach the idea of eating. Jake mindlessly sipped away at the cardboard cup in his hand, barely noticing your stunned gaze. He’d already gotten over the painstaking realizations and had pushed them so deep down inside of him that they barely existed at all.

“Not hungry, angel?” He asked, his hand finding your hip as he moved behind you. Your eyes closed at the contact, the relief instantaneous and the comfort immeasurable.

“No, guess not.” You muttered, trying your best to focus on the feeling of his touch rather than the emotion running rampant in your chest.

“Interested in something else, by any chance?” You could feel his erection pressing into your ass. Pleasing you had worked him up to the point of no return, and now eating breakfast was the last thing on his mind.

“Is sex all you think about?” You chuckled, feeling the unease begin to fade. Everything was easy to forget about when his hands were on you, holding you so close.

“You make it hard to think about anything else.” He admitted, slipping his hands underneath his t-shirt that was resting on your thighs. You couldn’t deny the feeling that blossomed in your stomach, and you had to agree that when the two of you were together, sex had always been the most pressing thought.

“Don’t put the blame on me for your filthy imagination, Jacob.” You smirked, finding a shred of your normal personality making a return.

“Wasn’t blaming you, angel. Simply just stating a fact.” He pushed the shirt to your hips, a low growl sounding from his chest at the sight of your exposed lower half. “You know I always have to finish what I've started.”

“Make it quick, honey. I’d hate for you to waste another coffee on my behalf.” You breathed, trying your best to make it seem as if the position was not affecting you. In truth, your legs were quivering at the thought of him being inside you again, and your stomach was already tied in knots, ready to snap from the tension.

“Haven’t I told you already?” He freed himself from his sweatpants, forgoing any formalities or foreplay. Getting you off had already pushed him to the point of insanity, and he feared that if he had to wait a second longer he might die from the disease of needing you. He rested the tip of his cock on your entrance, pausing there only for a moment so he could speak again. “This is worth more than anything else in the world.” His words were firm, forcing you to believe it to be truth even if you wanted to refute it. He avoided what he really wanted to confess, knowing that if his emotions were coated in a protective shield of lust, it was less likely to scare you away. He so badly wanted to tell you that it was not the sex that was worth the world in gold, it was you.

He hated the fire burning in his chest, not because of the intensity, but because he knew that you were the one who so often ignited it. He promised that love would not complicate your relationship, but love had been tangling itself in your souls since the first time your eyes locked together. It was there before the first word was spoken, and long before the first touch. It was there in the beginning, before he ever stepped foot in the bar. It guided him to you, speaking soft whispers through the moonlight in hopes of landing him directly by your side.

Of course, fate was such a twisted little thing; to make two people who denounced the callings of their own heart fall irrevocably in love was a sinister act, but it was undeniably true. The two of you were meant to find each other, to experience such serenity at the hands of another and to find love that did not make you want to seek shelter from the explosion. You were meant to learn love in its true form, not the kind where raised voices and fists chilled the warmth it created, and not one in which infidelity and mistrust blackened its golden glow. Most of all, you were meant to give it to each other as much as you were meant to learn it. Sloth had affected you so badly because you were so good at caring for each other in a way nobody else had, and it was a heinous crime to withhold that kind of care from each other.

This love did not leave a bitter taste in his mouth, nor did it leave one in yours, but it did strike so much fear within you that it was nearly paralyzing. You knew you felt strongly about him, and you knew why you felt that way, but it did not make the fact easily digestible. You hadn’t felt a feeling so strong since before the tragic end of your last marriage, and you had been perfectly content with never feeling it again. It was not warm and fuzzy like it was to so many others; to you, it was violent and painful, and it made you ache all over when you thought about how much he meant to you. You were terrified of letting him in, but you were even more fearful of losing him. Above all, you were so scarred from the past that you feared that once your guard was down, the Jake you knew would morph into a monster that would hurt you far beyond what anyone else had done.

You knew you should not blame him for the mistakes others had made, but what you had experienced at the hands of love made the whole idea turn sour in your mind. You knew it was implausible, but if you could, you would have lived the rest of your life alone and never let anyone get too close.

When he pushed inside of you, the turmoil living inside both of your hearts immediately settled. Nothing ever seemed to matter when he was so close to you, and perhaps that was the most dangerous of all.

“God, you feel so fucking good angel.” He groaned, biting his tongue so he wouldn’t let any more sweetness slip out. “What do you do to me?” He muttered, looking down at his hips as they fucked into you. His eyes focused intently as he slowed his movements slightly, increasing the intensity of his thrusts, instead. He was so infatuated with you that the sight of him fucking you had quickly turned into his favourite sight to see.

“Harder, Jake.” You pleaded, gripping on to the countertop as you prepared for more. The feeling was already overwhelming, your last orgasm still lingering on your skin. The newly discovered feelings did nothing to aid your ability to withhold a climax, and if anything, feeling such things with him inside of you was only worsening the love blossoming in the deepest depths of your heart.

“You want more, angel?” He smirked, doing exactly what you wanted. A yelp sounded as he slammed against your cervix, your knees buckling under the weight of your body as you struggled to keep yourself upright. “Tell me how good I make you feel.” He ordered. His words were heavy, and the intent had nothing to do with the power trip he usually found himself in during sex. It had everything to do with how badly he needed to hear you say it, how badly he needed to know that you needed him the same as he needed you.

“You make me feel so good, Jake.” You felt no need to fight the truth, and if feeding into his ego would ensure he never stopped, you would praise him until your lungs collapsed from a lack of oxygen. “Nobody can make me feel this good, only you, Jake.”

“Fuck,” he huffed, reaching down and pulling you up off the counter. He only withdrew for a second, just long enough to grab you by the hips and lift you up. He sat you on the counter, wasting little time before making a home between your legs again. He pulled you to the edge of the countertop, lining himself up with you and pushing back inside. “Being so good for me, today. What’s gotten into you?” He teased, smiling down at your pleasure ridden expression. The new position limited his movement, but it was all the more euphoric now that you could see his face.

You could not tell him the truth as to why you were so well behaved, because it had everything to do with the aching feeling of love burrowing into the muscles in your chest. You could not confess because of your own fears of falling in love, but even more so because of the fear of him not feeling the same. He had been just as intent on keeping your relationship casual, and you worried that if he knew you were losing your grip on your sanity, he would run and you would never see him again.

Instead, you leaned forward and captured him in a kiss, silencing yourself before you said something you could not take back.

Pride was filling the room, protecting your own ego’s while destroying anything that tried to infiltrate the walls you’d built up so high.

The two of you needed to hear the word so badly, but you could not let down your guard enough to give each other the satisfaction.

He let out a moan into your mouth as your walls clenched around him. You drank in the sound, letting it settle into your bones and overtake any moral and rationality that still existed. In that moment, after hearing a sound, no, tasting a sound so beautiful, you would have given your whole life for him without a second thought, just so you might be able to experience it again.

“Cum for me, angel.” He was begging you, and this time he had little choice in hiding it. “Please, baby.” The vulnerability in the two words absolutely shattered your psyche, and you no longer had control of the climax. There was no holding back, even if you wanted to. Your legs locked around him and your stomach burned as the muscles tightened. The pleasure you were feeling was maddening, and the only thought you could form was his name. It fell from your lips like a prayer, but there was no holy entity that could save you from his wrath. You had reached the pits of hell and there was no way you could climb your way out of it, now. The embers were familiar, and the brazen flames were inviting. The truth was harrowing, but you knew you would live within his sin happily for the rest of eternity. He made the worst of suffering seem pleasant, and he could even make the cold grasp of death seem comforting.

As you were coming down from the high, he pulled back from the warm embrace of your arms wrapped around his neck. You were so weak that you could not even mourn the loss of the closeness. He took one quick glance over your shoulder, ensuring that there was nothing laying on the table behind you. When he noticed the area was clear, he pushed your top half down on the table with the ferocity of a wild animal. He cushioned your head as you descended onto the frigid granite countertop, but did not care too much about your shock at the change in temperature. With a rough motion, he pulled your hips towards him again, tapping your leg so you knew to keep them locked around him.

With the new found freedom, he resumed his pace with a whole new type of strength. The obscenities falling from your lips were filthy, painting the kitchen with a sinful memory you would remember fondly for years to come. One of his hands trailed up your stomach, the light tickle offset the burning overstimulation from the movement of his hips. His fingers settled loosely around your neck, but he did not apply any pressure straight away. His thumb and index finger landed on your pulse points, and his eyes watched your face closely, clouded with desire and heavy with love.

“Can you do it again, sweet girl?” His voice was husky, his fingers tightening a little more with every word he spoke.

“I don’t think I can,” you whined, unsure if the burn of the overstimulation would ever subside into the pleasure he so often gave you. His pace felt bruising, and the pain for once seemed to overshadow the enjoyment.

“You can, baby.” He encouraged. “You’re being so good for me, angel. Just one more.” You choked out a moan at the sound of his sweet words. He slipped his other hand between your legs, his thumb tracing circles over your clit as he tightened his fingers once more. “Or do you just need to me to treat like a whore?” He questioned, his jaw hard set and his stare fiery. “Is that what it takes to get you off? Being treated like a slut?”

“Oh, fuck.” You whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut at his filthy question.

“That’s it, angel.” He hummed, feeling his hips stutter at the look on your face. You had always been his biggest weakness, and even after months of doing the same dance, that never seemed to change. The knot in your belly tightened, the pressure nearly unbearable. He seemed to pry the orgasm from you without even trying. All it took was the right words, and he had you in a complete mess for him. “You take it so good,” he hissed, trying to think of anything other than how good you felt wrapped around him.

His hand locked in against your throat, constricting the blood flow to your head. Your heart was pounding against your chest, the sound filling your ears and begging to be felt behind your eyes. You tried to keep your gaze focused on his face, his hair sticking to the soft, tan skin in the most delicious way. His eyebrows were furrowed together, and the animalistic expression was driving you mad. Your head felt woozy and your chest burned for air. Your eyes fluttered closed as the pressure reached its peak, and for a moment you feared that you might fall unconscious because of his unwavering hold. The pleasure was skewing his judgment, and he was teetering on a dangerous line. With both hands focused intently on you, you descended into a climax with no way of voicing your euphoria. A raspy croak left your lips to let him know you were there, but he could feel the clench of your cunt around him and the lock of your legs drawing him further into you.

He caught your eye, noticing the far away look and instantly feeling a wave of panic. He released his hold on your neck, allowing the blood flow to return and a breath of air fill your lungs. As you rode out the high, he let his fingers gently massage the place they’d just assaulted while he fucked you through it. When you relaxed against him, he couldn’t hold himself back any longer. His hips stuttered and pleasure took over, sending him over the same edge you’d just fallen from. He spilled his release into you, his pace remaining steady until he milked every second of pleasure from the orgasm as he could. He leaned back slightly, watching as he fucked his release back into you. The sight nearly brought him into a second climax, intoxicated by the fact that only he was lucky enough to have you in such a way.

When his hips slowed to a stop, a lazy smile crossed both of your faces. “Sorry, I just couldn’t help myself.” He chuckled, letting his eyes drift over your chest still clothed with his t-shirt.

“I’m not complaining.” You assured him.

“Are you okay?” He asked, inspecting your neck. There was lingering redness from where his fingers were holding you, but it seemed superficial.

“I am.” You promised. “What’s gotten into you this morning?” His purchase of food and the sweetness of his morning wake-up was different than usual. Paired with the carnal desire and the overly concerned look in his eyes, you began to fear he was feeling the exact same way as you were.

“I don’t know.” He lied, giving a small laugh to avoid the subject. He knew exactly what had gotten into him, but it was the last thing he wanted to talk about. He was terrified of the love he had for you in his heart, and he was nowhere near ready to bring it up. “Let’s get cleaned up.” He said, running a gentle thumb over your blushed cheek. Your eyes fluttered closed at the feeling, and for a moment, you wished to stay there all day immersed in the moment of intimacy. You turned your head to the side, placing a small kiss on the pad of his thumb. The small gesture made his knees weak and nearly sent him falling to the ground. His heart sang with affection for you and his stomach twisted into knots.

He was a dead man walking, and you were not far behind him.

With his help, you slid from the counter and made your way to the bathroom. You cleaned up first, your eyes lingering on the shower, yearning for the feeling of warm water soothing your aching muscles. You pulled your shirt over your head and took a step towards the faucet, flicking it on without a second thought. You looked over your shoulder at him, an eyebrow raised in inquiry.

“You want me to fuck you in the shower, now?” He laughed. “What’s gotten into you?”

“No,” you shook your head, your voice quiet and anxious. You weren’t sure why you asked, but you desperately hoped that he would agree. The simple innocent intimacy seemed enticing, and you so badly wanted to be surrounded by his comfort for a little while longer. “Just a shower.”

“Oh,” he tried to hide the surprise in his tone, not wanting you to take it the wrong way. “Of course, angel.” He couldn’t seem to muster the strength to voice his enthusiasm over the idea, but his whole body was filled with delight at the thought of showering with you.

A small smile crossed your lips as you stepped inside, holding your hand out to him. He stepped towards you, his hand landing delicately in your own. When he was under the water with you, he slid the door shut, the steam already billowing around you both and fogging the glass. His arms snaked around your waist, pulling your body into his as the droplets washed down over both of you.

“Do you have anything else to do today?” You asked, your palm pressed lightly against his chest as you gazed up in admiration at his face.

“Nothing more important than this.”

Casual was long gone, and you were digging your graves. The final resting places were side by side, a tunnel dug through the earth so you could decompose hand in hand until the end of eternity.

“You must have really missed me, then.” You smiled, brushing the wet hair from his face.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” He teased, placing a kiss to the top of your head. You both knew he missed you more than words could express, and you missed him just the same. For a moment, the two of you remained in each other's arms in silent bliss. Then, you reluctantly pulled away from him to reach for the bottle of shampoo that was on the shelf behind him. “Here,” he whispered, reaching for the bottle. You handed it to him, confused at his motive. You watched as he poured a small amount into the palm of his hand, then he placed it back on the shelf. He motioned for you to turn around, which you did without argument. His hand came to your head and he slowly began massaging the shampoo into your mess of tangled locks.

You closed your eyes and leaned against him, enjoying the soothing touch and feeling your chest ache with the intensity of adoration you held for him. You weren’t sure you’d ever experienced such kindness and gentleness at the hands of another, and you had no idea why you ever doubted that it would be from him that you received it. When he was certain your hair was fully coated in shampoo, a smile began to eat away at his lips as he brought all of your hair together at the top of your head.

“What are you doing?” You giggled, feeling the shake of laughter run through his body.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.” He dismissed you, still trying to form your hair together.

“If you’re trying to get it to stand up, it’s not going to work.” You couldn’t hold back your laughter, finding the childish humor contagious.

“You have no faith in me.” He let out a disapproving tsk, reaching his arms upwards in hopes that the makeshift mohawk would stay. For a few seconds, it stood, then it toppled over under the weight of the soap. The two of you burst out into laughter as the hair fell into your face, splattering the soap across your skin in a dramatic fashion.

“For good reason.” You explained, stepping forward into the water to wash the suds away from your eyes. He took a step towards you again, raising his hands to your head to help you wash the shampoo out. “Your turn.” You said, ringing the water from your hair as you stepped out from under the shower head.

“My turn?” He questioned, looking down at you with curiosity. You let out a hum of agreement, nodding your head.

“Unless you don’t want to use my shampoo, then it’s okay.” You digressed, worried that he might not want to smell your memory long after he went home.

“No, it’s okay.” He promised, fearful he gave you the wrong impression. A smile crossed your lips as you reached for the bottle again, this time bringing your hands to his hair as you massaged the soap throughout his long locks. When the soap was sufficiently sudsy, you compiled all of his hair into a neat little knot on the top of his head.

“I don’t think I’m tall enough.” You giggled.

“That’s okay, angel.” He found your laughter contagious, both of you giggling at nothing other than the joy that came from being together. Before you washed your hands free of soap, you quickly swiped a few of the bubbles onto his nose. “Hey!” He scolded, trying his best to look down at the bubbles littering his face. He reached forward, snaking his arms around your waist as he pulled you into him. You let out a shriek of laughter as he leaned down to kiss you, inevitably getting soap all over you, too. The blissful bubble the two of you existed within in that moment was impenetrable.

But, all good things must come to an end eventually, and not even your perfect little world was safe from the harshness of reality.

You both finished washing yourselves, reluctantly stepping out of the warm water and into the cold air. You tossed a towel at Jake while you grabbed one for yourself, wrapping your body in the fluffy fabric and relieving yourself from the frigid air. Once you were both sufficiently dry, Jake wrapped the towel tightly around his waist, watching you as you secured yours around your chest. You grabbed a smaller towel from your closet, wrapping your hair in it and settling it on your head.

You walked out of the bathroom, looking over your shoulder to make sure he was following. He thought it was laughable that you worried he wasn’t, because if he had it his way, he’d never let you stray too far away. He followed you into your bedroom, hoping for a second that your towel would falter. The boyish part of his brain never left, and he seemed to always be in that state of mind around you; pure, unadulterated joy that knew no bounds. He was always excited to see you naked, even if he’d seen it a hundred times. He was always thrilled to see a smile on your face or a laugh stuck on your lips. He loved listening to the words you had to say, even if they were mindless insults thrown his way. You brought out the part in him he thought he’d lost long ago, and he was afraid of the feeling fleeing him again.

As you dressed yourself, he watched intently. It was not in a sexual way, nor with any hidden desire. He loved admiring you even in the simplest of ways. He didn’t move to find clothes of his own until one of his t-shirts was hanging down to your thighs and a pair of shorts was secure underneath. He slipped on a pair of his sweatpants he’d brought with him and discarded his towel in your laundry hamper.

“I suppose we should probably eat.” You chuckled, stepping towards him but going no further. He smiled at your comment, realizing that you’d left your breakfast without a second thought. His hand landed on your waist as he pulled you into him, and he placed a soft kiss on your lips.

“Let’s go, then.” He always wanted you to move first, just so he could be certain you wanted it and weren’t doing it just because he wanted to. You lead him back to the kitchen, looking over the counter that you’d just disgraced with your sinful actions. At the memory, another feeling of arousal blossomed in the pit of your stomach. Instead of acting on them, you grabbed your coffee cup and stuck it in the microwave. He grabbed two plates and put the respective sandwiches on them. When the microwave beeped, he passed the food to you to warm next while sipping on his cold coffee.

He’d grown to like it that way, because with you around, he never seemed to drink it while it was still warm, and you had yet to hear a single complaint about it.

“Thanks for getting this,” you hummed, taking a sip from your own cup. You’d still neglected to process that you were breaking the only rule you’d put in place. He did not order breakfast for any spiteful reason, or to push your boundaries; he did it simply because it felt right, and he was itching to do something nice for you after going so many days without you.

“No need for thanks.” He said, brushing off the acknowledgement. He felt no desire to be praised for something he was so eager to do. Once your food was heated sufficiently, you held your plate tightly in your hand, thinking intently about your next move. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” You looked up at him, your eyes catching his own for a moment. The sweetness in his stare made your next choice the easiest one you’d ever made.

“Come with me.” You nodded down the hallway, hoping he wouldn’t protest. Little did you know, he’d never say no to anything you asked of him. You led him through the dining room, all the way to the end of the hallway where a door sat, rarely opened and never seen by a guest before that day. You balanced your coffee cup on your plate carefully, twisting the knob with great caution. You took a deep breath as you pushed the door open, willing yourself to keep moving forward as you stepped inside.

He was close behind you, silent and eyes wandering the new room he had yet to see. When you were fully inside and waiting for him to join you, he took a step inside, too. His eyes scanned the walls, an unfamiliar feeling rising in his chest as he drank in the detail and tried his best to sear it into his memory. Your heart was erratic against your ribs, your anxiety plaguing you as you watched his expression intently.

The picture frames decorated the walls, leaving little room to spare. Some were so close together that the delicate designs of the frames blended together. They were filled with photographs of smiling faces, so bright and beautiful that it nearly took his breath away. The daylight poured in from the windows, casting a golden glow over every object that made home inside the room. In the middle sat a piano, the top looking slightly dusty from months of being forgotten about. Piano books littered the few bookshelves that fit on the walls between the picture frames. On one sat an old camera that looked to be from the nineties, and just below it sat an acoustic guitar on a stand that appeared to be homemade.

“Welcome to my life.” You whispered, taking a seat on the bench sat in front of the piano. “What do you think?”

“I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this all this time.” He breathed, exasperated at the thought. “This piano is stunning.” He said, taking a step towards it and gently running his hand over the top.

“Thanks.” You gave a small smile, still incredibly anxious to have another person in your space. It was a room full of memories that you did not like sharing with anyone else, and aside from very few people, he had been the first to see it. There was a trust in your heart for him that you couldn’t comprehend, and for a moment, you felt like you could tell him everything.

“Did you take all of these pictures?” He asked, now stepping towards the walls. He was beyond excited that you finally took the step to show him a part of yourself you liked to keep hidden, but he did not want to express it too loudly in fear it might ruin the moment.

“Most of them.” You replied, watching him as he took in the photographs. “Every one of them that I’m not in.” You clarified, chuckling at the fact. “It’s mostly just pictures of my family.” It was true; there were pictures hung on the wall ranging back to when your hands first held a camera, and up until the recent years when your skill had vastly improved. It was mostly your parents and your sister, but there were a few of your childhood pets and friends.

“Is that your mom and dad?” He asked, pointing to a picture of a couple he did not recognize.

“Yep,” you nodded, smiling at his interest. You wanted to say more, but the words seemed stuck in your throat. You were having a hard time processing your desire to tell him more, so you sat with it instead of acting on it.

“You look just like your mom.” He noted. “You have your dads smile, though.” Your heart warmed at the sentiment. “That must be your sister, too, because you look like twins.” He pointed to a different picture.

“It is.” You chuckled.

“I can’t wait to meet her. If she’s anything like you, I know I’ll love her.” You both dusted over the ‘L’ word as if it were nothing at all, barely registering the fact he’d said it.

“She is pretty great, but I think I’m biased.” You grinned. When it came to your sister, you would talk praise until you could no longer hear yourself speak.

“You take stunning photographs, y/n.” He said, not a hint of a joke in his tone. Your cheeks reddened as you bit into your sandwich. You let the compliment hang in the air for a moment before responding.

“Thank you, Jake.” You said, feeling the fear melt away the longer you sat together. “Did you… did you want to play a song on the guitar, maybe?” You asked, hesitancy written all over your face. You thought that it was finally time to take the step, and now that he knew such intimate details about you, you craved the same from him.

“You want to hear me play?” He turned back to you, shocked at your words.

“Yeah.” You nodded, certain of that fact. “Just… just be careful with it, please. I don’t want anything to happen to it. The strings are old, too, so it might not sound the best.”

“Of course.” He assured you, carefully grabbing the acoustic from the stand. Your stomach was twisting with anxiety as he held the instrument in his hands, but you managed to swallow your fear. “This is a beautiful guitar, too.” You hummed an agreement, knowing that he wasn’t just saying it as a formality. It was a stunning instrument, and it was your most prized possession. He walked over, taking a seat beside you on the bench as he settled the body in his lap. Carefully, he plucked the strings and tuned them to his liking. “Anything in particular you want to hear?” You pondered the thought for a moment, knowing there were plenty of songs you’d love to hear him play, but curious about what he would choose. After a few seconds, you shook your head.

He looked over your face, knowing that his best shot to impress you might also give him a chance at expressing his feelings for you at the same time. Carefully, he began a melodic intro, carefully plucking away at the strings as he smiled at your expression of awe. With a lot of courage, he sang softly along with the sound of the guitar, trying to hide the nervousness in his voice.

“Well she's walking through the clouds

With a circus mind

That's running wild

Butterflies and zebras and moonbeams

And-a fairly tales

That's all she ever thinks about

Riding with the wind

When I'm sad she comes to me

With a thousand smiles

She gives to me free

"It's alright", she says

It's alright

Take anything you want from me

Anything

Fly on, little wing.” Slowly, he stopped playing, looking up from his hands with a hopeful expression.

“You really are a rockstar,” you gave a soft smile “that was fantastic.” Deep down, you hoped that he picked that song for the reason you wanted him to, but you were too nervous to ask.

“Thank you, angel.” He smiled, looking down at his hands to hide the redness that was plaguing his cheeks.

“I didn’t know you could sing, too.”

“I usually leave the singing to Josh.” He admitted, brushing some dust off the body of the guitar. “He’s way better than I am.”

“I don’t think that’s true.” You whispered, the profound emotion in your statement almost too much for him to handle.

“I, uh, I didn’t know you played guitar, too.” He changed the topic, feeling the burn of love begin to sear the skin of his lips as he tried to hold it back.

“Oh, I don’t.” You chuckled. “I tried to learn when I was a kid, but it’s not my thing. I kind of sucked at it, if I’m being honest. The piano has always been my choice of instrument.”

“So where’d you get this?” He asked, inspecting the details of the fretboard.

“It’s my dads.” You replied, swallowing down your sadness with a sip of coffee. “He played it all of the time when I was a kid. He tried to teach me, but I was too stubborn to learn.”

“And that camera is his, too?” He asked, his eyes flickering back towards the bookshelf on the wall. “I remember you told me you used your dads camera when you started doing photography.” Your heart fluttered at the thought of him remembering all the small details you told him.

“Yeah, it is. For an old camera, it takes pretty good pictures.” You tried not to let your stare linger on the camera, feeling the sorrow fill your chest up so much that it made it hard to breathe.

“You must be pretty close to him,” he noted.

“You can say that.” You gave a slow nod. “My dad was my best friend for my entire childhood. We did everything together, and so much so that I think it made my sister jealous sometimes. Wherever he was, I had to go with him. Mom got mad at him a lot, because he never said no to me. We’d stay up until midnight watching cartoons and we’d eat ice cream for breakfast on the weekends.” You explained, looking down at your hands as you spoke. “He was just one of those people that understood me, and I think when you’re a girl growing up, not many people do. He always listened, and he always had the best advice. I love my mom, but my dad and I were just… we got along better than anyone else in the world, I think.”

“That’s sweet,” he smiled, looking over at you with adoration in his eyes. He was thrilled to hear so much about you, and he never thought the two of you would get to this point. “I’d love to meet him.” You looked up, catching his eye with a sympathetic smile.

“He would have loved you.” You replied, seeing the light in his eyes change. He wanted clarification before he spoke further, and you could see that in his expression. “He passed away not long before I graduated high school.”

“Y/n, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” He felt bad for his earlier words, even if he did not know the truth.

“Don’t be,” you shook your head “you didn’t know.” You reached over, brushing a strand of his long hair out of his face. “I was lucky to know him for as long as I did, and I’m still just as lucky to have him as a memory. Seventeen years with him was equivalent to a lifetimes worth of love. I wish he was still here, but I know that he’s not really gone. He’s in that guitar, and that camera, and he’s proud of every accomplishment and he’s still picking me up off the ground when I fall.” You explained. Although you knew it might not be true, it always felt like it was. Since he died, you neglected to believe that he just lived when he was alive. You felt the love so strongly sometimes that it was impossible to believe he wasn’t still around in some way. “He really would have liked you, I think. He loved Jimi Hendrix, too.” You laughed, finding his song choice impeccable.

You weren’t sure what it was, but you felt the confession sitting heavy on your chest when you looked at him for too long. Whether it was the blatant vulnerability, or the way he looked at you the same even after you expressed such horrible things about your life. Whatever it was, the moment made you want to scream your love for him, even if you knew you shouldn’t. You had never been so transparent with anyone before, and you never wanted to be so open about your life, but there was something so compelling about him that it was impossible to ignore the desire to be close to him.

“Jimi Hendrix is pretty good.” Jake laughed, astounded by the strength that lived within you. He didn’t think it was possible to admire someone as much as he did for you, but here he was, sitting in front of you and feeling all of the feelings he believed to be impossible.

The air was different, and both of you could tell that whatever dynamic you had before that day had shifted drastically.

For good or for bad, you weren’t sure yet.

You turned inwards, placing your hands on the keys of the piano. You did not want to show off, nor did you want to prove your own talents; the moment was moving, and all you wanted to do was share more of yourself with him. You began a slow intro, working yourself up to speed. It had been a while since you played, and it was fantastic to feel the keys on your fingers and the sound fill your heart.

“I've got a little black book with my poems in

Got a bag with a toothbrush and a comb in

When I'm a good dog, they sometimes throw me a bone in.” You took in a long breath, nervous to be showing such an intimate part of you to him. Little to your knowledge, he was watching you with hearts in his eyes and nothing but love in his heart.

“I got elastic bands keepin' my shoes on

Got those swollen-hand blues

I got thirteen channels of shit on the T.V. to choose from

I've got electric light

And I've got second sight

I got amazing powers of observation

And that is how I know

When I try to get through

On the telephone to you

There'll be nobody home.” You closed your eyes for a moment, playing for a little longer than you needed to so you could regain your composure. Quietly, you could hear him picking away at the guitar, not in an attempt to outshine you, but to accentuate your playing. The two of you were in perfect harmony, moving in time with the music surrounded with more comfortability than you’d ever felt in your entire life. Your heart felt like it was going to burst with the emotion you felt for him.

“I've got the obligatory Hendrix perm

And the inevitable pinhole burns

All down the front of my favourite satin shirt

I've got nicotine stains on my fingers

I've got a silver spoon on a chain

Got a grand piano to prop up my mortal remains

I've got wild staring eyes

And I've got a strong urge to fly

But I got nowhere to fly to

Ooh, babe when I pick up the phone

there's still nobody home.” You hit the last few notes, letting the sound ring through the quiet room. You looked up, staring at the wall for a moment to gather your thoughts before turning back towards him.

“You’ve got quite the voice, angel.”

“It’s nothing to call home about.” You chuckled, taking a long drink from your coffee.

“I think it is. I’d tell the whole world about you, if I could.” In that moment, the ability to hold back his thoughts fled him. “I… I think that you’re fantastic, y/n, and I hope that you know that.” You looked up at him, nervous about the confession but knowing that you felt the same way. “And I think that I’d like to do this part… more often.”

“What are you saying?” You breathed, trying to understand if he was expressing what you thought he was trying to say. Anxiety gripped you with its deadly force, panic overtaking your mind before you could even appreciate the sentiment in his words.

“Come on, sweetheart.” He sighed, hating that he couldn’t seem to keep the feelings buried. “You can’t tell me you don’t feel it, too. We’re in here, showing each other parts of our lives we try so hard to keep hidden. This has been more than sex for a very long time, and I think that you know it, too.” A spark of terror filled you, and you recoiled away from him. He was right, but your fear was larger than your heart, just like it always had been. Love was less daunting when it was buried underneath the surface, and when he expressed it so outwardly and obviously, it morphed into the monster that only lived in your worst nightmares. You weren’t ready to discuss it, and you weren’t ready for anything to change. By speaking it aloud, it changed everything, and you could not stomach that thought in the moment. Change was terrifying, and you did not have enough strength to endure it.

So you did what you knew best; you shut down and locked him out, your heart rebuilding the thick iron bars that often protected it so furiously.

“I brought you in here because we’re friends.” You took the defense, terrified of speaking the truth because you had not yet processed what it truly meant. Your vulnerability had taken a toll, and you began to realize that you had dug yourself a hole too steep to climb out of. You loved him so deeply that it pained you, that it made opening up to him easier than anything else, but facing it was an entirely different thing. Your harshness did not come from your lack of love, but from your abundance of it. You loved him so much, but you did not know how to love anymore. As much as it hurt to reject him when all you wanted to do was fall into his arms forever, you knew it was the best thing to do. You would hurt him more by trying to love him than you ever would if you rejected him. “You were so desperate to be friends, and I thought that was all you wanted. You can’t… we can’t.” You shook your head.

“Friends.” He reiterated, unable to explain the incessant ache in his chest at the word. “Right.” He was angry at himself for ever pushing that title on you, and he wondered if it would have made the difference if he didn’t.

“Jake,” you warned, pleading for him to listen before he jumped to any conclusions. You did not want to end your relationship, but you did want to slow down before things got out of control.

“No, y/n. I hear you loud and clear.” He said, making a move to stand. “You’re right.” His obstinacy had rivalled your own since the very beginning, and you could finally see the infuriating effects of it. His lack of understanding prompted a rush of anger through you.

“You don’t get to do that!” You shook your head, standing up with him.

“I don’t get to do what?” He snapped back, placing the guitar back on the stand with great caution. His words were harsh, but his actions were not. He would never disrespect an item of such importance to you, no matter how upset he was. “I don’t get to be upset? I don’t get to talk about the things that I’m feeling?”

“Christ, Jake, stop putting words in my mouth!” You were panicking, and all of your fear was projecting outwards with an angry mask. You were terrified of loving him, but you were horrified at the thought of him leaving. You did not know what to do to make it better; if you said you loved him, you would be sealing your own grave, and if you didn’t, he would walk away and you would lose him for good. “I didn’t say that, and you know that!”

“Then what? What is it, y/n?” He sighed, watching you with a small shred of hope that you’d double back on your word. He knew you felt it too, and it killed him that you refused to accept it. The entire day was filled with nothing but wordless acts of love, and to deny it and throw it all in the garbage was worse than any physical injury you could cause him.

“You said this wouldn’t happen. You promised that you wouldn’t do this, and then you come here, and you treat me better than anyone ever has, and you make coffee, and you text me just to let me know you’re thinking of me, and then you buy me fucking breakfast!” You exploded, pointing to the coffee cup still sat on the piano stool.

“Jesus Christ, it always comes back to fucking breakfast! Please enlighten me on what is so bad about it?” He yelled back, just as much intensity in his voice.

“Because I don’t know if you’re going to wake up tomorrow and change your mind!” You admitted, running a hand through your hair. “I don't know if you’re doing all of this because you want me to keep sleeping with you, or if you truly mean it. I don’t know anything, and I don’t want to be in love, and I never wanted this!” You did not want to be in love, but by god, you were. If it had been anyone else, they would have been gone before they had the chance to order breakfast. They would never have stepped foot into the room you were fighting in, and in truth, you never would have brought them home at all. If it were anyone other than Jake, you would not have looked twice, but you were so head over heels for him that you were fighting for him to stay, even if it did not seem like that was what you were doing. He watched you, carefully inspecting every detail of your pained expression. Questioning his care for you was the most heinous act you’d ever committed. You knew he cared, and he knew you did, too, but you were so damaged that it was easier to convince yourself that he didn’t. Although he held sympathy for that fact, he could not seem to choke down the pain that you caused with your sharp tongue and violent words. “You promised me, Jake. You promised this wouldn’t happen.”

“I did.” He nodded, casting his gaze towards the ground. “And I meant it. You don’t have to fucking worry about it.” He could not fight another losing battle, and he knew that was exactly what this was. He could not win your heart if it was never offered as a reward. You did not want him to love you, and he could not force you to let him. Instead, he was walking away.

Well, he was threatening it whilst hoping you would ask him to stay.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” You knew it was not justified, but you were hurt over the fact that he wanted to take his confession back. You felt it just the same as he did, but you were too scared to admit it. All he could see was rejection, and the injury was bleeding both of you dry. He wasn’t even sure why you were fighting, or where it came from. The sweetness that had carried you through the morning was long gone, replaced with a feeling he’d never felt around you before: resentment. He resented the situation, but in that moment, it felt like he resented you.

“Exactly what I said; you don’t have to fucking worry about it.” He repeated, venomous and dangerous. A different man stood before you than the one you knew just moments before. This one was cold, unfamiliar, and someone you did not want to be around. The heartbreak turned him vile, and now all he wanted to do was hurt you the same way you were hurting him.

“So that’s it?” You whispered, feeling the room fill with anguish. Your safest space now housed the worst of memories. The situation turned into everything you feared most, but you were the only one to blame. Had you been able to admit to all you were feeling in your heart, the situation may have changed for the better.

“That’s it.” He agreed. “You don’t have to worry about me falling in love. You don’t even have to worry about me liking you. No love, no feelings, nothing. You were a great lay, but not worth much more than that, sweetheart. I hate that I ever thought otherwise, but you are just sex to me. That’s it.” He didn’t mean a thing he was saying, but he was so blinded by hurt that anger was the only thing he could show. If he could have taken the words back, he would have. The pain in your eyes nearly brought him to his knees, and he knew he would never be able to repent from the suffering he caused.

“I have no idea why I ever thought you were different.” You spat, the choke of tears beginning to suffocate you. “I can’t believe I let myself fall for it.” You muttered to yourself. “Get out, Jake, and don’t ever come back.”

“My pleasure.” He agreed, pushing past you without another word. You did not even turn to watch him walk away, instead settling your gaze on the guitar that he’d tainted with his touch. You heard him gather his things into his bag, and after a few moments, the slam of your front door let you know that the struggle was over. He was gone, and he would never return, just like you asked. You had pushed him away to the point of no recovery, and the tears that stained your cheeks reminded you that you were the sole blame for the failure of your relationship.

Pride has outweighed sloth in every aspect, but the sins you had committed for once were completely different than Jake’s.

He had too much pride to apologize, and too much pride to recognize that you were hurting more than he was. If he had swallowed his feelings for a moment to see the ache that was plaguing you, he would have understood that your rejection was not because of a lack of love, but because of an abundance of fear. You loved him just as fiercely as he loved you, but you were so damaged from the love that came before him. You could not choke down that hurt, and you could not see past it for long enough to recognize that he only had your best interest in mind. Jake did not want to hurt you, and he would never have treated you in the ways that others had, but you had pushed him to the point of cruelty. It took a lot for him to muster the courage to say how he was feeling, and you had faced him with nothing but bold-faced rejection.

His attempt at protecting himself only made him more vulnerable, and in turn, only hurt the person he loved most. The cruel words he said were not true, and they replayed in his head for the entire drive home. Pride made it so he appeared stone cold, and that his feelings were more important than yours. In truth, there was nothing more important to him than the sound of your beating heart and the things that made it possible to do so. He wished so badly that he could have put his guard down for a moment, to let you in and tell you everything he wanted to say to you. Instead, his last heartbreak left so little of him to give to you and he could not face the truth without defenses.

He was plagued with the knowledge that other people took so much of him that he could not give you all that you deserved.

Your sinful entanglement with pride came from your inability to confess your true feelings to him. You were too prideful to realize that he needed to hear it more than you needed to keep it hidden, and you were too stubborn to admit that you knew he would keep all of your confessions safe. Instead of facing the truth, you wallowed in the consequences of dishonesty. You loved his sweet words and his messages confessing that he missed you. He did treat you better than anyone ever had, and you knew that it was not because he wanted to keep you on a hook, but because of the love he held for you in his heart. Most of all, you knew that you loved sharing a breakfast with him while you shared the most intimate details of your lives.

You loved Jake with all of your heart and soul, and you had never loved anyone with quite as much intensity. You loved him selflessly and wholly, and although you loved being alone, you loved being alone with him even more. You knew that he was what your heart desired most, but for some reason, when he confessed his own likeness to your heart, you could not handle the profound feelings. You were terrified, and that much was obvious, but it was even more than that. You could not handle someone as wonderful as Jake loving you so deeply, because you did not feel like you deserved it. You could not imagine bestowing your own sorrows and suffering upon him, and you could not bear the thought of making his life harder when he made yours so much better.

He was too prideful to show that you hurt him, and you were too prideful to let him know that he had the ability to hurt you. He let you know that he cared for you, but he could not see past his own hurt enough to realize that your words had nothing to do with his character. He took it personally when it had nothing to do with him at all. You could not admit that you cared, but it was not because it was him you cared about. Loving him was easier than falling asleep, but being in love was a dangerous game, and you feared if you fell again, you might not survive it.

Lust drove you to each other, and his otherworldly charm made you gluttonous. You needed him so badly that you had resorted to greed, and sloth had paralyzed you into submission at the hands of love. Pride, although not the most powerful sin, seemed to be the most deadly yet. It had driven you away from the only home you’d ever known, and it ensured that you severed the bond between you with expert precision. Sin was bleeding from the walls as you sat in a pool of your own tears and self pity. You begged for forgiveness, for mercy at the hands of an entity that knew no such thing.

The devil doesn’t bargain, and he was ensuring that you would suffer the consequences of your own mistakes. You were so far gone that the grace of God could not touch you, and the only relief could come from Satan himself.

When fate is in the hands of evil itself, hope is a feeble word, and any shred of hope you still held in your heart had been struck down without a trace.

With only two of the capital vices left to go, sin seemed like the only thing you knew how to do. You feared that after so long of defying the gods, salvation would never be found.

TAGLIST: @sacredjake @profitofthedune @thewritingbeforesunrise @sacredthethreadgvf @klarxtr @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @freefallthoughts @jaketlover @clairesjointshurt @ageofbajabule @dannys-dream @earthgrlsreasy @starshine-gvf @brujamagik @gvfmarge @ignite-my-firerod-blog @twistedmelodies @gretavangroupie @alwaysonthemend @edgingthedarkness @gvfpal @sinarainbows @writingcold @starcatcher-jake @literal-dead-leaf @takenbythemadness @gretasfallingsky @hsfallingsky @freyjalw @itsafullmoon @lyndz2names @blacksoul-27 @i-love-gvf @vikingsisthenewsexy @mp0801 @mindastreamofcolours @indigogvf @sparrowofthedawnsworld @jordie-gvf @cassy-face @highway-tuna @creadliz98 @dancingcarbon @do-it-jakey-baby

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[sweetlittlegingy]

Sweet Nothings

☑︎ Next Chapter | Sweet Nothings Masterlist

☑︎ Pairing: Jake Seresin x Y/n Seresin (Mitchell)

☑︎ Word Count: 5.3 k

☑︎ Warnings: Infertility, IVF, Adoption, Dad!Jake, Teacher/Mom!Reader, Kindergarteners, Y/n mom is a bitch

☑︎ A/n: I'm so excited to share this one with you guys, and I hope you love it just as much as I do.

☑︎ Library (Follow for updates! I no longer have a taglist.)

You can’t seem to stop the shake in your leg while you sit on the bed, and as your hands run across the comforter you pick off a stray piece of lent. Your eyes dart back to the bathroom door, and the pregnancy test that sits on the counter waiting. The little pink and white stick is a hard contrast against the marble countertop, and you can’t help but glare at it.

It had been 4 weeks since your last treatment, and while the doctors said you would get a positive or negative test by the second week, you couldn’t help but wait. As if the extra two weeks would make the embryo take and you would finally be pregnant.

You and Jake had been trying to have a baby for, four years. Just after your one-year anniversary, you both decided that you were ready and that having a little one running around was the next step. You had been 26 and Jake was 28, it felt like the perfect time. Jake was doing amazing in his career and has been permanently stationed at Top Gun. While you had just been hired on as the kindergarten teacher at Bay Park Elementary. Everything was falling into place, just like you had both planned.

Though after the first year and a half with no success naturally, your OBGYN suggested IVF. She had told you that due to your irregular ovulation pattern you would have trouble the natural way and that IVF would fix everything. That was two and a half years ago, and you were now on your third treatment. Each of the past two ended in failure, and with the third result waiting in the bathroom, you didn’t know if you really wanted to check.

Jake had gotten up this morning for an early run, while you enjoyed the fact that it was Saturday, and you could sleep in for a little bit. Though the need to pee came only moments after Jake was out of the house and now you couldn’t go back to sleep. In the five-minute time span, you were supposed to wait, you had made the bed, eaten breakfast, and started a load of laundry. The recommended five minutes quickly turned into twenty and now you were silently sitting and staring from afar.

You knew that Jake would be home soon, his run usually took thirty to forty- five minutes depending on which route he took, and you didn’t need him walking in on you. You hadn’t told him that you were going to take a pregnancy test, and he never pushed you to. Jake had been wonderful through the whole ordeal, helping with the medication injects that “boosted” your ovulation and he had never missed an appointment. And yes, while your father might have been in charge of the Dagger Squad, he didn’t give Jake any special treatment… Well, not a lot and Jake always made sure to figure out his days. Plus, it helped that the IVF hospital was on base, at the San Diego Naval Medical Center. Yet another plus of being married into the military, your insurance offers reduced fees for IVF. It was still expensive, but cheap enough that you had been able to save for each treatment.

Though the grim outlook was the fact that usually after your third treatment, doctors suggested looking into other options. That was another reason you were avoiding the test, you didn’t think you could mentally or physically go through another round of IVF, even with added ideas.

The last four years had been a continuous loop of your body failing you and Jake. He never said it, God he would never. Jake treated you amazingly, but the small nagging voice in the back of your head played the words on repeat. You were a failure as a woman.

You glance at your watch once more, 7:32 am, Jake would be back anytime. It was now or never. You reluctantly push yourself from the comfort of your mattress and quite literally drag your feet to the bathroom. The tile floor has a shiver running up your spine and you silently curse the cooling weather.

It’s sitting upside down on the counter and you just stare at it for a moment. Hands twisting in anxiety as you slowly spin your wedding ring around your finger. The white stick sits there taunting you, begging you to look.

“Fuck it.”

Your hand snatches the test and flips it over before you can rethink the decision. Your fingers shake as you lift it, eyes zeroing in on the clear window where two pink little lines are supposed to be. A harsh breath leaves your chest, and you bite on your bottom lip to stop it from quivering. Your hands are working on autopilot, grabbing the test and wrapping it in toilet roll before tossing it in the small garbage can. You couldn’t look at the single line anymore. You had seen the exact same test results more times than you could count in the last four years and didn’t need to stare at it to know the answer.

Once again, your body had failed you.

Your hands gently brush across the side of your legs, before reaching forward to wash your hands. You dry them quickly, before glancing in the mirror and the small tear resting on your cheek has you releasing a harsh laugh. Your eyes fall shut as you suck your teeth in annoyance, before wiping the tear away and taking another deep calming breath. If it could work for your 5-year-olds, it could work for you.

“It’s fine.”

Your grasp the counter and roll back on your heels, then lean forward releasing another harsh breath. It wasn’t like your heart felt like it was breaking, nope defiantly not that feeling. Your hands harshly smack against the granite counter, and the palm of your hand stung. Though the pain is welcomed, anything that would distract from the ever-growing crack in your heart.

You hear the front door open and shut before Jake is calling out to you. You can hear his shoes padding along the hardwood floors, and you hate when another tear falls from you. You didn’t want to do this to Jake again. He never signed up for this, he wasn’t the broken one.

“Baby?”

“Yeah?”

Your voice cracks and you grit your teeth in frustration. You can feel Jake’s gaze through the mirror, though you really don’t feel like looking. Not when you feel like an utter failure. Your nose sniffles slightly and your hands against the counter tighten, turning your knuckles white.

Your eyes raise to look at Jake through the mirror, though before you can look at him you catch sight of your face. Tear stricken and the harsh gasp you were working so hard to hold in falls. Your chin immediately falls back into your chest as a sob breaks from your lips, and before you know it Jake’s grasping onto you. He’s dripping in sweat, but you could care less, and you fall into his chest as he rocks you. One hand traces up and down your spine, while the other weaves in your hair to hold you as you sob. Every breath is followed by a harsh sob, and you can’t stop the words as they release.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry”

“No, baby. No.”

Jake’s hold on you tightens, as he lays kiss after kiss across the top of your head. You pull away slowly and the hand in your hair comes to rest against your cheek. His thumb rubs small circles and a shuttered breath has you fighting against the way your lips beg to tremble.

“It was negative.”

You watch as a forced smile tugs at his lips and the small tear that traces down his cheek, has you reaching a hand up to brush it away. Your thumb moves over the stubble on his cheek and you give him a small smile, that surely looks like a grimace.

“I love you.”

His words break your heart because it was one thing that you always knew, no matter what Jake would always love you. Even when you feel like he shouldn’t. You gently push up on your toes and place a soft kiss on his lips. It’s short and sweet, but just what you both needed. You settle back on your feet, while Jake cradles your face in both hands and places a kiss on your brow.

“I love you,” Another small unsteady breath falls, “and even though you say you don’t need it. I am s–” Jake’s hand stills your trembling lip as another onset of tears falls. “I am so sorry, that I can’t … I can’t give you a baby.”

The words all but leave your chest before you crumble to the floor as Jake grasps onto your shaking form. His arms wrap around you to pull you into his chest, as sweet nothings are whispered into your hair and you once again, wait for the tears to dry.

…

“Daniel, wait for your mom to cross the road.”

You were on pick-up duty this week and while the older kids were wonderful at waiting inside the school grounds for their parents, your 20 little ones always seemed to slip passed the gate. You wave back to Mrs. Johnson as she takes hold of Daniel's hand. A sigh leaves your body as you glance around and find the school yard nearly empty. 8 of your kids rode the bus and that was the 10th pick-up of the day, now you just had to wait for the twin's foster mother.

The cool wind of the November day cresses your body and causes you to shiver. You might have lived in San Diego, but that didn’t stop the recent set of lower-than-75-degree days you had been having. A sudden grip on your pant leg is followed by what you could only describe as a mini human heater and as you glance down your eyes meet a pair of icy blue ones belonging to one-half of the twins.

“Hi Gray, where’s sissy?” Your hand gently strokes through his sandy blonde hair, to push back the stray pieces that fall over his forehead.

“Laine went back inside. She was cold and I told her that she couldn’t go whifout you, but she not listen.”

A small shutter racks through his chest, and you have to hold your tongue when you see his evident lack of a jacket. Their foster parents weren’t exactly your favorite people, and you had learned firsthand that they were only keeping the twins for the cheque at the end of each month.

It was at the beginning of the school year, not even the second week in and you noticed immediately that the twins were only rotating through 3 sets of clothes. You had gone to visit Mrs. Adam’s, the school's Head Teacher, and she had explained the situation.

It was their 12th foster home in the last 5 years, and while you found them to be perfect little angels, sometimes crazy, but still angels others did not. You had tried to reach out to their foster parents, but after a phone call that ended in you crying, you didn’t bother with them anymore. You had tried to leave it alone; it wasn’t your place to pry, and you knew that the kids were physically safe.

That answer came from Madelaine, she was a talkative five-year-old that honestly reminded you of Jake, and most days she would chat with you about different things she had learned, mostly in concern to the ocean and its sea life. Though one day, out of nowhere she had come to sit with you and Grayson on the playground bench during recess and told you, “He likes you cause you are nice and warm. Plus, you don’t push us like Mr. Meanie's face did.” It had stunned you for a moment, while Laine wasn’t affected by the words, little Gray had gone ridged at your side and clasped onto your hand. You had questioned her and found out that it was one of the other 12 foster homes. You didn’t push for specifics, not wanting to upset either of them, though Laine had told you that they only got in trouble when Gray did something wrong.

“He doesn’t mean to. Sometimes his eyeballs just go funny.”

Your gaze moved between the two of them, a questioning look on your face, before asking Gray to explain. That was how you had figured out he needed glasses, lucky the school provided testing, and not even two days after the test, you had him in a little pair of wire-framed glasses. You had him pick them out the day he had the testing, and without a second thought, you bought them.

You buying them things had become a regular occurrence. While the kids didn’t know it was you giving them clothes, Mrs. Adams made sure that they had whatever you gave her. Though now looking at Grayson you curse yourself for not thinking of “winter” coats before and mentally add it to the list to pick up when you and Jake are next at the mall.

“Come on my darling, let’s go find Miss Madelaine.”

Gray unwinds from your tan pant leg, before grasping your hand and tugging you forward. You glance behind you, up and down the road to check if their car is anywhere in sight, and find an empty street. You and Grayson make your way back into the school, stopping to ask Ms. Reynolds to call their foster parents, before heading down to your classroom.

“Did you know when a plane goes like this,” The hand not holding yours reached up and turns over, with his palm facing up. “it’s called in– inverturd”

You glance down at the little boy as he slightly adjusts the glasses on his face while waiting for your reply.

“Inverted, Gray. With an ‘e’”

You found out recently that while at home the kids either watched tv or played on a shared tablet, from an anonymous individual this last month. The twins weren’t allowed to go outside, and the pair barely had any toys, which left them to learn all sorts of things.

You learned early on in the school year that the Gray loved planes and watched an array of war movies. While Laine loved the ocean and watched the discovery channel quite religiously. The fact that they were watching movies and shows not explicitly meant for children had your gut twisting, but they had told you that the house didn’t have children’s channels. So, the next best option was military films and shark week, Laine’s favorite. That had come directly from Laine after she explained that they were learning at least unlike other kids, she was the bona fide sassy one of the pair.

Your classroom comes into view, the fall-decorated door stands ajar and Madelaine sits at your desk eating a pack of gummies. She has both hers and Gray's backpacks sitting on the floor, while she hums along to the music coming from the Alexa on your desk.

“Good job bringing Ms. CeeCee, Gray.” You glance down at the small boy still grasping your hand, his eyes remain on his sister though a big smile spreads across his face. Laine wiggles another bag of gummies at Gray, and he drops your hand, quick to grab the snack from his sister.

“Miss Laine, what do you think you’re doing in here?” You try to appear stern though a smile breaks across your face as she gives you a toothless grin. Her middle bottom tooth had fallen out just last week, and it made her smile all the more cute.

“I was cold, and Janice wasn’t coming anyway. She never does.” The small grimace she gives you makes your heartache.

“I know, but I’m here and we can do some crafts while waiting. Ms. Reynolds in the office is trying to call her.”

…

You glance up at the clock and see that it's nearing 5 pm. You glance back to the twins and find Grayson meticulously gluing things to his paper in a pattern. While Madelaine has used every color of feather you have, on a crown that now rests on her head. You didn’t mind staying after with the kids, what was frustrating was the lack of care that their “parent” was displaying.

“I’m just going to go see if Ms. Reynolds has heard anything, you two be good while I’m gone.”

Gray only nods in reply as his tongue peeks out between his lips in concentration. Laine gives you a cheeky smile, followed by a ‘mkay.’ Your shoes click against the tile floors, and you wave to Mrs. Rogers, the 5th-grade teacher, that’s shutting off lights for the night.

The office isn’t far from your room, and you find a frustrated Mrs. Adams that’s sitting and talking with Ms. Reynolds. They glance at you at the sound of you knocking on the door frame, and you already know the answer.

…

Jake had gotten off a little early, the team had run drills all morning and then Jake was stuck doing paperwork. He was more than happy when he finished that last of the paperwork at 4:30 and decided to leave early.

He slips in the truck, though before he can head out there’s a knock against his window. Jake glances over, before rolling down the window for Mav. Jake had been surprised when he got called back for the Dagger Squad and even more surprised to find out that his father-in-law was in charge. You had been married for just over a year when Jake got called back to Top Gun and you both couldn’t have been happier to come back.

“Have you talked to Y/n yet?”

The older man sighs while leaning up against the truck, he grabs the ball cap from his head while running his hand through his hair. He was clearly stressed about something, and it had to have occurred in the last 4 hours because Maverick had been perfectly fine this morning.

“No, I was just about to call her about dinner. What’s up?” Jake questions slightly confused.

“She must be ignoring Lanell. The woman’s called me twice today, wanting to know about the last round of treatment.”

A harsh sigh leaves Jake at the mention of your mother. Lanell was an interesting woman, to say the least, and your relationship was almost nonexistent. She had a habit of putting you down, and during the last treatment, she had said some unforgivable things about your lacking ability.

“Y/n blocked her and she’s lucky that’s all that happened.”

Mav’s brow furors slightly in question and leans farther into Jake’s truck.

“Lanell told Y/n that unless she got pregnant, she was a failure as a woman.” Jake’s head slightly shakes, still astounded by what your mother had said. “I don’t hit women, but by God, I wanted to lay her out.”

Mav slowly blinks at Jake, before dropping his head and pinching the bridge of his nose. A harsh laugh falls from the man, followed by a deep breath before he’s looking back at a less-than-happy Jake.

“Every time she calls me, I regret having a child with her. Why couldn’t I have just been smart from the beginning and had Y/n with Penny.”

Another laugh falls from Jake, as he shakes his head in agreement. With a nod, Mav is pushing off Jake’s door and tells him that he will handle your mother.

The drive home isn’t long, and the chill of the day is crisp and exactly the type of weather Jake loved. Living in California didn’t exactly mean that there was a fall and having days like these made Jake miss the cool weather.

Pulling into your drive, Jake notices your missing car and reaches for his phone to call you. Even when Jake got off early, if it was after 4:30 you were usually home before him. There had been times in the past, but they were few and far between.

…

The buzzing causes the whole table to shake and has both of the kids looking up from their current art projects. Their eyes bounce from the phone and back to one another. Madelaine is reaching for it before Grayson can stop her, as a teasing smile followed by a giggle erupts from her.

“You shouldn’t touch Ms. CeeCee’s phone, that’s not nice.”

“It’s not nice to ignore phone call’s either.”

Gray falls silent at the comment, before glaring at his sister and going back to his beads. Laine does a small dance in her chair in victory, before pushing the green answer button.

“Hello.”

“Ummm, Hi”

“Who’s this.”

Grayson glances back at his sister and then to the door, in hopes that you’ll show up and take the phone from Laine. He didn’t want to get in trouble and would be completely fine with letting his sister take the fall for this.

“I’m Jake, where is Mrs. Seresin?”

“I’m Madelaine. Ms. CeeCee went to the office, but you can talk to me.”

A laugh echoes through the phone and a wide grin breaks across Laine’s face. Gray looks up when he hears the quiet laugh and finds his sissy with her tongue out at him. His own tongue pokes out at her before he gets up to move closer to the phone. Laine notices Gray’s sudden interest and brings the phone down to set it on the tabletop. The twins silently look at the phone’s call screen before Gray finds the speaker button and Jake’s voice echoes through the room.

“Mr. Jake, my bubba is here too. Gray, say hi.” She nudges at the boy’s shoulder, who only looks at her before shaking his head. “It’s not nice to ignore people Gray. How would you feel if Mr. Jake ignored us?”

A smile breaks across Jake’s face at the young girl, though makes sure he doesn’t laugh and waits for Grayson to speak.

“Hi.” His voice is small and it’s only a little peep from him, but Jake’s heart aches at the sound of the pair together.

Before Jake can say anything else, he hears a high-pitched squeal followed by your laughter and the shuffle of the phone.

“Darlin?”

His voice is still on loudspeaker, the echo gives it away and his question is followed by two separate voices saying ‘yes?’ One is clearly your voice, while the other is undeniably the cheeky little spitfire that had been holding a full conversation with him. A full laugh falls from Jake and he can’t help but smile at how adorable both kids were, even if Grayson didn’t talk much. Jake just knew the pair of them were adorable, trouble, but adorable.

“Not the little darlin’, Ms. CeeCee Darlin’.”

…

You can hear the giggling of the pair before you even reach the door of your classroom, though you hadn’t expected to hear Jake’s voice ringing through the classroom. You walk in trying to be as quiet as possible, not wanting to interrupt the twins. Their art projects sit abandoned, while Laine sits up on her knees in a chair, leaning over your phone with the biggest smile on her face. Gray stands at her side, leaning against the table but looking between the phone and Laine before a small ‘hi’ is mumbled from his lips.

They are completely consumed with the conversation with Jake, which gives you the perfect distraction, so you can sneak up on them. You slowly walk across the room, making sure to avoid anything that would make noise. As you get next to them you almost laugh at how consumed they are, though you're quick to reach out and tickle them both on their sides. Gray only jumps as a small squeak is released, while Laine jumps full-on and releases a scream. Both kids spin around, their own hands coming out to tickle at you now and making you laugh.

Jake’s laugh is followed by him calling for you, though you weren’t prepared for Madelaine to answer as well. Gray silently laughs at your hip, while Laine wears a shameless smile that only grows when you shake your head. Your hand tracks through her long dirty blonde hair, it was a few shades darker than Grayson’s, though their eyes were the exact same shade of blue. You take the phone from the table and gently tell the kids to begin putting their crafts away, while you talk with Mr. Jake.

“Hi, honey.”

“Hey, darlin’. You got the phone back from the twin terrors?”

His voice is teasing, and you can’t help the smile that crosses your lips as you watch them clean up. You listen to Jake and hum in answer to his question about dinner, though your main focus stays on the twins as they work in tandem perfectly together. You agree to pick up something on the way home, and that you shouldn’t be too late.

“Darlin’ did you hear me?”

The words pull your attention back to the phone call that you were still on.

“I’m sorry honey, I was just watching the twins clean up and get ready to go.” Your voice is soft and holds a longing that makes your and Jake’s hearts ache.

“They stayed late today, is everything okay?”

Jake knew bits about their story, though you tried hard not to bring your work home with you. The both of you already had so much going on that consumed your thoughts daily, that worrying about the twins more than you already did, would lead to disaster.

“Yeah, I will explain when I get home. I’m going to get them ready to go though, I love you.”  

“I love you, darlin’. Drive safe, I’ll see you soon.”

You take a deep breath as you hang up, clearing your mind of the silent longing that the wish the twins were yours. That they were going home with you to Jake, in a warm loving home that always put them first. Though the thought only creates room for heartbreak and so you push it to the back of your mind as you get ready to leave.

…

You watch as Janice gets the twins in the car, though she doesn’t bother with helping them buckle, and a deep anger blooms in your chest. Though it’s eased as you see both kids get the latches in place, and a smile crosses your face when they wave to you with small smiles.

Your smile stays in place until the car disappears down the street, then it falls, and you wrap your arms around yourself as you make your way to your car. The cool air plays no part in how your heart clenches and the small squeeze you give yourself before getting in the car to head home.

The drive home was fast, given that it was late enough that the rush had already passed. The stop at the Italian place was even quicker and luckily easy, given that Jake had called your order in and you just had to pick it up. Your hip pushes against the car door causing it to close, as you hold the takeout in one hand and your school bag in the other.

A small smile graces your lips as you see the front door open, and Jake already has his hand out to take part in your load. He is quick to grab the steaming Italian food, but you reach up and pull him into a sweet kiss before he can pull away. The food and school bag sit in your hands completely forgotten, as Jake places a kiss on the top of your head as you rest against his chest.

He gives your hip a tiny squeeze before he pulls away to lead you into the kitchen. You drop your bag in the hall and kick off your shoes before following Jake. He’s already got the table set and you place a kiss on his cheek in thanks, as he places the different containers from the Italian place out.

The slow tune of Bing Crosby floats through the kitchen and you smile as Jake slowly hums along to the track. You skirt around each other, and after five years of marriage, you know each other like the back of your hand and work flawlessly together. A laugh falls from your lips as Jake’s arms wrap around your waist and turn you in his arms to dance along to the old vinyl.

“How’s my best girl doing?”

The words are spoken against your hair, and you hum as he spins you out, before bringing you back in his arms.

“I’m good.” Your words ring out though there’s a hitch in your words that has Jake waiting for you to continue while he sways you. “I just don’t understand. They don’t care about them; how can you just forget about picking up your children.” A small sniffle comes from you that has Jake pulling you back, and as his hand settles on your cheek your lips twist in annoyance. “She didn’t even check to make sure they were buckled.”

Tears gather in your eyes as Jake’s lips brush against your brow, and you can’t stop them as they start falling. His hand tracks across your face and sweeps the hair from your eyes to tuck it gently behind your ear. He watches you in silence, with a frown marring his face at the words.

Jake knew how much having a child meant to you, it meant just as much to him, but seeing you so heartbroken over it was almost worse than the actual fact. You had mentioned the twins to Jake before, though you never went fully in-depth. Even without you telling him every small detail concerning their life, Jake knew how much they meant to you.

Hell, Jake knew that you had started buying them clothes, after finding a bag marked ‘twins’ in your car. After that, he may or may not, have gone out and got them a few things. Including the tablet that they so dearly loved. Jake had given the pile of items to Mrs. Adams one day and asked her not to tell you. The elderly woman only smiled at him and gave him a wink, before taking the items. Jake didn’t even know the children and yet he felt a connection with them. Having the call today only confirmed that they were absolutely perfect, hell raisers, but perfect.

You shuffle in Jake's hold and brush the stray tears from your face, while you lean back against the counter. You pull Jake with you and wrap your arms around his waist easily, silently toying with the band of his sweatpants.

“How is it fair that they get to have children and they don’t even care. Meanwhile, we try and try, and it never happens.” Another broken sob, “I would love them so much. I do love them so much, but they aren’t ours and they’re never going to be ours.”

The final words are no more than a whisper from your lips, but Jake hears them perfectly. The food on the table is easily forgotten as Jake pulls your whimpering form into his hold, in the only way that he knows how to comfort you. It wasn’t a problem that Jake could just fix and the harsh truth, that only time would tell, was not something he would ever get used to.

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