#It's like being cold but not wanting to put on a coat for whatever reason

[darlingdaisyfarm]

cigarettes after sex

tags: mullet!stan pines, fem!reader, mentions of alcohol and smoking, nsfw, sexual themes, depression, ptsd, drunk sex, hurt/comfort, fluff and angst, inspired by cigarettes after sex songs, so I recommend to listen some while reading that :)

Stan hasn't been himself since the portal swallowed Ford up.

His life is ruined, his mind is ruined, everything is ruined. Every single night, he’s hunched over the journals, Ford’s stupid, cryptic notes that Stan can’t figure out, can’t understand, but wants to. It's like trying to read in the dark. He knows there’s something in them, some answer, but it’s out of his reach and every time he thinks about his brother being gone, his chest tightens, that guilt slamming into him so hard he feels like he can’t breathe so he drowns in his own tears. 

Stanley knows he’s not the smart one, never was, and now it feels like he’s lost every chance to make things right. The lab is his prison. The cigarettes are his only escape, one after another until the ashtray overflows, the smell of smoke permanently clinging to everything in this place. His eyes burn from lack of sleep, the bags under them deep and dark and he doesn’t bother to clean himself up anymore. What’s the point? He’s all alone. Again.  

Tonight, something changes. He can’t sit in that goddamn lab for another second, can’t stare at those useless pages with his head spinning. So, he stumbles out into the cold and ends up at the bar down the street — the only place still open this late. 

When he walks in, he’s already halfway drunk and you spot him immediately from across the room. It’s not hard; the guy’s a walking disaster. His coat is rumpled, hair a tangled mess, and his eyes are empty, hollowed out like he’s already lost something far more important than money. You've seen a lot of people sink to the bottom, but this guy sank even lower than most.

Stan doesn’t notice you at first. He barely notices anything as he stumbles up to the bar, hands trembling as he grips the counter. His cigarette hangs loose between his fingers, half burnt and about to fall, but he’s too out of it to care. He leans heavily against the bar, head down like the weight of his own body is too much.

“Whiskey,” he grumbles. “whatever’s cheap.”

The bartender glances at him, sizing him up with a frown. Stan looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks, hasn’t eaten much either. It’s written all over him, the sag of his shoulders, the unsteady sway when he tries to straighten up.

The bartender slides the glass toward Stan, but before he even picks it up, he’s already mumbling something under his breath, little grin pulling at his lips. “Don’t think I got the money for this, pal.”

He downs the drink in one go, barely wincing as the burn hits his throat and for a moment, you think he might get away with it. But the bartender’s patience is wearing thin. He scowls, leaning in with narrowed eyes, clearly not in the mood to deal with Stan’s shit tonight.

“I’m not running a charity here,” the bartender snaps. “you pay or you leave.”

Stan grins, and it’s the saddest, most pathetic thing you’ve ever seen. “What, no freebies? Guess I’ll have to put it on my tab.” he laughs, but there’s no humor in it. 

The bartender looks about two seconds from throwing Stan out on his ass and for some reason, you find yourself moving before you even realise it. Sliding off your seat, you walk over. Stan doesn’t notice you until you’re standing right next to him, and even then, his gaze is unfocused, blurry as fuck. 

Before things get ugly, you step in, sliding a couple bills across the counter, “I’ll cover it.”

The bartender takes the money without a word, though you can feel the tension of the situation, he’s definitely bothered and not in the mood. Stan looks at you, bleary-eyed, like he’s trying to figure out if you’re real or just another hallucination. His mouth twists into that lopsided grin again, but there’s something softer about it this time, like he’s genuinely surprised someone bothered to step in.

He’s too drunk to notice the bartender’s scowl as you grab him by the arm, hauling him to his feet. He stumbles, almost dragging you down with him, but you manage to keep him upright, though just barely.

“Hey, thanks, sweetheart,” he slurs, blinking at you like he’s trying to clear the fog in his head. “didn’t know I’d be gettin’ free drinks tonight.”

He tries to stand up straighter, but the alcohol’s got a firm grip on him. His body sways dangerously so you reach out, grabbing his arm to keep him steady. He’s heavier than you expected, way too much, his body leaning against yours as you pull him away from the bar.

“Come on,” you mutter, dragging him toward the door. “let’s get you out of here before you piss off anyone else.”

Stan stumbles along beside you, his steps unsteady, barely able to keep himself upright. He’s mumbling something under his breath, words too slurred to make out, because he’s so fucking drunk, but you can tell it’s nothing good. Outside, the cold hits you both like a slap to the face. The winter air is brutal, biting through your clothes and cutting through the haze of alcohol that’s been clouding Stan’s head.

“Jesus, it’s freezing out here,” he mutters, blinking against the cold. His breath comes out in visible puffs, his flushed face suddenly looking even redder in the harsh chill. Then he looks at you. “So what, you my babysitter now?

This time you have to shove him back against the wall just to keep him upright. His back hits the cold brick with a dull thud, and he lets out a low, drunken laugh, his head tipping back to rest against the wall.

“Ohh, you gonna pin me here? gotta say, I’m not usually into this kinda thing, but for you, sweetheart, I might make an exception.” his body sags, leaning heavily into the wall as he looks at you with half-lidded eyes. “or are you just waiting for me to do something stupid?”

Your brows furrow at that, irritation flaring in your chest. “What are you talking about?”

He’s a mess, a complete disaster, but there’s something about him that makes it hard to walk away. Maybe it’s the way he’s still trying to crack jokes, even when he’s clearly drowning in his own misery. Maybe it’s the way his hands tremble, even though he’s trying to play it off like he doesn’t care.

He’s quiet for a moment, his eyes half-lidded as he stares up at the sky. Stan chuckles. “Well, I could just. . . y’know. Throw myself off a cliff. Put an end to all this crap. What’s one more dead Pines, huh?”

He’s not joking anymore. There’s something raw in his voice, he sounds way too hurt, too honest, too broken that makes your stomach twist. You don’t really know what to answer on that. You aren’t that good at supporting people, but supporting drunk guy? He’ll barely hear what you’ll tell him. 

You pull a cigarette from your pocket, lighting it up with quick movements, because cold air stinging your fingers. Stan watches you through half-lidded eyes, his breath visible in the frigid air.

“Hey,” he mutters. “mind if I bum one off ya?”

You hand him a cigarette without a word, and he takes it, his fingers still shaking from cold or. . . as he lights it. He leans back against the wall, the smoke curling around his face as he exhales slowly, closing his eyes for a moment.

Neither of you speak after that. There’s nothing to say. You don’t know how to start a talk either. Is it even needed?

Stan’s a complete mess, the kind you don't want to get too close to. But as you stand there, cigarette smoke curling between your fingers, you can’t tear your eyes off him. He’s slumped against the wall, looking like he’s got the weight of the world on his shoulders or maybe that’s just the whiskey. You wonder why the hell you bothered to drag him out here in the first place. He’s a disaster and his weird comments aren’t helping, they just disturb you.

You take another drag, feeling the bitter taste of nicotine hit your lungs, and for a moment, you think about just walking away. He’s not your problem. You’ve done your good deed for the night and the cold air is starting to bite at your skin. Just leave him here. He’ll figure it out, or. . . he won’t. Either way, it’s not your concern.

But just as you’re about to turn and go, Stan mumbles something under his nose. It’s faint, too quiet to catch.

“. . . should’ve never messed with the damn portal.”

You blink. Portal? The word echoes in your mind, that’s surprising, intriguing. What the hell is he talking about? You glance at him again, but his eyes are fluttering shut, his body slumping further against the wall.

“Hey,” you say, stepping closer. “what did you just say?”

Stan’s lips move, but no sound comes out, he’s completely out of it. Your eyes widen in shock as you say “hey, man” louder to get him back to his senses, but before you can react, his knees buckle and he collapses, dead weight against the cold ground.

“Holy shit!” you drop your cigarette, your hands immediately going to his shoulders, trying to shake him awake. His head lolls to the side, completely out cold

Of course. Of fucking course! He’s drunk off his ass, hasn’t slept, probably hasn’t eaten anything substantial in days. You run a hand through your hair, staring down at him, your mind racing.

You’re not sure what the hell to do with this guy. You don’t even know him. But something in your gut twists, something telling you to stay, to not leave him lying here like this. 

***

He’s strange, sure. But why does that word “portal” keep sticking in your head?

Days pass, but your thoughts keep drifting back to him. That night, his ramblings, the look in his eyes before he passed out. You shouldn’t care. He’s just some guy, a random drunk you stumbled across. But you’ve always been a curious person. You keep thinking about how broken he looked, how utterly wrecked he seemed and you wonder what could’ve driven him to that point.

You’re out in town again, aimlessly wandering the streets of Gravity Falls, and without even realizing it, you find yourself back at the bar where you met him. It’s the same cold winter night, what makes your body shake from chill no matter how many layers you’ve got on.

You stand outside with a cigarette, your breath mixing with the smoke. Your mind’s still on him, on that weird stranger. You can’t help but wonder if he’s alright. Probably not? Guys like that don’t bounce back easy. 

You take another drag, exhaling slowly, your thoughts swirling. You think about how he stumbled around, barely able to stay on his feet, and for some reason you smile. It’s ridiculous, really. He’s such a loser. But there was something strangely. . . cute about it all. God, why are you even thinking about him

Suddenly, the door to the bar swings open, and a familiar figure stumbles out into the cold. You blink, and sure enough, it’s him. That drunk weird guy. Same red jacket, same disheveled look, but this time he doesn’t seem quite as far gone. Still drunk, but not teetering on the edge like last time.

The bouncer gives him a shove, muttering something about not coming back without cash and Stan nearly trips over his own feet before catching himself. He stands there for a moment, muttering insults and then his eyes land on you. His gaze lingers, squinting through the haze of alcohol, and recognition slowly dawns on his face. He straightens up, well, as much as a guy like him can, and adjusts his jacket, trying to look somewhat presentable.

“Well, well, if it ain’t my guardian angel,” he says with a grin.

You raise an eyebrow, flicking the ash from your cigarette. “didn’t know angels had to drag drunks out of bars.”

Stan laughs, but it’s more of a low chuckle. “do I know you? I feel—“ he hiccups. “fuck, feel like I should know your name. . .”

“I never told you, dummy.”

Stan stares at you for a moment, processing that, and then he smiles wider. “Ah, right. Guess I can’t forget what I never knew.” he winks, but it’s sloppy, and you can’t help but smile back.

He takes a step toward you, leaning against the wall beside you. “Y’know, I gotta thank ya for payin’ for me back there. ‘Specially since that whiskey was crap. Worst I’ve had in years.”

You snort, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. “Yeah, and that’s why you drank all of it, right? real convincing, man.”

He chuckles again, running a hand through his brown hair. “What can I say? Gotta give every drink a fair shot. Even the bad ones.”

You shake your head, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips despite yourself. The guy’s a mess, sure, but there’s something oddly charming about his complete lack of shame. He’s so human. Flawed and ridiculous, but human. And funny.

For a while, neither of you say much, just standing there under the night sky, the snow crunching beneath your feet as you walk slowly down the street. The cold bites at your skin, but it feels less harsh with him beside you, talking about nothing in particular. He rambles about the bar, about the bartender, about how he’s been kicked out of worse places, but there’s an ease to it, like he’s just talking to fill the silence.

And for some reason, you don’t mind it. His company is strangely nice. Despite everything.

As you walk, you glance over at him, still trying to figure out what it is about this guy that’s gotten under your skin. He’s weird, yeah. Definitely not what you’d call put-together. 

He catches your gaze and smirks, a little lopsided but softer this time. “What, you like what you see?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Not even close.”

***

Over time, you start to see Stanford Stan more regularly. It's never planned, never some formal arrangement. He’s just there, outside that same dive bar, smoking under the dim streetlight or wandering down the streets with his red jacket pulled tight against the cold. And every time, you find yourself walking beside him, talking about nothing and everything.

It’s not like you’re close, not really. He doesn’t open up, never gives you much more than surface-level comments or dumb jokes to deflect anything too personal. You only know what he lets slip, and even that feels like more than you should. He insists his name is Stanford, though something about it always sounds. . . off. 

Stanley thinks he’s idiot. It’s a role he’s playing, a mask he’s not ready to take off, won’t take for for the next thirty years.

One night, after you’ve met up for what feels like the hundredth time, you finally ask him why he’s always drunk when you see him. It’s been bugging you for a while, how every time you meet, he reeks of whiskey and stale cigarettes, eyes glassy, speech slurred, sometimes flirting with you or winking dumbly at you. You’ve tried to ignore it, but tonight the question just slips out.

Stan pauses, cigarette halfway to his lips. You think he’s not going to answer, but then he takes a drag, exhaling slowly before speaking. “Helps me think,” he mutters. “keeps the noise out.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Noise?”

He shrugs, leaning back against the wall, his eyes scanning the street. “Yeah. The crap up here. Some people got quiet minds, y’know? Not me. Gotta slow it down.”

It’s vague, cryptic. You don’t push for more. You’ve learned by now that pressing Stan doesn’t get you anywhere. He only shares what he wants, and even then, it’s always layered in something else, sarcasm, a joke, some offhand comment that makes it hard to tell what’s real and what’s just him deflecting.

Nevertheless, there is something in the way he says it that does not leave you indifferent. The way he looks when he mentions his thoughts, as if there's something more hiding under the surface that booze and cigarettes can't hide. You wonder what’s rattling around in his brain, what kind of shit he’s trying so hard to drown out.

Time passes, and your strange friendship, or whatever it is, continues. Nothing changes. You meet up, you talk, you walk through the streets of Gravity Falls, smoking and trading stories. Stan makes jokes, you laugh, and somehow, despite everything, you find yourself growing more comfortable around him.

But he never lets you in, not really. You can only guess at what’s going on in his life, at what’s driving him to the bottom of a bottle every time you see him. It’s frustrating in a way, how closed off he is, how he seems determined to keep everything buried. There’s a part of him that’s afraid to let you see the real him, afraid to show just how broken he really is.

You start to ask him more personal questions, though he always dodges them with some half-assed joke. Like the time you asked him about his hair. His mullet, to be specific. It’s a mess, now unruly and overgrown, and you can’t help but wonder why the hell he refuses to cut it. 

“Why don’t you change a haircut?” you ask teasingly. “you look like you haven’t touched it in years.”

Stan just grins, flicking his cigarette into the street. “Ah, what can I say? Chicks dig the mullet.”

What you don’t know is that Stan’s too scared to look at himself in the mirror.

The way he avoids mirrors, the way his eyes flicker away if he catches his own reflection for even a second. It’s not about the hair, it’s about something deeper. Every time he sees his reflection, it’s not his face he sees, it’s Ford’s. If he cuts his hair, changes anything, he’s worried he’ll lose himself completely, that he’ll become the brother he’s spent his whole life running from. It’s not something he’d ever tell you, though. That’s way too deep for the guy who lives behind a wall of bad jokes and alcohol.

Stan never talks about his past. You’ve asked, but he always deflects with a joke or changes the subject. The most you’ve gotten out of him is when something goes wrong, he drops something, or his stupid car won’t start, or even when he just stumbles over his own feet. He’ll shake his head, muttering to himself, “Screw-up. Always been a screw-up.” It’s weird, like it’s the only thing he knows how to be.

It bothers you. You don’t get it. Yeah, he’s a mess, but this weird obsession with calling himself a screw-up, like it’s some kind of mantra, doesn’t make sense to you. You don’t know where it’s coming from, but every time he says it, you see a flash of something bitter in his eyes, like he’s heard those words so many times they’ve become part of him.

What you don’t realize is that those words are burned into him. His father used to call him a screw-up, over and over until it became his identity. And then there was Ford, his golden child of a brother, the smart one, the successful one. Stan’s always felt like the lesser of the two, never quite measuring up, always stuck in his brother’s shadow. He’s spent his whole life trying to live down to that title, like it’s all he’s worth. Stan was a kid, who heard those words over and over until they stuck, until he couldn’t see himself as anything else.

You can’t fix what’s already broken. But that doesn’t stop you from trying. Something about Stan makes you want to help, even though you know you can’t. He’s too far gone, too buried in his own mess. Still, you keep coming back. Maybe out of curiosity, maybe out of some sense of hope.

***

Another night, another round of drinks. The two of you sit at the bar, glasses clinking against the wood, the air is filled with the smell of cigarettes and alcohol. Stan’s already a few drinks in, and you’re not far behind. You laugh at something he says, probably another dumb joke, but you’re not really paying attention. Your mind is clouded, your body is hot from drinking, and before you know it, your gaze slides over his lips.

It’s stupid. You’re both drunk, and this is Stanford, the guy who can barely keep his life together, let alone maintain a relationship. But the way he looks right now, disheveled and messy, his lips curling into that cocky grin, makes your heart race.

His lips. Your lips. Apocalypse.

The kiss happens fast, messy, without warning. One minute you’re sitting there, and the next, his lips are on yours, rough and dry. It’s not graceful, not soft. It’s desperate, like he’s been holding something back for too long, and now it’s all spilling out at once.

The kiss deepens, but you don’t care. His mouth moves against yours, hungry, needy, like he’s searching for something, like that’s what he needed all those years. Human touch and someone else's warmth.

You’re both drunk, of course. Maybe that’s the only way it could’ve happened. 

Stan tastes like smoke and cheap liquor, the bitterness lingering on your tongue as his hands slide up your back, pulling you in. You can feel the heat of his body, the way his chest presses against yours.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wonder if this is a mistake, stupid drunk accident. But then he kisses you harder, his hand tangling in your hair and all thoughts of logic fly out the window. This isn’t about fixing him. You don’t care about anything except the fact that Stanford, the complete disaster of a man you’ve somehow gotten tangled up with, is kissing you like the world’s about to end.

His hands are rough, clumsy as they cup your face, and it’s all heat and desperation, like neither of you know what the hell you’re doing, but you don’t want to stop.

You’re not sure how it happened so quickly, one second, you were sitting at the bar, laughing, your lips crashing into his, and now you’re pressed against the cold wall of the bathroom. The neon lights of the bar barely make their way out from under the door, flooding the room with a dim glow as Stan presses you against the sink.

Stan kisses like an animal, like he’s trying to lose himself in the moment, drown out everything that’s weighing on him. Like he’s searching for some kind of escape. The alcohol has dulled his brain, but not enough to make him forget. He needs something more, something real to pull him out of the relentless spiral of thoughts, of portals, journals and the constant gnawing guilt.

Stan needs to lose himself in something, anything else. And tonight, that something is you.

His big hands are on you, one sliding up your back, fingers curling into your hair, tugging you even closer as he deepens the kiss. He groans into your mouth and you feel how his hard cock presses through his jeans as he pushes you against the sink in the bar's bathroom. You feel like you’re burning from the inside out, every nerve igniting under his touch, his mouth trailing down your jaw, leaving a scorching path along your skin.

You barely notice when the door creaks open, someone stepping into the small, dimly lit room.

“Bathroom’s occupied, unless you wanna watch, but that’ll cost you.” Stan snaps, irritated as he glares at the stranger. The man stutters away quickly and the door slams shut with a loud bang. 

Before you can say something, he’s kissing you again, hard, desperate, rough, demanding. 

You moan into his mouth, tangling your finger in his brown hair, tugging him closer, and the word slips out between your breaths. “Stanford. . .”

Stan freezes and that name seems to knock all the alcohol out of his blood. It feels like something heavy and wrong between you, Stan's gaze is blank, like he's not here at all. It’s his brother’s name, the one he’s stolen, the one he’s buried himself under. You look at him and see something in his eyes. Regret. Guilt. That endless pain that’s been eating at him for as long as he can remember. You don't know what's going on, but you want to solve this damn mystery so badly. What's wrong with this man?

But then it’s all gone, replaced by that cocky grin.

“Stan’s fine, sweetheart. Trust me.”

His hands fumble with your pants, yanking them down roughly, desperately, his fingers massaging and rubbing you through your underwear. You’re already soaking, practically trembling from his touch, and he groans when he feels it, his fingers sliding through your wetness.

“Shit, you’re so wet for me,” he growls. “fuckin’ perfect, baby.”

You moan, head tilting back, the sensation overwhelming as he slides two fingers inside you, rough and fast. He’s not gentle, not tonight, there’s no time for that, no point for that too. He’s desperate and it shows in the way his thick fingers pump into you, the heel of his hand pressing against your clit in the most delicious way.

“St-Stan—“ you moan, looking down at his fingers thrusting into you.

“Please, don’t say it, don’t say that name,”meanwhile, Stan thinks, hoping your drunken mind has figured it out.

“—fuck me,” your last words make him breathe a sigh of relief. Good girl. And then he’s yanking your panties down as he have you bent over the sink, your palms pressing into the cold porcelain and you barely have time to register the sound of his belt hitting the floor before you feel the thick head of his cock pressing against your entrance.

“Fuck,” he mutters as he lines himself up. “I’m gonna fuck you right here, right now. And you’re gonna let me, aren’t you?”

You moan, nodding, pressing back against him, desperate for the stretch, to feel him inside you because your brain can't think of anything else but getting fucked hard in the bathroom of a bar. “Please, Stan— please, use me!”

And he obeys, slamming into you, burying himself deep in one rough, brutal thrust that actually hurts, but your drunk state doesn’t care much. You gasp, his cock fills you so completely you can barely breathe, you cry out, your body arching, but Stan's hand is holding you back, pressing on your back to keep you in place and he groans. It’s overwhelming you, a mix of pain and pleasure and you can’t stop moans that escapes your lips as he starts to move, his cock sliding in and out of you with rough thrusts.

“Huh, oh jesus fuck, baby, yer tight,” Stan grits out between ragged breaths, his voice hoarse. He pulls back only to slam into you again, harder this time, his hips snapping against yours with a brutal rhythm that has you gasping. 

“Staaann—!” you whimper his real name again, your fingers gripping the edge of the sink for dear life, his cock so deep it’s like he’s claiming every part of you. “Oh, fuck-fuck-fuck!”

“my fucking god, baby,” he groans, his dick hitting that spot deep inside you that has your body trembling. His fingers find your clit, rubbing in quick circles as he fucks you harder. “you feel so fuckin’ good, doll, so tight around my cock.”

Of course, there's a mirror hanging over the sink, and Stan glances up, wanting to see your fucked-out expression, how gorgeous your face looks when he's pounding into you like this. But, almost spitefully, his eyes land on himself instead. He wants to look away, he should look away, but something makes him stop. For the first time in years, the reflection staring back at him is someone else. Not his twin. Not his nerdy brother. No, not Stanford. Ford would never end up like this. Never get so fucking dirty.

Stan sees himself for what he is. What he's become. Hair disheveled, drunk, filthy, fucking in a bar bathroom. Ford would never be like this. Stan, you piece of shit, you're a disgrace to your brother's name, Stanley thinks.

But then your moans reach his ears, pulling him back, reminding him where he is. Thank God the bar music is loud enough to cover you. He blinks, realizing he's let the pace slip, and his hands tighten on your hips, his grip hard enough to bruise, grounding himself.

You’re a mess of moans and gasps, your body shaking, your warm walls tightening around him as the pleasure builds. “Stan— fuck, I’m gonna—”

Stan leans into you as much as the position allows, one hand tangling in your hair, tugging hard enough to make the roots sting, though in your drunken haze, you barely even feel it.

“Do it,” he growls, his breath hot against your neck. “Cum for me. I wanna feel you cum on my cock.”

And you do, the orgasm rips through you, your body convulsing as you cry out, your walls squeezing around him what makes Stan groan, his fingers digging into your hips, thrusting harder, faster, chasing his own release. You can feel him throbbing inside you and then he’s pulling out, his hand wrapping around his cock as he strokes himself, his cum spilling hot and thick onto your skin.

***

The days began to stretch into weeks. Time wasn’t something you paid attention to anymore, not since that night. You could still feel him sometimes, his rough hands ghosting over your skin, the taste of whiskey and cigarettes lingering long after he’d left, his groans, the way he said your name. It hadn’t been anything gentle or romantic that night, just bodies lost in drunken hunger. And after that, you hadn’t seen much of him since, not like before.

You couldn’t help but wonder if maybe that night had ruined something between you. Maybe it had been a mistake. Maybe he’d felt nothing, and you’d been stupid to think it could’ve been anything more. The way his lips had pressed against yours, hungry, desperate, hadn’t felt like love. He was drunk, did he even know who he was kissing? Your anxiety was growing, your thoughts were fighting one another. It wasn’t love. It had been something else entirely, it was raw and messy. You knew it wasn’t love, just a night. It wasn’t tender or slow; there were no whispered promises of endless love, marriage, kids, whatever “all happy” people have. Just a desperate fuck, not some grand confession of feelings. Whatever had been between you before — it felt like it was ruined, as if that thing in the bathroom had burned everything else to ash.

Stanford had disappeared, leaving you with silence and your own thoughts, and you believed that he regretted it. Maybe it was just too much for him. 

However, Stanley, he couldn’t shake the feeling of your lips on his, the way they were so warm, because no one had ever kissed him with that kind of passion before. He wasn’t used to that, to being touched like that. His entire life, he believed nobody really liked him. Not like this. Hell, even his own family had given up on him at some point. Except for his mom, she’d always tried to love him, even when he couldn’t love himself. 

He tried to ignore the way his chest ached when he thought about you, tried to drown it out with more cigarettes, more drinks, he tried, but failed because nothing worked. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw your face. Stan was getting attached to you, he knew it, even when he didn’t want to admit it. Even without alcohol, without the nicotine to calm his nerves, he knew he wanted you and your presence. It wasn’t just lust. It was something deeper, something that scared the fuck out of him because he wasn’t used to it. And maybe that’s why he’d been avoiding you. Because how the hell was he supposed to deal with feelings he didn’t even know how to name? Stan always felt that people didn’t love him, they tolerated him.

With you, for the first time in a long time, Stan had felt like he mattered. Like he was seen.

It scared him a lot.

***

Spring came early that year, and with it, the world outside the window seemed to come to life. Gravity Falls blossomed with colors you hadn't noticed before — the world is painted in bright greens and soft pastel tones, flowers made their way through the ground, as if the whole town was shaking off the cold and waking up. And that's when you saw him again.

You weren’t expecting to run into Stanford like this, not here, not in daylight, when spring is blooming around you. He was standing at the edge of the road, hands shoved into his pockets, a slight frown on his face like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be here. But then his eyes met yours and he didn’t look away this time.

There was no alcohol, no bar lights casting shadows on his face. Just sober Stan, the man who had kissed you with so much need that it had nearly broken you.

“Hey,” he called out and you immediately responded with excited “hi!” you smiled, he stood there, waiting for you to come closer. When you did, there was a long pause, neither of you quite sure what to say. His eyes flicked down nervously and you noticed it then, the subtle change, not too noticeable. Had he fixed his mullet a bit? It wasn’t much, but it was. . . cleaner. Neater, like he’d put in just a little more effort. Like maybe he had been planning on running into you.

“Uh, you wanna grab some coffee or somethin’?” Stan asked, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, clearly trying to play it cool, but the way he shifted on his feet betrayed him. He was nervous. Actually nervous. You hadn’t seen that in him before. “I figured we could, ya know, talk. Maybe. If that’s somethin’ you wanna do, of course.”

You nodded, a soft smile playing on your lips. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

That’s how two of you ended in a small café nearby, the conversation light at first, both of you avoiding that specific term about. . . Doesn’t matter. 

It was much easier to talk about the weather, or the weirdness of Gravity Falls, or how spring had made the town feel alive again. But every now and then, your eyes would meet and you exchanged awkward laughs and smiles.

“So, uh. . . I gotta ask,” Stan started. “did ya notice somethin’ different?”

You tilted your head, pretending to think for a moment before grinning. “Your hair? you mean you actually put effort into it?”

He smiled back at you. “Yeah, well, figured I’d try to clean up a bit. Y’know, look a little less like a bum.”

You laughed, feeling warmth blooming in your chest. It was such a small thing, but it felt significant to you. Like he’d actually cared enough to try for you, impress you maybe. And that meant more than you could say.

***

Nights bled into days and days slipped back into nights. Time seemed to blur together, the moon swapped places with the sun over and over. And here you were, tangled in the sheets of Stan’s bed, staring at the ceiling, while the moonlight filtered through the triangle-shaped window, the soft glow of it lays over your face, feels like the world outside was holding its breath just for you.

Things between you and Stan had shifted in ways you hadn’t expected. It wasn’t quick or loud. At end, Stan let you get closer, but piece by piece, he was afraid you might notice if he let you too far in all at once.

The first time Stanley let you hug him, really hug him, was late in night. You weren’t sure how it had happened, it wasn’t planned, you reached for him first. You didn’t even think about it, just pulled him close. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him carefully at first, waiting for him to tell you to stop. But he didn’t. Stan stiffened at first, because the idea of being held was foreign to him, something he wasn’t sure he was allowed to do. Then his face buried against your shoulder, and at first, you thought he was just tired, resting, taking what he needed and nothing more. But then you felt it. The dampness against your skin.

You realized with a sinking heart that Stan was crying.

It wasn’t loud. No sobs, no gasping breaths. Just silent bitter tears soaking through your shirt, his grip tightening on you like he was afraid you might disappear, just like his brother. His body trembled slightly, now he couldn’t hide anymore. It broke something in you, seeing him like this, this man felt so small in your arms. 

He clung to you like a child, because no one had held him in years. No one, no one had hugged him like this since he left his family.

You sighed and held him tighter, feeling his tears soak into your skin. Stan wasn’t just crying about tonight, he was crying for all the years he’d spent running, for all the times he’d pushed people away because it was easier than getting hurt. He was crying because, for the first time in so long, someone was holding him, and it wasn’t just physical, it reminded him of what it felt like to be cared for. To not be alone. 

Your hand gently stroking the back of his head, letting him melt into you like the child he probably hadn’t been allowed to be in years. Decades, maybe. For the first time, Stan didn’t feel like the tough man you knew him as. He felt small, fragile, like he was that little boy again, the one who had been left behind, pushed out of his family and told to figure it all out on his own.

Stanley pulled back, wiping his face roughly with the back of his hand, embarrassed as he looked down. But you didn't give him time to think again and regret his actions, you didn’t let him feel that shame for long. You reached for the pack of cigarettes on the table, handing one to him without a word. Stan took it and you lit it for him, the soft click of the lighter the only sound in the room.

You sat together in that silence of the night, both of you smoking. You weren’t drunk this time and that made everything feel more real, clear. It wasn’t about the cigarettes, though. It was the quiet between you, the kind of quiet that didn’t feel uncomfortable or awkward. Stan wasn’t running anymore, he could finally relax, finally let himself breathe. 

He looked up at the night sky, at the Milky Way stretching above you and smiled then, just a little, but it was there. A real, sincere smile. You hadn’t seen that on him before, not like this. It wasn’t the cocky grin he wore after dumb compliments or the smirk that followed some joke. This was softer. Stanley stared at the stars, his eyes reflecting the distant light and you wondered what he was thinking about. But while he was smiling, you were calm. 

Stanford, real Stanford, he’s always been somewhere up there. In the stars, in the galaxies, in other world, always lost in science and mathematics, in things Stanley never really understood.

Nights passed like this more often, where it wasn’t about the rush of everything. He didn’t have to keep running anymore, didn’t have to keep pretending he didn’t care. He’d gotten soft around you in a way that surprised both of you, but it felt right. He could relax now. He could let himself be vulnerable.

One night, after the smoking had long stopped, after the silence had stretched between you in that comfortable way again, the two of you ended up in his bed. Not in the desperate lust way you had before, but in a way that felt natural. Like this was where you both belonged, in each other’s arms.

Stan was lying on your chest, his head resting against you as you calmingly ran your fingers through his hair, the brown strands slipping through your hands. He let out a long, contented sigh, relaxing into your touch. 

You felt his breath against your skin, the slow rise and fall of his chest in sync with yours, and that made you understand just how fragile he really was. He never was the tough guy he always tried to be. Stanley Pines was was just a man trying to figure out how to feel again.

Stan’s arms wrapped loosely around you, holding on but not out of desperation this time. Just out of comfort. Out of need.

You smiled softly, your fingers still tangled in his hair. “I’m not going anywhere, Stan.”

And for the first time, he believed it and smiled.

***

It wasn’t in Stan’s nature to lay everything out in some big, romantic gesture, not now. This will happen later when he gets older, much older. So there was no official conversation, no ‘what are we now?’ that hung awkwardly in the air.

It happened one evening, at dusk, because at this time of day people always become more sincere and honest, the two of you sitting on the back porch, sharing the silence in the way you’d grown to love. He had that usual cigarette between his lips, the glow of the ember flickering in the dark and you were watching the stars. That's when he said it, which in his language meant “I love you”: 

“I think I like you best when you’re just with me and no one else.”

That was his way of telling you. You didn’t need him to say the word love. You understood him well enough by now to know that what he felt was real and that was all you needed. 

You didn’t ask him to clarify, didn’t push for more. Stan was never someone you could push. Instead, you waited. You knew he would tell you everything in time. He just needed to get there on his own, at his own pace. 

Sometimes he’d disappear into the lab, working on some thing he barely explained, shrugging it off with that typical grumble about science and mathematics. “It’s all bullshit anyway,” he’d say, tossing his hands in the air. “I ain’t ever understood that crap.”

“Not like my brother, he’s the smart one.” Stanley continued in his thoughts. 

Then you started noticing the small changes. The way the bottles that once cluttered his desk and the corners of the shack were fewer now. He still drank, yeah, but not like before. He wasn’t drowning himself in it anymore. It was like he was learning, little by little, how to exist without that forever haze of alcohol clouding his thoughts, feelings and memories.

Stan was still scared though. He was scared of a lot of things, scared you’d leave, scared you’d find out something about him and realise you couldn’t stay. And then there were the nightmares. The ones he never talked about, but they were all the same, repeating every time. You’d wake in the middle of the night to find him tense beside you, his breathing uneven, his hands gripping the sheets as though he was trying to hold on to something slipping away. 

That haunted him. The portal, always the portal. He’d never say it, at least not now. He’s not ready yet. He’s terrified that somehow, you’d be pulled into it too, just like Ford. That one day you’d be gone and he’d be alone again, abandoned forever. 

But when your lips touches his in slow kiss, when you brush your fingers through his messy hair and kiss his forehead, all these fears are washed away. You’d hold him close, feel his body relax against yours and slowly, slowly, his breathing would steady as the nightmares faded. There he stops dreaming about portals and disappearances. Instead, he sleeps deeply, peacefully, like a normal human being.

In the mornings, he’d stay in bed longer than you, his eyes still closed when you slipped out from under the covers. He’d stretch, arms reaching out lazily, that rough voice of his so sleepy. “Sweetheart, come right back,” he’d mumble. “i’ve been waitin’ for you to slip back in bed.” he’d smile when he’d feel your warm body next to his.

That’s what made you fall in love with him harder.

The way he was always a bit softer in the mornings, not yet fully awake and not needing to be. He wasn’t running anymore. Not from you, not from himself. For the first time in what felt like forever, Stan was learning what it meant to just be. To exist in the quiet moments. He still smoked, but it wasn’t to escape anymore, it was just a part of him, something familiar, habit. 

Stanley had spent so much of his life running, from his past, from laws, cops, states, from his brother, from his mistakes. But with you, for the first time, he wasn’t running anymore. He was staying.

[stardusksx]

ೀ⋆｡ ˚ ALWAYS COME HOME. aaron hotchner x bau!reader

summary: hotch seems to be doing everything in his power to get hurt, and that scares you. ( takes places directly after the events of 5x02 )

not my gif! credits to creator <3

warnings: angst, fluff, bau!reader, established relationship, reader is a touch insecure in the relationship but hotch reassures, f*yet, no use of y/n, mentions of self-destructive/suicidal behaviour, arguments, happy ending because i’m not self-destructive :) ( word count: 1.85k )

You didn’t know how late it was, just that the sky had long since darkened and your body ached from the seemingly endless day. But it wasn’t the twilight hour that had drained you— it was watching your boyfriend carelessly stride into a hostage situation like he was simply going to get some groceries.

He hadn’t said anything to you about his plan. Hadn’t said anything to anyone. Instead, you had to stare at his back— devoid of a bullet vest— in disbelief as he disappeared into a house occupied by a child serial killer and his son, the unsub who had been profiled as mentally unwell and unstable. It had been too late to stop him, too late to ask him just what in the hell he was thinking.

You could ask him now. But you didn’t have the energy to argue, so instead you said nothing. You quietly shrugged off your coat as he followed you into the shared apartment, hanging it on one of the pegs.

“It’s a bit late to cook anything, do you want to order in?” he asks, lingering in the doorway.

You hummed noncommittally, placing your bag on the table and unpacking a few items you’d need to put back in the safe later.

He paused. You tried to act like there was nothing amiss. “Or we could get the lasagne out of the freezer that Jessica brought over last week?”

“Whatever you want.” You respond, and the silence lingers for a few contemplative beats. You don’t glance up at him.

“Are you angry at me?”

You inhale, hands halting in their movements. You hadn’t expect him to bring it up— he’d been one track minded lately, so consumed by foyet that you’d started to think something trivial like you giving him the cold shoulder would fly under his radar. And even if he had noticed it, you didn’t think he’d care. With losing his son, being taunted by a serial killer, you wouldn’t blame him for having little capacity for anything else.

You look at him. His brows are furrowed. You look away.

“I’m fine. ” You answer simply, going back to racking through your bag for something— what, you weren’t even sure now, but some insecure part of you didn’t want to have this conversation. Like he had bigger things to be concerned about than your feelings, and you could already see how it was going to go down. He was hard to reason with when he was like this.

But he also wasn’t one to let things go unresolved. He spoke your name pointedly. When you glanced at him, he hadn’t moved from his position near the door, briefcase discarded by his feet.

“Fine. Yes, i’m angry, Aaron.” You continue rooting around your bag, “What you did was reckless, and you could have been hurt or—” you could have been killed. It hangs in the air between you, unsaid but obvious. Over a month had elapsed since he’d been hospitalised after the foyet’s attack, and you hadn’t really had an outlet for all of the fear that had flooded you over those days. It hadn’t been about you— he was the one who needed the comfort, or, well, as close to comfort as Hotch would accept. In reality, he’d been so focused in on finding Foyet from the minute he woken up that you hadn’t even had a moment to express it to him. And that was okay. Really, it hadn’t been about you. But god, when there was a moment you didn’t know if he’d ever wake up, it was the worst you had ever felt in your life.

He was quiet for a moment before he said, in that blasé way of his, “But i wasn’t.”

The words infuriated you. A sharp burst of anger clawed it’s way through your veins, you whipped around to face him. And there he stood— arms folded, brows furrowed in that assessing way of his. Sometimes, just a little bit, you hated how stoic he could be.

“But you could have been!” You snapped, “Obviously, seeing you walk in there like you have nothing to loose is a fucking problem to me, Aaron. It's like you’re trying to get killed. So i’m not just angry, i’m terrified. As if worrying about Foyet being after you isn’t enough, you're purposely putting yourself in harm's way.”

He watched you for a moment, giving away nothing. But you’d learned him over the years, know the way that he thinks. Even when he isn’t talking, isn’t blinking, you could tell what was going on in his head. Yet, sometimes, you needed him to show you. It was exhausting always having to infer. “I made a call,” He spoke your name like he was reasoning with you, “It’s what i thought was best in the situation, and i’ll admit that the outcome wasn’t what i’d hoped for. But I stand by it— someone needed to try and get through to the unsub.”

“I don't think you gave it much thought at all, actually.” You bit back sharply, taking a step towards him, “No vest, no conferring with the team, no communication about your choice of actions. Tell me, what is best about that? Because i’m god damn sure that a couple of months ago you would have never done something so erratic.”

And there it was— the topic you’d been tiptoeing around, what this was really about. No one wanted to dictate how he was navigating everything with Foyet, but as time ticked by, his actions were starting to become more and more worrying. Of course, all of it was going to affect him. But this was a path of self destruction.

“Well a couple months ago I made calls that led to a bus full of people being murdered and Morgan knocked out cold while a psychopathic serial killer could have quite easily ended him. So, excuse me if I had to make some adjustments.”

“So that’s it? You expect me to just watch you put yourself in harm's way and pat you on the back afterwards? Great. That’s just perfect, Aaron. It’s not like I love you or anything. It’s not like it makes me physically sick at the thought of you…” Your hands fly up in exasperation. He watches and watches and watches. He’s always so, unbelievably, calm.

There’s one brief flicker, a barely noticeable swallow in his throat. But his stoicism does not fracture. “All of those lives are not worth the price of mine. If I have to put myself in harm's way, then so be it.”

You blink at him incredulously. He stares back.

“Unbelievable.” You mutter, a scoff leaving your lips. You step away, wishing to look at anything but him. “I’m going to get changed.”

You don’t wait for him to reply. He probably doesn't anyways. The bedroom door shuts behind you, frustrated tears that had been building up finally flowing freely. You kicked off shoes and items of clothing, stepping under the shower head and letting ribbons of hot water cascade down your skin. It felt, for a moment, like you could relax.

But then you remembered how he might not have come home. How he could have been in some morgue instead of the next room. The water became too hot, suffocating, and you hastily shut off the tap and stepped away from the lingering steam.

You’re exhausted, and part of you just wanted him to fold you into his arms and tell you that it would all be okay. But you couldn’t expect that of him now. It was Aaron who needed the support. And you could be that— tomorrow, when the freshness of your frustrations had time to dim and you could look at him without thinking about how close you’d been to losing him. Now, you need to sleep.

Stepping out into the bedroom, you expect it to be vacant. But instead he sits on the edge of the bed, quickly looking up when he hears the door crack open. You avoid his eyes as they watch you rummage through draws for your clothes.

He says your name. You pretend not to hear. He says it louder. You pause, but do not turn to him, and the soft sound of his feet against the carpet precedes the feeling of his presence behind you. His hands slide up your forearms, and suddenly a sob was trapping itself in your throat.

“Honey…” He whispers, willing you to face him. Reluctantly, you turn around, avoiding his gaze. His hands engulfed your face anyway and coaxed your eyes to his.

“You could be the only thing left in my life and that would be all the reasons in the world to make sure I came back home.” His thumbs wiped away tears you hadn’t realised had been shed, “I’m sorry that I scared you. If it was the other way around I'd—” He shook his head, “I don’t know what I'd do. If i’m honest, all i’ve been for the past month is afraid. Of losing Jack, of losing you. I don’t know which way is worse— that Jack is away from me and I can't be the one who protects him, or that you’re right here and I still might fail to protect you. I don’t know how to think about anything else.”

He pushed away damp strands of your hair, “I don’t want to die. I don’t. I just suppose that all I'm thinking about is catching Foyet that every second I spend away from searching for leads is another second I could be too late in saving someone I love. I think it’s why I rushed into that house, i just wanted the case over with so I could get back to Foyet. But I shouldn't have done it. You’re right.” He inhaled, “I want this all over with. I want us to be able to spend the weekend taking Jack to the park, and I want to tuck him into bed at night knowing I'll be making him pancakes in the morning. And I want to wake up next to you for the rest of my life knowing that nothing could take you away.“

“I want that too,” You said softly, “And we’ll get there, I know it. But please, I need you to take care of yourself. I can’t lose you, Aaron.”

“You won’t. I promise.” He assured, conviction laced in his words. Then, “I love you.”

One hand still on your face, the other reached down to pull you into him by the small of the back. It had been so long since your kisses had been anything but fleeting that the feverishness in which he pressed his lips to yours caught you by surprise for a moment. But, god, it was everything that you needed.

Arms wrapping around his neck, you melted into him like it was the easiest thing since the beginning of time. And even if he had doubts about his ability to protect you, there would never be a place in the world where you felt more safe than in his embrace.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Roses are red... [W. W]

Willy Wonka x fem!reader

word count: 1.8k

[Timothée masterlist]

If you want to request something, leave it in my inbox!

A noise in the distance was responsible for waking you up from your not-so-pleasant sleep in the hard, cold bed that you had been using for almost a year. Could it be Scrubbit? It was too late for her to be doing anything, you thought, much less in the bedroom section. With some curiosity you slipped your cold feet into the even colder shoes to turn on the lamp on your table and left the room with the intention of discovering what that was.

Hallways always made you nervous and the thought of encountering something unpleasant made you even more uneasy, but you tried to keep your mind occupied with something else as you moved forward step by step. Seeing nothing outside the rooms, you continued down the spiral stairs and that was where you finally observed the cause of the commotion: a crouching body that made you jump in surprise.

“Mr. Wonka?” you whispered when you noticed the burgundy coat and this time it was your turn to startle.

“Oh, it's just you,” he laughed, a little more relieved “What are you doing here?”

“The noise woke me up. What are you doing here?” you asked back, seeing him fully dressed and with his shoes on.

“Trying to get out. I need to get an ingredient to finish tomorrow's chocolates” he explained to you.

True, tomorrow would be the big day where you guys would do your best to present your friend's chocolates to the world. You had to admit that at first you hadn't been fascinated by the idea, but after seeing all the good things that this had brought for the entire group you were more than willing to continue supporting in whatever way you could. That was why the next day you would sneak into the gourmet galleries during the day to help operate the shop that Abacus and Noodle had managed to rent. And you could tell that Wonka could barely contain his excitement.

“How do you plan to go out at this time?” you asked, as it was obvious that your usual exit through the laundry tube wasn’t an option.

“There's a space big enough for someone to get out in that part, see?” he murmured, pointing with his cane at a gap above the front door “I just need to get a good grip on this rope and I can climb up there. I will pull it to the other side and before dawn I will climb again.”

“And what if Scrubbit sees you?”

“She won't,” Wonka whispered, completely sure of himself. There was a brief silence between you, where you just looked at him with a certain claim and he returned that look with an amused "Do you want to come with me?"

"What? No!"

"Come on! It will be fun"

“I'm in my pajamas,” you said through clenched teeth.

“Then put on different clothes,” he quickly resolved, with a smile that was too enthusiastic for your liking. Looking at your doubtful expression he added: “It will only be a few hours, don't you want to get out of here?”

Although you were a little hesitant, after thinking about it a little and with the help of the man's hopeful expression you ended up being convinced. Making as little noise as possible you went up to your room to dress properly and when you returned he was already sitting on a step, waiting for you.

“I hope you know what you're doing,” you whispered close to him, half excited and half scared to death by what you were about to do.

You had gone out before, of course, but you knew that doing it at night was even riskier for many reasons you didn't want to think about right now.

He went first, just to check that everything was safe, and then you followed him, albeit with a little less grace. When you were above the door he reminded you to pull the rope for the time to return and when you looked at the height at which you were the idea of going down became less promising than at the beginning.

“Jump and I'll catch you” he exclaimed, noticing your frightened expression and you took a moment to try to calm down by breathing deeply.

You analyzed your options and thought that in that position you would have to go down anyway, and it was preferable to do it outwards, so without thinking too much about it you made a sign to the boy and then threw yourself forward with your eyes closed. You heard him exhale in surprise and the next thing you felt were his arms holding you, perhaps too tightly, as he feared you were going to fall suddenly.

"Are you okay?" he laughed softly, quite close to your ear. Upon hearing that you opened your eyes only to meet his, as green and beautiful as a pair of emeralds.

“Yes, everything is perfect” you sighed, and then he gently placed you on the floor. Without even expecting it you had already giggled too.

“Okay, go ahead.”

Without questioning him, you began to walk behind him and when you were a couple of streets away you were able to breathe more calmly, as if the weight of your captors had been reduced on your shoulders. Due to the schedule of your visits abroad, you hadn’t had the opportunity to appreciate the beautiful lights around you and you were sure that at that moment you looked like a child fascinated by them.

“They're pretty, right?” Wonka asked, confirming your hypothesis completely. Seemingly he had been watching you look at the decorations.

“They are,” you answered timidly. “What precisely are we looking for?” you asked next, still a little distracted by the environment, but trying to get his attention away from you.

“Some young rose leaves to make an infusion for the chocolate roses. I saw a full garden near the park the other time, when we were returning to the laundry. I think they can be useful”

“Are you feeling nervous?” you murmured gently, giving him your full attention now as you crossed your arms to keep some warmth. “About tomorrow.”

“A little… well, a lot actually. But in a good way,” he smiled “The truth is that I have never felt so nervous and excited in my life. All this is like a dream come true”

“I hope it’s perfect,” you murmured and you said it with sincere faith.

You had tried so hard to achieve all this that you were not only looking to do it to pay off your debt with Scrubbit, but also to see your new friend happy. And how would you not want that? Seeing him happy was a wonderful sight.

"Are you cold?" he asked, noticing that your figure was slightly curled in on itself. Apparently he was noticing a lot more than you would like.

"Only a little"

You were going to add that you were fine with it, but suddenly he stopped you by jumping in front of you and when you were about to ask what was happening, he undid the scarf around his neck to wrap it around yours. His movements were careful and the closeness forced you to hold your breath, only for your nostrils to then be flooded with the boy's aroma combined with the cheap detergent with which he had surely washed the garment.

"Better now?" the man smiled and since you didn't have time to assimilate the situation you just nodded, without stopping looking at him just because he kept looking at you.

You thought maybe this was what it would feel like to hug the boy, even though you had never done it, and then you hid your nose in the soft fabric. It had purple and green patterns on a gray background, quite pretty actually.

“The… the park. It’s there,” you stammered, pointing to a point behind your friend.

When he turned around he could see the rose bushes in the distance and let out an exclamation of joy, while his warm hand sought your wrist to guide you in their direction, causing a shiver to run through your entire body.

When you walked through the place and reached the plants he knelt next to the bushes, starting to rant about how functional these flowers would be, whether it was their leaves, the color, the shape... he listed more and more qualities, but you just could focus on the feeling on your neck and the warm ghost of his fingers on your skin.

And in that moment it was as if you had suddenly noticed something about him that you hadn't noticed at first; that there was some tenderness in his features that made you feel nervous or maybe it was his thin, skillful hands walking through the branches or even, daring to sound exaggerated, you would say that you suddenly noticed how handsome he really was. How did you notice it until now?

He said something and then you asked him to repeat it, since you had been too busy watching him to pay attention to his words.

“I asked you if you think any would be useful,” he said again. You took a look at the bush in front of you and pointed towards the first specimen you found, hoping that the talk would take away the thoughts that had invaded your mind.

To your surprise it turned out that the rose you had pointed out was quite pretty and, according to the requirements you remembered, it was perfect for the man's purposes. After congratulating your choice, he took out some scissors from his hat and carefully cut out the flower, to keep it in the same piece of fabric as the others that he had already selected.

“These roses will make the best chocolates, I can already imagine it,” he said with some pride, looking at the pile of plants you had. You hadn't even looked when he cut so many.

"They are beautiful"

"Yes, they are. And this one is for you."

If you had managed to get rid, even for a moment, of romantic thoughts towards him, right now he wasn't being very cooperative. Not when he was offering you the prettiest rose with such a sweet smile.

Why was he doing that? You did not know. Maybe he was just being kind and grateful, like he was most of the time.

“Huh, thank you, Mr. Wonka…”

“Be careful, he still has some thorns,” he warned you, “And stop calling me Mr. Wonka. “We are friends and my friends call me Willy.”

A small smile invaded your face and it was lucky that you were able to hide the blush on your cheeks with the excuse of inhaling the scent of the rose. It was exquisite, by the way.

“Then thank you, Willy,” you corrected yourself, to which he showed a satisfied expression.

And then a pleasant tickling invaded your stomach because, whether they were real flowers or chocolate flowers, it would always be a pleasure to receive such a cute detail from such a cute boy.

[sigma-alpha-writer-chad]

Grow Up, Would You? [Josh Washington]

“I don’t know if you’ve changed any since middle school but I really hope you’ve learned the difference between pranking somebody and just being a fucking bully.”

You can also find this story on Ao3!

Chapter Three / Chapter Four / Chapter Five

[CHAPTER FOUR]

I step off the bus shivering, holding myself for some kind of warmth. "Hooooly shit..." I huff, my breath swirling in front of me before dissipating into the air. Behind me is Samantha Giddings, stepping off the bus in a much warmer state.

"I have an extra jacket, Jordan," she offers.

"H-How far is the lodge?" I chatter. Sam laughs and places her back pack on the ground as the bus drives off.

"Far enough," she says, pulling out a dark grey zip up. It was thin, but it was better than nothing. "I can't believe you forgot your coat."

"Somebody at the station stole it when I went to the bathroom," I mumble, letting go of my own bag. "I think I have a hoodie, though, too." I unzip my own back for my thick, light pink hoodie. I pull it on over my head before sliding the jacket on over it.

"Feel better?" Sam smiles. Her hands are on her hips as she waits for me. She looks like an impatient mother.

"Much. Thank you," I sigh. We officially begin our long climb to the lodge.

"Chris didn't take you with him?"

"No, Josh wanted him to come early to help get things set up, so I just rode the bus."

"I see." A silence falls between Sam and I. I really like Sam for what I know about her, but neither of us considered the other a friend, so there was an air of awkwardness as we walked. "So, you and Chris," Sam starts. "You're cousins, right?"

"Yes ma'am," I nod.

"So, you know each other really well, or what?" I shoot Sam a look of confusion.

"Uhm, yeah, he's my best friend. Why?" A smile creeps onto my face. "Should I hook you up, or...?"

"No! No, haha, Jordan," Sam's complexion was already rosy from the biting cold, but I swear I could nearly see the steam from the snow rising from her face. "I'm just trying to make conversation. Shit, you remind me of my mother. She's been trying to get us together for... whatever reason." I laugh and nearly fall over a lifted branch. The mountain was feeling steeper as we continued on.

"Chris is a really good guy. He used to be kind of douchey when we were younger, but he's really grown into himself. He definitely pulls his annoying pranks, still, but it's highly preferable to the old things he and Josh used to get up to." Sam nods. She's much more athletic than I am so she's a bit further ahead of me now.

"Speaking of Josh, what's your guys' deal?" She stops to let me catch up.

"Our deal? What do you mean?"

"I mean I can't tell if you hate each other or have never wanted to be with another person so much in your life." This time, I do fall over, slipping on some ice and falling face first into a hill of soft snow. It's deep enough that I sink in, the white powder covering my ears enough for Sam's laughter to be muffled. She helps me up, snorting once, which makes me laugh a little, too.

"Uhm, well," I start, my mouth suddenly dry. "He was my bully, growing up." Sam tilts her head before beginning to brush the snow off me. "Made me cry a lot. The hating each other is much closer than... the other thing you said." She hums in response.

"I don't know, there's always been this way he looks at you," she says, just above a whisper. We continue to walk, the cable car building now in view. It doesn't take long before she's starting to pull ahead of me again. "I can't put a finger on it, myself, but it's just... different." I can't help but notice Sam's expression, one of confusion and... frustration? I narrow my eyes at the back of her head.

"Probably just your average disdain, or whatever."

"Nothing average about that guy," she retorts. "I don't know."

"He made my grade and middle school life a living hell. Would've been high school, too, if I didn't choose to go to a different one just to avoid him." Sam turns to look at me, her eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Oh, so he bullied you," she says, biting her lip. "Like, really?"

"His first prank on me was putting rats in my locker," I laugh. It's not funny, being scared by fat rats in your locker - but in hindsight, I can't help but laugh.

"Where'd he get the rats from?" Sam asks, smiling as if she wasn't sure if she was allowed to find amusement in my story.

"Biology class," I answer. "Though I'm not sure how he actually snuck them out of there under the teacher's nose."

"Impressive, honestly." Sam sighs. We finally make it through a gate and to the cable cars, where Chris waited with the key. 

"Hello, ladies," He greets, bowing dramatically. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" I bow back, but Sam does not.

"The cable cars, Chris," she says. She's smiling yet she seems unamused. He sighs, continuing the dramatics, and puts the back of his hand on his forehead. 

"Ah, another wench, ignoring me, yet pleased to exploit my services... This world is dark as ever." He turns, swinging his arms, and goes to the door to open it for Sam and I. Sam rolls her eyes and follows Chris.

"Why did Josh have you come back down here just to let us in?" I ask, taking my seat in the car next to Chris. I was thankful we didn't have to wait for its arrival. 

"The Washingtons keep everything locked up to avoid squatters," Chris explains. "You guys are the last up, so, I'm riding back with you." 

"Oh, man, we're last?"

"By an hour or so, yeah." The rest of the ride is silent, the three of us looking out the window at the view. After a while, we eventually make it to the top of the mountain.

"Goddamn it I'm so cold," I huff out as the doors to the car open. "Let's hurry up and get inside, PLEASE!" Chris and Sam laugh at my urgency, trailing behind me as I start into a jog, passing an old picnic table. The lodge slowly comes into view as I continue down the trail, and I smile. I see somebody, and I move a bit faster to catch up. 

I can't help but frown when I see who it is.

"Hi, Josh." I greet. Josh turns around, a smile on his expression. When he notices it's me, though, it disappears.

"Hi, Jordan, glad you could make it," he says through gritted teeth. I hear Chris sigh when he spots Josh and I interracting.

"You guys are so confusing," he says, slapping Josh on the back before draping his arm over his shoulders. He turns to Sam. "One minute, this guy sits next to her INSTEAD OF ME at a pizza place and is being nice, and the next-" Josh tries to shrug him off.

"Chris, would you get-"

"And the next," Chris talks louder to negate Joshua's protests. "He's talking to her like she ran over his dog. Look at the rage in his eyes, man!" I wrap my arms around my shivering figure.

"Can we please go inside?" Josh rolls his eyes, finally stepping out from under Chris's arms and motioning me to follow him in. Sam and Chris exchange a look I can't catch the meaning of.

"Jordan!" Beth squeals. Josh flinches at the noise, but a smile begins to take it's rightful place on his lips. Beth wraps her arms around me in a tight hug, nearly knocking me down.

"Hi, Beth," I laugh, catching my balance and returning the greeting. "Do you greet everyone like this?"

"Yes!" Hannah answers for her sister as she joins in the embrace. Her head snaps to Josh. "Did you say hello, Joshua?" He rolls his eyes.

"Yes, I said hello."

"Did you hug her?" My eyes widen at Hannah. Both her and Beth have not let me go. Before they force Josh to hug me, I butt in.

"There's no need for-" it's too late. Hannah grabs Josh by his shirt and pulls him into the group hug. He groans, but complies, knowing it's futile to battle his younger sisters. He's careful not to touch me.

When they finally let me go, I sigh in relief and smile at them. "It's good to see you."

"We're so glad you could make it," Beth smiles. She adjusts her beanie as she leads me to the couch in the huge living room. "Are you cold?"

"Oh hell yeah," I laugh. "And of course, thank you for inviting me. It actually means a lot." Beth 'aw's at me as she sits down. There's a fireplace going, so instead I move to sit at the edge. It burned, but not too much. "Where's everybody else?" I ask, looking around me. 

"I think they're just settling into their rooms," Beth answers. "Josh and Hannah are probably in the kitchen. Do you want to see where you're sleeping?"

"Later," I say, smiling at her. "I'd like to warm up first." She smiles back at me.

"Sure thing. Do you mind if I take your bag to your room?" 

"You don't have to do that."

"We're your hosts! I want to." I laugh softly and nod. Beth happily stands from her spot on the couch to take my bag upstairs to wherever they had me sleeping. As she disappears from view, Emily and Mike pass her on the stairs, followed by Ashley and Matt. 

"Oh, she's here! Didn't think you'd make an appearance," Emily says, looking me up and down in annoyance. 

"I said I'd be here," I respond softly. My eyes turn to the others behind her. None of them make eye contact with me, staring instead at the stairs they walked down. 

"One can still hope you changed your mind!" Emily sighs in a mocking tone, a sarcastic smile on her face. Jess appears, walking quickly down the stairs past Emily and moving to you.

"Hi, Jordan!" Jessica greets me warmly, giving me a quick hug. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't completely shocked at this. Jess was never outright mean to me, but a kind, excited welcome was the last thing I'd expected from her. I'm not one that's familiar with perfumes, but whatever Jess was wearing smelled immaculate.

"Uhm, hey, Jess," I respond. "You smell really good." Mentally, I'm slapping myself. Was that weird to say? She pulls away from the hug. Her smile is wider, now.

"Oh, thank you! It's actually brand new, I bought it this morning before I -"

"Excuse me!" Emily huffs, attempting to shoulder check me as she goes to the couch. I'm able to dodge it, being checked enough to know when it's about to happen. I sigh heavily. She went completely out of her way to do that, I'm nowhere near the couch. I'm so close to asking what her deal is when Jess continues.

"Emily is my girl, she's actually really great she's just, like, really tired or something. I don't know. Try to not take her too seriously, okay?" she takes both of my hands into hers and looks me in the eyes.

"...yeah, okay," I agree. She thanks me before turning to go sit on the couch with the others, her twin pony-tails bouncing. I awkwardly wave at them all. Ashley smiles meekly and nods while Matt offers me a small wave back. Mike glances at me and nods so slightly I can barely see it, which I can only assume is at my own mercy.

"Okay party people," Josh starts, walking back into the living room. "Now that we have everybody here..." Chris, Sam, and the twins follow behind him. "Thank you all for coming. Drinks are in the kitchen... Now let's get fucking wasted!" Josh throws his hands into the air and mock cheers while the others whoop. I step back until my back is to the wall, trying to stay out of the way as everyone heads to the kitchen.

I'm not sure why I'm trying to hide. It's not like I wasn't invited. It's not like I'm not welcome - though, I can't help but feel that I'm not. Other than the twins and Chris, nobody seemed to actually enjoy my presence. I decide that, for now, I'll stay near the fire.

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

"Jordan!" Chris calls, walking to me with a drink in his hand. "Are you cooked yet?" I look up from my phone to see him. He was walking just fine, but it was just crooked enough for me to know he was tipsy. It had been two hours since Josh had announced drinks were available, and no one appeared to have wasted a second.

"Cooked?" I smile, confused. "What do you mean?"

"What do I mean?" he sits down next to me, his drink nearly spilling. It was filled to the brim. "You've been around this fire all night! Are you going to come hang out, or, what?" I cross my arms and shrug.

"I think you'll be okay without me."

"But I want you around," Chris says, softly. "You're my family, I love you. And I love having you around, and I love having my friends around." He drapes an arm over my shoulder, and I lean into him. "Having my favorite cousin and all of my friends in the same place is honestly just amazing for me." I sigh again, my walls crumbling.

"Fine, I'll hang out." Chris springs up in excitement. This time, he does spill his drink. I'm not familiar enough with alcohol to know what it was, but the smell tells me it's strong.

And half of it is on my jeans.

"Oh, shit, Jordan, I'm sorry," Chris apologizes. I laugh and tell him not to worry as Hannah comes over to me.

"I'll show you where your room is, if you want to change!" she offers. I nod, and she begins leading the way. Once we're up the stairs, she stops and turns to me.

"What do you think of Mike?" she asks, her tone hushed but excited. My eyebrows raise in surprise.

"Mike? Emily's boyfriend?" I ask. I look around as if Emily could be hearing us. "I don't know, I feel like speaking his name will curse me to eternal damnation." Hannah laughs and pushes my shoulder. As quickly as we stopped, we continued down the hall. When we get to the last wooden door, she opens it for me. I thank her as I walk in, and she follows to sit on my bed while I kneel at my bag.

"C'mon, tell me what you think! He's handsome, right?" She's a bit louder now that there's no way we can be heard.

"Yeah, I guess so," I admit. It was common knowledge.

"Oh, my God, you guess so? Jordan, he's so dreamy." Hannah flops back onto my bed and sighs, as if lovestruck. As I find a pair of pants, I stand and side-eye her. "His hair, his eyes, his muscles? I just CAN'T!" She smacks a pillow onto her face and squeals in excitement.

"I guess he's also taken," I say. Hannah removes the pillow and rolls her eyes. "But, he seems nice. I don't know. Not really my type." At that, she sits up like Michael Myers. I feel instant regret as I knew what she was going to ask me. I start to pull my pants down, covering myself as much as possible.

"So, what is your type?" I sigh for what feels like the millionth time that day.

"I don't know, Hannah, I never really paid attention to that sort of stuff."

"There has to be something, Jordan," Hannah insists, standing up as I pull on a pair of grey sweatpants. "Eye color? Hair? Bald? Do you like muscles? C'mon Jordan, give me something!" I look in the mirror and take off Sam's jacket and my oversized hoodie, ignoring Hannah for a moment as I thought about what my 'type' was. My t-shirt is form fitting, but not skin tight.

"I like green eyes," I offer quietly. It's the first thing I can think of, and I hope that will satisfy her. I look at her in the reflection of the mirror and there's something in her expression that worries me.

Mischief.

"I'll accept that for now," she sighs, failing to hide her scheming grin. "C'mon, Jordan, no more hiding. Everybody is already tipsy so they'll totally be way nicer."

"If you say so."

"I do." Hannah smiles at me and takes my hand.

"You Washingtons," I laugh. "What's up with your family and taking people by the hand when you take them somewhere?" Hannah bursts out laughing. When we get to the kitchen with everyone else, her smile is wide.

"What's so funny?" Emily asks, tilting her head. I suddenly felt as though I was in trouble.

"Jordan just pointed out upstairs that the Washington family has a thing with holding hands when we take someone somewhere," Hannah giggles.

"Oh, shit, she's right!" Josh gasps. "Duuuude." Chris bumps his shoulder against Josh's.

"Duuuude!" They suddenly start shoving each other back and forth, everyone else in the kitchen giving way immediately as if this were a common occurrence. I lean over to Ashley, who noticeably leans away as if in disgust. I ignore this.

"Does this happen often?" I murmur. She laughs and seems to relax some.

"Yes." The boys were on the floor now, wrestling and laughing. Hannah is whispering something to Beth, and both of them are glancing at me. If they were trying to hide the topic of their conversation, they had failed miserably.

"...I like your hat." I compliment softly. Ashley seems surprised by this, but her smile doesn't falter.

"Thanks, Jordan."

"AND I AM THE MIGHTY WINNER!!" Josh exclaims, making me jump. He stands up quickly, stumbling some as he does. Once he catches his balance, he places a foot atop Chris's chest. He was playing dead, eyes closed and sticking his tongue out. Josh is breathing heavily and laughing. Everyone in the kitchen applauds, laughing and cheering - Emily, even, though not without a major roll of the eyes. My own smile is wide enough that it feels strenuous.

Josh's face was red from the exercise and his thick, dark hair was messy and disheveled. Though it was usually brushed back, it was tousled to the point where it was stuck to his forehead in sweat. Josh's hair was never in his face, so it was odd to see. He's breathing heavily, his winning smile never leaving his face even as Chris starts to get up.

I don't realize I'm staring until Josh looks up at me, locking eyes with mine. My smile drops. His own falters, but he doesn't look away. I gulp and I can feel my face growing hot with embarrassment. He looks as if he's scanning my facial features, trying to figure me out. For a moment I swear he glances at my body. It's not until Jess suddenly bumps my shoulder and hands me a drink that I'm able to snap out of it. She gives me a wide-eyed 'what was that??' look as she turns back away from me to talk to Mike and Emily. I look over at Josh again, and he's no longer looking my way.

Why was he looking at me like that? I furrow my eyebrows and look into whatever Jess handed me in a red solo cup. I feel a hand on my shoulder and I look up at Hannah. She smiles sweetly at me, raising her eyebrows in excitement. I wonder what she's doing, but when she looks down at my drink I understand she's trying to be encouraging in her own drunken way.

"Jordan, you don't gotta, uhm, drink that, if you don't wanna," Josh says, bumping hips with his sister hard enough to have her stumbling a few feet. "If you don't feel safe, y'know?" He stands up straight and reaches for my drink. "You gotta feel safe when you're under my care." My heart skips a beat and I pull the cup away from his hand. He gives me a surprised yet concerned look. I take a deep breath and put the cup to my lips.

This isn't my first time drinking. It won't be my first time drunk. Around people, however? Yes, this was a first. The only person I've been drunk around was Chris during a couple of our cousin sleep overs in high school. I not only sip my drink, I gulp it down quickly. It burns. It's not good. I knew, right as I took my final gulp, that I was fucked. Everybody had migrated out of the kitchen by now and into different parts of the lodge, leaving Josh, Chris and I in the kitchen. I can already feel the heat from the alcohol begin to buzz around my cheeks.

"Duuuude." says Chris.

"Broooo..." says Josh.

"Guuuuys...." says I. Chris and Josh laugh at me.

I laugh, too, and I feel good.

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

Hey y'all, thanks for reading! I'm really glad to be posting another chapter so soon after the last - and there will likely be another very soon! I'm in the writing zone right now, I suppose.

Taglist: @sc4rrc @mattymxmo @cellyx33 @jenepleurepasbaby @kalynnjonas @spinback-kiva @frankcastlesvest

[samubytheocean]

Osamu body heat hcs

Osamu radiates so much body heat and he’s kind of self conscious about it, especially in the summer. He hesitates to pull you into his arms, because he himself already is burning. He sweats buckets, and it’s a little different from Atsumu because whereas his twin kind of forgets about the fact that he is drenched with sweat, Osamu will visibly be in a bad mood until he is able to take a shower.

He won’t give you hugs after working out, because he doesn’t want you to get uncomfortable. Doesn’t smell bad, because he’s so up in his head about it and does his best to take care of himself, but definitely thinks that he does. I feel like his big hands will be burning, not very sweaty, pretty dry and rough even, but like searing hot to the point he flinches when he touches your relatively cool skin. Builds the habit of randomly placing his hands on the back of your nape when you have your hair up or something, just to mess with you.

All that being said, you bet he’s the best human heater in the winter. Definitely the type of guy who will kick off the covers at night, unconsciously of course, then proceed to crawl on top of you in his sleep when you whine that it’s literally freezing. Also the type to handle cold really well but does terrible with heat. Doesn’t like his hair sticking to his face with sweat, that’s one of the reasons why he liked volleyball so much, because it’s an indoor sport and there’s always ac on.

He will absolutely drive you insane about how he is so fixed on not wearing a coat or a jacket in the middle of winter. He already has a sweater on, and yes it took much convincing to put that on as well because he claimed that his hoodie would be just enough. Also he would take it off, even in a snowstorm, with just the thinnest shirt underneath, if you said you were cold. Not even trying to be a gentleman for you. Just takes it off and puts it on you, asks you if it smells okay, smirks a little at you blinking at him so puzzled about how the hell is this guy not freezing to death, rubs your cheek and say that the sweater seems a little big on you. and proceeds whatever he was doing, in just a shirt, in the middle of December.

Says it was getting hot anyway in the most dead pan face ever, you can’t tell if he’s being ironic. (He really isn’t, and he’s acting even more satire just to mess with you.) What makes you so messed up is that he does not get sick. In any shape or form, it’s pretty impossible for him to catch a cold. He does get migraines when he’s outside for too long, but pretends to not have them just to prove that he does not need another layer. Menace.

Works well for you in some ways in the summer though. Would refuse to put on clothes in the house. Just boxers, and maybe basketball shorts if you’re begging. Maybe. Would argue that he’s doing you a favor, giving you some smexy show for nothing, and yeah you do appreciate the sculpted back and thigh muscles maxed out now with those delicious little bits of fat on full display, only if he wasn’t a complete jerk with the ac settings.

Yeah definitely seems like the guy to unironically hide the controller and actually sulk when you turn the settings down. (Atsumu comes in again here. Anyone with siblings knows what it’s like with the ac settings. Old habits.) It’s always freezing at your house, especially if you come back from work you swear that he is the main reason for global warming (affectionate). He really does try for you, turning it a little higher few minutes before you get home, but secretly loves the way your small frame scrunches up from the chills and huddles up to him, body sticking to him for some warmth. He has always hated how he radiated so much heat, but with your bickering and cuddles, he’s beginning to think that maybe, it was like that all along for a sweet reason. (he’s annoying but he adores u)

[clockmax]

﹒𝐗-𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 | 𝐓𝐀𝐏𝐄 𝟏﹒

← previous | next → | ﹗𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭﹗

pairing: dilf!Miguel O'hara x babysitter!fem!reader

Summary: In a AU where his marriage doesn't work anymore, he spends time away from his house. In turn, his 'wife' hired you to keep watch over Gabriella. But soon, a infatuation bloomed between someone who you couldn't have.

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI. infidelity, mentions of divorce, age gap(19-31), drinking, no use of y/n, oral(f receiving), p in v, mating press, praising, slight breeding kink if you squint, not proofread uhh thats it i think

w/c: 3k

You stood outside in the cold night, the sounds of crickets and other sorts of bugs in the night kept you from silence. It was cold, body shivering as you held your jacket close. Your breath was visible, the cold nipping at whatever skin was left exposed. Your body was flushed from the drop in temperature, winters air cruel. You were absolutely freezing. Yet you stood outside, watching as Miguel counted a stack of 10 dollar bills.

“40.. 50… 60..” The man mumbled, fingers sorting through the cash, “ 70.. 80, there.” 

His hands moved to your own, placing the cash in your shaking hands. Fingers find themselves delicately sorting through the cash, double counting. Miguel Looked down at you, watching as you re-counted the cash.

“That’s the agree amount, right?” He tilted his head, cocking an eyebrow.

“Yes-” *You nod, putting the cash inside your purse.

“Then that’s your pay, I hope Gabriella wasn’t too much trouble.” He gave himself a small chuckle, putting his wallet away.

“It was nothing, really, she isn’t any trouble at all, sir.” For some reason you just couldn’t take your eyes off him, watching his every movement. You felt your body almost become warm against the weather, heart beating faster than it was before. Christ, you couldn’t get more embarrassed on the inside about it though. A crush on your boss�� husband? Really? Even your friends poked at you for that.

“There’s no need to be modest, I know she can be a handful. Kids got so much energy that she doesn’t know what to do with.” 

His hands shuffled back in his wallet again, pulling out another 20, “There’s an extra 20, ‘cause I know,” Handing you the bill, giving a small playful wink.

His eyes happen to wander your body, looking at how you shivered and tugged your jacket closer, freezing hand putting the 20 with the rest of the cash. There was a slight twinge of guilt for having you outside when it was this cold. Muttering something to himself in spanish before he headed for his front door, turning back to you.

“Would you like to come in? I don’t want to leave you in the cold.” The offer felt a little weird, out of place for him. I mean he wasn’t your boss, his ‘wife’ if you could call her that was. But hey, practically the same thing, right?

“Are you sure?” You asked, looking up at him. The offer was still a little strange.

You two didn’t really talk much besides work and a few personal questions, but those were usually 2 minute conversations before you were on your way. Still, none of that stopped your eyes from looking at Miguel whenever you had the chance. It was a stupid crush, really. He was a married man with a daughter, plus he was older than you by a long shot. 

“It’s no worries, I’d rather have someone to talk to while I drink much rather than drinking alone.” Miguel opened the door, holding it as you entered inside.

“Thank you.” You nodded, taking off your coat.

You tried your best not to let your emotions get the best of you. All he needed was someone to talk to, nothing more. Yet your mind couldn’t help but wander with thoughts that, even if you were being interrogated, would never say out loud. 

You settled yourself in on a nearby chair, watching as Miguel walked over to the liquor cabinet, pulling out a bottle of whatever he was drinking, you couldn’t read the bottle, not from a totally different room. Soon enough he walked over to the couch, sitting down with his glass. 

“Will your wife get mad that I’m still here?” You asked, still a little hesitant. 

“Don’t worry about her, she’ll be gone for a long time,” His hands held his glass, taking a sip from it before setting it down, swallowing the liquid, “That’s how it’s been since she met her yoga instructor.”

You tilted your head, confused at the situation. You knew from what you were told that there was a rough patch in their marriage, but didn’t expect to be greeted with cheating.

“Aren’t you mad?” Mumbling a little, still hearable though. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” You quickly ducked your head, looking down in embarrassment for asking such a question.

Miguel let out a sigh, taking another swig of his drink.

“No, I’m not mad. Our marriage isn’t what it was, so we don’t really care about who sees who.” Taking another drink of the alcohol, the liquid running down his throat.

You moved your head back up to look at him,mind running wild with that. I mean, if they don’t care who sees who, you could make your move? But still, weird. He’s technically your boss, and still married, and with a kid. You’re just the babysitter, someone trying to make money for college. 

“Nevermind. What about you, how is college coming along?” He asked, trying to change the subject from that of his now broken marriage.

“Rough, barely making enough with as many jobs as I have to pay tuition.” Leaning back in your chair, hands balling up in your lap.

“Hope every penny is worth it. Everyone where you’re at is probably struggling too, don’t get in a fuss over it.” Miguel's eyes looking over your frame once again.. Eyes looking at your thighs for maybe a moment too long before looking back up at your face.

“I know I know, but some people are just so care free, able to go to parties while I’m wondering if I’m gonna be able to stay at college.” You whined, upset about the financial situation  you were in.

“Some people are just better at hiding it then others. I struggled in college, even being financially stable now, I was in student debt too,” Miguel sighed, “Look the message is a struggle always has a solution… 7 years of fatherhood and I still can’t give any good dad advice, if you can call it that.”

Miguel found himself getting another sip of his drink, getting up to get another glass full.

“You should relax though, don’t stress too much. Never does any good.” He’d tell you from the kitchen, refilling his glass.

“I’m just worried I’ll never get anything done if I don’t hyperfocus, forget what I need to do because I get too caught up with free time.” Your thoughts were racing, your worries about your current life situation flooding out of your mouth. 

“No no, get what you need done too. Just don’t let it take over your down time. You’re young still, a whole life ahead of you.” Walking back to the couch, taking a seat again as he took yet another drink, “You got a boyfriend?” He asked, nonchalantly, no hesitation.

“No,” You mumbled, a little embarrassed. 

“No?” Miguel Repeated, “I’m surprised.” “Why?” You turned your head, a puzzle expression painting your face.

“Cause you’re a young, pretty girl on campus, and no varsity jacket has come to take you away?” It sounded almost as if he was joking, teasing you for it. But he meant no harm.

“No, not yet. They already have themselves a girlfriend or something.” You sigh, sinking back into your chair. 

“Yea times have changed, but, there’s probably a guy out there waiting to say the right things to you.”

How you hated that sentence. Another guy. You wanted Miguel, deep down you wanted him, but you couldn’t have him. Not at this moment, at least. Not only could it put you out of a job, but complicate things. And what if his wife catches you? He said that she doesnt care, but what if she cares that the person she employed is sleeping with her husband? I mean, why would she? Their practically divorced anyways. Or maybe you’re just thinking too much. Your body tensing up. 

“I have my eye on someone, actually. Just having troubles about it.” You confess, looking down, kicking your feet.

“Oh you do? That’s rare. And troubles? Yea, I get that… Okay, what’s he like?” He questions you, sitting upright and fixing his posture. 

“He’s older,” You start off, hands shaking a little. Were you really about to do this? Tell him how you feel? I mean the doors open for you to tell him, it’s only a matter of how he’ll react. 

“Older? Like his senior year?” Miguel took notice of how tense you were, gaze softening a little. “You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.”

“No.” You bluntly respond.

“Okay so not that old, I hope he’s nice to a sweet girl like you.” Miguel offered a faint smile, leaning back into the cushion. 

“He has a kid-” You usher out, mouth speaking faster than your mind.

For a second, Miguel is taken aback. That old? Seriously? 

“Has a kid? At that age?” I mean, for anything it could have been a toddler kid, no way a full kid at that age he was thinking of. “Well.. as long as you know what you’re getting yourself into.” He took another swish of his drink.

You gulped, body shaking as you tensed up, mind feeling dizzy from the whole situation. “No he’s not my age, what I mean is-” 

But you were quickly cut off, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife.

“Yea, I got the hint.” Miguel looked at you, face stone cold as he held his glass. 

“Listen, uh, I’m flattered, really. But uh, that would be weird, right. I mean, that would be taboo even. I’m too old for a sweet heart like you. Don’t you have anyone on campus you’d rather be with?”

His expression was stone cold, and you sunk back into your chair. Not you really regretted yourself for telling him this. How you wish the ground would just swallow you whole right now, or simply pass away on the spot. 

“No, I just- I can’t get my eye off you and-” Quickly shutting yourself up, biting your tongue. You swore you were biting hard enough to draw blood, mentally cursing yourself for making this a conversation. He was right, Miguel was too old for you. But yet here you were, admitting those stupid feelings that you should have never brought up in the first place. 

“But what about your parents, certainly they wouldn’t approve? Hell, Dana would have a fit if she smelt your perfume where it doesn’t belong. Let alone knowing her divorcing husband is with, uh..” Miguel sighed, slumping, hand on his elbow as he clenched his glass so hard he could probably break it if he wanted to. 

Miguel sat back up, chugging the rest of his drink down before setting the glass on the coffee table, beckoning you over to him with his finger. “Come here,” He told you, almost as if it was a order. 

Within what feels like minutes of you moving through the room, air thick with tension as you make your way over to him. Yet no sooner does he have you sitting under him, frame tower over yours. 

Both of your lips were practically glued to each other, tongue exploring each others mouths as his hands felt up your body. You couldn’t help but feel his up too, hands tracing over each and every one of his well toned muscles. 

Miguels hand moved under your shirt, grabbing one of your breasts. His hands fondled the soft skin of your tit, rolling your nipple between his fingers. You let out a whine, muffle by the kiss. You felt your juices start to form a puddle in your underwear already, thighs clenched together to give your clit some friction. 

When he finally pulled away, eyes looking at yours. Christ this was wrong, but there was no stopping now. Miguel kissed down your neck, taking off your shirt. He kissed your breasts, sucking on them too. Making his way down your stomach, gently biting as if to mark it, hands working at your pants, tugging the material down and away. Getting on his knees infront of your legs, hands pulling them apart by your inner thigh. 

His eyes took a moment to look at your cunt, how pretty it looked, how your juices were moving past your slit. His eyes moved black up to you,

“You sure about this, Corazón?”

It was without hesitation that you nodded, opening your legs more, almost presenting yourself to him. Miguel quickly became fixed on your pussy, tongue licking a stripe between your leaking folds, tasting your sweet arousal. 

“Taste so sweet.. Didn’t take you for someone who likes older guys.” He mumbled against your clit, sucking on the bud. His hands moved to your ass, squeezing the soft flesh as he moved you closer to his face, burying himself in your cunt. 

He licked and sucked on your clit before moving down to lick your juices from your folds, tongue moving inside your soft walls. Miguel was eating you out like you were his last meal, arousal coating his mouth and dripping down his chin. You just tasted so sweet, he couldn’t get enough of it, groaning in your pussy, tasting you like you were some sort of desert. 

Miguel kept eating you out, noises almost sounding pornographic. He took in every moan and whine that left your mouth, feeling how his cock hardened just from the thought of being inside you next. You were so tight on his tongue, walls squeezing and contracting. You felt your orgasm approach, stomach tightening into knots. It wasn't long as he sucked on your clit, juices gushing out of your slit as your back arched, Thighs squeezed around his head as he kept licking up your juices, hand squeezing your ass. After a few more licks, he moved his head up , leaning over you again as he unbuttoned his pants and removed his boxers, cock springing free. 

“This is what you were after the whole time, isn’t it?” Miguel cooed, grabbing your legs to fold them up, knees practically meeting your chest. 

He lined his tip up with your entrance, slowly sinking himself in. It was a tight fit, almost too tight, sinking himself deeper into you. You whined and moaned, hands holding at his thigh.

“Ease up for me, pretty girl.” Miguel moved one of his hands down to your clit, rubbing the swollen tissue as your walls slightly eased up, taking the advantage to put himself balls deep inside of you.

He let out a groan once you clenched back down on him, hand moving back up to hold your other leg up. You looked up at Miguel through lidded eyes, mind clouded with lust. God, did you feel so full. His tip was prodding at your cervix, a vein gently pressing against that spongy spot inside of you. 

After a few seconds, his hips started moving. A fast yet not too rough pace. His hips snapped against your skin, the faint sound of clapping as well a few curses under his breath mixing in with your moans. Fuck, he was in too deep, and you were already cock drunk. Your hands found their way to his head, pulling him in for a heated kiss. 

Your noises were muffled in his mouth, the squelching sound of your pussy getting stretched out by him taking up the noise. How good it felt to finally have Miguel's cock in you, how many times you dreamed of this, touched yourself to the thought, yet the real thing was even bette.

“Good girl, taking me so well.” Miguel Praised, forehead touching yours, looking at how your pupils were blown wide, legs gently shaking. You couldn’t help but clench around him from the praise, letting out a mewl as you moaned again. Your second orgasm was building up already, and fast. 

“ ‘m so close-” You moaned, the pleasure feeling almost too good then it’s supposed to. This was so wrong, yet, it just felt so right.

“Go on, come for me, be a good girl and listen, hm?” He’d whisper, pace picking up slightly.

Miguel felt his own high approach, letting out a groan as he trapped your lips in a kiss again,the grip on your legs getting slightly rougher, pace getting rougher too. His dicktouched all those special places inside of you, juices coating his thick cock and dripped down his balls, some dripping onto the couch too.

Before you knew it, you were both coming. Walls tightening around him, practically milking Miguel dry as thick, hot ropes of cum painted your walls. For a few moments, you both stayed like that, coming down from your high. 

The reality then set in of what had just happened. His hands moved away from your legs as he pulled away from your body, eyes looking at your pussy, how he dripped out of you.

“Sorry-” You mumbled through your panting, body hot from the adrenaline, eyes looking down at the small mess.

“No it’s okat- let me uh, let me get a towel..” Miguel replied, fixing his boxers back on. He was only gone for a few moments before coming back with a towel, gently cleaning up the mess. Miguel folded the towel, gently placing you on top of the soft material.

The rest of the night was a blur, head reeling from the events. All you remembered was eventually landing in his bed, laying next to him. Miguel was fast asleep next to you, and you laid awake. All you could do was try and process everything. You slept with the person you had a stupid crush on, but also slept with a father, with a (almost non) married man. Oh you weren’t supposed to do that. What about morals? God this was such a stupid thing. You put your feelings over thought, and now, you were going to land yourself in such a difficult situation. Falling in love with someone who you couldn’t have.

taglist: @pandoraslxna @deputy-videogamer @its-paprika @yuuuumii @buggiecrawls @l0vedi3n @projectdreamwalker @urbimom @chshiresins @1tsk1tty

©clockmax 2023 ━━━ do not repost, copy, or translate my work.

[darlingofsatoru]

JJK & CHRISTMAS

⊹ synopsis: Various hcs of Jjk characters at Christmas.

SATORU GOJO

-This man is ecstatic, Christmas is his version of heaven.

-Christmas dates are necessary, he’s gonna go out with you in fuzzy coats, gloves, earmuffs, scarfs and hats with pom-poms on them, even if it’s not snowing.

-Hot drinks are also a necessary (he pays every time, pulls his credit card out quickly just as you’re getting yours out, no amount of convincing or bribing can stop him from doing this every time he can.)

-PRESENTS. This mf is so extra with them, type of man to get you tons of expensive jewellery then giggle and blush like a school girl at a teddy-bear and his favourite chocolate.

-Stops using his infinity just so the snow can fall on him (and ofc so he can throw snowballs at you & vice versa!!)

-VERY over the top with Christmas decorations, that one house that has lights all over their yard, driveway, roof & any place in sight (he floated up to the roof because he nearly fell off a ladder one time and doesn’t want to make you do it for him).

-His sweet tooth is in full swing, that man will be buying any sweets he sees that are even remotely festive, he probably even justifies buying things that barely have any relation by trying to make up a tradition.

-Snowmen will be made if there’s snow, he’s running outside with you even if ur wearing nothing but pajamas, you cannot escape making a snowman with him.

-Overall, he’s Santa but 10x more energetic (and 10x less old !!)

KENTO NANAMI

-Very traditional with Christmas (he isn’t allergic to fun dw!)

-Likes to walk with you around your neighbourhood just to check out Christmas lights whilst holding your hand tightly.

-Speaking of Christmas lights, he’ll have a few up but if you want more he’ll help (don’t go too mad with them though, he’ll sigh pretty loudly.)

-Gentlemen as always, makes sure you’re warm in cold weather.

-Thinks it’s the thought that counts but will put in effort to get a present he believes you’ll like.

-Best believe he’s taking a week or two off to celebrate with you, Jujutsu Tech can’t say shit to stop him.

-Prefers a Christmas where there’s a warm fireplace whilst you cuddle on a sofa with many blankets, probably watching something on tv.

-Overall, boyfriend behaviour to the max, your Christmas is gonna be the best ever.

RYOMEN SUKUNA

-This man doesn’t care for Christmas, let’s be honest.

-The only reason he makes any effort at all is because you want him to but that’s not gonna be tons, he’ll simply acknowledge winter and maybe a tiny thing about Christmas, if you’re lucky.

-Somehow convince him to go ice-skating with you, it’ll be an experience you certainly won’t ever forget.

-Gets into a fight if you make him queue for literally anything to do with Christmas spirit.. That guy just stepped on your foot, what did he expect with the king of curses right there? That he’d ignore it? Of course he wouldn’t, that guy surely wouldn’t mind loosing both of his feet, yeah? Well, Sukuna doesn’t have if he does, now he can’t step on your feet ever again.

-Refuses to watch any Christmas love movies so when you manage to convince him, you either hear disapproving grunts or outright complaints about the protagonist or love interest.

-He’s definitely not one for Christmas at all but a present for his partner is a present that needs to be perfect. He’ll get you whatever you want, might even humour you with wearing a Santa hat for a minute or so in private with you.

-He’s pretty grumpy but he’ll sit around on the counter and occasionally help with cooking Christmas cookies, if he feels like it.

-Throws snowballs with frozen ice inside at random kids and casually walks away.

-Overall, the grinch but one who’d steal all the presents and give them to his partner instead whilst killing those with stupid gifts..

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

-Megumi isn’t very excited but he does enjoy it, the break of this holiday admittedly being his favourite part.

-Not one to put lights up but he’s not gonna deny putting up some decorations inside if you’d like.

-Don’t bring him to a Christmas family gathering please..

-Would willingly ice-skate with you but he’s keeping close to the edge, he doesn’t want you or him falling.

-I can see him liking snow but he does remind you to keep warm every once in a while, sighing as he shrugs off the scarf Gojo had forced onto Megumi and instead placing it around your neck.

“It should still be warm, remember to bring one next time.”

-Keeps his eyes on yours discreetly as you past stores, looking for any interest shown on certain pieces in the window.

-Another one who holds your hand in the cold, it’s just something he’d deem as common sense at this point.

-Brings you to have dinner with his sister and him & it’s super sweet, Tsumiki loves you almost immediately due to the fact you’re his partner and that he’s not alone <3

-Overall, a sweetheart with lightly less effort than some but still sweet anyway.

YUJI ITADORI

-Yuji loves any holiday but Christmas definitely ignites something happy in him even more!

-Probably loves it half for the happiness he/others experience form it and also half because he gets presents..

-What can he say? It’s super cool to unwrap and then see this super cool thing he’d forgotten he realllyyy wanted like a month ago!!

-Down for anything to be honest, you name it and he wants to do it too.

-Making snow-angels is something he NEEDS to do any time it snows.

-Likes to decorate a nice tree inside and leave some lights outside & inside, though they’re actually pretty tame!

-Still does Christmas stockings, you can’t stop him from doing this ever.

-Not even confidently as he pulls the other side of a cracker and it pulls apart immediately.. he gets accused of cheating

-Used to be a massive fan of Christmas dinners at school so he’s definitely attempting and failing to make you one.

-Prefers to sit down and watch a movie together, preferably hugging and warm!!

-Overall, a Christmas not even Sukuna could steal (probably, anyway..)

@darlingofsatoru on Tumblr only, no reposts <3

[melodic-haze]

... Arlecchino with a reader taller than her? Would that change anything? I'm so curious 😇

☆ — DEMO TRACK: sub!Arlecchino x dom!Reader

☆ — TYPE: NSFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: Reader has a cock/strap referred to as such

☆ — NOTES: Can I say I tried to make this sfw first and then failed when I realised the potential

☆ — PARTS: Part 1 (you are here), Part 2

This is so fucking funny to me bc when you think ab it Arlecchino's acc REALLY fucking short without heels compared to her height ON heels

Don't laugh at her face ab it though unless you want death 🤷‍♀️

I'm like 5'5 I wish I was tall enough for Arle to have to look up at me :/

In all seriousness though I do think that she uses heels both as a weapon with those fuckass blades, but also as a way to seem taller and more intimidating—the cold, unfeeling Father that she wanted to present herself as, completely untouchable

When you're taller than her though?? God, without heels it gets her feeling things she hadn't thought she'd ever feel, let alone being taller than her WHILE she has heels on 🫶

She actually feels powerless, a feeling that is usually most unpleasant, and yet.......she actually finds herself liking the height difference as she looks up at you to actually look you in the eye

It'd wake up the undiscovered size kink she didn't even KNOW she had bc nobody else reaally made her feel sooo I mean yes ❗️ Something very much changes in her ☺️☺️☺️☺️

"Ah.. mn..!"

Long nails, practically talons at this point, threatened to break your skin as you pounded her insides relentlessly. Arlecchino was always such a good girl for you, taking whatever you gave her without a single complaint.

You couldn't help but deem yourself lucky, to witness such a docile, subservient side to her, considering the ever-so-stoic persona she dons. Not as if it stopped with you simply witnessing her majesty, no—you were the entire reason why she was pliant like this, a powerful figure practically turning herself into an obedient ragdoll for you to use for your own satisfaction.

Not as if you were selfish though. No, if anything, from the way she had often looked at you and the fact that she would much rather let her own actions speak in her stead, she enjoyed being used like this.

..Enjoyed it a little too much, actually.

There were times when you've seen her look up at you woth a dazed look in her eyes—the crimson crosses often scanned you up and down before looking away with a tint in her cheeks. Of course, it had confused you to no end; was there something she saw?

You only figured it out when she had decided to idly comment on your height one time when you had helped her with taking a book from the uppermost shelves, her heels gone in favour for comfort within the safety of your own home.

"You.. are rather tall," that's all she said, the same coat of rare pink on her cheeks before staring at you—at your hands—before shaking her head and walking away swiftly.

...

Actually, this might be the best time to test your hypothesis.

You sat up, putting your pace into an abrupt stop, as you placed your hands on the curve of her ass and kept her close.

As knee-deep in pleasure as she was, one could never take away the sudden instinct of alert observation, "Is.. mm.. Is there something wrong, my beloved?"

You shook her head, "No, no, just.. brace yourself."

"Why would-- ..!"

Her breath hitched as you lifted her into the air, her hands crossed onto your shoulders as she held onto you in shock. Not as if you gave her room for a reaction, anyway, since you had easily slammed back into her the next second.

The new upward angle paired with the closeness between the two of you had her practically seeing stars as you hit spots that she hadn't realised existed within her. Every time your cock plunged inside her pussy, the tip hit the deepest spots—ones you had only grazed when you really went rough with the Harbinger.

Not to mention her feet weren't touching the floor.

You had lifted her up, and with the height difference between you two, she was exactly she couldn't allow herself to be.

Powerless.

Considering the way she rolled her eyes with a groan before putting her head on your shoulder and biting your skin as you pounded her into the air, she actually fucking enjoyed it.

She'll have to assess.. everything later, but for now she didn't care. Not when you're having your way with her.

Moment you have her up in the air is the moment her mind goes I fear

Like you mean to tell her that she's?? Up in the air without her fucking power??? Because you're tall enough for you to just. Lift her up?????? Her feet aren't touching the ground and the realisation has her juices GUSHING out ohhhhmy god

Not just the fact that she feels so powerless with you, but the way that her feeling small in your arms = her feeling safe as well???? Like you're her barrier from the world that's done her wrong time and time again, the world that's taken the most important things—people—away from her. Being fucked like this in your arms helps her forget all those for a while and feel safe and small, like she's the one being taken care of this time instead of the other way around

She wouldn't be asking you to do this again though, mind you..........but she does look at you and sizes you up and really that's all you need as a notice of what she wants 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

[pvnks0ul]

me and mrs. wolf (18+)

❊ werewolf/shifter!riri x fem!reader

sypnosis: Riri ends up having to find a creative way to keep you warm during your first camping trip together, you get more than you bargained for.

⚠︎: little plot ⁴ 🌽, kinda terotaphilia¿¿, mentions of hunting & eating wild deer(sry), dirty talk, readers really fucking cold, dom!riri + sub!reader, enlarged clit/girldick, several rounds, use of *mommy* + breeding kink, married au, amateur writing ! + bad descriptions of camping cause im js not built for that lifestyle!!

a/n: this was originally based off that one twilight scene (iykyk🧛🏾‍♀️) but shit really do be happening...🥲

There was no denying the early morning view when you'd first arrived. Selfoss was..beautiful, without a doubt one of the most Ethereal landscapes you'd ever seen but no amount of breathtakingly clear skies or eye watering fields of perfect green grasslands would ever be worth catching pneumonia in the booty hole. You didnt know how much longer you could take before calling it quits and ditching to whatever was closest to a ' 4 seasons round here—quite honestly you were probably already there.

The fire outside endlessly crackled, only reason for it not being put out was because Riri wanted to keep it burning so she could surprise you with dinner. The problem being she waited till the sun had already set to go hunting... Was it obvious she did not have the privilege of cooking very often?

You watched the blurred flames quiver and roar from behind the tents sheeted walls as your teeth clattered at an alarming rate, limbs shivering so hard you'd began jolting randomly to make sure you'd still had control over your own body. But you honestly wouldnt be surprised if they'd all just froze and fell off right about now.

You tried to roll closer to the side nearest of the fire but it's distant warmth only baited you to come outside and embrace it.

And you were so close to giving in if only the sun hadnt already went down, the light from the full moon only something dim compared to the dark forests surrounding you. Riri'd originally asked if you wanted to come with but truthfully your legs were already tired from gathering all the sticks for the pit. The relief she felt when you said you werent feeling up to the chase, especially since you wouldnt be of much help anyways, didn't go unnoticed.

So the agreement was, you'd stay in the tent where she felt you were safest and she'd go hunt alone. A very simple and easy task.

You sat up on the thick foambedding Riri had laid ontop of the built in matt so you wouldnt be laying completely on the ground. And although stocky, the comforter did little to protect you from the chilly air, you had on both your winter coats and one of Riris leather jackets underneath but it was clear no amount of layering would save you— or atleast not with the clothes you'd packed.

you smacked your forehead multiple times over like that would help as you cursed yourself for not going with her. You probably could've convinced Riri to carry you around on her back, if you had.

You poked your head out of the tent and it was nearly pitch black outside, now. The firepit lit up the inside of the empty but tiny lot, just enough to see a few trees surrounding.

The wind blew once more and your ears were starting to burn slightly from how cold it was, even with your beanie on.

By the time your brain had registered what you were thinking about doing, you'd already gotten up & were planting yourself on one of the logs that assisted as chairs. Gloved hands reached out to the fire and only then could you finally feel the slightest umpth of warmth.

You don't get to enjoy the heat for long when a snap of a branch comes from your left, pass the entrance of the camping site and you freeze in place. You try to write it off. You had to remember you were literally in the middle of a forest, it was a given that some wild life would lerk about— and you tried hard to convince yourself that's all it was.

It comes again but dangerously close and your hands drop to your sides faster than your heart to the pit of your stomach, your eyes are wide open, you weren't sure if you were prey but you weren't going to stick around to find out and before the third one can come you've already dashed it back to the little pavilion.

Zipping it up as quickly as you could with shaky hands & thick gloves, covering yourself in the comforter as a shield from whatever could be coming incase it followed you in.

Your breath hitches in your throat as the footsteps near and all you can think about was how much you wished Riri was here to protect you.

The soft thud of something weighty being dropped near your tent makes you jump and freeze out of pure unbridled fear. You have yet to blink, irises shaking and again you feel stupid because the only thing you had to defend yourself with was a lousy clothespin in the front pocket of Riris jacket.

The familiar sound the zipper sliding down sends shivers down your spine and you clutch the small needle tighter, at least you'd be going down with a fight albeit not alot.

You're too scared to even move an inch when you feel a fluffy but ice cold touch on your shoulder. You yelped, moving to a crouch as you held your clothespin infront of yourself.

"Baby, what are you doing?" Riris voice booms & vibrates against you. You can tell she's holding back a laugh by the condescending tone.

You squirm in her grip, trying to turn around in her strong arms,disbelief written all over your face, "You scared me!" you reply with a huff before hitting her hard chest, "Why didnt you say anything when you saw me running?"

"Cause I like the way you run off when you know you're not supposed to be doing something." She chuckles before kissing the side of your face, "Like doing the exact opposite of what was asked when I–"

"Ok, yeah, i get it, damn." you huff and drop your head at the lecture only for her to lift your chin so she can look you in the eye.

She pecks your cheek with chapped lips, forgetting what she was gonna say. Leading you to scoff when she releases her firm grip so she could remove her fuzzy noggin, “But...you were taking too long and i was freezinggg in here."

Riri quirks a brow, smirk festering to the surface, "I took not even 15 minutes."

You smack your teeth at her excuse, "you wouldn't understand." she laughs bolsteriusly, all whites showing as she tosses the hat to the side before seating herself against the back of the tent.

Riri pats the area beside her, "C'mere."

You crawl over to your wife, very tempted to climb into her lap but opting to just let yourself be enveloped when she wrapped her arms around you.

"Fifteen minutes feels more like forty-five when you're dying of frost-bite." you mumbled still not over it yet, snuggling into her, hogging her warmth for yourself.

"Mhmm.." she sighs. She knows that technically human bodies are much more vulnerable than one of her... stature but she also knows when her wife is being dramatic. Her hands rub up and down your back, earning a satisfied hum in response.

Your legs were stretched under you as her thumbs stroke at your cheeks, leaving goosebumps in their wake from how hot they were and it seems the both of you completely forgot about dinner.

She snorts at you before blowing air, "Well, I'll tell you what..If you miraculously manage to make it through the night, I'll get you the finest suite money can buy– in one of those what'd you call if? 4 springs? Gonna get you some proper breakfast and—"

"Mmm, thank god." You quipped before she could finish.

Riri smacks her teeth gathering you at the same time. "Yeah Anyway...all you'll have to do is sit pretty in bed and let me spoil you since you were willing to do this for me." she replies behind a smile before landing a fat peck to your temple, you moan approvingly, nodding as you clutched her shirt in your fist.

"I don't think you understand how much i appreciate it." You lift your head after a few seconds passed and she didnt let go only to find hungry dark orbs staring back at you, falling to your parted lips and then back up. Heat rushes to your face as you look anywhere but at her, "I- I do." an odd burning sensation sets in your core racing all the way up to your tummy.

"Yeah? I bet you still want me to show you though, huh?"

Riri wonders if it'd be selfish to have you right here and now, with how frozen to the touch you were just a second ago.

You grab at her arm, that doting look in your eye that you get when you're too shy under her gaze to speak your mind and she hastly decides it's not. That infact, the little action she's seeking would be helping you in the end.

So she drops her arms from around your body, shaking her jacket off and quickly undoing your puffy winter coats.

She pushes you onto your back without a word. You make sure your silence isnt mistaken for no, helping her in her mission to unbutton the first layers of jackets and slide them away.

Riri bellows at this. You always looked so pretty under her and it was a sight she'd never want to forget. She wastes no time climbing over you, straddling your thighs between her spread legs and leaning down to help.

She doesnt even need to survey once, rough hands just pulling and popping the zippers on the last few, "Ah–! Hey-" Riri brings her lips to yours in a means to shush you but she can't stop herself from the wantonly aura that read it was her who wanted more, her thumbs fumbling with the end of your shirt before yanking it up & over your bra. She grunts into your kiss a subtle, "Shut up, you won't even need them."

Your eyes flutter shut as you arch into her and there's no further argument. Just you kissing back with just as much fervor now, your hands grabbing the back of her neck and holding her closer. Riris hard fingernails scrape against your stomach as they made their way up to your breast, she fondles you gently through the fabric, circling her thumb in search of your nipple and pinching it between her index when she finds it.

You whimper into her mouth desperate for more but all she responds with is before doing the same to the other breast and pulling your bra down under the cusps of them once they'd pebbled hard enough.

She leaves you with a sweet kiss, then a peck that has you blindly chasing after her but you can't get far with the way she holds you down. You whine, bucking your hips up mindlessy absolutely desperate for any kind of friction. What you find in it's place takes you by surprise. You gasp before feeling at the bulge in her pants. Riri tenses on the spot, cursing under her breath before grinding into your palm.

"You brought your strap all the way out here, Ri?" you giggle while tugging on the tent in her pants.

Riri shakes her head, "No, I–!" she shudders when your hand moves even just a little bit, "No. It's all me." your eyes widen at her words.

You're immediately curious, feeling her up through her pants. Your fingertips going over her print and it's long, the thickest you've ever attempted to wrap your hands around. Your hands move lower and riri twitches up again. Right between a familiar set of puffy lips is where it sprouted and you're still a little in disbelief.

Riri holds your wrist in place, guiding it up and back down to the curved base. You can feel her hardening under your touch and it's oh so surreal. After a few more strokes you're already huffing under her, pupils pitch black & fully blown and she knows you're getting just as worked up.

And the shock of it all is not what you choose to focus on, if Riri says it's all her then you believe her. But that also means she must feel so suffocated in her tight-fitting boxers.

The first time you tried to move your hands away to pull at her pants, your reprimanded immediately. She takes it upon herself to push your wrists over your head, holding them in one hand, her extended claws were sharp and marking the skin just a little.

"Need t-to know if i can fuck you..." she whispers directly into your ear, your thighs clench beneath her at the blatant vulgarity.

Your words were caught in your throat in the middle of all of this. Riri takes advantage it, kissing over that side of your face multiple times before making her way to your neck, you gasp, opening your legs mindlessly and Riris already centering her bulge in the middle of your covered achy lips.

She whimpers because of how sensitive you managed to make her, abusing your swollen clit through damp fabric, frantic for a release and she needs to know if you're ready now more than ever.

Riri holds onto the back of your thighs, rolling her hips "Please.." she begs for what seems to be the first time, big brown eyes darting everywhere on your face, bursting with impatience, she felt like she was going to throb herself into a slow release.

You nod your head quickly, she could have whatever she wanted from you right now. Riri sighs before releasing your hands and you already know not to move them.

Riris anxious fingers fumble around for your leggings, tugging and tossing them to the side somewhere.

Your scent is strong and it takes over her senses completely, she almost puts her own needs aside just for a taste, an you can see the complexity in the pinch of her brows as her figure loomed overtop of you.

Evidently she made up her mind as the pads of her fingers now slid down to the edge of your panties and you can see her physically fighting the animalistic urge to rip them off of you. She utilizes her middle & ring, roughly dragging them to your ankle, letting you kick them off before she dips them lightly between your sticky lips, you hiss, giving it your all to not shut your legs around her fingers as she enjoyed the slick.

She decides it was enough with the waiting, you clearly needed this just as bad as her. Riri unbuckles her cargos, sliding off her boxers aswell.

Small desperate pants slip past your lips at the sight of your wife, taking in her muscular form but, what really captures your eye is the pretty little trimmed patch of curly hair sprawled down her abs. Your hands have a mind of their own as you grab her hips with one and claw at her toned tummy to her sport bra with the other.

She bites down on her bottom lip before swatting at you, "Fuck– Alright baby..." she speaks as she collects your wrists in one of her hands... again. She maneuvers your legs up to your chest, so she could appraise your gaping hole; so patiently awaiting her arrival.

Riris holds the tip of her erect clit in her hand, bringing it over yours and rubbing it in the wad of spit she just landed there, letting you grind up as you pleased till she had to go back down.

"Oww– huuh, ohh!" You whimper out the first words you'd spoken since she started this whole thing as she smoothly inches her way pass your entrance. Riri herself, is left hissing when she finally breaks through the ring, grazing each side of your walls effortlessly.

Your head tilts back upon entry, mind going blank as you grasped the comforter under you, needing something to keep you afloat. You're suffocating her and she's barely had a taste. she pushes further until your pelvics meet, bottoming out in one strained push.

"G–god damn." Her clit throbs inside of you, giving you more to stretch around in case you were becoming too accustomed with it the first time.

Riri murmurs more curse words under her breath from the way you clenched and halted her in place when she attempts to move. Only wanting to set a slow but satisfying rhythm to get you both used to the other.

She holds you down with one hand to your waist, pulling out to the rim of your pussy and then slamming back in. She moans louder, getting loss in the immediate pulsing of your gooey walls.

"Yes, Riri~–!" Your eyes roll as she starts to pick up the pace, fucking you harder into the matt. Not even her biggest faux piece had made you feel this full— you want some more and right now.

Her labia kisses yours as she digs deeper into you, strings of your arousal mixing with her own. "Fuck y/n." she whispers your name behind an exasperated grunt, pounding into you harshly as she held onto your waist.

Your face feels like it's on fire and your belly is rapidily turning, you were right on the cusp of an orgasm and too fucked out to warn her.

Yet you tried. You tried jerking on her clit to still her movements. But it only excites her more. She growls in response, "Mmmn—!" slapping your breast and biting her lip till she could taste iron when it bounced, ignoring your yelp completely, "Keep pulling on my shit, baby."

It grows again, the heads vibrating as your pussy adjusted around it and if it weren't for the constant sloshing from the mix of both of your releases against the other, you probably would've heard the humming.

You cry out at the stretch, pushing at her lower stomach to slow down but she simply smacks at your hands, "Nah, this is what she wants– look how she takes me. Don't be greedy, babygirl." Riri taunts referring to the loud squelch of your pussy every time she thrusted just a bit.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as she shook the whole damn mat, "Riri—! I can't—" you try to fixate on the place where your body met hers, clenching around her again, throwing her off balance and she gives up on the steady strokes, "Gonna nmph—! Fucking fill you deep if you do that shit again, Mhmm.." She starts pistoling her hips into you, sloppily creating a dripping mess between your bodies, "..make you have all my babies."

You probably looked like a googly eyed fool with the way they rolled to the back of your head at her rambling, you want it all so bad, you felt delirious.

Your legs lock around her hips as you moaned out a chant of her name, clamping down on her clit with a deadly vice and her head falls back instantly, she lets you have it. Riri holds your lower stomach with her palm, hips stuttering as she ruts against you, desperately using you to empty all her nut into.

The silky straws of her cum are so warm and it makes you have an explosion on your own, your cream gushing and mixing with hers, leaking out of your pussy straight down onto the flat bed because that's you were too stuffed to keep any of it in.

And eventually all of the thick liquid combined slowly pushes her out completely.

Riri looks down to find her clit twitching, absolutely drenched in cum—she's not sure who's– still dripping from the ring formed near the base and that was surely your work.

She gets more aroused at the thought. Rubbing at your sensitive inner–thigh, ready for another round and apparently you were too by how they ease open for her.

"Can you give me a color baby?" fingers moving up to your silk-covered folds.

You blink slowly at her, nodding as you grabbed at the wrist of her curious fingers, "g–green.."

Riri bobs her head, trying not to let her smirk suffice. You're shaking, still on the cusp and yet you want more? what a slut. she hides it by kissing all over your face, making you whine when she got everywhere but your lips.

Your arms are quick to wrap and lock around her neck, pulling her down to you and Riri has to stifle a laugh at how desperate you were acting. Knowing she can't go on long when trying to resist you, she let's you win this battle.

This kiss was different then the first, you had her by the little strands of her neck hair, moaning into the hot kiss when she bit down on your lip, your mouth opens, accepting her tongue and you can feel her shaft poking and twitching with want against your lower stomach as she licked & searched every bit of it..

This kiss was messy & frantic, something that described the both of you to a tee in the exact moment.

Riri growls again, muffled but it still makes your head spin. You arch your back into her, the bottom of her clit rubbing ontop of your own and you have no choice but to leave the kiss, your head falling back in defeat as she kept rolling her pelvic against you.

"Ri! Wait, please–! just wait!" You were gonna cum if she kept going and hard, your body wouldn't have been ready for that yet.

You're flanking against each rushed thrust, as she panted heavily, "shit!shit!shit!" grunting lowly but with your constant running the satisfaction wouldn't be the same.

So Riri stops, she unravels your arms from around her body and sits back on her knees, "Come ride me." she bids, eager to have you all over again while licking at her lips, moist with your spit and cherry balm.

Your mouth gapes open as you stared at her. She purposely moved to the opposite end, knowing you would struggle to make it over there. Ri sits flat down on the mat now, her legs spread and clit swaying proudly over her lap and all you can do is bat your lashes pathetically.

You felt as if you were glued to the bedding with the way you body refused to move. Riris mean– she's so mean when she laughs at you. Shaking her head and crawling back over to you on her knees.

She stays silent as she pulls you into her chest before maneuvering your body the other way around. She pushes you roughly back down into the sheets, "Since you don't wanna listen."

Your brows raise for the first time as you weakly held yourself up on your elbows. You almost speak up but you're interrupted by the sound of a loud moan when she enters you again, moving without giving you a chance to adjust.

"Never gonna be able forget what this pussy feel like, baby." she murmurs softly despite her hard & cruelly plodding pace.

Her hands dig back into their designated slots on your waist and you drop your head, admittedly liking the harsh way she fucked and used your body for her own selfish needs. "Feel so good!" you mumble drunkenly.

The outburst earns you a slap to the round of your ass. You yelp, pulling off to the tip of her clit. "Eugnh! Fuck!" Sticking your back out, approvingly.

"Who told your ass to move?" she growls while roughly yanking you back to her mound, you mutter a meak apology that means nothing to riri as she clenched her teeth, watching you make a mess of her clit. She plays with the globes of your ass, spreading them pleasantly as you formed an unnatural arch trying to push back into her, feening for it.

"Yeah, baby? You like this position, huh? Dirty girl."

You only nod but riri corrects you, a crackle hits the air when she drops her open palm on your ass again, "Talk back to me."

You whine, arms giving out and slumping down to just your elbows, "f-fuck yes, mommy!"

Riri coos before slapping your ass again right in the middle as she snapped her hips, "You want it faster? Huh?"

You moan, "Yeah–!"

"Work for it then." riri sighs out cooly while stopping immediately against you.

Your knees shake pathetically as you immediately try. You throw it back for the first time, just tightening around her and hoping it'd be enough.

Riri squeezes the flesh of your ass in her hand in return having you curl into yourself at the satisfying burn, she bumps you against her until you were able to fuck yourself off her.

"See– shit! You know what you're doing baby."

Riri catches what you throw, grunting dirty pleasures into your sweaty neck, as you led her closer to a final climax.

"My good girl..Damn.", "Fuck, look how you working this shit."

You were brought to the final straw when she brought her hands under your body, pushing her way into your sloppy folds so she could rub at your small clit and ease your nerves. It jolts you again, but you don't run this time, just grinding down into it. You're sure to alert her though. An ear shattering, "M'gonna cum so hard mommy shiiit!"

"And mommy really wants your cum, pretty." She fucks you harsher, pulling you back and forth on her clit so hard you were gasping out at each one, the head tickling your cervix and pushing you further into your orgasm. "C'mon then."

"Ahh! Oh! M'gonna–so close shitghh–!"

Your orgasm racks through your body hard, you can't even keep up with riris strokes, letting her fuck you through your high and then you're clawing at your pillows tryin to get away. She keeps going until her hips stutter into an climax, exploding and pounding it into your coated walls until the high had escaped her.

You cry out finally sliding off her piece and closing your eyes, thighs still shaking just a bit as you went through the motions all over again. Your stomachs twisting and pulling and you dont even feel like turning around the right way– just wanting to catch your breath.

You're trembling slightly when her eyes set back on you, she can tell you're not all the way back yet. She moves between your legs to rub at your thigh and she finds it burning to the touch, problem solved, she smirks proudly.

Riri sits on the same log you had, the muscles in her biceps bulge as she grips the buck by its front and back legs, laying it flat with a thud much louder than before, using her extracted nails to get rid of the rope she tied it's ankles with in one simple swipe.

When you finally come to and realize she's not by your side, you're immediately jolting up, thinking she left you again. You're quick to take notice of the thick comforter keeping you tucked in. It still hurt to move, your body was so sore but you were more determined to go find Riri.

You toss the blanket over, revealing a fresh set of the aforementioned girls sweatpants snug on your legs and you can't seem to remember how you even got then on.

you groan obnoxiously, lifting yourself up to properly rub the sleep out of your eyes, "Riri!?" your voice was hoarse from *the possible* hours before.

You hear a faint "outside!" and have already kicked into your winter boots. And Riri doesn't need an announcement of your presence, she can feel you idling close by and pats her thigh, you gladly squeeze your way into her bulging arms, wrapping your own around her waist but under her puffer so you could steal some of her body heat.

Riri gets side tracked once again, with your weight ontop of hers, completely forgetting about dinner for a split second as she wraps her arms around you and hoists you further into her lap, her head falling comfortably ontop of your chest while your arms become a cloak around her neck.

She breathes in your scent a little and goosebumps are sprouting under the thick garments now, "Don't you wanna know what happened?"

"mhmn." you shrug your shoulders, you weren't really sure at all, mind still hazy and too busy dozing off in her arms. She was naturally very warm & cozy, almost like a living teddy especially when wearing the fluffy coat you got her and your thoughts becoming pinkish brown mush, vision slowly becoming black dots filling in a canvas as you pressed tighter into her hold, were evidence of that.

The doe-like fluttering of your lashes has her stumped, she's not going to make you stay up since it was her fault you were so worn out in the first place but, she was going to make sure you ate first.

Apparently, you ended up falling asleep against her somewhere down that line anyways because when you next open your eyes, its with a tubberware bowl full of some sweet smelling soup in her lap and a silver utensil, pokin your lip. You furrow your brows, still not all the way up yet and Riri chuckles, "Try it. It'll warm you up a little bit more."

You happily encourage her spoonfeeding it to you after this sliver of information, humming at the unique taste once it hits you. How she was able to skin and gut that deer with you in her arms the entire time, still unbeknownst to you.

This was supposed to be for Halloween but.. Well, I'll think of an excuse & comeback later 😚

🔖: @sapphicbarbz @shurislover @s0lam33y

(ty @lppriceisright for proof reading another fic for me!)

[paimonial-rage]

returning home - freminet

ship: freminet x reader

synopsis: selkies are creatures of the sea. the world of land can never be their home

notes: 11.2k words, au where the twins don’t exist and arlecchino hasn’t taken over the house of the hearth yet

It took you a few moments to realize what they were speaking of when you heard it. A selkie. You heard that word before, long before your father sold you to the orphanage. Your mother told you the stories as a child cuddled up to her side on those cold nights. With a smile, she would weave tales of the marvelous creatures hidden within the boundaries of Fontaine as her lovely voice would lull you to sleep.

Though human in appearance, selkies were creatures of the sea. It was said that on some nights when one was really lucky, one would be able to see a seal shed its coat on the shore. And from it, a beautiful human would emerge. If you wanted to bind them to land, it would require stealing and hiding their seal skin. But you had to make sure they never found it, for if they did, the sea would inevitably call for their return. They cannot ignore that which flows through their veins.

You were not surprised to hear that word again, nor that they existed. There were many strange and mystical creatures throughout the whole of Teyvat. What you found the most surprising was your lack of it upon hearing that Freminet was one.

A selkie.

He didn’t tell you. You happened upon it a few months after entering the House while eavesdropping on a conversation between two of your “instructors.” They said that the Director took his seal skin from him when Freminet’s mother first gave him to the House. She hid it away deep within her quarters in a chest by her bed. Though curiosity burned within them, the instructors did not dare ask to see it. The Director’s responses were never kind.

Still, the thought didn’t really bother you at first, nor did it spur you to action. Though you knew Freminet (you knew all the kids of the Hearth), it couldn’t be said that you truly “knew” him. You preferred to keep your distance, after all. The less you cared about your siblings, the better. Still, you knew enough of Freminet to know what he was like.

He was a gloomy kid, quiet and polite. When he wasn’t on missions, one could often find him in the Hearth’s bookroom reading stories or in the basement tinkering on different clockwork machines. You could tell from the moment you first saw him that he was the sensitive sort, the type that was often overwhelmed by his emotions. It would explain why the Director picked on him so much.

But more than that, you could always tell that he didn’t exactly belong. Granted, barely any of the children of the House belonged. Majority were weak and pathetic, the kind that cried themselves to sleep every night. But Freminet was different. Perhaps it was how he’d speak softly to his clockwork creations or the way you’d often find him lingering under the surface of the sea for hours. It was as if he didn’t belong to the world in which you lived.

Still, you didn’t bother to put more thought into him than that. Children entered and exited the House like a revolving door. Though you started after him, you doubted he would be along for much longer. Such was the fate of the weak and pitiful. And Freminet was the poster child of such. It didn’t matter that he had a reason for being that way. You simply wanted nothing to do with him.

Unfortunately, life always found it hilarious to act in opposition to whatever you wished for.

It was a normal day just like any other around a year after you became a part of the House. You were put in command of a squad of your siblings, Freminet being one of them. You were to infiltrate the Fortress of Meropide through an underwater passageway to obtain intelligence gathered by one of the Hearth’s operatives. Under the guise of nightfall, you all dove into the depths of the sea to head to the rendezvous point. You doubted it would be too difficult to make it past the perimeter lighting, so you didn’t give anything much thought as you swam ahead of the group.

Then it happened. All of a sudden, a hand yanked your arm back and began pulling you back to the surface. It was Freminet. And though you could not see his expression through the diving helmet, there was nothing that could describe his actions better than “panicked.” It irritated you at first, prompting you to fight back. In an odd bout of confidence, you didn’t see anything worth retreating over. But when he finally turned and pointed at your siblings floating lifelessly at your sides, you finally realized the urgency.

It was only when you both grabbed everyone and regrouped at the surface that you realized what occurred. There was a malfunction in the oxygen tubes causing an uneven distribution of gasses in the suits. If he didn’t warn you right then and there, you would have lost consciousness and died in the water with the rest.

When you all returned before the Director that evening, you spoke up before the rest could. You told her that the mission was terminated early due to an oversight on your part. Before your siblings could disagree, you sent them back to the orphanage, away from the Director. You didn’t think much of it. This wouldn’t have happened had you double checked the suits beforehand, so you didn’t mind taking the blame. Besides, you highly doubted the rest would care. No doubt they were relieved they would not have to be punished.

So imagine your surprise when you stumbled back to your bed hours later, bloodied and bruised, to find Freminet there with a first-aid kit in hand. The way guilt filled his eyes made you want to sneer. Such weakness would do him no favors as a child of the House. Not wanting his pity, you told him to leave. But instead, with gritted teeth, he refused. He wished to dress your wounds. And though you tried to explain to him that such niceties would earn him nothing, he still made no move to leave. However, exhausted and not willing to invest any more energy into him, you finally decided to let him be.

It was the first time your wounds ever healed so quickly.

You thought at first that would be the last of it, but every time failed missions left the back of your legs torn to ribbons, there he would be to wrap you up again. It reached a point you didn’t even argue with him anymore. You simply watched. When you finally asked why he chose to help you all the time, he answered back with something you didn’t expect.

“You sacrifice yourself for the other children of the House all the time. I’m… really thankful for that.”

You almost wanted to laugh.

“Sacrifice?” You echoed with a scoff. “I have no recollection of ever doing that.”

“Whenever a mission fails, you always take the fall for the team. You distract our instructors when they’re punishing others. You protect the younger ones when we’re in battle. If… that isn’t sacrifice, what is?”

You didn’t know how to reply to that. While he wasn’t exactly wrong that you did those things, it wasn’t for the reasons he purported. As the leader of missions, it was your responsibility for things to proceed as planned. Beating the children meant more failed missions. And the more people that got hurt on missions, the more work you’d have to do. But you knew there was no point in saying such things. You highly doubted he would believe you.

“Still. Taking care of me isn’t going to change anything. Being kind won’t change things for the better,” you finally responded, doing your best not to wince once he applied the antiseptic.

“I don’t know. Maybe things will.”

You didn’t respond after that. If there was one thing you did not do, it was associate yourself with people in denial. If being kind is what caused change, the House would’ve been a very different place ages ago. As it was now, the only way to survive was to put oneself first no matter what. Kind acts only got one hurt in the end.

And yet, on days you had nothing to do, you found yourself frequenting his company. It certainly wasn’t because you liked him. Perhaps you were curious or maybe you simply just wished to pass the time. If he wasn’t going to leave you alone whenever you were injured, you felt it would only be right to bother him during the moments he may have wanted his solitude.

“You don’t think they’re real, do you? Those fairytales,” you asked one day, peering over his shoulder to the book he held.

It wasn’t a question you’d ask just anyone. Even children had the ability to differentiate between fantasy and reality. Freminet, though, you weren’t too sure. You saw the way he’d speak to his clockwork creations. You noticed how he’d spend his spare change on new picture books. You knew he preferred to live in his mind, but you never knew the extent to which he did. As if reading your mind, he shrunk under your gaze.

“No, even I know the difference between fantasy and reality. I… I know some look down on them, but I find strength through stories like these.”

“Why?” You asked, unable to keep your mouth shut. “Aren’t you just using them to run away?”

He bit his lip.

“I… I don’t mean to…” He mumbled, shrinking even further.

You grimaced, doing your best to ignore the way guilt rose in your throat.

“No, I’m not… I’m not attacking you. I’m just trying to understand. If you think I’m wrong, just say so. I’m not going to get mad.”

Biting his lip, he glanced back down at his storybook. Then after gathering his thoughts, he turned his gaze to you once more.

“I… I think instead of running away, the worlds I read in fairytales help me to stay. They’re so different, but I feel connected to them, like they’re supporting me. And while I know they don’t exist here, I can’t help but feel they do somewhere out there. Knowing that helps me to try to live up to what they see in me by facing the world I live in.”

When you didn’t respond, though, his gaze turned to the floor once more.

“S-Sorry, I know it’s dumb–”

“I still don’t really get it, but…” You then turned to him. “If you’re saying they’re helping you to be stronger, I’ll believe you.”

If you had to be honest, you weren’t taking his words as easily as you seemed. Though you did have to admit that he was getting more forward over time, you couldn’t quite believe him fully as of yet. Using such fragile means as a crutch was still a form of running away, right? That was not even mentioning how he viewed the fairytale worlds as “real” in some way. Was this due to him not quite being part of the human world in the first place?

The more time you spent with him, the more you started to feel that perhaps he was not the person you initially believed him to be. Though still quiet and apologetic, you soon found out he didn’t exactly let you push him around. During moments you disagreed, you’d sometimes find his voice raising ever so slightly so as to insist his point be heard. Never would you have thought he had a stubborn streak to him, nor how much it would have bothered you.

“I knew what I was doing,” he told you one day as he laid in his bed.

Your hands shook in anger as they used gauze after gauze to clean the backs of his legs. Some lash marks cut deep enough that only stitches would keep them closed. Could you steady your fingers long enough to complete that? You didn’t know. You couldn’t think straight. You were itching to do anything but this. You wanted to punch something. Stab something. You knew who you wanted to bleed. But that’s not what was needed for you at the moment.

“If you knew what you were doing, you never would have ended up in this state. What were you thinking!?” You hissed.

“If I didn’t,” he began, “everyone else would have been punished too. Besides, don’t you do the same?”

You gritted your teeth, unable to stifle the growl that rose in your throat.

“That’s not the same thing,” you spat out. “We’re not the same, Freminet. You’re not like me. You’re not strong. Mother already has something out for you and now you do this!? Are you an idiot? You need to stop pretending like you’re something more. You are weak, just like the rest, so just stay in the basement hiding away with your fairytale friends and clockwork penguins and stop–” You caught yourself a moment too late. “Wait no, I didn’t mean it like that. I–”

Your wide eyes met his, both of you clearly not expecting the outburst. Yet when concern took over his expression and not anger, you found yourself confused. You couldn’t even move when he reached out his hand to brush something from your cheek.

“I’m sorry, First. Don’t cry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Before you had the chance to snap back, you finally felt it, the stray tear that was trailing down the left side of your face. You pulled back. You weren’t actually– But when another tear began to fall, this time on the right, you hastily wiped it and the rest that were starting to fall away.

“If you’re sorry, don’t do it again,” you finally mumbled.

But he shook his head.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

No matter how much you argued with him that evening, he refused to let it go. He didn’t care if it meant gaining Crucabena’s attention. He didn’t mind that it resulted in him getting hurt. It made you wonder if perhaps you were at fault. If you didn’t keep seeking out his company, would he have ever conjured up such terrible ideas? How could he not see where you were coming from?

So upset you were with him that when he invited you out the next day, you said yes only for the chance it gave to yell at him away from the House’s walls and ears. Ever busy mentally preparing the lecture for him, you didn’t even notice when you found yourself at the docks with a diving suit in hand. Seeing the question in your eyes, he hesitated.

“I want to show you something. Just trust me.”

So steeling your gaze, you nodded and slipped on the diving helmet. After jumping into the water, he led you by hand down into the depths. Though you never noticed it before, it was interesting to see how seamlessly he glided through the water. Though there were many places in the deep that the currents tossed one this way and that, he navigated each stream with ease as if he instinctively knew which ones to take to get to his goal.

Eventually you finally reached a parting between the corals and seaweed where the light shined through. There the Romaritime flowers were in full bloom as blue and purple Tidalga danced along to the sides. Large pink clam shells could be seen in the distance with Lumitoile dotting the rocks. Instinctively you knew this was the place he’d come to hide during those times he was away from the House.

Pulling you to the middle of the clearing, he then let himself lay back upon the sand and looked up at the sky. In confusion, you followed suit and turned your gaze skyward. The sight was breathtaking. The clouds swayed with the movement of the waves as the sun’s harsh gaze softened within the waters. Colorful fish entered and exited your vision as if they didn’t notice your presence. Despite the symphony of sight dancing before your eyes, it was silent. Peaceful.

It was only when the sky began turning a warm reddish hue that you finally realized the time. It certainly wouldn’t do you both well to get back so late. But when you turned to your companion, his eyes were still on the sky as if transfixed. And when you nudged him to catch his attention, it took a few moments for him to come back to himself, as if finding ground within his body once more. And by the way he looked back longingly at the clearing as you swam away, it was clear he did not wish to leave.

When you both broke the surface and began to remove your diving suits, you couldn’t tear your gaze away from him. Did he know, you wondered, that this was where he belonged? That this was his real home?

“Is this where you go when you’re not on missions?” You asked, already knowing the answer.

He nodded.

“The underwater world is much simpler than the world of dry land. When I’m there, there’s no sound and everything is peaceful. I feel I can be myself.” He bit his lip before continuing. “I know you’re worried about me, but I’ll be okay. I… I may not be as strong as you, but from you, Pers, being able to come here… I’m able to draw strength to protect the people and things I care about.”

You didn’t understand. How could you? How was he able to draw strength from a place he could barely bring himself to leave? He instinctively knew that it was there that he belonged. Still… as much as confusion filled your mind, you couldn’t deny that resolute look in his eyes. As much as you hated it, he wasn’t going to listen to you. He was going to protect the things he cared about in any way that he could.

That being said, never did you imagine you would be one of those things.

It was after a mission one thunderous evening. There you stood before Mother reporting of your success as your siblings, your teammates, did their best to stifle sniffles and sobs beside you. It didn’t take Mother long to guess why. You were a team of five, after all. So whatever could have happened that you came back with only three in tow? The way Mother smiled so kindly sent chills down your spine.

“My children,” she began, her voice soothing like sandpaper, “Don’t be sad. Death is a fact of life. As it was, your sister simply was not strong enough to survive. There is no need to mourn the weak. The only pride to be found is in being strong. You must keep up with your training so you won’t end up like her, hm?”

You left the debriefing with the taste of ash in your mouth. You didn’t follow your siblings to the dining room after, nor to the living room. Instead, you went straight to your bedroom and sat upon the floor at the foot of your bed. In every way, the Director was correct. The only way to survive the House was by being strong. It gave no favors to the weak. And yet…

And yet…

“First?” A voice called out as a knock came at your door. Though you didn’t answer, the door slowly creaked open as a face peeked inside. Your eyes did not meet his, but he stepped inside anyway and closed the door behind him before taking a seat next to you, invading your privacy as he usually did.

“I brought you something to eat. You… must be hungry after your mission,” he stated as he placed a tray of bread and soup before you. But once again, you did not reply.

“Are… you okay? Do you… want to talk about it?” He asked.

You gritted your teeth.

“What is there to talk about? Another child falls prey to the House. Isn’t that just another Tuesday for us?” You asked, throwing your arms before you in irritation. “I told her to be careful. I told her to run at the first hint of trouble. But what did she do? When push came to shove, she came back. After I told her to run! And now look where that got her. Can’t even live to tell the tale.

“Why didn’t she listen to me!?” You asked as you ran a hand through your hair. “If she just stayed hidden like I told her to, she would have survived. I was handling the situation just fine. I didn’t need her. Why do weak people like her do that!? Try to act like they can do things? She should have just kept her head low and protected herself and– And–”

Your head dropped as your voice finally broke.

“She was only nine, Freminet.”

Wrapping your arms around yourself, your shoulders shook as sobs began to wrack your form. You hated this. You hated this so much. You hated your siblings. You hated the House. But most of all, you hated yourself.

As he pulled you into his arms, you could only lean against him as you sobbed. “I couldn’t even stay there as she died. There were other people coming, so I… I left her there all alone. She had to die with nobody by her side. I couldn’t do a thing.”

That evening, he had no words to give that would console you. Instead, he simply held you, choosing to cry with you instead. After all, what else could you have done? What else was there left to say? Even though in the back of your mind, you knew you should have felt embarrassment and shame for being weak and crying before him so openly, you couldn’t bring yourself to do so. All you wanted was to be held.

From that day forward, the human warmth he gave so freely changed something within you. Often you would find yourself sitting next to him shoulder to shoulder. It wasn’t rare for you to find your way to his bed those evenings another orphan didn’t make their way home. It made you weak in a way you couldn’t bring yourself to mind. And neither did he.

He began to invite you to more things—reading together, tinkering with his clockwork creations, journeys into the sea. He began breaking the rules for you even more—sneaking you food when you were sent to your room without, distracting the instructors when you were to be beaten. You scolded him every time, and though he’d stand there and take it, never did he listen to you.

You became used to it, having him around. For the first time in years, you wanted to be with someone. It almost made it too easy to forget that he wasn’t like you. But you couldn’t. You wanted to ignore it, that he wasn’t strong. That he wasn’t built to survive. That the House wasn’t a place he belonged. You were always reminded of it whenever he brought you to the ocean. You saw it every time, after all, how he didn’t want to leave.

It made you curious in the kind of way that made your chest grow tight and your heart beat. When did you start feeling that Freminet was safe? That there was no need to put up any walls between you? That his presence calmed you in ways no one else could? You didn’t know when he started to have that effect on you, but it definitely happened longer ago than you would have liked.

But to ask him about the question that had been rolling in your mind for so long? Truthfully, though only he could ease your disquieting emotions, you weren’t sure if you wanted to know. You knew what the truth would mean for you and what it would entail. You didn’t know if you were ready for it.

It was only after many visits to the sea that your curiosity finally won out.

“Freminet, you always go back to the sea whenever you have the time. So… if you had the chance, would you stay there forever if you could…?”

As if your question caught him off guard, his eyes widened at the thought. Then, he glanced away so as to ponder your words. Ever so slowly, his eyes were drawn towards the sea. You wondered what it was like. He could not ignore its call even if he tried. But as if he suddenly remembered where he was, he blinked once, then twice. Then he brought his attention back to you once more.

“N-No. I’d leave you behind.”

You couldn’t ignore the way your heart warmed at his response. It was as much of a lie as you knew it to be, but still. If he hesitated for you, even just for a moment, you supposed you could be satisfied with that. At least you knew you had a place within his heart. But it planted a seed, didn’t it?

So you began to play with thoughts, treasonous thoughts, during your spare moments of peace. You knew it. Your siblings knew it. There was no future within the House. If death didn’t come already, it would eventually. You’d seen it many times, after all. The House’s hunger was not partial. It did not discriminate. It welcomed any orphan unlucky enough to cross its path and devoured them whole.

No matter what you did, no matter how much you tried to ignore it, you lost track of the amount of siblings you saw come and go. They simply were not fit for it, not strong enough to survive. In the depths of your heart, you truly wanted to save them, but how could you? There were no lands the Fatui did not touch. There was no place they couldn’t go. What was the point in running away if it was inevitable to be found?

But Freminet was different. You didn’t know much, but if there was anything you knew for sure, it was that Freminet did not belong in the House. Sure, none of your siblings belonged, but Freminet truly was different. He wasn’t a creature of the land. He belonged to the sea. As much as you tried to protect him, he deserved so much more than you could ever offer.

If he had his seal skin, you thought, he could leave. He could live at the bottom of the ocean and never return. He could swim away, far away from Fontaine, and never look back. And why would he? Even now the sea sang for him. It longed to be reunited. What child could resist that? Who would give up the chance of returning home?

It was around the same time you began to hear rumors of one of your sisters, the Director’s favorite. If you heard it correctly, it seemed she had her eyes set on revenge against the House. Though you didn’t know her personally, you heard she was the sole survivor of the “competition” the Director set with another orphanage to become King of the House. She was strong, much stronger than the rest of you.

But as much as you wished to hope, you knew the truth. The Director was a woman to be feared. Revolts had occurred enough times for you to know the chances of success were low. And the punishment? If only it was death. With the regular kids in the House, they were beaten until the moment before they lost the light in their eyes. Then they were wrapped up and thrown back into servitude the day after. The Director wanted the orphans to long one day for freedom. It only made beating them into submission more sweet.

But what of the child that she raised into a King? No doubt she was strong. It would be no less than a fight to the death. If the Director had to kill the king she raised so dearly, what would that mean for the rest of you? Would she embroil the current House into a competition for a new king? And if that were to come to be, what would happen to Freminet? There was no way he’d survive.

So what if you snuck into the Director’s room, you wondered. What if you reached into the trunk she kept at the base of her bed and stole Freminet’s seal skin away? She wouldn’t notice, right? Surely you would have enough time to give it back to Freminet. And if the Director did return from the duel to the death with your sister, by then it would be too late, wouldn't it? Freminet would be long gone, back to the ocean where he belonged.

As the days passed, you found yourself listening more and more to the whispers shared between the bloodied walls. You discovered more about your sister, how she was training flames of her will. How powerful she was becoming. You heard how the Director was soon planning to take a trip to Mont Esus East, a place she often visited when she was free. It wouldn’t be long now. The thought sent shivers down your spine. But unfortunately, you weren’t the only one on edge.

“First?” Freminet asked one of those days, shaking you from your thoughts. “Did I… do something wrong?”

The way worry reflected so clearly within those gray-blue eyes of his drew up guilt within your gut before confusion could settle in.

“N-No?” You blurted out. “Did I do anything to make you feel that way?”

He then bit his lip and glanced away. And if you didn’t feel guilty before, you certainly did then. He always was the sensitive sort. You didn’t know how much bugging it took on your part to finally get him to open up.

“It’s just… you’ve been distant,” he finally let out. “If I did anything wrong, you’d tell me, right?”

As he asked, his eyes met yours as if searching for something, but what, you didn’t know.

“Of course I would,” you replied softly. “I’ve just been… distracted.”

And at the very least, it wasn’t a lie. He truly did not do anything wrong. And you had been distracted. You had many plans you needed to set perfectly into play, after all. But never did you think he’d catch wind that something was off about you. You thought you were acting as you always had.

But whatever it was he was searching for within your eyes, he did not find. Pressing his lips together, his hands balled into fists as he looked away in frustration. Whatever answer you were supposed to give, it certainly was not the one he wanted. But ever the gentle person he was, he didn’t use his growing irritation to lambast you.

“But… is that all it is…? During your free time, you don’t spend as much time at the House anymore. There were times I’ve seen you trailing the instructors when they go out. You’ve even been eavesdropping on our siblings when they’re not watching. I just… Is there something going on that you can’t tell me? Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?”

Your jaw dropped in shock. Were you that obvious? Never did you think you were that bad at intelligence gathering. When did he notice all of that? And how in the world did he trace the cause to himself? But you couldn’t tell him the truth. If he found out what you were planning, he’d never let you go through with it. You knew that he would never let you take on something so dangerous just for his sake.

He then took your hands, avoiding your gaze.

“Am I that unreliable to you that you can’t trust me?” His voice cracked. “Is that why you won’t let me help you?”

Your mouth gaped as you tried to find something, anything to say. But what could you? There was no way he’d understand your motives. But the more you hesitated, the more hurt his expression became. When it became clear that you were not going to break, he dropped your hands and took a step back. The way his shoulders drew themselves in constricted your chest. And when a tear finally slipped from his eye, your breath froze in your throat.

“I-I see. I… I’m sorry for bothering you.”

As much as you wished to forget, sleep avoided your grasp that evening. An uncomfortable ache settled in your chest. No matter how much you tried, you could not forget the way his voice wavered as he bid you goodbye. He left the House soon after your disagreement, no doubt bound for the sea. Did he realize that it was approaching curfew? He certainly would be punished by the Director if he came back a second too late. Should you go out for him? Should you apologize and tell him the truth?

Even when he returned, your thoughts were on him. You couldn’t stop. He didn’t return to you the next day or the following, after all. As each day passed, you found yourself gazing ever more to your bedroom door waiting for him to enter. What was he doing? Was he spending his time in the ocean or amongst the fairy tale books in the library? Was he thinking of you? You knew this would all be fixed if you just apologized, but as much as you wanted to, you knew doing so required telling him the truth, and you couldn’t do that.

So as each day you clung to your pride and fear passed, an unsettling truth finally began settling in. When you give him his seal coat, he would leave for good, won’t he? He would never return. And then what would you do then? Here you couldn’t last even a few days without his company. But when he finally left, would you be able to go back to being alone? When was it that he began to matter so much to you?

And then that final thought sunk in. What if… What if you didn’t give him his skin? It wasn’t like he ever found out you were planning on retrieving it. He couldn’t be hurt by something he didn’t know. If you just protected him, he could be with you. He wouldn’t have to leave. You could do that, right? Protect him from the Director and the instructors. Couldn’t you make him happy? You could walk up to him and apologize and everything would go back to the way they used to be.

And for that matter, who’s to say that he even was a selkie. Here you were operating all this off of a private discussion you heard years ago. Even if instinct screamed against it, there was still a chance he was human like you. And if he was, then he would have no choice but to stay. With you. Forever.

But… that wasn’t the truth, was it? You couldn’t ignore it even if you tried. All the signs of his lineage were there from the very beginning. And regardless of what happened between the Director and your sister, things would change and you had no power over that. As it was, the sooner Freminet left, the better. Even if it meant being alone, even if it meant your death, at least he could go home.

As distracted as you were with your thoughts, though, the House certainly was not. They heard the stories of your sister and the revenge she sought. They saw the excitement slowly grow within the Director’s eyes. What was going to happen next? Who was going to win? The air in the House was thick with tension. Where the younger ones shivered in fear, the older ones shook with maddened anticipation. Greed could be seen seeping into the eyes of the many instructors.

When that fateful day came, war was going to strike. The ever mounting sins of the House and its descendants would suddenly topple forth burying alive those not strong enough to survive. Would the children of the House break free of their oppressor? Would another cruel leader take the Director’s place? Or would this be all for naught? It was hard to say.

But the moment the Director left for Mont Esus East, you knew you couldn’t dwell in your sorrows and second thoughts any longer. Gone was your chance of reconciliation. It was now the time to act.

So when the early hours of the morning came, you slipped from your bunk and quietly stalked through the orphanage. Though there were instructors meant to patrol, the silence of the night lulled their senses dull, letting you sneak into the Director’s room unhindered. It was simple, too simple, but you didn’t allow yourself to question it. And just as the instructors said, there was the chest sitting at the foot of the Director’s bed.

When you went to open it, you couldn’t help but swallow nervously upon peering inside. The chest was filled with an assortment of knickknacks the Director no doubt stole from the other orphans, but there in the corner was what you had been dreading to find, the seal skin. Reaching for it, you couldn’t help but gasp as your fingers brushed against it. It was soft, like thick velvet. And when you pulled it out, a small clockwork pendant fell from its folds.

You couldn’t help but chuckle to yourself softly when you picked it up. You knew Freminet was very young when he was brought to the House, but it seemed even before then he was interested in clockwork creations. How very much like him. It made you so… You wiped away your tears. The pendant in question seemed to be a music box of sorts. But not wanting to accidently awaken anyone, you instead placed it into your pocket.

With the most difficult part of your plan accomplished, you then made your way to Freminet’s room. After silently sneaking your way in, you gently shook him awake. While it took a few moments for him to gather his bearings, he froze when his vision finally cleared to see you. But before he could speak, you pressed your finger against your lips to quiet him. Then, after standing, you held your hand out for him to take.

The sun was barely beginning to peak over the horizon when you finally made your way to the sea. Though you could feel his confusion as you dragged him along, you kept quiet. It was only when you reached the docks that you finally allowed yourself to turn your gaze to him in full, ready to put an end to this. But when you saw him looking at you with those beautiful eyes of his, you found yourself unable to speak. After all, what was there to say?

“I… here.” You finally got out as you pushed the bundle in your arms to his chest. “I’m sorry for avoiding you. I’m sorry for keeping quiet. And… I’m sorry this took so long. It’s your seal skin. I heard the Director took it from you when you first entered the House, so I stole it back. You’re a selkie, right? With it, you can… you can go home.”

Suddenly remembered the pendant, you reached into your pocket and placed it into his hand. “I forgot. I found this too. It’s yours, right?”

You avoided his gaze as you spoke, subconsciously wrapping your arms around yourself at the end. Your fingers dug into your skin as anticipation slithered up your veins. Up until this point, nothing exactly felt real. Now that it was here, there was something you needed to do, something you needed to say, but no matter how much you tried to bid the words to your lips, only silence came out. Was it fear that you were feeling? Or was it regret? What could you say to make him–

“Freminet, I–”

But when your eyes finally shot out to him, mouth open to speak, you were immediately rendered silent by the look upon his face. With widened eyes, his mouth hung open as stared at the pendant. Ever so gently, his fingers brushed against the cogs and gears as his breath was caught in his chest. Words could not describe the myriad of emotions that passed through his expression—nostalgia, love, longing, pain, regret. And when his eyes fell upon his seal coat, his shoulders shook as he pulled the bundle close to his chest, tears overflowing. With that, you immediately knew you lost your chance.

Reaching out to him, you put your hand gently on his shoulder and forced yourself to say the words he needed to hear, “Freminet, I’ve said this before, but you don’t belong here. You never did. You belong out there in the ocean. That’s where your home is. Go away from here. Get as far away as you can. If you want to do anything for me, you’ll leave and never turn back. Never return. I want you to be happy for me, okay?”

When his shoulders began to shake, you felt your eyes fill with tears. Unable to bear it any longer, you turned away. But after taking a few steps forward, you paused.

“Goodbye, Freminet.”

With that, you walked away. As you strolled back to the House, though your chest ached even more, a small smile came to your lips. After all, you did a good job, didn’t you? You properly gave him his seal skin and encouraged him to return home. You didn’t beg him to stay. Sure, you didn’t see him off, but still, you did everything else properly. Now he was free to live life as he wanted. He would not be tied to the House anymore.

You had nothing to say as you entered the House and saw some of your siblings eating at the table. Nor did you react when a few instructors walked past you on your way to your room. And when you opened the door to your room, you ignored the random tools upon the floor and first aid kit sitting upon your desk. You didn’t bother with the abandoned clockwork penguin to the side. You simply crawled into your bed and tightly wrapped yourself in a blanket.

Was this what it felt like to be alone?

—

You awoke to the sound of a loud bang against your door. Jumping out of bed, you materialized your spear as you wiped aggressively at your swollen eyes and tear-stained cheeks. The light of the setting sun peacefully streaming in from the window betrayed the ruckus coming from the House. Yelling and crashing could be heard down below, as well as cries from the younger ones.

Turning the knob of your bedroom door, you gasped as it swung open with the weight of someone leaning against it. Inwards one of your siblings fell as he clutched a bleeding wound at his abdomen. Gasping, you pulled him inside. He, however, did not seem to be concerned with his physical state. Instead, a wild grin was upon his lips. Grasping the lapels of your coat, he pulled you close.

“First, Mother is dead.” He laughed, coughing up blood. “That bitch is finally dead. Once we kill the other bastards, we’ll finally be–” He coughed again, this time with more blood from before prompting you to shush him.

After scrambling for the first aid kit, you lifted his shirt and examined the wound. He was stabbed by a sword. But before you could render first aid, another one of your siblings rushed in and closed the door behind her. Waving her over, you placed the first aid kit into her hands.

“Heloir, stay here and take care of Chapleau. Lock the door behind me when I leave. I’ll go check on everyone else. Stay safe, okay?”

After patting her head, you stood and exited your room. In comparison to the noise when you were awakened just minutes before, the House was eerily silent if not for the sound of whimpers and sobs down below. Making your way down the steps with your spear held out, the sight before at the bottom you told the answer why.

Bodies littered the ground of both orphan and instructor alike. Some of the younger ones could be seen crying as they did their best to render first aid to the group of older ones that were still alive. You swallowed as you took a step into the common room. Before, “Mother” forbade the killing of the orphans by the instructors. Had that all changed now that she was gone?

“So there’s one left,” came a snort behind you. Spinning around, you brandished your spear against the two instructors that walked out into the open. Though their clothes were torn in a few places, they were shockingly unscathed compared to the rest. The blood that was dripping from their swords implied what took place moments before. It seemed they couldn’t be in higher spirits. You gritted your teeth.

“Indeed. And there’s two left of you. You know, hiding to take over at the very end is a coward’s move,” you taunted with a grin.

They laughed brazenly.

“And what of you? You’re no different than us. All of you only want what Crucabena left behind.” The first one sneered.

Disgust filled your stomach. How repulsive. Was that all the orphans were to them? Someone to lord their rule over?

“Are you kidding me?” You asked in disbelief. “The only thing… The only thing we ever wanted was to be free!”

With that, you charged the instructors. Aiming towards the one closest to you, you swung your spear forward to which he deflected with a grin. Not letting that stop you, you charged forward and struck again and again, aiming to push him back. Not forgetting about his companion, however, you made sure to spin out of the way when she attacked from behind. Using your spear as leverage, you kicked her in the stomach, sending her careening back into a chair. However distracted for just that moment, the man nearly stabbed you in the gut, slicing through your coat instead.

It was a losing battle, you knew it well. Though the woman was slowly catching her breath, it wouldn’t be long before she made it back to her feet. Though you could fight, it definitely could not be said that you were the strongest child of the House. It wouldn’t be long before they overpowered you. The instructors were once orphans too, after all, trained under the watchful eye of “Mother” herself.

As you swung your spear forward to the one still on his feet, you couldn’t help but feel if not a bit of relief. You knew you would be facing death either way. Had Crucabena won, she would have killed you once she found Freminet gone. And had she lost, you certainly wouldn’t be able to hold your own against the instructors. But regardless, you still won. Though the House would deem you one of its victims, at least you saved the person that mattered the most. You could live with that.

So when you stabbed the man in the chest after he fell over the body of one of his comrades, you didn’t mind as you felt the sword from the woman slice you through from the side. Collapsing to your knees, your spear clattered to the floor as you clasped your hand over the wound. There was a wild look in the woman’s eyes as she yelled at you, but you couldn’t quite catch what she was saying. Was the man someone that mattered to her? You couldn’t help but laugh. After all they did to the children, what gave them the right to be so upset? And even more, what could she do to you?

But as she lifted her sword to inflict her final blow, she suddenly collapsed, falling to the ground before you in a crumpled heap. And when you looked up to see the culprit, it was the very person you expected last.

“Freminet…?”

His claymore dropped to the ground as he fell to his knees before you. Upon his face was an uncharacteristically furious expression as he used a knife to cut away pieces of your coat and shirt.

“Freminet, what are you–”

“First, please stop speaking.” His voice cracked as he spoke, and before long, tears began falling down his cheeks. But why was he crying? Did you cause that? And for that matter, why was he back? But as much as confusion bubbled within you, you obeyed his command and remained quiet. After patching you up with the first aid kit he ran to get from your room, he then helped you walk up the stairs and laid you in his bed.

“Stay here. I need to help everyone else.”

With that, he left you alone. As the sound of footsteps and talking began to travel from below, there you laid staring at the ceiling if not a bit confused. In the back of your mind, you were curious if this was all a dream. Why else would Freminet be back? He left, didn’t he? But if that was the case, how in the world were you lying in his room patched up? Unless the Hydro Archon wished you to die in peace, so she sent a happy memory before your last moments were up and now you were in purgatory.

And so your thoughts went as twilight began to progress into night. Even when a Fatui doctor came in and administered first aid, injecting you with a drug that made your eyes slide shut, you still didn’t quite believe it. And as your consciousness faded, you couldn’t help but be satisfied with this last dream given to you.

At least that’s what you thought until a throbbing sensation in your abdomen cut through the silence. It was not a sensation foreign to you. You were injured many times in the past during various missions. You knew the feeling that came about when the anesthetics were beginning to wear off. But… pain didn’t exist in dreams, right? So as you took a few moments to remember how you managed to get here in the first place—the revolt at the House, the face off with the instructors, then–

You immediately shot up into a seated position. Though the stitches upon your side nearly tore at the sudden movement, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You were currently back in your room at the House, but the light of the morning sun was streaming through your window. How much time had passed since you fell asleep? Was it all over? And Freminet? Why did he come back? Was he alright? Was he–

Suddenly the door opened, causing you to jump. Rushing to your bedside was Helnoir, eyes wide in alarm.

“First, the doctors said you shouldn’t be sitting up this early! You should be resting!” She exclaimed as she pushed you back. Though your strength was meager, you did your best to resist.

“Now’s not the time for that!” You demanded. “What happened? What’s going on?”

With a grim face, she recounted all that happened the past day and a half. After it was announced that Crucabena was taken out, a revolt took place within the House between the older orphans and the instructors. Once the revolt came to an end, all eight instructors and four orphans were killed, while 14 orphans remained injured. The Fatui arrived a few hours later not expecting a bloodbath to have occurred, but quickly took charge. Apparently they were called to secure the House until another director was put in place, but arrived too late. But that wasn’t all you needed to know.

“And Freminet?” You asked hesitantly. “Is he… Is he really…?”

Helnoir paused in thought. “He’s helping out with the other kids right now. Do you want to talk to him? I can grab him if he’s free.”

Though your chest tightened at the thought of seeing him, you nodded. If you had to be honest, you didn’t know how you felt about all of this. After all you did, after all you went through, he came back. You couldn’t wrap your mind around it. He had everything. He had the whole world before him, so why did he willingly walk back into hell? Were you furious? Panicked? Despaired? You couldn’t tell. Only seeing him would make sense of the storm going through your head.

But even after Helnoir left, Freminet didn’t come. Nor did he come the following days after. Then it occurred to you. When Freminet saved you from the instructor, he looked upset as he patched you up. He didn’t even want you to speak to him. But shouldn’t you be the one that was angry? What did you do that made him so upset? But if he was still upset, was that the reason why he wasn’t coming to see you?

So as you spent your days laying in bed recuperating, an uncomfortable sensation settled in your gut, the same one that came when you first refused to tell him your plans. It swished this way and that and only grew worse the more days that passed. That with the ache ever so present in your chest made you unable to eat much and you weren’t really sure you wanted to see him anymore. As upset as you were with him, what was the point in how you felt if you couldn’t receive his forgiveness?

So when you were finally cleared to leave your bed, it wasn’t to Freminet’s side that you went. Instead, far from it. Deep you delved into assisting the Fatui with various tasks like paperwork, missions, and the like. There was a lot to be done now that Crucabena and the instructors were gone, and you liked it like that. It kept your mind off of thinking and worrying. Even when some of the orphans would mention to you that Freminet wished to meet with you, you refused every time. It seemed that he was finally ready to see you, but you were not.

In the back of your mind, you knew how pathetic you were being. Never were you the type to give into fear, but the thought of speaking to him… It threw your stomach into knots. Not only did you make him sad and upset, but you also had no clue why he decided to return… or if he planned to stay. And that was the real crux of the issue, wasn’t it? He may have returned for a bit, perhaps due to some loose threads, but he had so much more for him waiting out there, more than what was here.

But wasn’t that a good thing? Wasn’t that what you wanted? For him to leave? Sure, the issues with the House may have been settled with the arrival of the higher ups in the Fatui, but that still didn’t mean all of its problems were solved. They were still waiting to see who would be appointed to take Crucabena’s place and if that person would be worse than her. No matter how much you thought about it, you couldn’t think up a single reason why he would stay.

As you sat at the foot of your bed in thought, you sighed. Flopping back, upon your bed, you rested an arm over your eyes. What a pain in the butt you were being. Absolutely pathetic. Since when were you ever such a sniveling coward, afraid of Freminet of all people? Whatever worries or fears you had, it wasn’t doing you any good avoiding them. So that meant you had to face them. Yes, you would have to speak to Freminet.

Standing up, you made your way out your room and down the steps. Not catching the familiar ashy blonde in sight, you waved down the nearest orphan.

“Foltz, do you know where Freminet is?”

He hummed in thought.

“I heard him saying he had to go somewhere. He had something in his hands too, but I didn’t catch what it was. Some kind of carpet, I think?”

His last words froze you still.

“A-A…” Your breath became short. Taking his shoulders, you looked deep into his eyes. “When did you see him leave? Be as specific as you can. Please, I need to know.”

Foltz, now a bit worried by your demeanor, squirmed as he hurried through his memories.

“Um, I don’t know. Maybe a few hours ago…?”

You were out of the door by the moment the last word left his lips. As you dashed to the beach, your heart thudded in your chest. If only you didn’t avoid him. If only you agreed to see him when he asked for you, then you would have… you… You soon came to a stop.

This… This was a good thing. It was a good thing that he took his seal skin with him. This was what you wanted. This was what you’d been planning for. You wanted to laugh. Why did you have to keep telling yourself that? What made you keep forgetting your goals so easily? Besides, no doubt Freminet fulfilled all his remaining wishes. He had no reason to stay any longer. The world was his oyster and it was about time he took it.

Yes, this was… Your hands balled into fists as the ache in your chest became even more pronounced. Him leaving was a good thing. He had no reason to stay, least of all for… for you. Even if you asked, he certainly wouldn’t…

You sighed.

Still, you supposed it wouldn’t hurt going to the beach just one more time. It had been a while since you went and you were missing the scent of the salt air. Besides, you were already over halfway there as well. It wouldn’t make any sense going back. And with the sun just starting its descent, the sight would no doubt be a welcome one after such a stressful past few weeks.

So when you finally made it to the beach, you definitely did not look around for an ashy blonde mop of hair. And when you walked upon the sand, you did not gaze at the horizon for five minutes, ten minutes, even longer waiting. But when you finally made your way to the shoreline and felt the gentle waves lap against your feet, you finally had to admit it. You bit your lip as your eyes fluttered shut.

He was gone–

“First?”

The sound of that familiar voice dried up any tears as you looked up in shock. There, waist deep in the water, was Freminet. His eyes were wide as he looked upon you, no doubt just as surprised as you were. And in his hands was not what you expected to see, but a diving helmet. Was he simply swimming for the past few hours? And if so, why not with his seal skin? But more importantly…

“Why… are you still here?”

The words came unbidden from your lips before you could stop them. But still, you couldn’t stop the confusion from welling up within you.

“I… I gave you everything you needed,” you began with a disbelieving laugh. “I set everything up perfectly. You had no reason to stay. There’s nothing left for you here. So why–”

“Why… do you keep treating me like that?”

His words brought you to a pause.

“What do you mean?”

Though he was looking away, upon his face was the same furious expression he showed you when he found you on your knees bleeding out from your side.

“Why do you treat me as if I don’t know any better? Like I can’t decide things for myself?” Tears began to drip down his cheeks. “You… always decide things for me without ever listening to what I have to say. I just… How could you ask me that? Why I’m still here?” After a moment of gathering his composure, he then finally looked at you, hurt and anger clear in his expression.

“Did you think I wouldn’t know, First? That Mother would have had you killed had she found out what you did? Didn’t you think about how I would have felt if that happened? If I didn’t come when I did, you… you would have…”

He had to pause as a sob ripped through his throat.

“I’m not a child, First. I knew everything that was going on. I knew about the planned revolt. Didn’t… Didn’t you think we could have worked out something together? That we couldn’t have protected each other? Is that how unreliable I am to you?” His head then dropped as his voice cracked. “Is that why you keep trying to get rid of me?”

Panic jolted through your system as you reached out to him hesitantly. You did this. You made him upset with you. You caused him to cry. You had to fix it.

“N-No, I… I was just…”

But he didn’t want to hear it.

“You told me to go home, but where is my home if not with you?”

You squirmed as your breath grew short.

“B-But–”

He then looked into your eyes, pain evident between the falling tears.

“Don’t you want me?”

That did it. Before you knew it, hot tears began to roll down your cheeks. And when you parted your lips, a pathetic hiccup erupted. Your chest heaved with every short breath you took. Why didn’t he get it? Wasn’t it obvious? Everything you were doing you did for him. Why did he have to put you on the spot like that? Didn’t he realize it was already difficult enough letting him go?

“I… I was just trying to do the right thing,” you finally got out between sniffles and sobs.

And that’s what it boiled down to, didn’t it? That was the truth. Regardless of how you felt, regardless of any damage to you, all you wanted was to keep him safe. To give him a way home. Wasn’t that all that mattered?

As you scrambled wildly to defend yourself, excuses continued to pour from your lips. “My mother always told me that selkies were creatures of the sea. They don’t belong on land. And with everything that was going to happen in the House, I just… I wanted you to be happy.”

Your head dropped as you wiped furiously at your tears. Guilt clawed its way up your chest, aiming to pull you into the depths. You always thought you were doing the right thing, but was this how you were making him feel instead? Though a part of you still argued that he simply did not know what was best for him, you could no longer deny the truth. That was not your decision to make. It never was yours to make.

As you felt yourself collapse into yourself, cold hands soon pulled away your hands hiding your face prompting you to look up. Though tears still fell from his cheeks, he was not furious anymore. Instead, upon his lips an exasperated smile as he let out a watery laugh. He leaned in, resting his forehead against yours.

“But I’m happiest with you.”

It was such a simple thing to say, but the way those words cradled you in warmth broke something within you. Suddenly that tension and ache you felt in your chest released at that very moment as a new wave of tears flooded your eyes. You knew he really shouldn’t feel that way, that there was nothing to gain from staying by your side. For his sake, you didn’t want him to stay. And yet, deep down, he said the very words you had longed to tell him for such a long time.

“I… I didn’t want you to leave,” you finally got out. You could no longer stop the words of truth pouring from your lips. “Those days away from you were so lonely. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I-I just wanted…”

He then pulled you to his chest and wrapped his arms around you.

“It’s okay, First. I know. It’s okay.”

It took a while for the both of your sniffles and sobs to simmer down. By the end of it, the front of your clothes were soaked from hugging him so tightly within the water. And now as you sat gazing at the sunset, eyes swollen and holding his hand upon the sand, there was a certain lightness in your chest that you hadn’t felt for a long time.

“Foltz said you took your seal skin with you when you came here, but where is it?” You asked, awkwardly doing your best to make conversation after crying before him so openly.

“O-Oh, that? I brought it and stored it in a chest at our place in the ocean. I… thought it would be the safest there.”

The way he said it so simply jolted you back slightly in surprise.

“You’re storing it? Have you not used it once since I gave it to you?”

He shook his head with a hesitant smile.

“When you gave it to me, it was the first time I heard the sea calling out to me so loudly. I… I wanted to go so badly. It was like every part of me was being pulled to the sea. If I didn’t think of you, I probably would have left,” he admitted hesitantly. “Whenever I’m near it, the desire grows stronger.”

You frowned upon hearing that.

“You don’t need to stay for me. If you left, I… I would miss you, but I wouldn’t blame you for it. Selkies are creatures of the sea, after all.”

He looked down upon the sand as he bit his lip trying to find the words to respond.

“I… don’t doubt that I would be happy there for a time. I always feel most at home in the water. But…” He then looked up at you. “That’s only when you’re by my side. If going to the ocean means giving up you, it’s not worth it. The place I belong is with you.”

Feeling a new wave of tears come on, you glanced away.

“Stop it! You already made me cry enough today. You’re beginning to make me think I’m just as much of a crybaby as you are,” you grumbled before standing. “Everyone at the House is probably wondering where we are. Let’s go before they come looking.”

Laughing softly to himself, Freminet stood and began to follow you. But before he got far, a soundless voice called out to him. Turning behind, there was the sea with its gentle crashing waves lit up with the wondrous red and yellow hues of the sunset. As always, there it beckoned him—sweetly, lovingly, achingly. How it longed to be reunited. But in return, he gave it a simple and kind smile. That’s all he would give. Then he turned away from the ocean, away from its gentle call, and made his way back to you.

[hardlyinteresting]

Warm feelings

Aaron Hotchner Masterlist | Send Requests

More domestic thoughts about being warm and cozy

"Affection is responsible for nine-tenths of whatever solid and durable happiness there is in our lives" -C.S. Lewis

Jackets

He always reminds you to take a coat with you on the way out the door, and you always insist that you'll be fine without one. He'll tell you it's his biggest pet peeve, you refusing to wear a coat and then shivering in the cold. He never fails to drape his jacket over your shoulders at the first sign of goosebumps.

Hotch is a traditional kind of guy and he's the type of guy who suggests you take a stroll after a fancy dinner. He's just not ready for the night to come to an end. You're all dolled up, and a little tipsy from the wine you had at dinner. You agree easily, holding his hand and tucking yourself close to his side. It's colder than when you left the house, he'll grant you that. “Cold?” He asks as concerned as he is amused. And you just have to bat your lashes at him and he's slipping off his jacket to wrap it around your shoulders. It smells like his cologne and is warm from his body heat. It's an easy way for him to say ‘I love you’.

Sweaters

Hotch absolutely has his old university and FBI academy crewneck sweatshirts. Softened and faded by time; worn and washed to the point of having frayed cuffs and collars. Aaron strikes me as the if it's not broke, don't throw it out kind of guy. He likes those sweaters. They're warm and comfortable. He knows they fit, and are easy to wash; he sees no reason to replace them. More than that Aaron has a definite nostalgic streak. As much as he acts like he's detached and indifferent to anything remotely sentimental, at home he almost overcompensates, holding on to every happy moment and memory he can. Case in point, his high school yearbooks, and the pirate hat. (You cannot convince me that he doesn't keep some kind of memory box with Jack's paintings; tickets from plays; his acceptance letter from college; and birthday and anniversary cards that you've taken such care to write such heartfelt messages in). He has fond memories of his law school and academy days; he wants to keep them close. At first, you think he might be upset that you're wearing them around the house but he would actually be thrilled. It's a collision of some of his favourite things and it's a specific domestic sight to come home to. He's a caretaker by nature and it thrills him that he can manage to keep you warm and cozy every when he has to be away. You can borrow his sweaters anytime.

Body heat

The man radiates heat. Just standing next to him is enough to feel warmer. He has a knack for knowing exactly how many layers he needs to put on to stay warm, while you struggle to decide whether or not you should also put on a scarf. He does everything with such a specific level of confidence, even the way he prepares for the day is borderline awe-inspiring.

He gets so few days off that he is unwilling to let the late autumn cold interrupt his time with Jack. When the three of you head to the park, Jack insists on shedding layers, his hat and mitten coming off first, he’s warm enough running around (Aaron doesn’t let the boy take his coat off completely but they compromise and he’s allowed to keep playing with his jacket unzipped). Despite checking the forecast several times, and bundling up, the cold still gets to you. And Aaron looks so cozy in his sweater and his coat. He’s the picture of a cozy winter boyfriend with his leather gloves, and scarf. Like his son his coat hangs unzipped on his frame, and it's the perfect opportunity for you to snuggle in, arms wrapping around his torso under the warm layer of his jacket, your cold nose pressed against his chest. “Cold?” he asks with a hint of a smile. You can only tilt your head up at him to pout back. He slips his gloves off to cup your face, his hands toasty warm against your ice-cold skin. Your face warms and your heart melts when he lays a kiss on your forehead. “Hey Jack,” Aaron calls, “What would you say to getting some hot chocolate?” Jack comes running.

[xxsquiddkiddxx]

Johnny boyyy!(bender)

THAT, my friend, is a FANTASTIC idea :D I like the way you think -3- So! Not really knowing what to write, I went to Pinterest for one of them Person A Person B prompts. I'll link the one I used. This is the one I used :D

Living in the Moment: John Bender x Reader

Pronouns for reader: She/Her

Relationship type: Platonic to Romantic, Friends to Lovers

General Idea: John and Y/N have been friends for years now. A duo of chaos, dare I say. The two once again get themselves into detention. But what happens when feigning a nap Y/N hears something she wasn't meant to hear?

Content Warnings: Drugs (It's a Breakfast Club fic... it's kinda in the terms and conditions), Bender being soft, swearing, (Y/N) doesn't hate Claire (that's a recurring theme in these fics for some reason. I actually really like Claire)

(Nobody's POV)

"We pretty much asked for this detention served to us on a silver platter." (Y/N) says, hands in her pockets as she walks to Shermer High School. She turns her head to her friend, John Bender, who was walking beside her.

"It's worth it though." He says, fishing around in his pocket for his sunglasses. It wasn't sunny out at all, he literally only ever wore them to piss off Vernon. He takes another pair out of one of his coat pockets and put them on (Y/N)'s head. He flicks them so they slide onto her face, causing her to laugh.

"John!" She laughs in mock offence, taking bits of her hair out from behind the sunglasses. The two walk into the library and sit down next to each other, their movements pretty much in sync. A few people were also in detention. People (Y/N) recognized as Brian Johnson; a nerd she had physics with, Claire Standish; a girl who (Y/N) had respect for but never bothered to talk to, Andrew Clark; an kid on the wrestling team who was similar to Claire in (Y/N)'s eyes, and Allison Reynolds; someone (Y/N) had talked to a few times... but never had a real conversation with.

Vernon walks in and stands, just looking at the mini crowd of teens in the library. His eyes set on (Y/N) sitting next to Bender and laughs humorlessly. "On your feet (L/N), you're sitting somewhere else."

"I can sit where I want." She retorts, folding her arms over her chest. "It's a free country." Vernon yanks her out of her seat and she starts to sit at the desk behind John, to which Vernon snaps.

"Next to her." He points towards Allison, who snaps her head up instantly. (Y/N) does as she's told, but devises a plan to reunite with her friend once the dictator leaves.

"Well... here we are. I want to congradulate you for being on time." Vernon says, his tone of voice being slightly degrading.

"Excuse me, sir?" Claire raises her hand. "I think there's been a mistake. But, um... I don't think I belong here." John and (Y/N) exchange a look that says "Oh dear God" . Vernon is unfazed by this.

Vernon goes on to talk about how everyone has pretty much 9 hours to be in here and that we have to do a 1000 word essay on who we think we are. When Vernon leaves, (Y/N) scoots herself right back to her original spot. A few hours goes by; John bullies Claire and Andrew, Allison draws and using her dandruff as a art utensil, and Brian was.... well Brian did whatever Brian does.

Once hour 2 hit, all (Y/N) wanted to do was sleep. She layed her head on the table and she drifted off to sleep.

.·:¨༺ ༻¨:·

(Y/N) feels herself drift back into consciousness, but keeps her eyes closed. "You're really pretty." She hears the breathy whisper of Bender. It's almost completely silent, and she probably wouldn't have caught it if she wasn't hyper-aware of his voice. "God I love you..." He whispers. She feels his fingers brush some hair out of her face, then it's silenced again.

"WAKE UP!" The cold voice of Vernon shoots (Y/N) up and almost 10 feet out of her seat. "(L/N) didn't I tell you to sit somewhere else?" (Y/N) looks around and points to herself innocently.

"Who, me?" She says, playing dumb. "I don't think so, sir." John and Andrew snicker at her antics.

"Don't play dumb with me, girl." Vernon threatens.

"I'm not, Dick. Can I call ya Dick?" She says, smiling innocently. Vernon doesn't have time to respond before (Y/N) continues. "Why would I play dumb anyways? I'm a smart girl with potential. Now Miss Standish here." She starts, gesturing towards Claire. The redhead whirls right around and makes a nasty face towards (Y/N). (Y/N) ignores it and continues her shenanigans. "She would play dumb to get what she wants, it's written all over her face!"

Vernon doesn't respond, but instead just says: "Alright girls, that's 30 minutes for lunch."

"Here?" Andrew asks.

"Here." Vernon says, firm in choice.

"Well," Andrew starts. "I think that the cafeteria is a more suitable place to eat lunch in, sir."

"Well I don't care WHAT you think, Andrew." Vernon starts. John gets a sparkle in his eyes and opens his mouth to speak. (Y/N) leans back, ready for what was about to go down.

"Uh, Dick?" John says. "Excuse me, Rich... Will MILK be made available to us?"

"We're extremely thirsty, sir." Andrew piggybacks off of John.

"I have a very low tolerance for dehydration." Claire says.

"I've seen her dehydrated, sir." Andrew says, nodding. "It's pretty gross."

After a whole scenario and a half, everyone has a coke and a lunch. Everyone eats together, John and (Y/N) being without meals. "Ya wanna do something stupid?" John whispers to his friend, his breath tickling (Y/N)'s face.

"Oh always, Dear." She says dramatically. The two start to stand up and walk out of the library.

"H-hey, we aren't supposed to do that." Brian starts.

"Relax, Peewee." John says. "We're just going to my locker. Nothin' special."

"Why? You got drugs in there or something?" Andrew asks condescendingly. (Y/N) giggles.

"Something like that."

.·:¨༺ ༻¨:·

John, (Y/N), Brian, and Claire sat in a circle, smoking joints and laughing. (Y/N) takes a hit off of her and John's shared joint, John's arm around her shoulders. Claire takes a hit off of hers and coughs.

"Chicks cannot hold they smoke." Brian says in a goofy voice, sending (Y/N) into a fit of giggles. "That's what it is."

Brian and Claire go off to Andrew and Allison, leaving John and (Y/N) alone. Bender, of course, can't help but admire (Y/N) momentarily before she says something.

"Did you mean that?" She asks, looking up at him. John looks at her odd. "What you said?"

John takes the joint from her fingers and moves it away from her. "AAAAAlright no more dope for you." He jokes. He looks at his friend's face, realizing she was dead-serious. "What do you mean what I said?"

"That I'm pretty and that you love me." (Y/N) says before repeating her question. "Did you mean it?"

John feels himself go bright red in the face. Part of him wanted to just skip over the question and blow it off. But something on her face (and also the marijuana) made him finally respond with the truth. "Yeah, I meant it."

"In a friend way?" (Y/N) asks. John REALLY wants to lie here, but he's too hopped up on weed and the feeling of (Y/N)'s body snuggled into his that he just responds with the truth, even if it feels like it's against his own will.

"No."

The two sit in silence before (Y/N) breaks it. "I love you too, John." She whispers. John turns to look at the girl. "Not in the friend way." The two sit in a content silence. They didn't need to speak any words, nor engage any actions. They were more content than any words or actions could ever activate.

After a few moments, (Y/N) leans her head on John's shoulder, and he rubs (Y/N)'s arm with his thumb, sharing the joint until it's gone. They stay like this for a while, just living in the moment.

Cuz at the end of the day, that's how John Bender and (Y/N) (L/N) roll. They take things wherever fate takes them. Sometimes it takes them somewhere fantastic, other times it takes them into some deep shit. But between us, I don't think they cared. They just liked to live in the moment.

A/N: Wow, OK that was longer than I thought it would be XD But I had to add the Brian High scene (it's my favorite in the whole movie). I actually really liked writing Y/N's character (even if I almost wrote my name more times than I can count). But yeah, more content soon :)

~Squeed

[sleepingdeath-light]

relationship hcs ; alastor

requested by ; anonymous (08/03/24)

fandom(s) ; hazbin hotel

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; alastor

outline ; “Excuse me, I don't know if requests are still closed but would it be okay to ask relationship headcannos about Alastor??”

warning(s) ; some references to canon-typical levels of violence from alastor, but mostly fluff!

there are an innumerable amount of reasons as to why it’s damn near impossible to get close enough to alastor to form a romantic relationship with him, but even after you have somehow managed to gain his trust and admiration to the point that he wants to court you things don’t get any more straightforward — arguably they only get more complicated the longer you’re an item

he’s nothing short of a gentleman with you and insists on taking things slow and going about things the ‘traditional’ way (or as close to traditional as one can get in hell) — and that can mean anything from holding doors open for you (either himself or through his shadows) or lending you his coat when you seem cold, to aggressively shutting down/intimidating the afterlife out of anyone who approaches you with intentions he deems inappropriate or delivering you your enemy’s severed head in amongst a gift basket of flowers and baked goods (courtesy of rosie as he’s not much of a baker himself)

he uses a mixture of french and english pet names for you depending on his mood — think along the lines of such terms of endearment as ‘my dear’ or ‘ma chèrie / mon chèri’ — and for his own part he’d rather you just address him by name unless you’re in private and he’s in a very good mood (well… a good enough mood to actually respond to being called something like ‘dearest’ or ‘honey’ instead of outright ignoring you until you actually say his name)

he frequently remarks about how much his mother would love you, how happy she’d be to see him settle down after all of this time, and how he wishes you could meet her — those moments are when you get to see a more human side of alastor, his smile softening to something more nostalgic and genuine as he speaks about one of the few people he truly cared for during his life

he’s not the biggest fan of physical affection in general and will only really partake in it on his terms, but that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t show his love for you through other means — in fact, as far as he’s concerned, his affection for you is shown as clear as day despite his own dislike for being touched

gift giving — though his gifts aren’t always the most traditional, alastor does tend to go out of his way and get you things whenever he’s out and about. sometimes that means picking something up from the tailor that he knows you’ll just love, or bringing you a box of baked goods from rosie’s emporium whenever he goes to visit her, and other times that means fetching you ‘trophies’ from the people he’s dealt with on your behalf (sometimes they’re extremely fresh and bloody, other times he actually makes an effort to clean and dry them — it’s 50/50 regarding how much cleanup you’re gonna need to do), but no matter what he’s always happy (proud, even) when he presents you with your gift — and even prouder if he comes back to your place of residence later on and sees that you’ve put anything on display (well, the stuff that can be displayed anyway…)

quality time — you’re the person whose company he actively seeks out the most, even if that just means sharing a space as you each go about whatever task you’re doing at the time. of course there are the dates he takes you on (he is a gentleman, after all, and he makes an effort to woo and wow you whenever he has the chance), but the majority of your quality time is spent in the hotel or his recording studio: going about your chores together, hanging out in the common area and overseeing the group activities charlie has planned, sitting side by side and reading or eating in silence, having your meals together, talking about whatever comes to mind when the mood allows it, or just sitting with him in his studio in silence as he broadcasts his show for all of hell to hear

words of affirmation — he’s not the most talkative person, especially not when compared to someone like angel dust or charlie, and is generally more of a listener/observer in most of his daily interactions, but with you he does make an effort to keep up conversation and ensure that you know just how much he appreciates your company. of course he always makes sure to compliment your newest hairstyle or outfit change, especially if you’re dressing up to accompany him to a meeting or another such formal event, but his affirmations go beyond just shallow praise and you get to see much more of that when you’re alone or in the brief moments where nobody is looking your way when you’re with others. for example, he’s always quick to reassure you of how deeply he admires and cares for you (as much as he’s capable of doing either, anyway) by insisting that it takes a great deal to catch his eye and that by merit of being the radio demon’s lover you must be spectacular, no matter what your insecurities may say.

acts of service — again, regardless of his more disturbing proclivaties, alastor is a gentleman and will go out of his way to ensure you’re well taken care of and that any and all unnecessary stressors and discomforts are swiftly and painlessly (for you) removed from your life. sometimes this can mean him fetching you (shockingly well made given his usual diet) breakfast in bed when it’s clear you didn’t sleep well the night before or having his shadow servants do your bidding for the day so you don’t have to worry about overworking yourself in his absence, but it can also translate to actions that are much more aligned with his terrifying reputation — for example, torturing anyone that opposes you (like an overbearing boss or annoying neighbour) into silence and compliance with his whims

alastor is also a generally very protective and territorial partner who isn’t above getting petty and passive aggressive towards anyone who tries to interfere in your relationship — and then if they don’t get the hint and back off immediately (or they attempted to cause you harm) he’ll start getting outright aggressive and make sure that they understand just how much they fucked up by trying to take what belongs to him

related to the above point, but alastor also has a nasty possessive streak to him and will heavily monitor all of your external relationships (both just by sticking by your side whenever he’s able, and also by ensuring you always have one of his shadows by your side when you’re apart) — he’s more lenient with your friendships if you happen to be with someone he explicitly trusts (like rosie or nifty) or someone that he knows wouldn’t dream of interfering in your relationship (like charlie who is too nice for her own good sometimes) but otherwise you can expect him to be extremely judgemental and passive aggressive with the people in your life that you’re close to (especially if they happen to be someone who distrusted him immediately… like vaggie)

this side of him can be managed with a lot of patience and compromise from you, but it’s never going to go away completely so you’re going to have to get used to that side of him early on

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

Aftermath au: Red Letter Day

Barney gets a call that Gordon Freeman had been found after ten years of being missing in action.

Word count: 4382

Notes: Another fic for my au "Aftermath" because I think its neat. I'm not sure what else to put here, enjoy the fic

Barney was beginning to remember how much he hated Winter as he stared through the warehouse window in front of him. Despite it being the beginning of March, spring was yet to come, meaning the snow was still falling with the temperature following suit. Barney had always hated the season, and as much as he tried, he could never come up with a proper reason. Maybe it was the fact it was cold, wet, and dreary, making any trip outside miserable, or perhaps it was the fact he was mainly cooped up inside all day, leaving him to get cabin fever. Or maybe it was a mixture of those two at the same time, along with the loneliness that came from them. No matter the reason, Barney kept quiet about it, realizing he had no ability to change the weather. All he could do was drink his hot coffee and put on a few more layers than usual. 

Barney took a sip from his mug as he looked away from the window, instead focusing his attention back into the room he was in. It was a storage room, full of random junk and scientific doodads Barney had no knowledge of. Boxes and crates were stacked up in piles taller than he was, stacked in such a way that it made Barney nervous even being near them in the case of them toppling over. Due to the lack of a radiator in that room, it was even chillier than the rest of the refurbished warehouse, making Barney glad he was wearing the warmest sweatpants he could find in his closet, along with a worn out grey hoodie, with the logo on the front being so faded that it was hard to make out as Black Mesa’s logo.

As he looked around, he was startled by the sound of a box slamming against the concrete floor, along with a short exclamation. “Oh, blast it!” “You alright, Doc?” Barney asked the other man in the room, watching as he bent over to pick up the fallen crate.

“I’m fine, just…hoping whatever was in here isn’t fragile…” 

Dr. Isaac Kleiner, or “Doc” as Barney referred to him as, was wearing a white lab coat over a robin-egg-blue dress-shirt and black tie, trading warmth for safety at his place of work. His glasses were slipping off his face as he moved boxes and rummaged through everything in the storage room, making it even more of a mess than it was before. 

“Where on earth could she have gone?” Kleiner asked, not necessarily expecting an answer. “There aren’t any vents she could have crawled in, are there?”

“I hope not,” Barney stated. “Last thing I want is that thing to fall on someone.” As Kleiner looked under a table, Barney spoke up again. “You think it ran off or something?”

“Oh no, I don’t believe so,” Kleiner stood up straight, “I’m sure she wouldn’t. After all, she needs to get fed eventually, so I imagine she’ll come out for that.” “If the thing didn’t eat someone's cat or something.”

“Hush!” Kleiner held a finger up to his mouth, causing both he and Barney to become silent as he listened closely. Barney attempted to hear what Kleiner was listening for, but to no avail, hearing nothing but silence. “Fie! I could’ve sworn I heard her moving around…”

Barney let out an exhausted sigh, “Doc, please, there’s plenty of those pests out there–”

“But there’s only ONE Lamar!”

“...Right.”

“Now, are you going to help me look?” Kleiner adjusted his crooked glasses, “Or are you going to simply stand there, doing nothing?”

“Uh…” Barney glanced away, thinking for a moment. “...No thanks.”

“Oh, you act like she’s some kind of wild animal.”

“It kinda is.”

“She’s been de-beaked and trained, and you know this!” Kleiner stated as he walked towards a filing cabinet near the corner of the room.

“‘Trained;’ I don’t think that thing is really…trained. My dog is trained, and I know you can train cats, but I don’t think you can train a literal parasite–”

“Oh! I think I’ve got something!” Kleiner said excitedly, “Help me move this cabinet, would you please?”

Barney reluctantly approached the metal cabinet as Kleiner positioned himself to the side of it, ready to move it as soon as Barney was. As soon as Barney placed his free hand against the side of it, he pushed, with Kleiner on the other side pulling it towards him.

Barney let out a loud yelp when something leaped at him from behind the cabinet, causing him to fall on his back and drop his mug on the floor. It was Lamar, the “Pet” headcrab that Kleiner had lost, and it was even uglier up close. As it laid on Barney’s chest, its six small, beady eyes stared back at him as he remained absolutely still, afraid of it trying to attack him. Its teeth on its stomach prodded at his stomach, along with its chipped, large front claws, which had colorful duct-tape covering the tips of them to prevent them from being too sharp. After a few moments of tense silence, Kleiner came to the rescue, picking up Lamar from where it rested on Barney’s torso, allowing him to take a breath.

“LAMAR!” Kleiner exclaimed, looking at his pet with relief in his eyes, “Oh, delightful! I’m so happy to see you weren’t left out in the cold somewhere…”

“Mm-hm…” Barney lifted himself off the ground, looking at his feet to see his knocked over coffee cup, with its contents spilled over. “Ugh…” 

Barney picked up his cup from the floor as Kleiner let Lamar go, watching as it waddled across the floor before jumping up onto one of the tables. Barney stared at it with contempt, the opposite reaction to Lamar’s rediscovery compared to Kleiner’s joy. 

“Do you even have a license for that thing?” Barney questioned as Lamar sat down on top of some loose documents. “If you don’t and animal control finds it, they’ll kill it–”

“I’m…in the process of getting one,” Kleiner stated, voice stumbling slightly. “And I hope no one finds her, cause if they do…I’m afraid of what you said coming true. I’m sure it will be fine regardless, at least she knows to stay inside.”

“...Sure.”

“Is everyone safe?”

Barney and Kleiner turned towards the doorway that led to the rest of the warehouse, seeing a lone, albino Vortigaunt staring back at them with her four maroon eyes. She was wearing a similar lab coat to Kleiner’s, with a borrowed pair of black dress pants, along with a fitted light brown sweater, with a hole in the middle of her chest for her third pseudo arm. She stared at Kleiner and Barney for a little while before Barney answered her question. 

“Yeah, we’re fine…” Barney sighed, glancing towards Lamar, “We just found Kleiner’s…pet.”

“Everything’s under control, Violet, you can get back to work!” Kleiner added.

“I see.” Violet’s gravelly voice seemed quieter than usual, making Barney’s brows furrow a bit.

“You alright?” He asked.

Violet seemed puzzled. “Hm?”

“Are you doing alright? I have noticed you’ve been a bit…closed off for the past few hours.” Kleiner inquired.

“We have been…distracted…” Violet responded. “I imagine it will be cleared up soon.”

“We?” Barney asked.

Violet didn’t answer. “I must get back to helping the others…the teleporter is nearly ready for its first test...”

“Oh! Wonderful. I’ll be there in a little bit.” Kleiner stated as Violet left the room. Barney remained puzzled, looking back at Kleiner with a feeling of unease in his chest.

“She said ‘we’.” Barney stated.

“I’m aware,” Kleiner responded. “You see, the Vortigaunts are able to tap into something they refer to as the ‘Vortessence’, and are thus all conne–”

“I know, Doc, I just…” Barney paused for a second. “If she’s talking about all the Vortigaunts, then wouldn’t that be a bit worrying?”

“...Maybe, but I'm not sure.” Kleiner stated. “Though, one of the members of the survey team we sent earlier today was a Vortigaunt, and that team hasn’t returned yet so…maybe there is a connection there.”

“Maybe.”

“Either way, I believe i’ll go and speak with her, just to make sure everything’s alri–”

Barney’s phone ringing from his pocket interrupted their thoughts, and when Barney pulled it out of his pocket and flipped it open, he saw the number was from one of his coworkers at the hospital. “Sorry, I gotta take this.”

“You’re fine, you go ahead and I’ll go check in with the others.”

Barney nodded, watching Kleiner leave the room before he answered the call and put his phone up to his ear.

“Hello?”

Barney listened closely to the person on the other end of the phone, barely processing what they were saying. 

“What’s going on? 

Not going to believe what? 

So what, why are you telling me this?”

Barney listened closely, all before he felt his heart skip a beat. The sinking feeling in his chest was enough to render him silent, all before he let out a meek “I’ll call you later.”

Barney rushed out of the room, running past Kleiner in the process, nearly pushing him over as he approached the exit. “Barney? What’s going on, are you alright–” “They found him.” Barney’s voice shook as he spoke, with him barely being able to make out the words from how tight his throat was.

“Found who?”

Barney was already out of the building by the time Kleiner asked the question, leaving it unanswered.

Barney saw his own breath clouding in front of his face as he sprinted across the parking lot of the warehouse, nearly slipping on ice multiple times but not giving any time to care. When he reached his car, he swung the door open and crawled inside, starting the engine and speeding off without a single word. His thoughts ran through his head faster than his car was capable of going, slurring together without a single cohesive thought coming through. He didn’t care if he was a few miles above the speed limit; he needed to get to the hospital as soon as possible. He needed to see if what his coworker said was right.

If it was truly Gordon Freeman that was brought into the ER, he needed to be there.

When Barney made it to the hospital lot, he rushed through the front doors, looking around before approaching the front desk, out of breath from both the physical and mental strain that was put on him. Through harsh breaths, he asked, “Is Gordon Freeman here?”, with pleading eyes focused on the woman behind the desk.

“Oh, hello Mr. Calhoun, I can look through the system for a ‘Gordon Freeman’, if you’ll sit tight for a moment.” She looked towards the computer in front of her, typing in something and looking through files as Barney waited, his impatience building up inside of him.

“Fuck this.” He pushed himself away from the desk, storming down one of the hallways despite the woman at the front desk telling him he wasn’t allowed to as he was off duty. Barney rushed past hospital workers, asking them if they knew where Gordon was, only to be met with worried and frightened looks along with no answers. Barney’s frustration only grew as he ran through the hospital halls, with the familiar building beginning to feel like a maze meant to confuse him. As he ran further into the hospital wing, he slammed against one of the doctors in the hall, causing him to topple to the ground as Barney tripped over his own feet.

“Sorry, I just have to–”

“Barney? What the hell are you doing back here?” The man questioned as Barney sped past him.

“I’m looking for Gordon Freeman,” Barney answered, turning around. “Have you seen him?”

“He’s in the ER right now,” The man snapped back as he slowly stood up. “You can’t see him until he’s out of surgery.”

“Surgery? Is he safe? Is he alright?” Barney questioned, walking closer to the doctor. 

“Yes, he’ll be fine, just…” The doctor let out a tired sigh. “Get out of here, you’re off duty and risking your job with a stunt like this.”

“I need to see Gordon, alright?” Barney explained. “He’s been gone for a fucking DECADE, and he’s been found again, I can’t just leave him–”

“Calhoun.” The man raised his voice as he glared at Barney with a look of both contempt and pity. “...Listen, just wait until he’s out and I’ll see what I can do, do you understand?”

Barney remained silent for a moment, letting out a sharp breath before nodding. “Alright,” He stated, defeated. “But he better be getting the best treatment in there.”

“I’m sure they’re doing all they can, they understand his reputation–”

“I don’t care about his reputation, if i’m right, that’s my goddamn friend in there.” Barney spat. “...Let me know when he’s out. I need to at least…make sure it’s…the right guy.”

“I’m sure someone will let you know.” The doctor stated. “...Now please go back to the waiting room before I call security.”

Barney did as he was told, reluctantly walking across the hospital premises and back into the waiting room, where he will stay for another few hours. He paced around the room, bounced his foot up and down, fidgeted with his hands; anything to try and pass the time as the minutes passed by agonizingly slow. After he had already been there for what felt like days within the timespan of a few hours, he saw a nurse walk towards him. “Mr. Calhoun?”

Barney’s head lifted up, looking towards the nurse before following her down a hallway. After a couple-minutes walk, they stopped in front of a door leading to a recovery room. “He’s in there,” The nurse stated. “He’s currently sleeping, so I ask you to be quiet and not attempt to wake him up.”

“...Yeah.” Barney hesitated before walking through the door, stepping into the room, seeing a curtain blocking his view of the bed. He paused, standing in place for a moment as he wondered if the face he was about to see was truly Gordon, or simply someone mistaken as him. He wondered if he wanted the answer, or if he’d rather live in ignorance, avoiding the crippling disappointment if it wasn’t the man he thought it was, but as he walked past the curtain, every worry in his mind ceased and his thoughts became silent as he looked at the man on the bed.

Sure, his body was covered with blood-soaked bandages, his right leg was in a cast, he had medical equipment around him, and he was missing his glasses, but his face was painfully recognizable. Barney choked back a sob, covering his mouth when he saw Gordon’s face again.

“Are you alright?” The nurse behind him asked, noticing Barney’s teary-eyed look.

“I’m fine.” Barney whispered before letting out a short chuckle and a forced smile. “It’s just…he didn’t change a damn bit.”

Barney hadn’t even noticed it had been an hour since he entered the room, being surprised when he glanced at the clock and saw it was nearing 10 PM. He sat on a chair beside Gordon’s bed, having moved it from the corner of the room to right beside it. His leg bounced up and down as he looked at Gordon, all before lowering his head and letting out a deep sigh. He wished to speak to him but he was out of words he could possibly say at that very moment, not to mention the wish to stay quiet so Gordon could recover without being woken up. He wanted to tell Gordon everything that had happened in his absence; how Kleiner started up another lab to continue Black Mesa’s studies, how Eli also set up one on the other side of the city, and how Barney had finished college and was able to become a nurse. Gordon missed so much, and even though Barney wished to dump every piece of information onto him, he realized that even the realization that it had been ten years would be overwhelming enough. Thus, Barney figured to start simple, and just talk, like friends, for the first time since the Black Mesa incident.

As Barney leaned back into his seat he felt the back of his head hit something that wasn’t there before, feeling bitter cold yet organic at the same time, like a corpse’s fingers curling around the top of the backrest. He swung around, half expecting someone to be there, yet he saw nothing of the sort, seeing only the beige wall behind him. Barney let out his breath, looking back at Gordon before realizing he should head back; his stress and emotional state must have made him paranoid, not to mention the feeling of his hair standing on end. He stood up, walking towards the door out of the room before taking one last look back at Gordon before he finally left.

Later that night, Barney paced around his living room, being watched by his pet rottweiler as he talked on the phone. “The Survey team were the ones that found him?” he asked.

“That’s what they said,” Kleiner stated from the other side of the line. “The Vortigaunt was apparently the one that found him, specifically.”

“I see.”

“Quite Miraculous,” Kleiner continued, “The fact that Gordon had survived there for ten years before being found.”

“Yeah…” Barney unsurely stated under his breath.

“Nevermind that, what are you planning now?” Kleiner asked. “Should we have some kind of party? A celebration should be in order for him being back, I’d say–”

“I think he needs rest, he’s…been through a lot.” Barney stated. “I’ve thought of him staying over at my place until he can find a place of his own or until he recovers, but we’ll see how he’s feeling.”

“Are you sure? I’m sure we can find a spare room in the lab for him.”

“I dunno if he’d wanna live in a loud lab with a headcrab, doc.”

“...I suppose you have a fair point.”

“It was just so…strange.” Barney stated. “They say it was a ten year coma, but I don’t buy it. I don’t buy it at all.” “What makes you believe that?” 

“The fact he was bleeding. The fact he had fresh wounds from Black Mesa,” Barney elaborated, brows furrowed and his free arm crossing over his chest. “Not to mention the fact he was found with that…suit on.” “What kind of suit?” Kleiner questioned. “Oh, do you mean the Hazardous Environment Suit?”

“Yeah. Why would he be wearing it ten years after the incident was already over?”

“Who knows,” Kleiner sighed, “I’m sure I can talk with Eli to see if he has any ideas on–” Kleiner was interrupted by a loud crash and squeaking coming from behind him, audible through Barney’s phone. “Goodness gracious, LAMAR, NO–”

“You alright Doc?” 

“I’ll have to speak with you later, Lamar got in the vents again–Lamar get DOWN from there, that’s not safe!” After that, the call ended, and Barney was left to himself once again. Barney sighed, putting his phone back in his pocket before he heard a deep ruff coming from his dog, who was laying next to the couch in the living room, with its white patches of fur on its snout showing its age.

“You hear that, Gordon?” Barney said. “You might get a new roommate…a…different Gordon.”

The dog yawned and rested his head on his paws as Barney walked towards the living room couch, sitting on it and resting his feet on the coffee table in front of it. He leaned over the armrest, scratching the top of the dog’s head. “Guess I’ll have to explain to him why you’re also named Gordon, huh bud?”

Gordon didn’t respond, instead just letting out a soft ruff again. Barney leaned back in his seat, staring up at the ceiling before folding his hands on top of his stomach. He wasn’t looking forward to explaining why his pet was named after his friend, he realized. After all, it’s not very easy to tell someone you thought they were dead for years.

As soon as Barney received the call that Gordon was awake the following evening, Barney rushed back to the hospital to visit him once again. As he drove across the city, worries he didn’t think about before began to creep up inside his brain. Even though he didn’t necessarily believe the coma theory the doctors had, nor did he believe even they believed it fully, he thought of the possibility of it being true, and if Gordon would even remember who Barney was after a full decade of sleep. It would be a surprise if Gordon remembered anything after that amount of time, but Barney pushed down his pessimism, trying to be optimistic just this once.

After making his way down the hospital hallway once again, he found himself back in front of the door to Gordon’s room, with a nervous feeling deep in his gut as he prepared to walk inside. He took in a breath and stepped inside, looking towards the bed in which Gordon was laying on, only to have his gaze met by two bright green eyes, ones Barney hadn't seen since ten years prior. Barney froze in place, staring back at Gordon, who appeared to be surprised to see him. As Barney sat down in the chair beside the bed, he swallowed hard, wondering what he could possibly say now that Gordon was awake. As he thought to himself, a question left his mouth that he wasn’t initially planning on asking:

“Where were you?”

The question lingered in the air like a foul odor, with Gordon’s brows furrowing lip quivering slightly, all while he curled his hands into fists. He turned away from Barney, looking down at his feet, thinking of something to say, though his hands didn’t once lift up to sign a single word.

“You…disappear for 10 years without warning,” Barney continued. “Leaving everyone to believe you were dead.”

Gordon didn’t make eye contact with Barney as he spoke.

“I thought you were dead and buried somewhere, Gordon,” Barney choked. “But…You’re here in front of me now.”

Gordon glanced at Barney before he felt arms being wrapped around his shoulders, tight, but not too tight to make it hurt.

“I fucking missed you, Gordon.” Barney said as he hugged Gordon, feeling the gesture being returned to him. Gordon’s hands shook, feeling weak and cold, yet he didn’t want to let go of the single shred of kindness he had felt since what felt like eternity. After a few moments Barney let go, sitting back down with red, tear-filled eyes. 

“...You…missed a lot.” Barney stated; Gordon nodded knowingly in response. “I’d tell ya’ everything, but…I don’t even know how to start.”

“Are they safe?” Gordon’s hands were shaking, but Barney could make out the message regardless.

“Who, like…Kleiner? Eli?”

Gordon nodded slightly, lips pursed in anticipation. 

“They’re alright,” Barney assured, allowing Gordon to let out a breath. “In fact…they’re excited to see you again. Kleiner especially, he’s hoping to get you back into his lab…don’t know if you want to do that, but the offer’s there.”

Gordon appeared to have had a weight lifted off his shoulders at the news, but the cold yet somber gaze didn’t leave his eyes. Barney planned to tell Gordon that they were among the few survivors of the Black Mesa incident, but he bit his tongue for the time being.

“...Never thought you’d be in the history books, did ya?” Barney let out a lighthearted chuckle in an attempt to lighten the mood. “You’re a hero in everyone’s eyes, now.”

Gordon shook his head, looking down and away from Barney’s gaze as he clasped his hands together on his lap. Barney stared at him with a look of confusion and worry, all before forcefully clearing his throat. 

“I’m just…happy to see you alive, Gordon.” Barney stated. “After…a few years I began to…to lose hope.” Barney paused for a second, realizing Gordon was still not meeting his gaze. “...Should’ve known you were a tougher son of a bitch than that, I guess.”

Gordon scoffed slightly before shaking his head again, still staring at his feet. Silence fell as Barney attempted to think of something else to say to ease the tense atmosphere, though his thoughts were blank and void of any ideas. Barney looked towards Gordon yet again, seeing he was raising his hands up to sign something:

“Missed you too.”

Barney smiled slightly, despite feeling as if he wanted to cry right then and there. He never anticipated he’d be this emotional in his life, yet here he was; about to cry for the second time that day. Seeing his legally dead friend after ten years of being missing in action was enough to warrant it, he supposed.

“I’m sure the others will be happy to show you everything they’ve been working on,” Barney said, with Gordon finally looking back up at him, before looking directly behind him, “They’ve been working on a new telepor–”

Gordon flinched, staring at something behind Barney before attempting to crawl backwards, nearly ripping off his IV in the process. Barney looked behind him, seeing nothing but the wall before he heard a loud thud coming from the bed. He turned, seeing Gordon had fallen off of the bed and onto the cold linoleum floor. “Gordon!” Barney quickly ran to his aid, holding out an arm for Gordon to grab, lifting him off of the floor. When weight was put onto his right leg, Gordon grimaced, using Barney as leverage as he was put back onto the bed. “Jeez Gordon, what got you freaked out so ba–”

Barney was silenced when Gordon hugged him without warning. Barney could hear him quietly sobbing into his shoulder, and as he returned the hug, he wondered if he had ever seen Gordon so touchy before; It was as if he hadn’t had human contact in days. This time however, Barney wasn’t quick to let go. The last thing he wanted to do was leave his best friend behind again.

Not this time.

[watcheraurora]

Deepfrost Pass

More than a little inspired by @/mellozheist's want to give credit but not bother with my shipping nonsense so no tag unfinished Let It Go Tango animatic that I was watching... but as always I've got Rancher brainrot on my brain... have fun! 3.2k words

—

"Absolutely not," Grian snapped. "No. Not happening. You can't."

"Try and stop me," Jimmy challenged. "You're not a Watcher here."

"I am a Watcher here, but my powers are limited. Not gone. And I say no."

"Well I say yes. And you won't stop me." Jimmy shoved Grian out of the way of the door. "It's your fault anyway."

Grian's wings went rigid. "Excuse me?" he demanded, voice cold.

"It's your fault!" Jimmy retorted. "If you hadn't made that stupid server—"

"If I hadn't made that stupid server, you two wouldn't ever have met the way you did!" Grian spat back. "You wouldn't ever have known him like this if it weren't for me. If anything, you should be thanking me."

"I am grateful to you for that. But only that. The rest? Yeah, I do blame you for."

"If you go there, you'll die."

Jimmy shoved his arms into his coat. "That's a risk I'm willing to take."

"Tim—" Grian's hand lashed out and caught Jimmy's wrist. "Even I can't—and I'm a Watcher—It's just—there are nearly ten wardens in there. They've taken him over. He left for a reason. Can't you just—"

Jimmy shook Grian's hand off. "No. I can't 'just.' I know you think that whatever he found up there corrupted him or possessed him. I think you're wrong. That server was awful to him in a way he wasn't prepared for. I can take being the butt of jokes. I'm used to it. He never handled betrayal well and put on such a brave face that no one noticed. He snapped. And I'm don't care. I'm going to see him. I'm not here for very long before I'm going to get kicked."

"Tim, don't be stupid—"

"That's me. Stupid, stupid Tim," Jimmy spat. His wings snapped open and he hurled himself into the sky.

Grian was a fantastic flyer. He was small and nimble and could maneuver incredibly well. But he couldn't hold a candle to the raw power and strength of Jimmy's massive wings. That was what came from their height difference and builds. Jimmy was built for strength and speed. Most real canaries weren't, but he wasn't an actual bird, for crying out loud.

His armor barely even weighed him down as he surged higher into the sky. Grian would never be able to catch up. In small areas with lots of obstacles, Grian would win a race any day. But wide open sky going in a straight line? He'd have to work extra hard to keep up with Jimmy's casual flight.

He flapped his wings and soared higher. The world dropped even farther below. He knew this would be a long flight—hours, probably—but he would make it most of the way on the wing. Then the last leg of the journey on foot. He was prepared. He knew what he was doing.

He hoped.

All sorts of landscapes passed by beneath him. For hours. Gradually lifting up from plains into hills into foothills. Until he was in a taiga. Nearing the tundra tree line. Mountains surged up from the ground ahead of him, and he'd have to gain more altitude to access the pass between two of them that he needed. His wings beat the air harder, lifting him up until the air was almost too thin to cushion his wings and keep him aloft.

Jimmy flew until frost started to crystallize on his feathers. He knew he wouldn't be able to get any closer via flight, so he tilted into a sharp dive and braked hard, landing with a crunch of his leather boots in the deep snow. He pulled his coat tighter around him and drew his wings in close. They were so long that they dragged through the snow behind him. And they took the bite of this cold mountain range the most. But he couldn't let himself care about that.

He pulled a Blaze Rod out of his inventory and held it in one hand, a torch in the other. The Blaze Rod lit the torch and both helped keep him warm as he trudged up the mountain. He knew he couldn't be far now. The sun was going down. Mobs were going to start spawning soon.

He ate as he hiked. A golden carrot styled to look like a churro every so often. Scar had insisted he take them, so he had.

The sun went down. A full moon began to emerge over the mountain peaks. Jimmy caught sight of it when he was between peaks. There was no path to where he was going. Just the ever-worsening cold to lead him on. But he felt the direction in his heart.

So when he rounded the mountain and saw the fortress, he wasn't sure how to feel.

The thing was massive. Dark stone and teal accents. Grey-black towers clawed at the midnight-blue sky, as though trying to feed the stars to the gaping, frowning mouth partway up the enormous central tower. A warden's mouth.

The doorway was open, the portcullis raised.

Who needed security like that in a place like this? When the dangerous stuff was inside?

Jimmy stared.

The Deepfrost Citadel.

Blood. Pain. Screaming. Tango's yellow fire hair simmering down, blazing back up with the ice-blues and teals of soul fire. His friends' betrayals still lingering in his heart. The rage never fully going away, just pretending it was gone...

Jimmy still had some of Tango's memories. He remembered waking up in the middle of the night in Tumble Town, not too long after he first settled there after Double Life had ended, to Tango's screams in his nightmares. He remembered waking up months ago to a message from Grian, panicking that Tango had retreated into the mountains and no one had seen nor heard from him since.

Tango had even avoided him when he'd crossed over into Jimmy's world. Jimmy had rebuilt their ranch and everything. Tango promised it was his home. And then he spent all his time down in Gobland, too absorbed in work to... to ever... to ever come home.

A tear slid down Jimmy's face, trying to freeze but so hot that it made his skin tingle from the contact.

He trudged closer to the citadel.

Fine. If Tango was going to go back to his cave and his castle since returning home to Hermitcraft, then Jimmy was going to go to him.

He made it into the maw of the open doorway and shook off. Snow fell off his hair, wings, and the shoulders of his coat. His sheriff clothes were designed for the broiling heat of the mesa. They were thick and protective, but lightweight to release body heat.

Not a good idea for this taiga. He was freezing.

He climbed a long, dark staircase into a semi-constructed great hall.

"Tango?" he called. His voice echoed to the towers above him.

He heard the humming of a warden, coming from somewhere deep below. Just that sound alone made his blood run cold.

"Tango!" he called louder.

Something moved in the shadows cast by the soul fires. He whirled, expecting a warden or a ravager.

Nothing.

He held the Blaze Rod closer to his chest and extinguished the torch, tucking it back in his inventory. The lack of its warmth made his wings shiver. "Tango. Is that you?" he asked quieter. "Tango, please."

The movement was a shadow itself. Humanoid in shape, but nothing more than silhouette. It pointed, dodged to another shadow, and pointed again. Jimmy followed. "Tango, is that you?" Jimmy asked more urgently.

The shadow shook its head. Pointed again. Flitted to another shadow. Pointed. Jimmy followed its path.

A hole in the wall that led to a hole in the ground. The shadow briefly appeared, pointed down, and vanished.

Jimmy looked down apprehensibly. He didn't see any water... but there was a water elevator right next to this drop. Obviously a way up and down to somewhere.

Trusting in Tango, trusting in whatever they'd been on that first Ranch, hearts and souls in each other's hands, he closed his eyes and stepped off the drop, pulling his wings in tight so they wouldn't smash into anything or break and holding the Blaze Rod to his chest.

He landed on powdered snow, covered in a carpet square. It absorbed the damage of his fall. He ducked low to clear his wings and stepped out.

He was in a storage room. The walls were lined with rows and rows and columns and columns of chests. It was a remarkably compact storage room, all things considered. He'd seen the incredibly complex, sprawling system behind the doors of Scar's shop fronts in his theme park. That was huge. This was just chests. All shoved against one another. A Nether portal droned off to his left. And beside it, an archway that led out into a huge open cavern. Jimmy stood on the edge of the storage room's packed mud brick floor and looked out, his wings extending slightly behind him.

The cavern wasn't just some empty hole. It was filled with an unfathomably complicated web of redstone, all woven around structures. Jimmy couldn't make heads or tails of any of it.

This kind of area is where Grian's flying skills would be more beneficial than his. Jimmy could fly around in here, but he'd smack into every wall and track of redstone he came across. He couldn't maneuver anywhere near as well. This was an obstacle course dream for Grian.

Jimmy unfurled his wings and launched into the cavern, trying to keep his ridiculously long wingspan as close to himself as he could while still staying airborne while he flew around, searching the structures and the web of redstone.

"Tango?" he called. His voice echoed around the structure. He wondered if, for a moment, he actually saw that shadow running through the darkness alongside him. Or if he was losing it.

He heard giggling. Tango's distinct giggle. He pulled up short and banked in a circle, looking around.

"Hmhm! Dungeon's making me hear my birdie," Tango said in his high-pitched, silly voice. Sounding... slightly manic.

A firework rocket shot off. Jimmy heard the snapping of Elytra membranes. He looked around—

And caught sight of Tango flying back toward the storage room, a shulker box in hand. Jimmy twisted sharply and shot after him, catching his wings on tracks of powered and activator rails. He grunted in pain at the impacts.

When he finally made it back to the storage room, Tango was kneeling in front of a ground-level chest, rifling through it. He had a black hood on, attached to the long black coat he'd worn on Jimmy's world. The one that had spawned on him in Jimmy's nightmare when he snapped and his yellow fire hair had turned blue. The nightmare where the wardens broke through the ground at Tango's command and attacked the other Hermits who tried to contain them—and him—before he retreated up Deepfrost Pass and churned out his fortress.

He was singsonging under his breath as he moved materials from the chest into the shulker box. "Just keep workin'. Do the buildy-buildy. We'll show them. We'll show 'em all when I watch Ravagers munch their faces off. Especially Bdubs."

He shuffled over, popping another shulker box onto the ground and filling it with contents of another chest.

Jimmy just watched for a few moments.

"Gotta finish. Have to. Can't wait to feed the Hermits to the wardens."

Jimmy crept closer. He set a hand on Tango's shoulder. "Tango," he said gently.

"Wah-ga-gah!" Tango exclaimed, whirling around with his coat flaring around him. His hood fell off, revealing soul-fire hair. And, for just a moment, black eyes. But the black disappeared, and they were back to blue with deep blue sclera. He started laughing. "Very funny, Decked Out!" he called toward the cavern of structures and redstone. "Making me hallucinate Jimmy isn't going to speed things up, you know!"

"Tango, I—I'm not a hallucination," Jimmy said, tightening his grip on Tango's shoulder. The coat was so thick, he couldn't feel Tango's muscle giving underneath.

Tango leaned closer conspiratorially and winked. "That's what a hallucination would say," he said playfully. He turned back to his materials and kept shoveling them over into the shulker box.

"No, I'm not. Tango—" Jimmy grabbed Tango's shoulders and spun him around. "Look at me. I'm really here. I flew most of the way here and hiked the rest. I had to come see you. I had to—you—I miss you. I've barely seen you since our home worlds collided. You never came home to Tumble Town. The only reason I came through the Rift was to spend more time with you, and I've barely seen you since I've been here. You just left. What did I do, Tango? What have I done to warrant you avoiding me?"

Tango tried to turn back around, but Jimmy held him firm.

Tango blinked. Something like clarity sharpened in his eyes. "You're really here," he said.

"Yes. I'm here. I'm not some illusion or hallucination."

"I thought... the dungeon..." Tango looked out to the cavern, then back to Jimmy. Somewhere deep below, a warden hummed and sniffed. Jimmy's wings shivered. Tango's eyes snapped back to his. "I have to finish Decked Out. The dungeon needs to be whole."

Jimmy knelt so he and Tango were nearly at eye-level, still holding the shoulders of the coat. A glassy look made Tango's eyes unfocus.

"The others... they tried to stop me from leaving. But they've already held me back for so long. Bdubs betrayed me. We were teammates. He stabbed me in the back. He was no match for my wardens. Grian thought he was some almighty eldritch creature. But six wings are just more targets to get blastificated. Even Etho—the original!—was powerless to stop me when I finally let go of everything I'd used to hold myself back."

"Tango. Can you find it in yourself to forgive your friends?" Jimmy ran a hand through Tango's soul fire hair. It burned his skin in a way he wasn't used to. Soul fire was hotter than normal fire, but back when they were SoulBound, Tango's fire hadn't even been able to burn Jimmy's skin.

Tango bared his sharp teeth. His hair blazed brighter, higher, and hotter. Jimmy leaned away.

"Tango," Jimmy said soothingly. Repeating his name over and over to remind him who he was. To remind him he was a person. He cupped the side of Tango's face. "Look at me. Look at my eyes." He waited until Tango did. "Can you?"

Tango grumbled under his breath. Bitter and sarcastic.

"Hey. Remember when we first met? In Third Life? And I died to your lava game?"

"Dare to Flare," Tango said automatically.

"That's right. Do you remember when we met again in Double Life? After the creeper?"

Tango's voice pitched up. "You were angry."

"I wasn't," Jimmy said. "Not at you. Just that I'd lost the resources I'd gathered. It had nothing to do with you. And you were always so kind to me. I'm used to everyone putting me on the short end of the joke. You never did. You were a little sarcastic with me, sure. But you always put yourself at the short end of the joke. But you were kind to me. You're one of the only people who ever treated me with unconditional respect as a person, all the time. It's why I..." Jimmy cleared his throat. His wings twitched and ruffled. "It's why I fell for you, so fast."

Tango blinked, slow, like a cat. His head tilted into the contact of Jimmy's hand.

"You saw, while we lived on the Ranch, how everyone else treats me. I'm used to it. I encourage it. If they have to be mean to someone, they should be mean to me. I can take it. But you... you were never anything but loyal. Not just to me. To your team. And you got nothing in return but betrayal. You and me—we really feel our emotions. We pretend we don't, but we do. Our emotions are big and deep. The good, and the bad. Maybe it's why we got put together." Jimmy bent closer and rested his forehead to Tango's. "We have to learn to let the bad slide off, once we've felt it. You have to forgive the other Hermits. You have to let go of the rage."

Tango took a deep breath. "I... I can't."

"Please? Just try. For me?"

Tango reached up and wrapped cold hands around the back of Jimmy's neck, lacing his fingers together. "Birdie..."

"I'm only asking you to try. Breathe with me, and thing about letting it go."

"I'll try."

They shared deep breaths. Trying to tune out the wardens deep below. "Thank your emotions for keeping you safe, and release them," Jimmy whispered.

They knelt on the floor of the storage room for what felt like a long time. Just breathing and quietly encouraging Tango to forgive and let go. Jimmy kept quietly whispering affirmations he used to tell himself when he was learning not to mind the jokes.

A warden screamed somewhere below.

Tension surged out of Tango's shoulders and he slumped forward.

Jimmy caught him, cradling him to his chest. "I got you. It's okay. It's okay. You're fine." He rocked them both, his wings encircling them in a gold shield of protection. "What was that? Why did that warden...? Was Grian right? Were the wardens' influence bleeding into you?"

Tango shook his head against Jimmy's heart. "No. Other way around. My pain was bleeding into them. Wardens are mourners. They were mourning for me. But you're right. I can let it go."

Jimmy smiled. "That's it. Exactly."

There was a long pause. "I do still have to finish this game though. I've been working on it for so long—I can't just stop now."

"No, I know. But let it be just that. A game. Not a vessel for revenge or a channel for betrayal. Just a game."

"I can do that," Tango said. "Or. Well. I can try, anyway."

"That's all you need to do. Just try. Because there's merit in trying. And eventually, trying can pay off. Next thing you'll know, you'll be doing."

"Yeah... yeah. I can do that."

Jimmy kissed the top of Tango's head. The soul fire hair didn't burn him. "That's all I ask." He pulled back a little. "Come up with me? Outside? Come see the sky, please? The sun went down, but the stars are beautiful this far from everyone else. It's so dark and high altitude up here. They're beautiful."

"Okay."

Jimmy smiled. "Okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Okay!"

"Come with me!" Jimmy pulled Tango toward the water elevator.

[futuristicanoe]

the virus of life

do you remember where it all went wrong?

Of all the bars, of all the charming places, he just had to walk in here. Right where you hated to be.

no smut & this is probably going to be a series. Mark! [ unnamed health issues, food/eating, alcohol & blood mention, uneasiness, ambiguity. mature themes. ]

He pushed the door open gently.

The door chime shook with only a hushed imitation of its usual noise. Had it been some other day, you would have missed it. But in that moment, you had a strange feeling in your gut, the sort you get after a migraine turns your brain into a mushed pulp of agitation. You could even hear the restless cicadas buzzing outside, and the sound got louder for a second as he slipped into the room like a ghost, shutting the door behind him quietly.

Your position was quite comedic.

You were looming over the mini fridge that Henry had put beside your chair a while ago— he was the owner of this rusty diner-bar-whatever, and he thought it would be a nice gesture to give you a tiny fridge, so you wouldn't need to go all the way back to the kitchen, if you wanted to help yourself with a cold something. The only reason you worked there was that you needed some money and needed it more than sleep, too. Obviously– Henry had been a godsend. Nobody looked at you twice, let alone tried to guess your age or doubt your work experience. So, it was easy to ignore how the lights flickering inside the empty fridge were plucking your nerves one by one.

Sitting behind the counter with your back hunched, you were hidden from the view completely. No need to worry about how absolutely silly you must have been to the stranger.

When you heard the soft clicking of what were undeniably short heels accompanying the earlier, supposedly graceful entry, you had been almost ready to look up and greet a woman.

Well, you had been ready to greet anyone, but someone like him.

You straightened your back, fixing your hair that was getting greasier by the second, even though you had washed it last night. It frustrated you.

After quickly throwing away the couple of ice cubes you had been holding in your hands, you wiped your numb fingers on your apron. You felt a bit flushed, still. There was no name for that, the sudden rush of warmth staining your skin red from time to time, but it had started only a few days prior, so you blamed it on everything from the passing flu to hormones.

The stranger was not expected. There was no "Hello," yet he kept walking in.

Unlike you, who did not need more than a mere sign of someone entering the room to analyse them already, your full attention drawn in an instant – for a good while, he did not even look at you. Instead, he simply took his time to look over the dingy little place, stealing glances at the old furniture and the wallpaper, a different shade in each corner. It was as if you did not exist, so you said nothing. Best to not ruin the fantasy that didn't belong to you.

Cicadas always did a good job of being entertaining, with their shrilly little noises. And if he gave that up, crawled into this bubble of momentary comfort that you had built around yourself and even had the audacity to ignore you, then it was only fair to continue analysing.

The colour of his shirt was an odd yellow, like a warning signal. And it was open at the top, no doubt adorned with tiny details that you did not really want to see up close, because they would linger in your mind afterwards. He had a suit jacket on, too. The darkest shade of grey or blue, not quite black. Or maybe it was just the weird lightning. You blinked almost aggressively to keep yourself wide awake, and regretted it right away when you felt your eyelashes sticking to each other, dry mascara making your eyes sting.

He walked to the counter, acknowledging your presence only when he was within an elbow's reach. Sat down in the squeaky chair, placing his coat and his leather bag on the one next to him.

"How can I help you, sir?"

The stranger flashed a smile. Sincere only for a second and tastefully impersonal all over.

"Good evening," he said, to which you responded with a nod and parroted the words quietly. Somewhere in the back of your mind praying that you did not look too ridiculous or too childish. Not that you were trying to impress him, exactly, just that you were neither ridiculous nor a child, and you didn't want him to get the wrong idea. "The air feels so dry today... I would like something fresh and cold, maybe. How about that?"

You got up instinctively, hoping that the soft thud your shoes made on the wooden floor did not give away how your chair was made for someone taller. You paused when you faced the shelves, looking at him over your shoulder.

"We are out of ice, sir," you said with a slight frown and squeezed your numb hands together.

"Ah, I see." He nodded, placing a thumb on his chin. Then he looked at the refrigerator, which stood in the corner, looming over you.

"That's– yes, it is working..." You felt your face warm up when you made your way to the fridge and almost tripped over your own foot. "But there is no more ice left, sir. We only have some softer things in there. For children, mostly. Like fruit juice and... ice cream."

He raised an eyebrow. "Ice cream, but no ice. I think I got it."

You smiled out of awkwardness, fidgeting with your apron.

He looked at your smile. The lipstick you had put on in the morning needed to be reapplied, evidently. Smudged traces of crimson along the seam of your lips almost made your mouth look like a fresh wound, about to bleed.

His gaze flickered back up to your eyes.

"The sign outside said something about pie, if I can recall correctly," he said, his voice suddenly monotonous, like looking at you was the most boring thing in the world.

"Yes." You nodded. "We–"

"Two slices of pie, then."

He smiled to make up for interrupting you.

You just looked at him, caught off-guard.

"Two?"

"Yes. There are just the two of us here, I'm assuming."

"No, yeah, but–" You stopped.

Was that sarcasm?

You felt a sudden need to get out of there. Alone.

"Well, I'm not feeling hungry at all, sir."

"I'd like to buy you a slice. Just because it is getting pretty late and you look a bit... out of it." He paused, as if mimicking you. "You don't want to be lying with me now. So, please."

You did not really know how to answer, but you remembered what your job was.

"I think we have some cherry pie left."

Your voice was monotonous, too.

Mirroring each other already.

"Perfect."

You went to the kitchen with a rickety mind.

It felt weird, the whole thing. The way he was overall polite but almost rude, if you looked too closely. He smelt like something – an expensive cologne, yes, but there was this chemical scent around him. Like paint. Or acetone. Something bitter and torn apart, but nothing new.

By the time you got back, he had taken off his suit jacket. You did not know he had been wearing braces beneath it the whole time. They looked nice. Even if you couldn't see where they were clipped onto his pants, and you never would, the dark lines digging into his shirt looked good.

You sat down the tray as carefully as you could.

He looked at you with a curious gaze and then stared at the plates with the same curiosity.

"You know what would make the cherry on top?" He waved a hand over his slice of cherry pie, amused by his own joke.

A cup of coffee?

"Some ice cream, of course." He answered his own question, too.

You were glad you hadn't sat down in your chair already, because you would have really hated to get up again.

The lights did not flicker inside that fridge, and it was not empty either, which was a relief. You stood with your back to him for a moment too long, pretending to look for the expiration date when you just wanted the cold air to cool down your face.

He looked almost hungry. And you did not really understand anything about him or his hunger. Or his hair. Not that unusual for men like him to come here and order a drink, obviously. But this had never really happened before – he was acting overly nice while maintaining an aura around him, the one that told you how easy it would be for him to forget you. To erase you — you shuddered as your finger accidentally touched the ice cream you were putting on top of your pie. You almost licked it clean, as if you were home. Alone.

It felt like he could tell what you were thinking of, knew exactly how much you wanted to avoid thinking while he was right there. The grin on his face disappeared only when it was necessary. As he took a forkful of his dessert and brought it up to his mouth, he looked at you.

"Hmm. This is to... pleasant surprises," he said way too formally before putting the fork in his mouth.

Dramatic.

"Oh." You did not know how you could break the silence and avoid cutting your fingers with the shards later.

You took a bite, careful with the lipstick at first before just dragging your lips across the fork carelessly.

He chewed slowly, and the cough after he swallowed suggested that he would've much preferred a cold drink. You almost winced.

The pie was very good, all cherry sweetness sticking to your gums and with the thick ice cream on top, it felt almost heavenly after a tiring day like this one.

"Splendid," he said.

You wanted to tell him it was not a compliment, because you did not make any of it. But you still nodded as a thank you, popping a cherry in your mouth and mentally grimacing at the lines of glossy redness on your fork.

He shifted in his seat, preparing to say something else. "Forgive me, I don't mean to pry, but I noticed a guitar over there, in the corner. Is it yours?"

You swallowed quickly to avoid talking with a mouthful.

"No, no." You sighed, playing with the melting ice cream on your plate. "It was my dad's. He used to play. Not- not anymore. So I thought I could give it to someone. That's why I brought it here."

You felt exposed. It was unusual for you to talk like that. Maybe it was the pie, or he just seemed like the person who would do everything but let you keep your mouth shut. All tangled up in charm that you'd never understand or mirror.

He looked puzzled and put his elbows on the table, clasping his hands together in front of his chin. "Somebody could steal it. It seems to be in a rather vulnerable position. And it has an old soul, doesn't it? You shouldn't keep it all bare and dusty like that."

Even though his voice sounded soft, the tone of his words was eating away at your patience.

"I wasn't gonna sell it. I just want to get rid of it. Better than throwing it in the trash or burning it for Christmas, no? If someone were to steal it, I mean."

He smiled gently.

Your appetite still was not present.

"Do you know how to play, sir?" You asked him, putting your fork down.

The look on his face remained somewhat unsure, though you did not know what he was so perplexed by. Maybe it was because of a stranger asking him a question like that, but he wouldn't be so surprised by something he had just done, surely.

"I do, yes." He nodded. "Would you take me for a musician at the first glance?"

You pondered his question, looking him over. Taking in the way his eyes sparkled, how his posture was steady, the modest tilt of his head demanding an honest answer.

"Sure," you blurted out, grabbing your fork again. "You do look like an artist."

"How intriguing."

He could not stop thinking about something you said earlier, but he still kept asking you about himself. "Any artist in particular?"

"No," you said, confident with your answer.

He paused before speaking up again. "So, what does an artist look like, then?"

You sighed, sliding your fingers over your forehead to soothe your headache, at least a bit. It felt good to have something you could focus on. Even if the thing in question was a man, somebody you did not know in the slightest—it was just another workday you had to live through, and it would end soon.

"It's not about appearance, you just have to know what you are looking for... Sir."

He responded with a nod. "Ah, here I thought that all of this lurid yellow would be a cause for... an association," he grinned. It almost looked like he was genuinely enjoying all of this, but his quick toothy smile was not coming from a place of happiness, still.

"What, you wanted me to say Van Gogh or something?" You laughed, feeling the tension in the room slowly easing up, and it just felt nice to laugh. But the headache only got worse when you were laughing. It only lasted three seconds.

He chuckled. "No, but it's–"

"No, you aren't Van Gogh."

His eyes widened slightly when you interrupted him, when he heard that playful tint in your voice.

"But you can wear it– you could be a part of his..." You closed your eyes before blinking harshly and catching his gaze again. "Maybe you are Mr. Gauguin, Sir."

He stared, his interest piqued once more.

"Something is telling me he isn't your favourite."

You hummed, gripping your fork tighter and covering your mouth as you chewed. He had already stopped eating, but you decided that the excuse a mouthful of pie could make for your silence was great. "I think his paintings are interesting."

"I think it is rude to judge a complete stranger," he said with a small smile.

You gulped when you felt how the pain beneath your temples was making your eyes water, stinging horribly like the mascara hadn't been doing that well enough. "Well, you told me what I should n' shouldn't be doing with my dad's guitar."

You did not have to say it like that. You did not have to say anything at all.

His face seemed unreadable as he looked at you, leaning back in his chair.

The sugary mess was making the back of your throat feel almost sore, and you jumped to your feet. Your knees lacked certainty as you walked to the fridge for a bottle of water.

"It just surprised me," he said. His voice sounded much lower than before, not bursting with curiosity. His words were just pieces of the giant mess you would call honesty, and the idea made you shiver. That a stranger would be willing to give that to you.

He laughed before adding with a lighthearted tone, "I'd have never guessed that Henry could play the guitar. He always thought I was a fool for loving music."

You froze. "I'm—" As if it was your first time feeling this way. Cornered without receiving an actual threat. "I'm not Henry's daughter, Sir."

A sense of dread hollowed your stomach out, reaching your heart and tugging on your tongue, and you needed to get some water down as soon as possible before you got sick.

He did not seem to doubt your words, like he already knew what you would answer with, and just made sure that his assumptions were correct.

He knew what to expect, you thought, a man like him would not waste his time talking with a liar. Or a complete stranger.

Maybe you had an imaginary world in your head, home down the road to let your old memories gather proper dust on the shelves, but you were just a waitress here. Not somebody's daughter, not anyone he has met before, or was hoping to meet, apparently.

"Oh," he said, "Right. Of course."

There was nothing you could do to have a look at his thoughts. You were not even looking at him.

It was just like the beginning. But you were the stranger this time. Avoiding a piercing gaze and a wave of questions that would make you feel more vulnerable than being out there in the dark. Alone.

You wondered if he was feeling confused. If he was trying to pinpoint the exact moment when he had miscalculated something. With a furrow in his brow, staring at your silhouette like he was the one casting the shadow over you and not that lifeless place, not that miserable town you have been suffocating yourself in.

It did not matter what you had felt, but that you turned around despite it. You looked him in the eye.

"I guess you don't have to pay for my pie now, sir."

He tilted his head to the side. "I did not have to do anything, it turns out." He smiled after that, like he was joking. "This could be a pleasant surprise. Please, don't frown."

"I'm not," you murmured.

"Very good."

He nodded and grabbed his bag.

You looked away, feeling ridiculous. Somewhat like a child who just showed their parents a painting, beaming with love, only for them to ignore the meaning of it. When tears began clawing at your throat and the sticky mascara had nothing to do with it, you wondered again, going quiet as if checking a pulse. Curious if that child still lived inside you.

Of course it did not.

You watched him put the money on the counter, and hated that you would have to look away from his hand.

"Thank you," you said.

He took his coat, took his bag and started walking towards the door without saying a single word.

Funny how he did not need to put the coat on, because he had a car waiting for him, and yet he still brought it inside.

He halted his steps when he reached the door, turning around on his heels.

"Will you tell him about me?" he asked.

It took you just a second– he was talking about Henry. Henry, who did not even know what your birth name was or where you lived.

"Plenty of people come here, sir. And this is the first time I've tried the thing– the pie I've been giving to them."

His mouth twitched to a smile.

"To answer your question– no, I will not. Will you, sir?" You asked.

You knew the answer when he put his hand on the door handle.

"There is nothing for me to say."

If he murmured a "see you," then it must have disappeared in the sudden of whoosh of wind as he left, closing the door modestly.

You had refused to look at the money while he was still in front of you. But something caught your eye, shining among the green bundle of figures and numbers.

You grasped it with your clammy hands.

It was a business card.

TRANQUILITY BASE

HOTEL AND CASINO

AWAITS YOU, COME

AND STAY WITH US

You flipped it over with a quiver churning in your fingers, like the other side was beginning to burn your skin.

Contact us at:

— (132) 411 33 51 42

There was something written below the phone number, clearly added to the card with a regular pen, all jumbled and messy.

— ASK FOR MARK.

You sat back down in your chair.

The dull pain loosened its circle of rope around your jaws and settled in your stomach.