#So if I'm a bit out of the loop today this is why

[illbegottenfaith]

lucky - theo nott x reader

A tussle over a vial of Felix Felicis proves to be strangely enlightening

a/n - argh I had a bit of a rough time ending this fic also why do I kind of want a smutty pt 2 to this ahem ahem insufferable!theo when reader loses a bet with him ahem ahem

tropes/warnings - academic rivals, enemies to lovers (ish), cameo by Mattheo (??), fluff, physical touch, slight angst/yearning

word count - 1.6k

Two weeks. For two weeks you had spent every moment of your free time researching and experimenting to get the right recipe for the Draught of the Living Death down. You had seen the way Theodore Nott had perked up at the mention of the curious potion when Slughorn first mentioned the competition. You felt something stir inside you over the gleam in his eye, and that was when you decided that you absolutely had to win it. After all, who couldn't use a little extra luck every now and then? 

And win it you did. Strangely enough, Theo didn't seem to mind as much as he should have. After a superfluous promise to pass you the vial of Felix Felicis the following lesson, Slughorn dismissed the class. But you weren't satisfied, not when you'd realised a glimmer of an inkling of what Theo might be planning. He took off the moment Slughorn finished speaking, and you scrambled to swipe your things into your bag to catch up with him. As expected, you turned the corner and found the Potions storage room's door ajar.

"You know, I expected better of you, Nott."

Theo stilled, his back facing you, before surreptitiously pulling his hand out of his pocket. "You expected that I would be above stealing?"

"Of course not. But I thought you'd have enough dignity not to stoop this low." You clicked your tongue disapprovingly. "Didn't take you to be so sore a loser."

Surprisingly, your appeal to his pride was ineffective. He turned around and stared at you from under his beautiful overly long eyelashes, his lips twisting into a malicious smile.

"Loser? I'm afraid I'm unfamiliar with the term, Tesoro. You see, one, and only one, of us has today's highly coveted prize." His oily smirk widened. "So you'll forgive me if I don't quite feel like I've lost."

Your face flamed with indignation. "That Felix Felicis is mine and you know it."

Theo took on an expression of faux innocence, splaying his deceitfully empty hands. "I haven't the faintest clue what you're talking about."

You finally snapped. It was one thing to have his aggravating dreamy mug haunting your every waking and sleeping moment, and another to have him outright refuse to acknowledge that you had bested him. You hadn't slaved away the past two weeks perfecting your Draught of the Living Death just for him to nick it from the storeroom. No, you had won, fair and square, and it was time someone smacked that into that swollen head of his. 

You lunged at him, shoving a hand into his pocket, taking Theo by surprise. A second later, his hand closed around your wrist For pockets that did not appear excessively large, it was surprisingly difficult to rifle through its contents, especially with Theo's squirming. 

"You always do this," you bit out. "Since first year you've never been able to stand me getting ahead of you."

"Bold of you to assume you've ever gotten ahead of me, mia cara," Theo grunted through gritted teeth, wincing as you doubled your violent efforts.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, give it up already! I won, you lost. Now give me the vial."

"Finder's keepers."

So engrossed were you in your spirited if awkward wrestling that neither of you noticed someone had stopped by the storeroom.

"Uh," Mattheo started, half-conflicted about whether or not he ought to avert his gaze. "I can come back later."

"NO!" The two of you shouted, Theo trying to wrench your arm away, cursing furiously under his breath in Italian while you stubbornly scrabbled for the vial, hooking him in close by his belt loops. Eventually, after a sharp elbow jab to his rib, Theo's grip slackened enough for you to pull the vial out and shove it into your satchel. 

"Knock yourself out," you said breathlessly to a stunned Mattheo, with your uniform slightly askew and a tinge of pink colouring your face. You left briskly before Theo could recover and wandered to the staircase towards your next class, fixing your hair, still trembling from the adrenaline.

You hurried into the Great Hall for lunch once Charms ended, sliding into a seat next to two of your friends already eating.

"Hey, what did I miss?"

Ivy and Katie exchanged a cryptic look. "What didn't you miss?" responded Ivy innocently, tucking into her slice of Shepherd's pot pie nonchalantly. You frowned at Katie, who seemed to be pointedly avoiding your gaze.

"I don't get it. What happened?"

"Are you kidding? Everyone's talking about it."

"Talking about what?"

"You and Theo getting lucky in the Potions storage room."

You choked on your food, earning a few overly aggressive thumps on your back. "I am going to kill Mattheo."

You found him easily enough, pouring over some dull Ancient Runes assignment in the library. He didn't look up as you entered, fuming, but that was quickly remedied by a sharp smack to the back of his head.

"What else was I supposed to think, L/N? You had his hand down his pants, for Salazar's sake."

"In his pants, you idiot," you hissed. "In, as in his pockets. Didn't the scuffling and the fighting give it away?"

"I don't know," Mattheo said doubtfully, "it's a bit hazy how much actual fighting was going on. If I didn't know any better, and I don't, I'd say I was interrupting a little...something."

You glared at him. "He was trying to stop me from invading his pockets. There was nothing but fighting."

"Right," Mattheo said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Because if there were one person stronger than a goddamn Quidditch player, it would be you. Because that's obviously more plausible than the idea that he might just like you feeling him up."

You faltered, and Mattheo took the chance to scoop up his books and leave. "I wasn't feeling him up," you muttered half-heartedly, but he was long gone. And it was true. At no point were your actions motivated by anything other than a righteous desire to reclaim what was yours. But you'd be lying if you said that your mind hadn't wandered, if only for a split second, to what it would be like to be in that exact position under very different circumstances. But it was only inevitable, with the pressing against the hard muscle underneath the coarse fabric and the illicit feeling of running your hands along the most intimate part of his trousers. You groaned, digging the heels of your palms into your eyes, trying to erase the memory.

You left the library soon after Mattheo, turning your thoughts around and around in your head.

"You let me have the Felix Felicis."

It wasn't a question as much as a statement of fact. Other than a glance towards you, Theo showed no sign of acknowledging you. He kept that irritatingly cool expression, gazing out at the setting sun and the idyllic sight of the Hogwarts grounds bathed in a soft, liquid golden glow. You joined him at the observation point, your gazes parallel to each other's.

"I don't understand. Why steal it in the first place, then?"

"Why do you even want it?"

You cast your mind around fruitlessly. "It's...it's luck in a bottle. Who wouldn't want it?"

"But it's more than that, isn't it?" Theo tilted his head, considering her with his unfairly piercing gaze. "You like getting ahead of me. You like that you have something I want." 

You tried to ignore the way your hair was sticking to the back of what you were sure was your very flushed neck. "So you agree? " you asked, in a voice that sounded braver than you felt. "I get ahead of you?"

A small, almost genuine-looking smile flitted across his face. "On occasion." He turned to face you fully now, his smile turning cocky. 

"Is that where you get off? Being the object of my undivided attention?"

"You wish." You stuck your chin out defiantly, forcing yourself to look him in the eye. "Is that where you get off? All those ironic Italian pet names?"

Theo hesitated, blinking, like that was the last thing he expected you to bring up. "Right," he muttered, "ironic."

"So I think it's only fair," you continued, oblivious to the flicker in his expression, "that we call it even. At least for today."

Theo shrugged. "If you say so, mi - L/N."

You nodded, a little taken aback by how easy that was. Now what were you supposed to do? Leave, probably. But for some reason, your feet stayed rooted to the ground. Something compels you to stand there and trace the outline of his face as the setting sun throws harsh yet delicious shadows over the contours of his face.

"Is there something else you wanted?" Theo probes gently, as if he's almost as curious as you.

So much, you want to say, and the crushing weight of the sudden realisation almost knocks the air out of your lungs. All you could think about was how much you never wanted to stop looking and looking and looking at his beautiful face. Where was all this want coming from, and what on Earth were you supposed to do with it?

"No," you say in a small voice. "Nothing at all."

[acidheaddd]

My sweet baby girl had to go to the vet. I've been battling with her over scratching her ears to the point of scarring and bleeding for about a week or so now. Finally got to take her to the vet to get it checked out as I was running out of ways to try and make her comfortable.

Turns out, ear infection in both ears. She's home now, with ear drops I gotta give her every 12 hours. I'm just glad I can finally treat the cause and hopefully she'll be comfortable and back to herself again soon.

[moonchild-in-blue]

Oh.

[keeps-ache]

love music so much, i'm gonna make some noises about it !!

[cosmicplexus]

Random Astrology Observations

🌻I wasn't feeling lazy today so this is a bit longer than the usual observation posts🌻

🦋And finally the pricing catalogue is here...at the end of the observations 🦋

Thank you so much my sunflowers🌻your support has been everything. I try my best to respond to your messages and requests. If you haven't received a response, I'm coming 🤍✨

And I tried my best to be reasonable with the prices. Also, I'm not yet doing full chart readings as I am a student with two majors and I'm already struggling with balancing things. In time I will do them. Free one question culture requests are still open, but please don't request for things you see on the pricing catalogue like a big three reading...

I don't want to bore you all too much so here we go🧚🏾‍♀️🦋🌻✨

Astrology Notes...

~4th house Gemini makes for someone who develops family-like bonds in friendships.

~taurus risings tend to be possessive due to the influence of their scorpio 7th house.

~pluto at angular houses 1st, 7th, 4th and 10th is a huge indicator of someone who has had intense experiences in the respective key areas of life and there's spiritual lessons to be learnt regarding that area through transformation.

~libra venus placements may find it really hard to stay single

~7° and 19° venus or moon signs may struggle with the theme of physical perfection and wanting to attain it.

~virgo moons have a tendency of creating problems if they don't have any current ones to solve

~capricorn risings really do look older in their younger days and younger when they're older.

~moon and neptune in 1st house natives may give off the perception that they need saving and may attract people with a martyrdom complex.

~sagittarius, 9th house, 9° and 21° mercuries may have an affinity to music in foreign languages while cancer, 4th house, 4°,16°,28° may enjoy music in their mother tongue

~jupiter in 2nd house and 10th house is heavy lotto winner vibes. Literally and figuratively.

~mercury in 2nd house and at Taurean degrees(2°,14° and 26°) are the born singers

~the 22nd degree is an underrated fame degree...I have a bey's🐝 fame analysis I've been sitting on for a while. That's a conversation for another day.

~pisces venus and mars are the most romantic people in the world which makes me kind of believe the astrology theory of neptune being the higher frequency of venus.

~leo moons really take their hair seriously and may feel out of loop if their hair is not well done.

~want to easily impress a cancer mars man??? Sing praises to your mom. Be dotting around kids.

~girls with 9th house, 9° and 21° Venus are so magically beautiful. Abundance of beauty.

~To a decent degree, liberation of women in society came at the expense of gemini, sagittarius and aquarius venus women being slut-shamed(This is not at all saying other women did not contribute to the liberation of women 🌻✨ That's a conversation for another day)

~neptune plays a huge role in beauty trends and that's why neptune dominant women are usually the beauty influencers which explains why beauty standards are mutable and ever changing.

~jupiter in 7th house can go two ways... extreme luck in meaningful relationships or someone who never has serious relationships and is forever on the look...

~pisces/12th house mercuries and mercury afflicted by neptune are often under fire for being the liars when the real culprit is the sagittarius/9th house mercuries and mercury-jupiter hard aspects.

~I personally view the north node as a jupiter variant. While the general consensus is that it is the purpose we're working for, I do believe that it's also an indicator of our birthrights, innate gifts and where we're lucky.

~Cosmic Plexus🌻🤍

§~PRICE CATALOGUE~§ ~PAID READINGS COMMENCE ON THE 16th of May 2024 🦋DETAILED BIG THREE READING ~ $6.00

🦋5 IN-DEPTH SYNASTRY QUESTIONS READING ~ $9.00 🦋OVERALL SYNASTRY ADVICE ~ $3.00

🦋SPIRITUALITY AND PURPOSE FOCUSED READING ~ $6.00 🦋CAREER ADVICE ~ $3.00 🦋 RELATIONSHIP REMEDY TIPs $3.00

Let me know your thoughts...

~Cosmic Plexus🤍✨🌻🦋©️

[enwoso]

Genuinely can’t wait for first few days

FIRST FEW DAYS — alessia russo

i can’t find the original request but it’s been a long time in the making but it’s finally here!!

masterlist

motherhood is one of the most magical things in the entire world. everyone tells you how amazing it is and how it's the best thing a person can experience. and while you definitely won't disagree with that one little bit.

and as the the first few weeks with your little one with alessia by your side have been everything and more than you could have ever imagined. making memories which will forever leave an imprint not only in your mind but your heart too.

however nobody tells you how hard motherhood can be.

the sleepless nights. the long days. the constant feeling of feeling lost in your own self. feeling as though you and alessia are just passing ships living in the same sea. the first few weeks being both physically and mentally drained.

but with all the bad it gave you a reason. your family. your beautiful girlfriend and beautiful little baby.

you and alessia had, had a hard time adjusting and had bumped heads a few times as a result.

"no your doing it wrong! you have to make sure it's the right temperature" "i have checked the temperature! and it's the perfect temp!"

"less i've already asked you, will you move your kit! i'm gonna end up tripping over" "i'll move it in a second, she's just about to fall asleep"

"i've done the last two, it's your turn for the feed" "i've already done it tonight- it's you"

but thankfully they would each end the same way, you cuddling in bed pushed up against each other while whispering sweet nothings as you shared small tender kisses.

today was another first though, you both were heading over to beth and viv's house for a 'team bonding' afternoon. beth and shared in the groupchat that it was mandatory to be at as well as ensuring with alessia that you were there even though you weren't exactly on the team.

you knew it was beth's way of getting you to bring your newborn daughter with you which most of the arsenal girls including beth had been yet to meet. but this was going to be the first time you both would be going out with your daughter since you had given birth several weeks ago.

so you were definitely feeling a little stressed to say the least.

"less, baby i don't know where i've put the her bottles?" you were pacing back and forth in the kitchen from counter to counter as alessia appeared in the doorway, your daughter in her arms all dressed already in her second outfit of the day and it was bearly even 11am..

a small smile appeared on your girlfriend's face as you furrowed your eyebrows wondering how she could be so calm right now. "love you've already put them in the bag" alessia pointed towards the bag which was sat on the kitchen counter.

"i haven't- i know i didn't." you shook your head wandering over to one last place in the kitchen were you'd been storing her bottles.

alessia moves to the living room your daughter still in her arms as the blonde was waiting for you to finish up getting ready before you could finally be able to leave.

"babe-" alessia coughed as she held up a bottle from the bad her other hand spread protectively over the back of your daughter to keep her held up as you stood and blinked for a second as you felt your shoulders loosen.

"and yes there's enough for the entire time we are out" alessia smiled as she placed the bottle back into the bag before walking back over to you as a small sigh came from you as you leant your head on your girlfriend's shoulder, your arm wrapping around her lower back looping your a finger into her belt loops.

"why don't you go and finish getting ready and i'll sort this out and me and little one here will wait for you in the car?" alessia whispered against your head as you hummed, as a smile appeared onto your face looking at your baby girl. she was almost a double of alessia when she was a baby.

she had alessia's big blue eyes and nose but your lips along with a few strands of blonde hair on the top of her head. you could sit and watch alessia with your daughter for hours and it would always be your favourite thing.

"take your time baby, i love you" alessia breathed out as she placed a gentle kiss to your forehead. you moving from your position to face the blonde.

"i love you too" you smiled, reaching up to kiss the blonde on the lips, making sure not to push your body to close to alessia in risk of waking up your daughter.

you'd made it to beth and viv's home where the team were meeting as well as much to your surprise you weren't the last ones there and you'd managed to make it out the house for the first time without forgetting anything cause even though a newborn is small don't let that fool you as they travel very heavy.

it felt nice to just slot back into normal conversation with friends. it feeling as though it had been so long since you'd done in when in reality it had only been a matter of weeks.

“hey guys!” beth greeted you all at the door with a huge smile on her face, you with the your daughters baby bag as alessia trailed behind with your actual daughter in her carry car seat. you still being restricted with what you can and can’t carry. not that alessia would allow you to even if you were able to.

“hey beth, you okay?” you smiled engulfing the blonde in a quick hug as you heard her nod before saying a hello to alessia who placed down your daughters car seat in order to be able to give beth a hug.

“i’m great, excited to meet our new mini gooner!” beth giggled as you shook your head it confirming your suspicions on why she had insisted so much for you to be at the team bonding session.

“may have to hold that excitement as she’s just gone to sleep as we were pulling into your estate” alessia pointed out as you had already made your way into the living room where the rest of the girls were.

“y/n!” the girls cheered as they seen you walk in.

“you came alone?” katie pipes up as you quickly scoff and shake your head.

“no, no less is through there-“ you pointed your head towards where alessia and beth were chatting.

“where’s the little one?” kyra smiled softly, the ice in her drink clinking from side to side but before you could answer alessia was walking through the car seat in her hand as beth walked beside her.

you quickly got into a flow of small talk, most of it being about your daughter but you didn’t mind. it warmed your heart to see the girls so invested and already how much they cared for your daughter.

“i dibs holding her first!” beth called out as alessia moved to take your daughter from your arms, having given all the girls their warnings.

“nah me first!” kyra whined as she held her arms over her chest in a huff. it then breaking out into a disagreement on who was going to hold your daughter first out of the group.

“no i’m first” leah argued as you shook your head in disbelief of how grown women were acting. the girls all arguing their case to you on why they should be the first to hold your daughter as alessia kept her in her arms bouncing her to keep her soothed.

you weren’t really listening to their reasons, so instead you decided you would just make the decision. “viv, do you wanna hold her?” you leaned forward so you could meet viv’s face as she was the only one of the group who hadn’t been making a fuss, this making the room go quiet.

“i- uh- yeah” viv stutter over her words as alessia carefully handed your daughter into the dutches arms. your girlfriend adjusting viv’s hands a little just to ensure that she was holding the tiny baby right. viv sat in awh of the baby as she gently lifted a finger to stroke her cheek.

the rest of the girls watching intently at your daughter as they talked about your daughter and her little features on who she looked more alike and what facial features she had gotten.

your daughter eventually being passed carefully around the team to those who wanted to hold the tiny baby some being a little too scared to hold the your daughter.

"oh she is adorable, you can tell she is your guys daughter!" steph says out loud, as she held your daughter in her arms, kyra in awh of the small baby in steph arms.

"steph i don't think their paying any attention" beth points over to the two of you across the living room, in your own little love bubble. talking amongst the two of you as if nobody else mattered, your eyes flicking over towards your daughter ever few minutes.

"do you think we should we should bring them back to the conversation or.." leah raised an eyebrow, looking between the group and the two of you.

"nah their maternal instinct's will kick in soon"

you and alessia were completely oblivious to the conversation being had about the two of you while your daughter was being passed around the group each of the girls claiming they had auntie cuddles to be given.

alessia had given them all the talk telling them how to handle your daughter, correcting them immediately if any of the girls fingers were an inch out of place.

you and alessia were instead having your own little moment. just the two of you. something that you hadn't had in a while. you were cuddled up on the couch your head resting on alessia's chest as you looked at her as if she hung the stars in the sky at night.

while alessia's traced small shapes and patterns into your palm. "i've missed this" you admitted, this had been the first genuine moment that had just been the two of you since you'd given birth.

alessia humming in agreement. it had been difficult adjusting to the new reality of motherhood. your hormones had been all over the place along with the lack of sleep. so having moments to yourself with your girlfriend had been far and few.

"me too baby but it'll get easier" alessia reassurance you. she knew that's you'd found it hard with the adjustment, you never being the biggest fan of change. alessia trying her best to try and take as much stress away from you with the new born.

she knew how much you loved your daughter and what you were prepared to do for your daughter but navigating motherhood for the first time was hard. people only ever tell you the good, never the bad.

"we just have to enjoy these moments together as well as making sure we make the most of these moments too" alessia pointed toward the group of girls as they all fussed over your daughter a fond smile appearing on your face seeing how much they love her already.

"i can't believe how big she is already- i put her in a newborn baby grow yesterday and it already doesn't fit" you pouted, thinking of how small your daughter was when she was born to now and how much she'd grown in such a short amount of time.

"she's growing love, but she'll forever be our little girl" alessia smiled as you hummed, reaching up to peck at your girlfriend’s lips a few times.

“i love you so much and our little family”

alessia

liked by ellatoone and 973,125 others

alessia first few days as three🤍

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[loggiepj]

illicit affairs

part 2 | part 3

YOU'D be a fool trying to convince yourself that Wanda was just some old hag sleeping on your bed that night. But god, she had never looked so peaceful and gorgeous than that very moment, as she was ten years ago. You didn't even know it was possible for someone to look so beautiful, it looked like a crime. As if the gods above blessed only those who were cruel. And cursed those who worshipped them.

Her creamy white legs were exposed from the blanket wrapped around her body. Her tiny soft snores filled the room as she buried herself deep into the pillows. It would take days before her scent would be gone from your sanctuary.

It tore you apart to look at her and feel these forbidden emotions, mad at yourself for feeling this way towards the old woman. You should hate her. You should have kicked her out for what she did.

You decided to go to the kitchen and make something for breakfast instead, preoccupying yourself from worrying too much, that the one nightmare you had always have had come true.

Even your hands were shaking as you beat down the eggs into a bowl, it was a miracle you had managed to cook food. The bacon almost ended up burnt when you jumped from her sudden presence in the kitchen.

"You're awake," you said, ignoring Wanda's gaze on you, her eyes glistening with a recognizable look. You knew that look. She used to look at you that way when you were wearing nothing but her white button down shirt as you made her a quick midnight snack whenever the twins weren't around. But that was ten years ago.

You don't feel anything for the woman anymore, right?

"I made us breakfast," you said before she opened her mouth to speak, stopping her. "You should eat first before you leave."

Wanda took small steps towards the dining table, looking at the food you made her. You wondered if she was touched, remembering how Wanda preferred scrambled eggs more than sunny side ups. But you convinced yourself you didn't do it for her. Because that would make you a martyr.

"This is good," Wanda softly said as you two began to eat in silence. You forced a small smile her way and went back eating.

"I haven't had breakfast like this for ages," she admitted, chuckling. "The boys mostly want cereals for breakfast, I ended up liking them, especially those colorful sweet ones, the . . . I forgot what they were called."

"Froot Loops?"

The skin around her eyes crinkled when she smiled. "Yes, Froot Loops. I swear I'd end up having diabetes one day."

You nodded, chugging down what remained of your coffee as you avoided the woman's gaze.

"What are your plans today? It's a Saturday," the brunette added. "The twins are planning to shop around Chinatown before the classes start. You might even have ideas where to-"

"I can't," you answered, "sorry, I am meeting someone today."

"Oh," she went on, a teasing smirk on her face, "a girlfriend?"

Your fork made a noise as you let it fall down your plate. "What do you want, Miss Maximoff?"

Wanda's smile immediately vanished as she stopped eating. "I . . . I'm sorry if I said something wrong. I didn't mean to pry if you have someone special-"

"No, I mean, what do you want? Why are you here? What were you thinking looking for me, for you to end up inside a sketchy bar?"

Wanda bit back a sob as she looked at you, her hand slipping to hold yours across the table. You tensed and abruptly took it away, ended up with her curling hers into a fist.

"I am so sorry, Y/n," she began, "I'm so sorry for what I did all those years ago, for what I said to you, for being so cruel. I . . . I have to live everyday regretting everything I have said to you. You didn't deserve those things. You were nothing but good to me, and I took you for granted. I . . . I just . . . miss you. I miss you, Y/n. There isn't a day in my life since you left that I haven't thought of you."

You scoffed, standing up as you began cleaning the dishes.

You heard the scraping of her chair against the floor as she stood. "I looked for you. After your graduation, I looked for you. I wanted to take back everything I said. I didn't mean those things. If I could only turn back time, I'd go back to that very day and I should've kissed you and chose you-"

"But you can't," you butted in as you turned to glance at the hysteric woman before you, "turn back the time, I mean."

Wanda was panting softly as her teary eyes stared right at you. She shook her head as she said, "No, I can't."

"That's unfortunate, then," you said back coldly.

Wanda swallowed, still frozen on her spot, and before she'd burst into more tears in your apartment, you went towards the doorway, grabbed your coat and keys. "I'm just gonna grab some coffee. Your clothes are freshly laundered in the bathroom if you want to freshen up before leaving. Please don't forget to lock the door when you leave."

"Y/n—" But you haven't heard the end of it as you closed the door.

Luckily, Wanda wasn't there when you went back home two hours after. But once you had ensured the whole apartment was empty, you broke down and cried.

TIME and absence would surely heal a wound. A couple of months had passed since that dreary encounter and you swore there were a few days when you had completely forgotten about Wanda. That was until you received a call late Friday night when you had only just arrived in your apartment.

It was a nurse from a nearby private hospital, saying that Tommy got into an accident. Before you argued why you were in his contacts in the first place, you drove to the hospital to visit.

Apparently, Tommy got into a fight in one of the fraternity parties he and his friends attended. With broken nose, cut lip and fractured arm, Tommy almost looked unrecognizable.

"Sorry, Y/n," Tommy said when he saw you enter the emergency room, "I didn't know who else to call. And I don't want to worry Mom-"

"It's okay, Tommy. Are you okay? What happened?"

And as you listened to Tommy and the nurse who attended to him, your breathing quickened, your hand hovering over the phone in your jean's pocket. Hesitant to call his mother, even if you knew you had to. Seeing the brunette was the last thing you wanted to do. But this was her son. Your feelings should come last.

Instead of calling the woman, you ended up sending her a short text message, to which she replied instantly, saying that she was already on her way.

You were getting a cup of coffee from a vending machine outside the hospital when Wanda arrived, hearing her voice inside the emergency room.

You decided to sit on the bench by the waiting area, thinking whether you should leave them or stay. You must have fallen asleep on your seat for a few minutes when you felt someone sit beside you.

"Thank you for being there for him," Wanda said.

"How's Tommy?"

"He's under some meds right now for the pain, but the doctor says he's going to be fine."

"That's good," you said.

"There's no available private room at the moment, so he has no choice but to stay in a ward with other patients," she went on, massaging her head. "Doctor said he'll likely be discharged tomorrow or the day after that."

"If you want, you can sleep in my apartment, take a bath or such, while waiting for him to get discharged," you offered. And you had no idea where such sympathy came from.

There was even a short moment where her eyes were at your mouth before she looked back at you.

"I don't want to impose—"

"Wanda, it's fine," you insisted. "For Tommy."

She nodded. "Thank you."

YOU VISITED Tommy in the ward first before leaving, while waiting for Wanda to finish filling up the papers in the hospital's admission room.

"You going to be fine alone?"

"I can manage," he replied, chuckling, showing off his cast.

"Will your father visit?"

The smile on his face disappeared, his fingers playing on the tape around his wrist. "Dad does not visit us often anymore. And I hardly believe he cared for us anyway, now that he has another family of his own."

That was news to you.

"I always tell Mom to find someone so she wouldn't end up alone," he went on, his eyes at the window where you two could see Wanda busy writing. "But she never remarried after Dad, maybe it was because she never trusts men like Dad anymore. But it's been years, you know. I know she's too scared to admit it, but I know she's lonely at home now that me and Billy are in college."

Your eyes were on Wanda as she talked to the Doctor. "I'm sure she'll find someone in the right time."

He laughed softly, making you look at him. "Come to think of it, they got divorced years ago, months after we didn't see you at the house anymore. There was one time Billy thought you were the other woman Dad has been cheating with. But I know you're not that bad of a person."

You stiffened. "You mean, they'd been divorced that long?"

Tommy hummed. "Yes, ten years ago, I guess. We eventually found out who the other woman was. Good thing we didn't curse you by mistake."

You forced to laugh at his joke, but your mind was running in deep circles wondering if the divorce really had something to do with you.

"COME on, don't be shy," your friend Steve invited Wanda, who looked as shocked as you were. "Any friend of Y/n is a friend of ours."

Somehow, when Wanda was returning the clothes you lent to her that time Tommy was hospitalized, there you were in your apartment with your friends, who held a surprised farewell party for Bucky, who was leaving for London the next day. As if Wanda knew perfect timing.

Kate hadn't left your side, even sitting between you just to eradicate any weirdness. The group's conversation went from talking about everyone's jobs, making Wanda let out her plans she was starting a flower shop business in New York and that she had just bought a spot particularly two blocks from the university. You tried to give her the benefit of the doubt, and convinced yourself she was only doing that to be closer to her boys. But you knew better.

Even Kate faked a laugh as she held another toast for the woman. "What about a special someone, Miss Maximoff? I heard you were divorced. Anyone you're meeting at the moment?"

Wanda's eyes met yours for a second before you looked away and drank whatever was left from your bottle of beer.

"No," she answered, chuckling. "I think I'm too old for that stuff anyway."

Bucky chortled. "No way you're old, Miss. If you want, I can set you up with people I know from work. I might even be successful on setting you up than Y/n here, whom I've failed a number of times."

"Why?" Wanda asked curiously.

Kate tried to stop Bucky. "Bucky, just give it a rest—"

"Oh, Y/n here has unknown high standards," Bucky enthusiastically added. "Believe me when dozens had gone down on their knees and Y/n has respectfully refused any advances."

"Shut up," you said, laughing, although you could tell Wanda's eyes never left yours all night long.

WHEN the party ended, all of the attendees slowly started to leave the apartment until there was only you and Wanda. Wanda helped you clean up the place, starting with throwing the empty boxes of pizza and bottles of beers into the trash bag.

"Y/n." Wanda broke the silence. Chappell Roan's casual was playing through the speakers.

"Mm?"

"Is it true?"

You stopped putting the dishes into the dishwasher to look at her. "Is what true?"

There was a small pause before she went on. "Have I ruined you for anyone else?"

You straighten your posture, frustrated as you glared back at her. "How dare you?"

"Then tell me," she challenged, approaching you with a sly smile on her face. "It's an easy question answerable by yes or no. Tell me."

"You infuriate me!"

"That's not a no—"

"You're nothing but a pathetic old slut who craves attention from someone who doesn't want her anymore!"

"Admit it then!" She leaned forward, closer to your face, her nostrils flaring. "Say it to my face that you don't feel anything for me anymore and I'll leave you alone for good! Tell me—"

You pushed your mouth against hers, effectively stopping Wanda from talking. She gasped upon the impact, with her back hitting the wall behind her from the force. And she welcomed you with as much aggression, her hands cupping your face to hold you.

With your arms on each side of her head, you pressed your bodies together, molding against each other. Her tongue played with yours, tasting what had been missed, wondering if each one of you were still as desperate as you were ten years ago.

"Y/N!" she moaned loudly a couple of minutes later as you pulled her hair, while roughly pistoning your strap into her from behind.

You had never thought you'd be able to do it. But there you were in your own bedroom with the woman you both loathed and loved so much on all fours before you. And it was driving you insane.

Mind filled with rage and lust, you tried to forget that this woman before you was the cause of your downfall. You tried to forget she hurt you, broke your heart to pieces as if you were nothing. Basking in the moment, you harshly grabbed the skin of her hips, nails digging, as you repeatedly and relentlessly pushed into her warm dripping entrance.

The tip of your strap hit your clit at the right angle, making you roll your eyes to the back of your head. And when you heard Wanda's whimpers before you, your hand slipped through her back then held her shoulder as you fastened the pace.

The brunette screamed as her body convulsed in waves, shuddering as she came. If it weren't for you holding her upright, she would've fallen straight face down on the sheets.

But her cumming didn't stop you from chasing your relief. The sweet nectar from her release dripping down both your thighs only made the action slippery and noisy.

"Y/n. . . ," Wanda moaned, her hand attempting to hold you back but you slapped her hand away before leaning forward as you held both of her hands behind her back. This rendered Wanda's face flat against the pillow before her, muffling her moans.

"Is this what you want, huh?" you demanded, eyes almost in tears seeing Wanda and pretending you weren't just loving every moment that was happening right now. "Is this what you want from me?"

"Yes!" she screamed, gasping when you spanked one of her butt cheeks. "Yes! Y/n! You're all I want! You're all I've ever wanted!"

And that snapped something inside you. The coil in your stomach exploded, making you press your front into her back as you lay on top of her.

"Wanda," you moaned into her neck, your hips stuttering as you came. She held your face behind her as your body shook.

"I got you, Y/n," she cooed softly as you panted, still trembling above her. "I got you."

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I truly appreciate your continued support in reading my stories. You can help me create more stories by supporting my writing thru this link. Thank you so much ❤🥰

[runninriot]

Wiggly 🧠🪱 Wednesday

thank you @just-my-latest-hyperfixation for the tag! 🖤

today's brain worms are brought to you by one of the steddie smutty september prompts 😏

i'm thinking about Eddie who lost a bet to his boyfriend and is now getting ready to pay up. Or at least he's trying to. Because he's still not sure he can really pull it off.

He keeps turning from left to right, sceptically looking at his reflection in the mirror.

God, he looks ridiculous, doesn't he. This stuff isn't made for him. It's for people with less boney asses. People with more meat on them and with defined muscles they can show off. Pretty people, whose perfect bodies would shine covered in black lace.

Eddie just looks... wrong. Like he's trying to be something he's not.

The dainty floral pattern is a harsh contrast to the crooked lines adorning his skin - too soft, too delicate, enhancing all his little flaws and blemishes rather than fulfilling the purpose of making him feel good. That's why people usually choose to wear these things, right? To feel hot and pretty and confident.

Well. He definitely doesn't.

At least Steve will get a good laugh out if it. That's probably why he thought of the punishment in the first place. Not necessarily to make fun of Eddie, he's not that mean. But- whatever.

A bet is a bet, and he lost, so he'll suck it up and get it over with.

He's got a one-man-crowd waiting for him in the bedroom and the sooner he gets what he wants, the sooner Eddie can get out of this fucking lingerie.

Meanwhile, Steve's buzzing with anticipation. He's been sitting on the bed for what feels like hours, waiting for Eddie to finally come out of the bathroom.

He's been dreaming about this forever, literally. It's a secret fantasy he's had ever since Eddie and him started dating, since they started exploring each other's bodies in the most intimate ways.

To see Eddie's perfect body covered in lacy lingerie, to let his fingers dance over the soft fabric, gently caressing what's underneath, mouthing at his cock through his panties just to tease, just rile him up - God, what a vision. What a thought. And soon, so soon, it'll become reality.

Steve's hard just from imagining it. Can barely keep his hands to himself at the dirty thoughts looping in his mind.

He needs to see it. Needs Eddie to come out right now or he'll combust.

And then, finally, Eddie does. Slowly opens the bedroom door before he hesitantly steps in. And he's even more beautiful than Steve could ever have imagined.

Standing there, all shy and pretty, with his cheeks tinted pink and his arms crossed before his chest, looking so... so perfect.

   "Fuck," is all Steve can get out. Too stunned, too lost in the vision his boyfriend is.

    "It's okay, Steve. You can laugh. I know I look stupid."

Suddenly, Steve notices that what he thought was Eddie just being a bit shy is actually him being uncomfortable. That the way he tries to hide his body behind his own arms is not him acting coy, it's him being ashamed.

    Oh, hell no.

That just won't do. That's not at all what Steve had intended.

Luckily, he knows just how to turn this around.

(i'll stop right here before it gets even more out of hand 😅 to be continued)

no pressure, all love @novemberthorne @morningberriesao3 @pennyplainknits @steddieas-shegoes @matchingbatbites

@ataliagold @wynnyfryd @queenie-ofthe-void @stevesbipanic @steddiecameraroll

[okay-babe]

Saw your Alastor request game and HAD to give it a try

A wholesome “ZIP ME”. Alastor helping with getting ready for the day or assist and just shows appreciation 🥰🥰🥰🥰

In love with you for requesting this prompt because I am in such a fluff writing mood rn <3

(Also for my anons who also requested this prompt, I still plan to write something for those as well, so they should be out before too long!)

Morning Routine

tags: alastor x fem! reader, established relationship, extreme levels of fluff, domestic bliss, soft alastor

Throughout your life (and death) you had woken up to many a nice view, from the rivers and lush wetlands of Louisiana to the sight of the city hundreds of feet below you.

And yet, none compared to the view of your beloved when he was half-ready for his day, which was typically the stage at which he woke you from your always deep and well needed slumber.

And today was no different.

Alastor hummed a distantly familiar tune from behind your still sleeping form as he slid in beside you on the bed you shared, body resting atop the covers as he leaned forward to press a kiss behind your ear. In response, you shifted slightly, nose scrunching the smallest bit as your lover's breaths tickled the soft flesh he had so very recently offered his affections to.

Alastor chuckled slightly under his breath at the sight, raising a gloved hand up to the exposed portion of your upper arm to run a feather-light touch down its length, immediately causing you to shiver.

After a few more moments of tickling breaths and nearly fleeting touches, your breathing pattern shifted slightly, eyes blinking open and squinting at the sudden invasion of light that was always there to greet you each morning.

Groaning softly, you were quick to close your eyelids once more, brow furrowed with displeasure at your wakefulness as the Radio Demon laughed beside you.

"Why good morning, dearest, how lovely to see you!"

He teased exuberantly as you huffed in reply, just barely opening your eyes enough to make it obvious that you were glaring at him before closing them once more to yawn.

"Ah ah ah,"

Your lover tutted from beside you, his grin wide and immensely amused as he continued,

"I'm afraid the time for rest is over, my dear. No more exhaustion allowed."

You scoffed in response, only just barely fighting off the urge to flip him off as you sat up slightly, tugging your knees toward your chest and blinking your blurred vision away to the sound of barely moving water and a whispered breeze that always seemed to flow through the far less inhabitable side of the room you and your husband slept in.

Satisfied with your vague efforts to get up for the day, Alastor hummed in contentment, standing just as he always did after waking you so he could continue his typical routine, allowing your hungry eyes to follow him eagerly.

It was like this every morning, and you'd be a fool to believe he didn't know and find some semblance of amusement within it, but even still you couldn't bring yourself to care.

You gained far too much enjoyment from watching your love's lithe and nimble fingers do up the buttons of his shirt and tie the fabric of his bow tie to feel any shame over it.

Or, at least, enough shame to make you stop.

You continued your enraptured staring for several more minutes, eyes trained heavily on the view of the overlord rolling up his sleeves and sliding his belt through the loops of his dress slacks as if he were a modern art exhibit designed to utterly enthrall you.

Your gawking continued all the way up until Alastor turned back toward where you were sitting upon the bed, his head tilted slightly in mock curiosity as he began to approach you once more, donning all but his coat, a sight which made you blush in spite of yourself.

Sure, you had known the demon for an extremely long time and had seen him in far more compromising and promiscuous positions and outfits than this, but still. There was just something about the sight of him, dress shirt sleeves rolled up over his elbows and svelte torso and legs so clearly in view, that made your heart rate quicken inside your chest.

"You're going to be late, you know."

Alastor all but crooned suddenly, snapping you out of your reverie with a few quick blinks and an awkward clear of your throat.

"Huh?"

You asked, sitting up slightly further as your lover began to leisurely unfold the clothing he'd laid out for you at the foot of the bed earlier that morning, no doubt all too aware of how slow you were prone to waking up and hoping to save some time.

The overlord chuckled, a subtle shake of his head highlighting his amusement as he looked in your direction once more, red eyes lingering in a manner that reminded you of just how tremendously the being standing at the end of the bed adored you.

He regarded you with a gentle and exasperated fondness as he replied,

"The reopening is today, dear heart."

He purred, grin as wide as ever as he approached further, extending his hand outward and helping to maneuver you so your legs were hanging off the side of the bed, ignoring the sudden panic in your expression brought on by his words and quickly silencing it before it could be vocalized with a quick press of his lips to yours.

He pulled away slowly afterward, index finger curling beneath your chin and lifting it to ensure you were looking him in the eye,

"And whatever would we do without our darling front desk receptionist there to woo our guests on sight?"

His tone was teasing now, lilting and oh-so amused as he took both of your hands in his and slowly pulled you upward and onto your feet, humming that same distantly familiar tune from earlier all the while.

"Not to worry though."

Alastor continued with a mocking tap of his index finger against the tip of your nose,

"With my help you'll be up and ready with time to spare."

He winked at that, instantly causing you to roll your eyes before knowingly bringing your arms up above your head, causing your love's grin to widen further at your immediate understanding of what was to come.

"Well look at you!"

He cried with feigned surprise and delight as he grasped gently at the hem of your sleep shirt, tugging it upward and over your head with a flourish before he knelt down before you and pulled your underwear downward just the same, his eyes never once leaving yours as he did so.

"You're becoming a regular pro at this, darling."

You scoffed a bit at that, though your lack of exasperation was made clear by the lifted corners of your mouth, never quite able to lay flat with your Alastor around.

Humming a different tune now, the sinner reached behind you on the bed to grasp at a new pair of undergarments for you, holding them open to make them easy to step into before pulling them up and rising with them, laying the fabric flat upon your hips before moving to help you with your bra.

Far too used to this process by now, you simply sighed and let your lover do as he would, your still tired body leaning into his every touch as he ran skilled fingertips up and down your spine and pressed them dexterously into the tense muscles of your shoulders until he felt you were sufficiently relaxed beneath his hands.

Once that was finished, he was quick to have you sit upon the bed, long fingers grabbing at your stockings and garters and bunching them up expertly before sliding them onto your feet and up your soft legs and thighs with ease, though he was notably slower with this task than he'd been with the previous two, taking his time to admire you and allowing his hands to feel your skin before covering it with the fabric in his grasp.

When he was finally satisfied with the state of your stockings, Alastor leaned back slightly, taking in the sight of you with a pleased smile and an ever adoring look in his eye before he placed twin kisses against the skin just above where your garters held your stockings into place, as if in farewell.

It was then and only then, with his desires to admire you satisfied (at least in part) that your beloved grabbed your work attire from the bed. It was something he had chosen for you himself when considering the concept of uniforms, a sweet yet professional looking black dress that you knew from having tried it on a few days prior fit you perfectly, (no doubt because your lover had long since memorized your measurements and given them to the tailor himself).

Pooling the rich fabric at your feet, Alastor looked up at you expectantly, and immediately, you stepped into the middle of it, allowing him to once more pull another garment up your body, rising with it as he had previously with your underwear until your arms were in the sleeves and all there was left to do was zip up the back.

Feeling the cool breeze upon your spine, you shivered slightly, the difference in temperatures striking.

"Al,"

You murmured, adjusting your hair to ensure it wouldn't get in the way of what came next,

"Would you mind?"

Immediately, the overlord was nodding in almost enthusiastic agreement, motioning for you to turn around for him to provide access to the still unzipped portion of your dress.

"Why of course not, dear heart. Let me see."

Blushing at the nickname in spite of it having seen years of persistent use, you did as you were told, turning 180 degrees until you were facing away from your lover, back bared to him so his deft fingers could easily find the gold trimmed zipper there.

Grasping onto the metal between his thumb and forefinger, the demon slowly began to tug it upward with a notable level of patience, his opposite hand moving to your shoulder to push at some of the fabric there until he'd created a patch of bare flesh to press a few soft kisses to, his teeth nipping at you ever so gently from time to time just to make you jump in surprise at the unexpected sensation.

This continued for a few quiet and very much appreciated moments until finally, the overlord moved away with a dramatized sigh, pulling the black fabric of your sleeve back over your shoulder before he finished zipping your dress up the rest of the way.

Hearing your darling take a step back from where he'd been standing just behind you, you were quick to turn around to face him, your smile growing brighter when you saw the immediate fondness and adoration in his eyes, that thinly veiled softness he reserved solely for you so very apparent that it made your heart lurch happily inside of your chest.

"What do you think, Al, am I presentable?"

You asked lightheartedly, giving him a slow spin as if wanting to make sure he saw every possible angle.

Alastor all but scoffed in response, though his eyes betrayed his affections far too obviously, making it easy to tell just how much he was enjoying your slightly slower morning together.

"Don't be silly darling, you're always the belle of the ball."

He teased, reaching out to take one of your hands in his eyes as he spoke, using it to tug you closer until you were nearly chest to chest with him, eyes widened in surprise.

The next thing you knew, his lips were on yours, warm, loving, and slow, before he finally pulled away with a sigh, expression contented and smile exceedingly genuine.

"Come on then, dear."

He said after a moment of silence, stepping away once more to guide you toward the bathroom attached to the room the two of you slept in,

"Let's finish getting you ready before Charlotte sends poor Vagatha after us for being so late."

[lovelybucky1]

Leashed

Kinktober Day 10- Pet Play

warnings: pet play, cockwarming, dom/sub dynamics, vaginal sex, 18+ minors DNI

main masterlist

kinktober masterlist

Tommy had always wanted a dog. Growing up he never had one, playing with the strays on the street instead. Now, he doesn’t have time to take care of a pet. Not one so reliant on him, anyway.

That’s why he has you. You’re obedient, never causing any trouble or making messes he has to clean up. You love to play, but you’re content sitting at his feet as long as he pets you every now and then. You’re good at fetch; you always get him his matchbook or a glass for his whiskey whenever he asks. And best of all, you have a tight cunt you’re eager to let him use whenever he wants it.

You’re not a prostitute, he made that much clear when your arrangement started. You’re on his payroll for the company you provide, not the sex. Whatever you do with your cunt is between you and Tommy, not the business.

He got you a custom made collar from the leather worker down the street, and your role has been set ever since. You’re Tommy Shelby’s puppy. Loyal, obedient, perfect.

Today Tommy is in a particularly sour mood. A business deal fell through or something, you never know the specifics, and he’s been angry all afternoon.

You know better not to pester him, especially when he’s like this, but you truly hate seeing him upset. You’ve been kneeling at his feet and he hasn’t even pet you in over an hour. You paw at his pant leg to get his attention.

“What is it?” he asks without looking down at you.

“Do you need anything, sir?” you ask.

He shakes his head and sighs heavily. “If I needed something, I’d take it. Keep quiet, pet.”

You pout but take his instruction and stay silent. You walk forward on your knees to rest your cheek against his thigh. He sighs again but doesn’t chastise you for it. Still, he doesn’t pet you.

You stay like that for a while, but you can feel his tension and you hate when he won’t tell you what he needs.

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

“No,” he replies, frustration evident in his voice.

“I can help you relax, sir.”

Tommy slams his fist onto the solid oak top of his desk. “I don’t need your fucking help. I’m trying to work.”

You huff. You don’t usually act like this, but Tommy is never usually so dismissive of you.

“I was going to offer to sit on your cock while you work, but I guess you’re too busy.”

It was petty, but it peaked Tommy’s interest. His large hand cups the back of your neck and you look up at him.

“You’ve never acted this way before,” he says with an unreadable tone.

“I just want to help you, sir.”

Tommy's jaw clenches and he sighs heavily. Then, he reaches down to loop his finger in the ring of your collar and pulls you up to your feet. You watch as he undoes his pants and takes out his soft cock.

He looks up at you expectantly, waiting for you to service him. You grasp his dick and begin to stroke him gently, working him up to full hardness. It doesn't take long; Tommy can never resist your soft hands.

Once he's at full mast, you pull up your dress and straddle his lap. His cock slides into you slowly and once he's fully seated, you wiggle your hips to get comfortable.

"Stop fuckin' moving. I've got work to do," Tommy gruffs.

You nod and rest your chin on his shoulder. You sit still like a good girl while he fills out whatever paperwork is on his desk. You can feel the tension in his muscles release a bit as time passes, your cunt obviously doing the trick.

You don't move your body, but your walls clench around him every now and then. You're not doing it on purpose, you just can't help it. It feels so good being full of Tommy's dick.

"Puppy," Tommy says, breaking the almost hour of silence.

"Yes, sir?"

"You're distracting me."

"I'm sorry, sir. I swear I'm not doing it on purpose," you say with a pout, trying to look as honest as possible.

Tommy puts his pen down and leans back in his chair, creating space between your face and his so he can get a good look at you.

"Cunt's just that desperate for me, eh?" You nod. "Well I suppose I've worked hard enough for one day. I could use a bit of stress release."

Tommy's hands land on your hips and he begins to rock you back and forth. Tommy never was strong willed when it came to you.

[ckret2]

Chapter 39 of human Bill Cipher is SURE he's about to escape being the Mystery Shack's prisoner:

Ford's confronted with the possibility that maybe, just maybe, he's a little bit too obsessed with Bill.

And meanwhile, Bill has found a way to reach his loyal cultists... if he can find somebody willing to help him make contact.

He thinks Ford is the perfect target.

Maybe, just maybe, the obsession goes both ways.

(warning for an incident of self-harm via burning, and depersonalization and/or dysphoria (depending on how you interpret it) re: Bill feeling even worse about his body than usual.)

####

Soos, Stan, and Ford had stayed up half the night trying to generate enough NowUSeeitNowUDontium to prevent it from vanishing the moment one of them lost (or gained) focus. They'd eventually given up and stayed the night in Northwest Manor. Soos had texted Melody around midnight, and she'd immediately replied (which alarmed Ford, but Soos assured him she was used to those hours) and agreed, with some trepidation, to spend the night by herself in the shack so that the kids wouldn't be alone all night with Bill. She'd texted a half hour later to report that the bathroom was a disaster, but the kids had reassured her it was just some werewolf thing, so, not a big deal.

Ford had thought getting to spend a night without Bill under the same roof would be a relief. Instead, he found his sleep was even worse. He kept worrying about what Bill might get up to so far away and out of sight, where Ford couldn't do anything to stop him. Surely, by nighttime, Bill had to have noticed that the only humans he'd seen all day were the kids? Would he consider Melody any kind of threat, no veteran to combating Gravity Falls' weirdness?

It figured that the dream demon would find a way to disrupt Ford's sleep when he wasn't even there.

####

Ford had given up on sleep around two in the morning and gone wandering until he stumbled across a den with walls covered in bookcases, massive windows overlooking the forest below, and a pair of richly upholstered armchairs turned to gaze out the windows. He drifted between the chairs to one of the windows. It was the kind of personal library he'd dreamed of accepting esteemed guests in, back when he'd fantasized about one day being rich and famous. He suspected the Northwests had never read a book in this room.

Ford had been staring out at the still night and the dark pines for several minutes when he heard the creak of a door and soft footsteps behind him. He whirled around, raising a weapon. "Back, you spectral fiend!"

"Whoa! Easy, Sixer!" Stan held up a hand defensively. "It's just me!" He lowered his hand. "Why are you holding up a dinner plate?"

"Er—sorry." Ford sheepishly tucked the silver dish under his arm again. "I'm sure I saw a ghost earlier. I thought it prudent to arm myself."

Stan muttered, "This place sure is creepy enough for it."

"Mm. It's built on more than its fair share of bones." Ford returned to gazing out the window, hands clasped behind his back. "I'm sorry today was a failure. When I'm staring right at an experiment on which the fate of the entire universe depends, it's hard not to think about it."

"Eh, I wasn't doing too hot either," Stan admitted, joining Ford at the window. "There's only so many times you can hear Soos whisper 'Think about the miniature particle accelerator' in your ears on a loop before you zone out and start thinking about fishing season."

Ford huffed. "Maybe we should have switched places."

"Yeah, probably. I retired from thinking about science after I got your dumb portal running, and once you get your head stuck on something you can't stop thinking about it."

Ford laughed wryly. "Unfortunately accurate."

There was a moment of silence; and then Stan said cautiously, "Speaking of you getting your head stuck on something..."

Ford didn't like that tone. "Hm?"

"I was, uh... doing some light reading..." He held up Ford's journal.

A jolt of anger and fear shot through Ford. "Give me—" He snatched the journal back.

It wasn't until it was in his hands that he registered the absurdity of his own action; for the past year, he'd given Stan free access to Journal 5. He'd used it to document their travels and discoveries as a reference for them both; he'd even asked Stan to contribute a couple of entries. Based on a prior precedent of seven months, Stan had every right to look at Journal 5. Revoking that access now was... Well, it didn't look good.

Stan didn't immediately say anything. Ford supposed his own actions said enough. He tucked the journal under his arm with the silver dish.

Stan cleared his throat. "I think we're a little past the 'superhero nemesis' thing."

"It's not a problem," Ford said tersely.

"Not a prob—? Ford, you're letting him consume your life."

"He's consumed all our lives. The kids haven't been able to invite anyone over, Melody all but runs to her car after work, you ended up in a showdown with fae nobility—"

"It was just the tooth fairy!"

"Do you know how important a fairy has to be to claim dominion over all teeth?"

"Forget about the fairy!" Stan waved off the whole fairy topic with one hand. "Look, I'm not the one who's dedicated half a journal to talking about him!"

"You don't keep a journal, Stanley—"

"That's not the point!"

"—I'm just saying, if you did keep a journal, I think he'd have come up on more than a few pages—"

"But like this?" Stan gestured toward Ford's journal. "This is turning into an obsession. And not one of your normal obsessions."

The back of Ford's neck heated up. He wanted to argue that he had to obsess over Bill if he hoped to find a way to kill him—but Stan already knew that Ford had passed off that project to Fiddleford weeks ago. "How can I be 'obsessed' with somebody I barely even see? I'm avoiding Bill like my life depends on it! I talk to him less than Mrs. Ramirez does!"

"And you're using avoiding him as an excuse to obsess over him even more in private!" Stan gestured again, angrily, at Ford's journal. (Ford defensively tucked it further under his arm.) "You're acting like a stalker, Sixer. Not that I care about him, but, I'm starting to worry about your head."

"A st—?! I'm a scientist, he's a scientific curiosity! I'm documenting him! I document plenty of things!"

"Not like this, you don't."

"There's a lot to document!"

"Including spending a whole page trying to figure out—how to draw his—?!" Stan gestured furiously toward his boxers.

Ford pointed at him severely. "You were just as curious as I was to find out how a giant eyeball and a sentient triangle make that work, don't pretend you weren't."

Stan grimaced. "Okay, fine, I'll give you that one. But writing a full entry about his posture?"

"He's not only an alien being in a human body but a two-dimensional creature in a three-dimensional body, how he moves and gestures could tell us about how an utterly unfamiliar species perceived space! Nearly all his gestures adhere to an invisible coronal plane, that betrays worlds of information about his original anatomy. Do you know that elbow thing he does when he walks—"

"Ford. You're using your great-niece to get drawings of his childhood bedroom."

Ford raised a finger. "That's—" Ford lowered his finger. Ford sat in a nearby armchair, put his chin in his hands, and stared into space. "What am I doing."

Stan patted his shoulder.

Ford slid his journal and the dish out from under his arm and settled them in his lap. He stared at the cover, then thumbed through the pages. It was obvious when they'd returned to Gravity Falls; the drawings of Atlanteans, were-rats, shorelines, and boats immediately gave way to page after page of staring slit-pupiled eyes.

"It's just... Bill is an ancient being, many times older than our universe, and the last surviving specimen of his own bizarre species. As both an anomaly and a source of esoteric knowledge, he's an invaluable subject of study. He's going to die soon, and he should die, but... between now and then, I don't want to pass up the last ever opportunity to study him."

Stan sank down into the chair opposite Ford. "You're listening to yourself, right?" He didn't sound angry anymore, just worried. "This is a guy who tried to kill us. He isn't a 'specimen' you can add to your collection of weird stuff, you know that, right?"

"I know, I know." That was exactly why it was so important—why it seemed so important—to capture Bill in words and pictures before it was too late. (It was funny, Ford thought, how Stan's very first conversation with Bill had been a murder, and yet he was the one who talked about Bill like he was just some guy; while Ford had spent so many years obsessively trying to find out who Bill was that he'd almost forgotten he was a person instead of a terrible idea.)

"When execution day comes and you think you haven't dug up enough of his history, what'll you do? Give him a stay of execution until he's dictated his memoirs to you?"

"No," Ford said immediately. "No, of course not. I'm just taking advantage of the opportunity to learn what I can, while I can. It's no different from your 'shopping trip' at the mall—"

"Hey!" Stan pointed a finger at Ford. "Watch it! That was strictly business! It's not like I'm attached to the guy—"

"I didn't mean anything by it! I just meant—as long as we're stuck with Bill, make him useful, and—and to heck with him after that. Right?" Like Stan had said about the scratch cards: why throw away free money just because of the source? "He'd do the same to us."

Stan hesitated. "And you're sure that when the time comes, you'll be ready to pull the trigger?"

"I know I will. It won't be the first time. I'm just glad that this time I'll be able to aim at his own head."

"Hm." Stan didn't look convinced.

Ford sighed. "But, if I think I'll waver—I'll hand you the gun."

"Is that a promise?"

"Yes, yes, of course. I promise."

But he knew he didn't need to.

####

Soos drove the tired gang home just past dawn, early enough for him to open the Mystery Shack on schedule.

"Soon as we get home, I'm going back to sleep," Stan muttered crankily. Ford—eyes shut, leaning against the window—nodded in agreement. Stan yawned, "And there'd better not be any nasty surprises at the shack."

####

Bill sat sleeping in his attic window seat, knees to his chest, leaning against the window, ear pressed to the glass.

Outside, Stan wailed, "My car!"

Bill's eyes snapped open. He smiled.

He ran to the kids' room, knocked on the door—"Hey, the bigger Pines are back!"—and bolted for the stairs.

####

Soos got the door open at the exact same time Bill stumbled off the stairs and collided with the living room doorframe. Bill grabbed the doorframe just long enough to steady himself, and then bounded over to the door, shoved Soos and Ford aside, and leaned out onto the porch. "HIYA, STAN!"

Stan whipped around to face Bill. "YOU!" He gestured furiously at the wizard graffiti on his car. "WHAT did you DO to my CAR!"

"Do you like it?"

Stan let out an inarticulate scream of rage.

"Oh, you love it!"

"You massacred it! I've had this car forty-five years! I've done things in this car I can't say! And it's never, never been so—so—violated!"

Grinning ear to ear, Bill said, "What do you think of the girl wizard?"

"The what?!" Stan circled the car. He screamed again.

"Uh-huh?"

"Why does she have a beard!"

"Go on," Bill said gleefully, "tell me what you think! I want the full review!"

"This," Stan said, "is the most ugly, hideous, terrible—"

Bill glanced back at a sound on the stairs. "Oh, hey Mabel! Get over here!" He gestured proudly as Mabel joined him in the doorway. "And here's the artistic mastermind herself!"

Stan choked on his words. "—b... beautiful, stunning, museum-worthy work of art I've ever seen."

Mabel beamed. "It's not finished yet, we ran out of some colors! I was going to add a dragon on the hood!"

Stan's face went white. "No no, it's... perfect the way it is. Don't—don't change a thing."

"Really? You're sure? I don't mind!"

"Really." Looking slightly nauseous, Stan said, "I love it just like this, pumpkin."

Mabel squealed and ran outside to give him a big hug.

Bill was fighting back silent laughter so hard he almost fell down.

####

"...And I still haven't found any sign of the Nightwigglers," Dipper said, sighing dejectedly and dropping his journal on the counter next to the cash register. "So, I dunno, maybe I should give up on this one and move on."

Wendy was sitting back with her feet kicked up on the counter, but she straightened a bit to look at Dipper's journal. She skimmed the news article he'd paperclipped to one page. "Oh, I heard about this," she said. "The cops talked to me about the first burglary. I was in the thrift shop that day."

"Oh, yeah?" Dipper pointed at the picture next to the article. "Did you see anything like this?"

Wendy's eyes widened. "No—but I think one of my brothers did."

"Wait, really?"

"Yeah, he was talking about it a couple nights ago. He said it was like an armless white thing wearing pants that went up to its face. We all thought he got spooked by a deer butt or something and made up the whole story. Then dad said we should drop it and told us we should stay in at night."

"That's when they come out! At night!" Dipper laughed excitedly. "Do you think your dad knows something?"

"Pfff, not if he can help it." Wendy pulled her feet off the counter and checked the clock. "I could show you the start of the trail my brother was on. It's like ten minutes by bike and the next big tour bus isn't getting here for half an hour, wanna sneak out?"

"Are you serious?! Of course!"

"Just promise you won't tell Gus if we find something. We've been making fun of him for days and I don't want to  admit he was right." Wendy laughed. "Let me grab somebody to cover."

"I'll get my bike!" Dipper was already headed out the door. "I've been looking for a lead for days! I dug through half the dumpsters in town searching for their nests..." The door swung shut behind him.

Wendy ducked into the living room. "Hey Goldie."

"Yello?" He was sitting cross legged on the couch watching TV.

"I've gotta do something with Dipper, do you mind covering for a little bit? Just twenty, thirty minutes."

His gaze flickered to the TV, then back to Wendy's face. "Sure! Anything for you, cool girl."

Wendy had a brief, eerie sense of déjà vu. She shook it off. "I'm not interrupting anything good, am I?" She nodded at the TV.

"Naaah, it's one of those terrible specials about pyramid conspiracies." He shook a cider can, "I'm taking a sip every time they mention Fishmasons or 'ancient dinosaur-worshiping civilization.'"

"Dude. You'll be wasted before the first commercial break."

"Really, you're saving me from myself." He set the can on the TV and followed Wendy into the gift shop. (As he did, Bill checked to see if he had anything on under his hoodie. No? The Pines didn't want him to be seen in public in his hoodie; they thought it would make him "too obvious." He rolled up the sleeves to hide some of the brick pattern and surreptitiously tucked the hood and the bow tie drawstrings into the collar.)

As she headed out the door, Wendy repeated, "Just twenty minutes! Thirty tops. I'll get back before the next tour bus, promise."

"No problem!" He waved her off.

"I owe you one!"

Bill made a note of that.

He looked around the gift shop—any readily-obvious mischief he could get up to? He grabbed an 8-ball cane and took it to the counter. And then he took the stool behind the register, propped his chin in his hand, gazed toward the living room, and resumed watching TV through the wall and backwards. He didn't miss hearing the conspiracy talk—he was sure it was actively making him stupider—but credit where credit was due; they made those CGI pyramid models really hot.

A cutaway of one pyramid showed its internal tunnels and chambers. Bill bit his lower lip. Oh yeah. That's what he came here for.

Several minutes went by. The door opened and a lone tourist crept in, a middle-aged woman with a sun-damaged tan. Bill straightened up and switched his eye patch over to hide his bleeding eye. "Heya! Next tour's in..." He checked the clock, how long until the next bus? "About fifteen minutes."

The woman nodded and quietly started circling the gift shop.

Bill glanced toward the living room, decided he'd better not start damaging his other eye too, mentally cursed the tourist, and pulled out one of Wendy's magazines to read. "Let me know if you need anything."

The tourist spent several minutes making a slow circuit of the room, and then crept up to the cash register. Bill looked up with a smile, didn't see any souvenirs in her hands, and asked, "Can I help you?"

Hesitantly, the woman said, "The sun sets a deep blood red."

Bill's eye flew wide open, his heart leaped into his throat, and his breath hitched. His gaze roved over her exposed skin until he spied a tattoo on her right arm: four triangles stacked atop each other, starting with an equilateral and each getting shorter and more obtuse as they descended, until they'd reduced completely and a single horizontal line underlined all four triangles. This wasn't quite the happiest he'd ever been to see the symbol of a devastatingly self-destructive high-control cult, but it was close. "Oh! Oh, this is—" He rubbed his temples, squeezing his eye shut. "I know this. I rhymed 'red' with 'pyramid.' Why do I give everyone a different code. 'But rises gold over the pyramid'—something like that, right?" Bill gave the woman a pleading look. "I'm close enough that you can tell I know what you're talking about!"

A look of relief washed over her face. "You know him." Voice low, she asked, "Is it safe to talk?"

Knew him? He was him. But he couldn't claim that without proving it—what would convince her?—telling her something that only he knew?—great, but what? Her face was vaguely familiar—he thought he might've given her a visionary dream once—but he had so many little worshipers and they were so unimportant, most of them blurred together.

So all he could do was say, "It's not safe. Everyone here is an enemy."

She nodded sharply. "Where can we meet?"

Bill paused. "We can't. I'm... trapped."

Her brows creased with worry. "They're keeping you prisoner?"

"Afraid so."

"I could get the police—"

"Everyone," Bill repeated, "is an enemy."

She paused, processing that. Bill's gaze flickered to the clock. Wendy said twenty minutes, thirty tops. She'd been gone twenty-two minutes. "Someone's coming any minute."

"Right." The cultist grabbed Wendy's magazine, tore a corner off a page, and grabbed a pen.

"How did you find me?" Bill asked. Of all the tourist traps in all the tiny towns in all the world, how had she come in hereand walked right up to him? 

"We were told a devotee was here," she said. "Someone sent the address and phone number to the Bahamian art studio."

Bill's mind spun. How? Who the heck would know to do that? The only person who knew he was here who'd come anywhere close to any of Bill's other worshipers was...

Ford? No. Did he?

The cultist shoved the paper in his hand and turned to leave.

Bill grabbed her arm. "Stay out of Gravity Falls," he commanded. "But stay close. Don't go back to Death Valley." Between the sun damage and the tattoo, she had to be one of his Death Valley girls. She looked like their usual prey: disaffected middle class white woman, probably had a dead end job and a mediocre husband and a useless degree from a liberal arts college. Maybe being able to guess where she came from would impress her.

It did. She stopped and turned back and looked at him in amazement—and then looked at him, staring hard at his eye. "You're... hosting him, aren't you?" Her voice fell to a whisper. "No. Are you...?"

"You got me." He smiled wryly—behold him, electric god bound in flesh, how low he's fallen, but at least he still has his good humor, doesn't he? "I always said you had great intuition." (It was a safe bet. He usually told the ladies that they had great intuition. Most of them ate that up, and the ones that didn't were often a little too savvy to sucker.)

It worked. She inhaled sharply. "You are," she breathed. "I knew you'd be a woman. Oh, Mary's a fool." She said this like she'd just won some years-old argument Bill had missed.

Mary, as in Mary-whom-Bill-had-put-in-charge-of-the-Death-Valley-compound Mary? Ha. She was getting on in years; maybe Bill could start a schism, that sounded fun. He opened his mouth to say something about Mary having great leadership but waning clarity of vision—

—when the cultist leaned across the counter, grabbed his collar, and pulled him into a kiss.

Okay. All right. She was one of those cultists. Got it. Got it got it got it. Wow. Definitely a "mediocre husband" convert, those were easy to seduce away with a little warmth and affection—nothing obvious, but get them infatuated with the idea of an unattainable incorporeal ideal lover and they'd chase him to the ends of the earth. Maybe a lesbian in denial that Bill had decided to push further into denial, if her assumption about Bill's gender was anything to go by. He tried to remember what he'd told this one.

He leaned into the kiss.

He'd done this before—in dreams, in puppets—he didn't prefer humans, but he could handle them well enough and earthlings had such pretty eyes. And this body he was stuck in made such insistent demands; a surge of human hormones washed over his brain so powerfully it made him dizzy. She broke the kiss to murmur, "Cipher, my lord—" and he took the opportunity to kiss her eyelid and lie, "I knew if anyone could find me, it would be you." He wished he remembered her name. She tugged his face back down to her lips. She was so eager. Cipher, my lord. Oh, it felt good to be revered again—

The door opened. "Um?"

If Bill had had one ounce of his power, he would have killed Wendy on the spot.

Instead, he seized his cultist's hands, ripped them off his hoodie, and shoved her away. "Whoa, lady! What do you think this is, a kissing booth?!" He laughed angrily. "We don't offer that kind of service here! Either get out, or—or buy a souvenir already!" He pointed at Wendy. "From her. Not from me."

Shocked, the cultist turned toward where Bill was pointing; and then turned back, understanding in her eyes.

Wendy raised her hands defensively, grimacing. "Yeah, no, I'm not serving you either. Just... get outta here."

The cultist met Bill's gaze for just a moment, then walked quickly out the door without a word.

Bill shouted after her, "And do not come back!" and quietly mourned as, for the second time in as many weeks, he had to watch helplessly as he sent away his only hope of getting any action/rescue.

"I am so, so sorry," Wendy said. "I leave for like ten minutes and you get one of the nightmare customers."

How Bill loved nightmares. "Twenty-five minutes, but who's counting."

"Psh, shut up." Wendy reclaimed her post behind the counter. "I think she's been here before, she looks kinda familiar. You okay?"

Bill hoped nobody else in town would recognize her. "I think I'll live after some mouthwash. Terrible breath." He wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "Hey, remember when you said you owe me one? You really owe me."

####

All his cultist had written for him was a phone number. Bill slid his stolen journal from its window hiding spot and copied the number down in two-tone dots and dashes. Plaintext transcriptions were usually tricky, given the vast difference between the language Bill wrote in and the languages humans used—but numbers, at least, were easy. Everyone had numbers.

And then he stared at the scrap of paper, reading the numbers over and over, until he was sure he'd memorized them, just in case he ever lost the journal.

And then he ate the paper.

And then he stacked the two cushions of his makeshift bed on top of each other, planted his face in them, and screamed.

Cipher, my lord. It had felt so, so, so good to be revered again.

His organs twisted with touch-hunger and loneliness.

####

Out in the Bahamas, along the southwest edge of the Bermuda Triangle, were two nut job hermits from Miami. Bill had convinced them that the only way they could purge their sins and purify their souls was by sculpting and selling golden avatars of God into which they could pour their guilt, and they had to keep doing it until they no longer felt guilty (and they would never not feel guilty; they needed so much therapy that Bill had ensured they'd never get). And then he'd convinced them that God's true face was an Eye of Providence in a top hat and bow tie.

Over the years he'd lost a little control over those two—in their desperation to be free of sin, they'd also started sculpting avatars to as many gods as they could find and selling them en masse to afford more art supplies—but hey, as long as his face was still mixed in with the rest, fine. Honestly, he was surprised those nuts weren't dead yet.

Somebody in this house had sent his location to them. And in a moment of what Bill imagined was stunning mental clarity, they had passed on that information to the single least dysfunctional pocket of Bill's top cult in the continental United States. Maybe when Bill was back at full power, he'd drop by the hermits' dreams to tell them they'd finally achieved absolution and could rest. Their decades of out-of-control scrupulosity would probably prevent them from believing him, but hey, he could say he'd tried. He washed his hands of all responsibility over them and their mental illnesses that he'd knowingly deliberately exacerbated for his own benefit. Not his problem.

But the question he came back to, over and over, was who had talked to them.

Bill needed to reach his Death Valley cultist. He needed a phone. Every phone in this house was well-guarded. No one would let him touch one... except, perhaps, whoever had sent the SOS on his behalf.

The only person who made sense was Stanford. Bill didn't think he'd ever told Ford about the nutty sculptors; but in the eighties he had given him the mailing addresses of some niche art dealers who would sell tapestries and statues of an obscure one-eyed god to collectors who could appreciate what they were looking at. Maybe Ford had gotten back in contact with them? Maybe he'd told them where Bill was, and they'd passed the information to the Bahamas?

Maybe Ford's feelings weren't quite so cold toward Bill as he'd been pretending.

Bill liked that idea a lot.

Maybe Bill's birthday gift had swung Ford back around to the side of reason—reminded him just how good he'd had it under a muse and mentor willing to teach him anything his nerdy little heart desired. Or maybe he'd always wanted to come back, and had just needed Bill to say it first.

He probably only pretended he hated Bill because they were surrounded by enemies—everyone in the house thought Ford was looking for a way to destroy Bill, what would happen if they knew the truth?

But the truth was there. Bill could almost seize it in his hands. All those moments where they almost talked like they were friends again, before Ford had to stop himself and leave. That one beautiful little word: jealous. And of course, there was the whole thing with the glass pyramid and the "Mysteries" that Ford had passed on—

—to Mabel.

There was another possibility.

As much as Bill would love if it was Ford, Mabel was the only person in the house who acted like she actually wanted Bill alive. Whatever "Mysteries" Ford was teaching her had something to do with Bill, the pyramid made that obvious. Maybe his lessons included the contact information of everyone else Ford knew who knew Bill? Maybe she'd taken it upon herself to call for help?

It was thin. And it was still dependent upon Ford harboring a secret loyalty to Bill that he was passing on to his great-niece. But that was where things stood: Ford was the only person in the house who definitely knew how to reach Bill's followers, but Mabel was the only person in the house who definitely might want to.

And he had to make completely sure of which one of them it was before he asked for a favor.

####

Ford had missed dinner again.

Fiddleford had sent Ford home with a pile of math. All the calculations he'd done to get the miniature particle accelerator to produce Dontium. By his reckoning, that there jar should've filled with Dontium faster than greased lightning; he just plumb can't understand why it trickled in like cold molasses. (His words.) He'd asked Ford to check his work, see if he'd missed something.

Ford was more than happy to help. It was a much-needed intellectual challenge that didn't involve Bill's underhanded birthday gift. Something that would let him feel like he was making progress. And it was comfortingly familiar. He and Fiddleford had spent weeks checking and re-checking each other's math in the lead up to the portal test, before they knew what a horror they were building.

As soon as Ford had gotten home, he'd put Fiddleford's papers in his underground study before going back to bed. Bill had already admitted he could glimpse the future, although Ford wasn't sure how far; and Ford was growing convinced that Bill's ability to perceive "higher dimensions" let him see through walls like they weren't there. He'd begun keeping Journal 5 and other sensitive materials down in his study at all times, hoping that the distance and layers of dirt and rock would keep Bill from peering in.

And when he'd dragged himself out of bed around noon—an embarrassingly late hour to get up, but he had been awake most of the night—he'd grabbed a quick breakfast/lunch, brewed a pot of coffee to take with him, and gone below to get to work.

He'd only worked seven or eight hours with a couple of reluctant breaks in the middle before his head began pounding too hard for him to ignore. He'd been neglecting his exercise regimen the past few weeks, and his back and neck were letting him know. In his thirties, he'd been able to work fourteen hours days and still want to keep going—and that was even before he'd handed his body over to Bill so he could keep working around the clock. He wasn't as young as he used to be.

He dragged himself upstairs after sunset, when the last ambient light from the sky still faintly glowed through the windows. He could make something quick and simple for dinner, go to bed early, and get up early to continue working. He pushed through the door to the dark living room—

"Hello!"

"Gah!" Ford jumped. "You. What are you doing here?"

Bill was leaning next to the door, a dim silhouette with his elbow on the wall and cheek in his hand. Even in the dark, Ford was sure he could see Bill's wicked grin at his reaction. "I happen to live here."

Ford let out an irritated huff. "Whatever you're up to, I don't have time to deal with it. Find someone else to bother." He pushed past Bill and headed toward the kitchen.

It would have been too much to expect Bill not to follow him, wouldn't it? "Aw, c'mon, don't be like that! Would it kill you to act like you're happy to see me?"

"Probably."

Bill's laugh made Ford's shoulders raise up around his ears. Maybe that was the source of his neck pain.

Bill shadowed him into the kitchen and leaned on the table, watching while Ford rummaged through the fridge. "But seriously, Sixer—who are you trying to impress by giving me the cold shoulder? I'm the only one here. You could afford to treat me like a person for two minutes." When Ford slammed the fridge door, Bill smacked it with the tip of an 8-ball cane. "Hey, have my food privileges been revoked? Give me a turn."

How long had Bill had a weapon? Ford snatched the cane from him, but opened the fridge and left it. "I don't consider you a person. I consider you an incalculably destructive force of pure, brutal chaos." He cracked three eggs in a skillet and opened a cabinet for one of the stove knobs they kept stored where Bill couldn't reach them.

"Flattering!" Bill started pulling out his usual nauseating array of condiments: today was sauerkraut, maraschino cherries, mustard, ranch dressing, and barbecue sauce. (Why did he eat like that? Did his species usually subsist on a mostly liquid diet? Was it the flavors—?) "Hey, make me mac 'n' cheese, wouldja?"

"No."

"Fine. Leave the burner on when you're done, I'll make it myself."

"You're not allowed to use the stove."

"Then how about I sit here drinking mustard while you enjoy a hot meal." Bill waved three eggs at Ford. "At least make me eggs too. Zero extra effort on your part. I'll even crack them for you if you want."

Ford gave Bill a dark look; but he supposed, as one of the people who had agreed that Bill wasn't allowed to cook, he was in no position to complain about Bill begging him to cook on his behalf. He snatched the eggs out of Bill's hand. "How do you want them."

"I haven't eaten enough chicken eggs to have a preference. Whatever you'll complain least about doing."

Poorly scrambled eggs it was. Ford shut the fridge and returned to the stove.

Bill sat on the table and crossed his legs in lotus position while he waited. "But really, what do you get out of pretending you can't stand me! We both know it's an act."

Ford gave him a tired, sour look. "Even for you, you sound delusional."

"I know you don't really hate me."

"I could write an entire dissertation and earn another Ph.D. on the topic of how much I hate you."

Ford hated how excited Bill looked by that. "Would you?"

"No! Why would I waste that much time thinking about you?"

"It seems to me like you're already doing that."

The hair on the back of Ford's neck prickled. Surely Bill just meant Ford's research into how to kill him; but his mind flashed to the miniature grimoire he'd spent all his time poring over—the blueprints of Bill's childhood home—the face he'd absent-mindedly drawn in his journal in the middle of the night and quickly scribbled out. Could Bill still see through that face? Had Ford remembered to blind Bill's eye on the blueprints? What about the eyes drawn in his human faces? Did Bill know about Ford's other studies? What did it matter—nothing Ford was doing was wrong. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Bill's smile slowly widened. "Sure you don't. You might hate me to my face, but behind my back you're as obsessed with me as ever. You might as well lean into it."

You're using avoiding him as an excuse to obsess over him even more in private. "I am not..." Wasn't he? You're acting like a stalker, Sixer.

"Oh, Fordsy, come on." Bill uncrossed his legs, slid off the table, and was across the room faster than Ford had expected. Ford instinctively took a step back and bumped into the oven; Bill reached past him to lean a hand against the edge of the stove, inches from touching him. "You're not hiding it half as well as you think you are. Did you think I wouldn't notice?" He smirked up at Ford, exposed eye wide and eager, utterly fascinated with him. "And bringing Mabel in on it? I'll have to admit, that surprised me. Can't say I disapprove, though."

Ford couldn't tell if the heat on the back of his neck was from Bill's accusations or the stove. "I beg your pardon?" What was he talking about—their conversation in Portland? The blueprints of Bill's home? (Using his great-niece to spy on Bill, lord, what was Ford doing?)

"Quit messing around! The Mysteries, Stanford. You think I don't know I'm the star of that show?" He poked the center of Ford's chest, "There's no way you joined a cult, you're not enough of a team player! What'd you do? Invent your own cult of one? Mixed a little of what I taught you, a little of whatever you learned out in the multiverse? I know you were asking around about me." Bill chuckled. "You want to keep your little rituals private, fine—I think it's cute, really—just tell me one thing I've been dying to know: how much have you told the kid?"

Ford stared at Bill.

Then he laughed in his face. "You really bought that?"

Bill's smile immediately vanished. "What?"

Ford shoved Bill's hands away. "There are no 'Mysteries.' It was a joke."

Bill stepped back, staring at Ford, brows furrowed. "A...? No," he said. "She's got that glass pyramid—"

"She wanted it because it was pretty," Ford said. "I gave her one since I was throwing them all out."

"That's the stupidest story I've ever heard. Then why would she have brought up the Mysteries!"

"Because," Ford said, "I told her, if you asked about the pyramid, she should make up something to confuse you."

Bill's mouth was open, but no words came out. His face had rapidly turned red. Several emotions flashed across his face in quick succession, from shock to confusion to humiliation to a rage so deep it almost looked like disgust. For a moment, from how Bill's fingers were curling like claws, Ford was sure Bill was about to attack him.

But then he clenched his jaw, backed off, leaned on the table, jammed his fists down against the tabletop, and glared at the floor.

Ford turned back to the stove, grinning to himself. Some of the eggs had burned slightly. Those were Bill's now. "What's the matter? Did you forget that humans can lie?"

Bill didn't reply.

"I'm surprised you didn't expect it. I seem to remember we got you with an impressive whopper last year—"

"Shut up."

"Now you don't want to talk?"

"Now you do?"

Good point; he didn't. If he'd finally rendered Bill speechless, he should enjoy it while he could.

He'd have to thank Mabel later for inventing the Mysteries. Sometimes that girl could be genius.

Ford turned off the burner, put the stove knob away, and dumped the eggs onto two plates. He didn't even bother to keep track of which plate had the burned eggs.

He shot a quick, exasperated look at Bill—he'd sat on top of the table again—and dropped a plate next to him. "Here." He grabbed a bag of bread and looked around for the toaster.

Behind him, voice trembling but low and dangerous, Bill said, "Don't look at me like that."

Ford glanced back warily. "Like what?"

Bill violently shoved off the table. There was an awful squeal of sliding furniture. Before Ford could react, Bill was in his face, grabbing him by his turtleneck, dragging him in, forcing him to look up at Bill.

Ford's peripheral vision was filled with gold. They were so close their noses nearly touched.

"Like you don't remember who I am!" Bill stared down with wide-eyed seething rage. "Your muse!" His voice cracked, "Your god!"

Ford stared up at Bill, speechless.

Then he looked down.

Bill was standing on a chair to make himself taller than Ford.

Ford ripped Bill's hands off his sweater. "You were never, ever my god."

Bill stumbled off the chair, catching himself hard on the edge of the table to keep from falling completely. "That's not true!" He heaved himself back onto his feet with a wince. "You worshiped me—"

"I admired you!" Ford jabbed a finger at Bill's chest. "I respected you! I—I even idolized you, but I never worshiped you!"

Bill jabbed a finger back, "You're splitting hairs! You practically turned your study into a temple to me—tapestries, rugs, statues—"

"Because you said it would help me reach you!"

"And it did! That's what shrines are for, genius!"

"It wasn't a shrine! Not to me."

"You're kidding me! All the money you dropped on that gold-plated statue and you expect me to believe that wasn't an act of worship—"

"Do not. Remind me. How much. That stupid statue cost."

"If you didn't build a shrine for worship then what in the world did you build it for!"

"Friendship!" Ford took a shaky breath in. "I thought... I honestly thought you—you—were my best friend." The air in the room trembled with heat. They were standing too close to each other. Ford refused to be the one to back up.

"I was," Bill said. "I still could be if you'd stop being a moron."

Ford laughed in disbelief. "Which is it, were you my god or my friend?!"

"They're not mutually exclusive—!"

"You can't keep your story straight for THIRTY SECONDS!"

"Don't you call me a LIAR, after EVERYTHING I taught you—!"

"In all the years I've known you I don't think you've told me the truth ONCE—!"

Stan flipped on the lights.

They froze and stared at him. They had their hands around each other's throats. Bill had a foot planted on Ford's stomach like he was trying to get a foothold to climb him. They were both covered in egg.

Stan said, "Could you do this in the morning?"

Ford said, "Sure."

Bill said, "He started it."

"I st—?! You started all of this thirty years ago—"

"Guys," Stan said tiredly.

With some effort, Ford unpeeled his hands from Bill's neck.

To his surprise, Bill voluntarily let go as well. Ford snatched up what was left of his plate of eggs, took the loaf of bread—he had lighters, he could toast it downstairs—and left the kitchen, turning the light off as he went.

Stan was waiting out in the entryway. "Heading to bed?"

"No." Ford shoveled a forkful of eggs in his mouth. "Going to be up late." He was too angry to sleep. He could eat, take a painkiller for his headache, and keep working.

"More research?"

"No. Calculations."

Stan's shoulders slumped; but all he said was, "Suit yourself. Don't stay up too late."

Ford glanced back once into the kitchen. Bill wasn't moving. He sat slumped in a chair, elbows on his knees. He'd pulled on his hood. Its eye stared at Ford.

Ford wasn't about to pity Bill over a performative display of angst. He'd fallen for that already.

He returned to his study and mathematics.

####

Bill stared at his plate of eggs. He mechanically pushed them around on the plate until they formed a perfect equilateral triangle. He scooped out an empty white eye in the middle.

He stood, snatched up the plate, and smashed it on the floor.

They thought he was stupid. They thought he couldn't use a stove if it didn't have knobs, as if he was a child! The humans made it easy for themselves to think of him as a child when they treated him like one, "baby-proof the doors" and "no sharp objects" and "don't talk to strangers." He could show them.

He grabbed the stem where one of the knobs had been removed, and twisted. He heard the hiss of gas under the burner. Everyone was asleep. He could fill the house with gas. It would only take a little push to make a spark and set the entire shack ablaze. In the dark room, he could see the first glimpse of future flames flickering yellow-orange in the periphery of his foresight. No one would survive. Who's your god now, smart guy? He'd rise like a phoenix from his own corpse and he'd tear this town apart.

Where was Mabel?

Was she home tonight?

Bill turned off the gas.

He pushed up his sleeve and pressed the fleshy part of his forearm onto the still-hot burner. The pain burned away his jumbled anger so he could think clearly.

Who cared how the nutty sculptors had gotten Bill's address? He was making good progress on lucid dreaming; maybe he'd astral projected across the country to call for help and forgotten it when he woke up. He'd probably saved himself without even remembering it. It didn't matter. The important thing was that they'd received the message; and now, Bill had friends on the outside. Friends who were on his side.

If he could ever contact them again.

Bill would find a way. He didn't need Ford's help. "Never worshiped you." Ha.

He needed fresh air. Even if it wasn't safe to escape yet, he needed to breathe. He carried himself backward through doorway into the gift shop, pulled aside the curtain hiding the ladder to the roof—

The trap door was shut. He stared up in despair.

He shot a glare toward the vending machine, and angrily crossed back into the living room.

The air was so stuffy inside the shack. "Never worshiped you." Liar. If it wasn't worship then what was it?

Bill took himself upstairs. Hunger gnawed at his stomach. He lay on his makeshift bed curled up around himself, arms wrapped tight across his stomach, his burn pressed hard against a layer of knit yarn, thighs pulled up against his arms. It was a wholly alien position. It felt unnatural and bizarre. This body had curled like this of its own volition. It seemed like the only thing that briefly smothered the ache of emptiness and the hormonal inferno screaming loneliness through every vein. The loneliness wasn't his. He wasn't lonely. This body was. 

Cipher, my lord.

He hated this body.

He ached to be revered again.

####

It was two in the morning. Ford sat at his desk, pages and pages of math scattered before him, glasses off, hand rubbing his eyes.

He didn't want to be checking a mountain of math like a human calculator. He wanted to be studying strange magic and researching new anomalies. He wanted to be digging through Bill's grimoire.

He wanted to be awed again.

####

(I've been waiting to write/draw Bill screaming his grief over not being worshiped since literally April. I hope y'all enjoyed! This is one of my favorite chapters so far, I'd love to hear what y'all think!!)

[lee-laurent]

Little Green Monster - Luke Hughes

Summary: Riley wants his dad. And Luke is not his dad

content: children, tantrums (child punching, kicking, screaming), doubts about relationship, kissing, past oc x ex!john marino

wc: 3.3k

notes: the highly anticipated part 6!! this one is a bit of domestic life, but also dramaaaa. maybe luke wasn't as ready for a relationship with a mom as he thought (hehehe) ENJOY

"What does a cow say?" Luke asked as Riley handed him a plastic cow.

"Moooooooo!" Riley laughed, clapping his hands together as he put his plastic sheep in his little barn.

"Good job, Ri! You're so smart."

This was the first time that Luke had spent unsupervised time alone with Riley. Tori had gone to the basement of the building to do some laundry and had asked her boyfriend to stay and watch Riley for ten minutes. Riley was quick to rope Luke into playing farm animals with him, but Luke was enjoying it to be honest.

"Moo! Moo!" Riley took the cow back, bouncing it up and down like it was walking. "'Ockey."

"Hockey? What about hockey?"

"'Uke play 'ockey."

"I do, that's right."

Riley shook his head, frustrated that Luke wasn't understanding what he was saying. "No. 'Uke play 'ockey?"

"You want to play hockey?"

He shook his head again, standing up and toddling over to the coffee table. He grabbed the TV remote, shoving it at Luke's chest. "'Uke play 'ockey!"

"Ohhhhh, you want to watch hockey?"

Riley finally nodded, sitting down in Luke's lap as he sat criss-cross on the floor.

"I don't know if Mama would be happy if we watched TV right now," Luke sighed, knowing that Tori was pretty strict about the screen time. She didn't want to raise an iPad baby.

"'Ockey?" he tilted his head to the side, waiting for Luke to turn on the TV.

"Okay. What hockey should we watch?"

Luke flipped through the watched videos on YouTube, noticing that most of them were highlights of John or Sidney Crosby. He knew that Riley really looked up to his dad, so he wasn't surprised. But that didn't mean it stung any less.

"Dada!"

"You wanna watch you dad?"

"Dada!" Riley clapped, picking up his toy cow again.

"Alright."

Luke clicked on one of the fan made highlight videos of John, watching Riley's face light up when he heard the announcers say "Marino." Was that Riley's last name too? He didn't really ask Victoria much about that kinda stuff. He could tell she didn't like talking about her past with John.

"Mama's home!"

"Mama! 'Ockey!"

"Are you watching hockey with Luke? That's so fun, baby!" she smiled, pressing a kiss to both of their heads.

"How was the laundry room?" Luke asked, setting Riley down on the couch.

"Super exciting," she rolled her eyes, smiling at him playfully. Luke shook his head, leaning down to kiss her. "You resorted to the TV that fast?"

"No," Luke laughed. "We were playing farm animals but then he decided he wanted to watch his dad play hockey."

"So you're a push over?"

"Rude," he placed a hand over his heart, feigning a hurt expression.

"I'm joking. He loves watching John play. Almost as much as he loves seeing him in general."

Luke nodded, leaning down to kiss her again.

"What're your plans today?" she asked, pouring Riley a bottle for his snack before nap.

"Not sure. Might go to the gym with Jack for a bit. He's pissed I've been sleeping here. After that... nothing? Come back here and make out with my hot ass girlfriend."

"Not gonna happen, bud. Your 'hot ass girlfriend' has a playdate with her baby daddy."

"You're seeing John? Why didn't you tell me? I would've come."

"Because it's for Riley to have some proper family time."

"But the three of us hang out all the time," he frowned.

But Tori continued, not realizing how much her words were hurting him. "He needs some... regular family time. My therapist said it's a good thing to do. So, we're giving it a try."

"Your therapist? Why am I so out of the loop, V?"

"I just... I didn't want to stress you out, Luke. I'm doing fine, I just need some guidance when it comes to managing co-parenting."

"Oh. Well, I'm gonna go home and shower. Enjoy your 'playdate.'"

"Luke-"

"See you later, Tori."

She sighed, shaking her head as the front door closed. She threw the towel she was holding down on the counter, resting her head in her hands. She took a few deep breaths, trying to center herself. Maybe dating wasn't the best idea after all.

Luke arrived home to the apartment he shared with Jack, his mood soured by his earlier conversation with Tori. He didn't like how she'd worded it as "proper family time." Why wasn't him spending time with them the same? And therapy. Why didn't she tell him, her boyfriend, that she was doing therapy.

Jack was sprawled on the couch, watching some stupid show he'd found on Hulu.

"Hey, man. You ready to hit the gym?" he asked, not even turning to look at Luke.

"Yeah, but can we talk for a sec. I need some advice," Luke slumped down on the sofa next to his brother.

"Sure. What's going on?" he clicked the TV off.

"It's about Tori. Well... me and Tori. She told me this morning she's having some family time with John and Riley. Said it's important for Riley to have time with his dad. And she mentioned seeing a therapist about co-parenting. I didn't even know she was struggling with that stuff. Like am I that shit of a boyfriend that I couldn't even tell my girlfriend was struggling with her kid. And now I'm questioning if I'm really cut out for this whole thing."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Cut out for what? Dating someone with a kid?"

"Yeah. It feels like no matter what I do, I'm not measuring up. I'm always in John's shadow. And with Tori so focused on making sure Riley has time with John, I'm starting to wonder if I'm even needed in their lives."

Jack leaned back, studying his brother. "You're taking on a lot, man. It's not just about being with Tori; it's about being a part of Riley's life too. And John's presence makes that even trickier."

"I know. I really do care about Tori and Riley," Luke said, rubbing his face. "But it's tough feeling like I'm never going to fit into the family like John does."

Jack looked at him thougtfully. "You gotta ask yourself if you're ready for all this. This relationship isn't just about having a girlfriend; it's about stepping up and helping with the responsibilities that come with Riley. That's a lot of work."

"I want to be ready," Luke admitted. "But sometimes it feels like I'm just the guy who's not John. It's hard to see if I'm making a difference or if I'm just background noise."

"It's a lot of stress to take on. You need to think if you're prepared for that kind of pressure. Are you ready to be there for Riley, even when it's hard? Especially since he's a toddler. You have to be consistent and supportive."

"I guess I gotta evaluate if I'm ready for that," Luke said. "I thought I was. But this is a lot more complicated than I realized."

"There's an extra layer of complexity to this, dude. But I'm here if you get overwhelmed."

"Thanks for being honest with me, Jack. I needed to hear this."

"No problem," Jack replied. "Now let's hit the gym and work through some of that stress. Sometimes a good workout is all you need to clear your mind."

Jack's perspective had helped Luke realize the gravity of his situation, now he just had to think about where to go next.

~~

Tori walked into the park with Riley in tow, his lunchbox in her hand. John was already there, sitting on a park bench with a big smile when he saw Riley running towards him. Tori waved politely but kept her distance, wanting Riley to have some time with his dad.

"Hey, Ri-Ri!" John called out. "How's my buddy?"

Riley just giggled and clung to John, clearly excited to spend time with his dad.

"Thanks for bringing him. Missed family time."

"No problem," Tori smiled. "He's always excited to see you."

John nodded, moving his gaze to Riley. "So, how's everything? You've been busy lately."

"Yeah, things are a bit hectic. I've been trying to get more hours in working," Tori admitted. "But Riley's been good. He's adjusting well. Spending time playing with Luke."

John's eyes narrowed slightly, thinking of his next words. "You know, I've been thinking. It's important for Riley to have a stable environment. And, uh, Luke... well, he's still pretty young, right?"

Tori frowned, "What d'you mean?"

John leaned forward, lowering his voice as if someone was listening in. "I've noticed he's been around a lot. But, you know, having a young boyfriend can be tricky. It's not about him hanging out when he feels like it."

Tori crossed her arms, her expression guarded. "Luke's been doing his best. He's trying to be involved."

John shrugged, "I'm sure he is. But it's a lot for someone who's still figuring out their life. I mean, Riley needs someone that's going to hang around, not someone who could just leave whenever."

"I guess..."

John reached over, ruffling Riley's curls. "It's good that you're thinking about what's best for him."

"Yeah. Always."

"Have you been watching lots of hockey, Ri?" John changed the subject, hoping he'd planted the seeds of doubt in Tori's mind.

"Dada play 'ockey!" Riley clapped, snacking on some of the cheese that Tori had packed for him.

"You watch Dada play hockey?"

"Yes! With 'Uke!"

"Oh." John wasn't sure how to react to that. Sure Riley was watching him play hockey, but he was doing it with Luke. He could be watching it with him instead.

"It's great that he likes hockey, isn't it?" Tori grinned, breaking up some more cheese for Riley.

"It's awesome that you're watching hockey, but wouldn't it be more fun to watch with Dada?"

Riley, not understanding the subtext of John's question, just giggled. "Dada play 'ockey!"

"That's right, buddy," he glanced at Tori. "You know, Tori, maybe we could make that a regular thing. Just you, me, and Riley. Watching games together on my off days. Didn't you say he should be getting time with both his parents?"

Tori hesitated, her eyes flickering to Riley as he played with his lunchbox. "I don't know, John. We've been trying to keep things... balanced. I want him to spend time with you, of course, but I also want him to get more comfortable with Luke."

"I get that. But just remember, no one can replace his dad. I'm not saying Luke's a bad guy, he's just young. And let's be real, Luke's got his whole career ahead of him. Do you really think he can handle the responsibilities of being a father figure?"

"I'm not asking Luke to be Riley's dad. He knows that. But he's trying to be there for us, and I appreciate that."

"I just don't want you to get hurt, Tori. Or for Riley to get attached to someone who might not be around for the long run."

"I appreciate your concern, John," her tone a bit sharper than before. "But I've got his under control. I'm making decisions based on what's best for Riley."

"Of course," John raised his hands in mock surrender. "I'm just looking out for our son. That's all."

Riley tugged on John's sleeve, oblivious to the tension between his parents. "Dada, play 'ockey?"

"Sure thing, buddy. How about we practice shooting some goals together? Think you can beat Dada?"

Riley nodded eagerly, and John jumped at the opportunity to step away from the awkward conversation but also show Tori how good of a dad he was. "Come on, let's go play!"

They moved to a small concrete area near by, Tori watching from where they were sat. She knew John was trying to do something, but she couldn't deny the importance of his relationship with Riley.

"Alright, show me what you've got, Riley!" she cheered, moving the conversation with John to the back of her mind. As Riley focused on playing hockey with his dad, Victoria couldn't shake the idea that things were about to get more complicated.

~~

"Hey, you haven't been over for a bit? Riley's been asking for you," Tori smiled into the phone, mixing Riley's oatmeal in a bowl.

"Oh, um, yeah. Just been super busy. Sorry," Luke replied, fiddling with a stray thread on his hoodie.

"Oh. That's fine. D'you wanna come over for dinner tonight?"

"I have a training session with Nico. Sorry."

"Did I do something wrong?" Tori asked nervously, setting the bowl down for Riley. "Blow on it, Ri. Hot."

"Ooo 'ot!" he waved his hand, blowing on his food.

"No, Tori. I'm just busy."

"Are you su-"

"I'm busy, Tori. Drop it. I'll talk to you later."

"Oh, bye, Lu-"

He'd hung up. Tori sighed, moving on to making her own breakfast. Just as she was turning on the coffee pot, she heard a clattering sound. She turned around to find that Riley had thrown his bowl onto the floor, oatmeal covering the floor and bottom of his chair. His face and hands were also covered, his spoon discarded next to his bowl. She sighed again. It was going to be a long day.

She grabbed a wash cloth to start washing up the mess on her kitchen floor. As she crouched down, wiping up the oatmeal, Riley started crying, his fists rubbing at his eyes.

"Ri, what's wrong?" she asked, trying to keep her voice calm, though the exhaustion was already creeping in.

"Noooo!" Riley wailed, kicking his feet in frustration.

"Okay, let's get you cleaned up," Tori murmured, lifting him out of his high chair and carrying him to the sink. He squirmed in her arms, his cries growing louder as she tried to clean his face and hands.

"I know, baby, I know. We're almost done," she said, her patience wearing thin. As soon as she set him down, Riley threw himself on the floor, wailing at the top of his lungs.

Tori stared at him for a moment, unsure of what to do. She really didn't want to get a noise complaint. She had already been feeling off after the call with Luke, and now this. She needed help and Luke clearly wasn't an option right now. She picked up her phone, scrolling thorugh her favourited contacts until she got to John.

The phone rang twice before he answered.

"Hey, what's up?"

"Hey, um, are you busy right now? Riley's having a rough start to the day, and I could really use some help," she admitted, her voice dripping with desperation.

There was a pause on the other end before John responded, "Yeah, I can come over. Give me 20 minutes."

"Thank you, J. I really appreciate it."

"Don't worry about it. I'll be over soon."

Tori hung up and looked down at Riley, who had moved onto his back, his sobs becoming hiccups. She knelt beside him, brushing his curls from his eyes. "Daddy's coming, Ri. It's gonna be okay."

Riley sniffled, "Dada?"

"Yeah, Dada's coming." She knew she needed John's help today, but she couldn't help but wonder what Luke would think if he knew she hadn't called him. Surely he couldn't be upset, he'd said he was busy. He'd been "busy" a lot recently.

John arrived at Tori's apartment, the sound of Riley's wails echoed through the hallway. He could hear the frustration in Tori's voice as she tried to soothe their son. Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door, mentally preparing himself for what he was about to walk into.

"Thank God you're here," she sighed, stepping aside to let him in.

John crouched down beside Riley, trying to get his attention. "Hey, big guy. What's going on?"

"Dada!" Riley cried, reaching out for John. His face was tear-streaked, and his eyes puffy from crying.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he soothed, picking Riley up and holding him close. But Riley continued to squirm, resisting his dad's hug.

"Riley, we're here, okay? Let's take a few deep breaths."

But he wasn't listening. He kicked out, hitting John in the stomach, and trashed in his arms trying to escape.

John winched, but held on, walking around the room with him. He was gently bouncing the toddler in another attempt to soothe him. "I know you're upset, buddy. It's okay to be upset, but we need to use our words."

"Look, Ri. It's Pooh bear. Do you want to hold Pooh bear?" Tori offered, holding up his favourite stuffie.

Riley shook his head, burying his face in John's shoulder, his body trembling from the aftermath of his tantrum. "You're okay, Ri-Ri. We're right here. Daddy's here."

It took a few more minutes, but Riley's sobs finally calmed into hiccups. His grip on John's shirt loosening as exhaustion took over his body.

"I think he's finally calming down."

"Thank you, John. I really couldn't deal with that on my own today."

"It's okay. This stuff is hard. But we're in this together, remember?"

Tori sighed and sat on the couch, motioning for John to join her. "I know. I just... I wasn't ready for the terrible twos. His first real toddler tantrum, I mean. I didn't know how to calm him down. And you're his favourite person."

"You did fine," John reassured, cradling Riley. "He's just overwhelmed and didn't know how to express it. We all have days like that."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. I just hate seeing him so upset."

"Me too. But he's okay now, and that's what matters."

As Riley settled into a deep sleep in John's arms, the room grew quiet. Tori watched John cradle their son, his hand gently brushing through Riley's curls. The tenderness in John's actions stirred something in her--a familiar warmth she hadn't felt in a long time. She was so grateful for John's help, but seeing him like this, being so good with Riley, brought back memories she thought she'd moved past.

John looked up and met her eyes. There was something in his gaze that made her heart skip a beat. Without thinking, Tori leaned forward, her eyes flickering to his lips. John noticed, and in the heat of the moment, he closed the gap between them. His lips pressed gently against hers. The kiss was soft, lingering, filled with longing and familiarity.

For a moment, Tori kissed him back, all the good times from their relationship flooding her mind. But as quickly as it happened, reality crashed back in. She pulled away, her mind spinning with guilt.

"I--I shouldn't have done that."

"Tori..."

She shook her head, standing up quickly. "No, John. This isn't right. I'm with Luke. I... I shouldn't be kissing you."

"Tori, I know you're with Luke, but I can't pretend I don't care about you."

"It can't mean anything, John. I'm trying to move forward, to build something new. I can't go back."

"I-"

"I think it's best if we forget this happened."

She knew she had crossed a line, one that could complicate everything with Luke, but there was no undoing that she had just done.

"If that's what you want, Vic. But you can't ignore what's still there between us."

She didn't respond.

"Let me take Riley to his room," John offered. Tori nodded, watching as John carefully carried the toddler to his room. As she heard the soft click of Riley's bedroom door closing, she sank back into the couch.

"I'll head out now. But, Tori... if you need anthing. Call me," John said, standing near the front door.

"I know, John. Thanks. I mean it."

He gave her a nod, and turned to leave her with her thoughts. She couldn't deny the kiss, or the feelings that it stirred. But she was scared--scared for what it would mean for her and Luke, and what it might mean for the future she was trying to build.

[thatonebirdwrites]

Cheating Death Part 4 - End

Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3

Epilogue

Finally, after weeks under intensive medical care, she was cleared to go home. Her recovery was far from over. Lena didn't look forward to the intense physical and occupational therapy in store, but at least she could rest in a more comfortable space. Have a bit more freedom.

Alex had insisted on taking her home, though Kara had walked with them until she received a Supergirl call. Lena understood now why Kara randomly took off, and with that understanding came a slow acceptance.

The door swung open at the press of her thumb against the keypad. Alex pushed her wheelchair, and shut the door with her foot behind them. They made it almost to the sofa when the shouts erupted around them.

"Surprise!"

Lena nearly fell out of her chair at the sudden noise. People leaped out from behind the sofa, tumbled out of the kitchen, and poured in from the hallway. They were all there: Kara, Brainy, Nia, J'onn, Kelly, and even Sam and Ruby.

"Welcome home!" Alex said with a grin, meaning she was in on this too.

Lena had no idea what to make of this. She'd never had a surprise... anything before in her life. "Um, thanks?"

Ruby nearly bounded into Lena's lap with her fervent hug. "I'm so glad you're home! We were so worried when we found out." She pulled back with a teary smile. "You gotta stop almost dying on us. Because we need you here, you're family, and Mom and I sort of just got here today, so all I have is this card." She handed it over and put her hands behind her back.

Lena opened it to the words, "We love you. Please try not to die again. Or we'll drag your sorry ass back to the world of the living." The asterisk after 'ass' had a note at the bottom that read, "Ruby was allowed this one curseword in honor of you."

Lena smiled and ran her fingers over the handwriting, some of it Ruby's and some Sam. Why they bothered, she didn't know, considering how she'd ghosted them. She took a deep breath to try to stop the urge to cry. "Thank you, Ruby. I love you both too."

Sam walked up behind her daughter and smiled, her eyes glistening. "Kid has a point." She leaned forward and gave her a half hug, planting a kiss on the side of her head. "I'm glad to see you up. We've been so worried."

She handed Lena what looked like a phone at first glance, until she saw the hinge. Opening it revealed a note that read: "Answer your phone! <3 xxxoo Sam." Under it was one of her guilty pleasures, a very specific hard candy only sold in Ireland.

"Sam..." Lena didn't know what to say. She wiped away tears, frustrated with herself. Since her near death and disablement, she'd become a weepy fool. "Thank you. I'll be better about staying in touch. I promise."

As the others moved forward, one at a time to greet her and welcome her home, Lena found herself smiling and dissolving into tears yet again. She wasn't used to this much care, and it still felt unreal. Like the shoe could drop at any moment, and yet it didn't.

Alex had continued to care for her, Kara and the others had continued to visit, and now that Lena was cleared to rest at home? Here they all were being the sappiest people she'd ever met.

"Make sure you kiss your beefcake," Nia whispered as she dropped a box of chocolates on Lena's lap. "She set this up, and I kind of have money on the line, so give a girl some help?"

Lena laughed, but she couldn't stop herself from sneaking a look at Kara who stood, swaying back and forth on her heels, as she waited impatiently. "Sure, Nia."

Alex gave her a backpack of all things. "Hey, don't give me that look," the director said with a cluck of her tongue. "Think of all the science-y things you can stuff in this thing and loop onto your wheelchair. Nothing will stop you now."

She lightly swatted Alex's arm. "Maybe if I was five, but really, thank you." At least the bag was black, so it matched the chair's coloration.

Kelly's gift was perhaps the most useful. A tool to grab things from afar. Lena immediately snapped it in Alex's direction, who danced out of reach with a scowl. "It's perfect," she said with a grin.

"I know you have a long recovery in store," Brainy said with a bow of his head. "But I will give you access to my favorite..." he glanced at Nia, "... toys as Nia calls them." He held out a small, palm-sized square. "Press your thumb and a holographic interface, encrypted for our communication and projects, will appear."

Lena couldn't resist. She pressed her thumb, and the interface swirled around her, filled with all sorts of delicious programs. "Holy shit, Brainy. Thank you. This is a delight." She pressed her thumb again, and it vanished.

J'onn stepped forward and bowed his head. "I wish to apologize for my actions in not bringing you in sooner. You've always been one of the best of us, and so I offer you the aid of my community. We have had many soldiers wounded in battle, and I will gladly aid in your recovery. So that you may find the mobility that fits your needs."

Lena studied the stoic man and thought back to something Kara had said to her. "You're a good swordfighter?" When he nodded, she smiled. "I was nearly an Olympic fencer. That's my goal. To recover enough to challenge you to a duel."

He bowed to her. "I accept."

Kara came last, of course. "Hey you." She knelt and wrapped Lena in a tight hug. Lena leaned her head against Kara's shoulder and breathed in her usual vanilla scent.

The pain hadn't full healed between them, but they were taking little steps. And with each one, Lena settled into the reality that Kara wasn't some omnipotent do-no-wrong-god, but a trauma-filled, messy alien who feared loss almost as much as Lena did.

That's one thing the past few weeks in Alex's medical ward taught her: perfection didn't exist, and that's okay. It was okay to be imperfect. She'd still be loved for who she was, even despite her sometimes bratty, petty nature.

Kara pulled back and kissed Lena's forehead. "I made this." She handed her a cylinder with lines and dots on all sides. "It's a puzzle box like what my father made. Give you something to do as you heal."

"Kara," she leaned her head against Kara's shoulder. "God, I love you so much," she whispered. "Thank you."

"I love you too." Kara carded her fingers through her hair. Lena gladly took the brief moment to recalibrate herself for more people interaction. Alex's words hovered in her head, "I need you to recognize your limits."

She took stock of her pain, her emotional bandwidth, and decided she could handle an hour. Then she'll ask to go to the bedroom. Plan in place, she pulled back from Kara with a smile.

She blinked away her tears. "Thanks to all of you. Now, I'd like to sit down on the sofa, if you don't mind?"

Kara chuckled and gently scooped Lena into a bridal carry. Her face flushed, likely as pink as her own. "As you wish, milady."

Alex groaned at that while Nia cackled.

Settled on the sofa, Lena leaned back into the cushions in relief. Fatigue plagued her still, and the pain simmered despite the pain meds. Still, she was much improved than a week ago. This ordeal had taught her that even small steps were worthy victories.

"So you ready for cake? Because all welcome home parties need cake." Kara practically hopped from foot to foot.

"Sure, Supergirl," Lena drawled. "Better fly me the best."

"Oh, you betcha. Straight from Belgium." Kara sounded quite proud of herself.

"Kara..." Alex pressed her palm against her face.

"Supergirl?" Sam echoed, her eyebrows raised.

"Wait a second," Kelly looked around, surprised. "Kara is Supergirl???"

Well, it was nice to know she wasn't the last one told after all.

***

Six months later

Lena gripped the bars, most of her weight on her arms. Her legs trembled beneath her, her right foot turned slightly to the left. Kara stood at the other end of the torture session with a grin. "Come on, Lena, you can do this."

"Oh shut up." Lena growled, but there was no heat in her words, only a deep affection. She carefully took a step, and her leg held. A tingling sizzled up her leg muscles, but she didn't crumple. Slowly, she lifted and plopped her other foot down. That one proved weaker than the other, so she leaned into the bars more.

"Remember to breathe." Her physical therapist stood behind her ready to catch if she fell.

She took a deep breath and managed another step. The rhythm of walking felt strange, like a foreign language she'd forgotten after months of using a wheelchair.

Since the attack, she'd kept a low profile. Sam returned as temporary CEO, and Alex proved to be just as protective of her as she was of Kara. Nia's article of the attack won the public's favor for Lena, which had been a nice, short boost for L-Corp.

So she slowly made her way down the bars, each step mores stable than the last. Her muscles screamed at the effort, but she pushed forward, determined.

Kara, as always, lived up to her promise and stayed at her side. Assisted her lab work. Accepted with grace the occasional microscope she threw at her head. Since becoming an independent writer and science consultant, Kara spent more and more time at her penthouse, and it had started to fill up with knickknacks, paintings by Kara, Kara's clothes randomly strewn over chairs, and a kitchen full of enough food for a hungry Kryptonian.

Lena knew she wasn't always the best partner. Sometimes Kara and her fought bitterly, but they'd learned to come together and talk it out. To share space for one another's feelings. To tentatively explore what being together really looked like.

All a step at a time.

Her trek reached the end of the bars, and there Kara stood, her arms out stretched.

"You did it! I told you so," Kara said with a delighted laugh.

Lena leaned forward and let herself fall into Kara's embrace. She looked up and smiled at her lovable dork. "I suppose I owe you that ice cream, my love," she said, wryly.

Kara nodded and brushed her nose against Lena's. "You sure do."

Lena placed her hand on Kara's cheek and kissed her lips. As she pulled back, she smiled at the goofy dazed expression Kara always wore when Lena sneaked a kiss.

"I'll make it two, for being such a good motivator." Behind her the physical therapist cleared her throat. Lena chuckled and for the first time in her life, she actually felt happy.

She'd cheated death yet again and won a girlfriend from it. Quite the bargain when all was said and done.

[marlinspirkhall]

My favourite Game Changer quotes in no particular order:

“Take my points, you twee bitch, take my points away!”

“TIMBS! TIMBS, BITCH!”

“I haven't been able to since the HRT.” / “That's so interesting; I have the opposite problem.”

“He wanted to see his son fall, fall from the sky, oh how CLOSE to the SUN he FLEW, but Daedalus our little master craftsman over here had some WAX WINGS OF HIS OWN–”

“The lady said butthole, Sam.”

“Beardsley left this for me.” / “But you voted them out!” / “I am aware of that, yes.”

“Call your dad! Call your dad!” / “Call his... Dad?”

“I'm hungie :(”

“My period started during the break and I am in immense pain right now. This is not a bit.”

“Hey! Timothy! You're not allowed on the street anymore, and you know why?” / “Why?” / “On account of the crimes!”

“Can I solve it? Can I solve the thing?” / “WHAT?” (...) “That was a real Jewel moment right there, to go to so far at the top from so far at the bottom.”

“If Ally Beardsley comes out with a crown on their head I'm going to lose it.”

“Yes, of course I flinched. I'm not gonna stand here and pretend I didn't flinch, that was terrifying.”

“Just give it to me now, we all know I can do this.”

“You're gonna get Josh Ruben in here and not give him a seagull to do? Okay.”

“There is a big difference between walking into an escape room and finding yourself inside one.”

“Zac is running down the street? Jacob is driving home, and Ally is on their way to the airport.”

“Byoooouh.”✋😐✋“Did you factor in the antlers?”

“I am also 31. It's important to know there are three men in their thirties here today.”

“I think... You did this, and you're a bad man.”

“Was it writing Katie's name down and letting everyone think it was the art department?”

“The dungeon master is now my prisoner, it's Brennan Lee Mulligan!”

“There's gonna be a loop-de-loop.”

[shuoast]

☁️ husband minghao x reader

☁️ everything is fictional and should not be taken as reality or representations. mentions of crying, not taking care of one self.

he’s been monitoring you for a while now, not making any hasty assumptions in case of being mistaken. but his observations were piling up and the case is coming to a close.

your dull eyes when you smile and laugh with others, your lack of input when you usually love to give feedback, your sluggish movements when you insist you’re just feeling a little tired, your slumped back when you think no one is around. and your sad, glossy eyes paired with a red nose that screams that you’ve been crying, but you still smile and pretend like everything is fine.

behind closed doors, you merely ate one meal or less a day, multiple instant cup noodles piled up in the trash — the amount of instant noodles you eat worries him. you sleep most of the day away, and you find no more joy in doing the usual hobbies you used to love.

“baobei,” minghao pulls the remote out of your hands, you were mindlessly pressing on the next channel button without realising that you looped multiple times — there wasn’t any shows that intrigued you even though you were once such a show connoisseur (your words, not his) — “don’t you think that’s enough remote clicking for today?”

he unceremoniously plops down beside you and pulls you closer to him with an arm wrapped around you. tilting his chin down to look at you, “how are you feeling?”

cradling your cheek in his palm, he looked into your dull eyes. a painful reminder of how you were struggling by yourself, the one thing you can’t hide. “i’m fine, why?”

tightening his grip on your shoulder ever so slightly you might not have noticed if you didn’t focus hard enough, minghao pulls you into his chest, and into the safety cocoon of his arms. he wraps both arms around your body and rubs your back.

“i know what i tell you might not be what you want to hear, i know i can't understand what you're going through, i know i can't force you to stop acting like you're fine. but i also know that i'm willing to take care of you, and listen to you. you don't have to keep up a front with me, you don't have to pretend when you're with me, you don't have to smile when you're upset, smile when you're happy, cry when you're sad, you can come to me, let your mask fall off and have even a moment of comfort by my side. it must've been lonely trying to hide it all by yourself and pretend to be fine on the outside, i'm here for you.

pulling you away just a little bit so he could plant a feather light kiss on your cheeks, leaving his lips there a tad bit longer than he usually does. he pulls away and wipes off the tears at the corner of your eyes you tried so hard to contain. “getting through today is hard enough, tomorrow will be hard too but you did so well and i’m proud of you. don’t be so hard on yourself.”

☁️ ila's back (hope to stay), yes this is a repost from coupstatu(?) i think so

[starry-eyes-love]

Never Letting You Go

Masterlist

Pairing | Agent Javier Pena x Agent F!Reader

Summary | What starts out as a shitty Valentine’s Day turns into everything that you’ve ever wanted.  Javi treats you the way you need, by never letting you go.

A/N: First time writing for Javier's character, forgot this was in the vault. Enjoy

(As a reminder I'm no longer doing tag lists, make sure to turn on notifications on my page for when I post).

Warnings | 18+, Minors DNI, Smut

Language, angst, mentions of prostitution and Agent work, mentions of the cartel, mentions of cheating (from your previous relationship), grinding, mentions of penetrative sex, soft fluffy moments.   

Word Count: 5.5K

“Fuck baby,” he said, grinding against your ass with a little bit more force. “Do you feel that?  See, that’s what you fucking do to me woman.” Javi was now rocking harder into you, giving you slow deep thrusts. You could feel his hard outline in his pants as he was seated firmly against you. “This is what you’ve always done to me. I don’t hate you, fuck baby, I like you. I want you. So if you’ll shut up long enough, then maybe you’ll hear me say it.”

Today was Valentine's Day, and usually this was something that didn’t concern Javier Peña. He was a DEA agent that was in the middle of trying to bring down drug dealers and drug lords, he didn’t have time to be concerned about feelings or emotions on a specific day on the calendar.  But yet here he was, in the files room pacing back and forth, trying to calm his nerves.  Javier was never nervous when it came to the opposite sex. He usually was always so calm, cool, and collected when handling them.  Well, except for today that is, and especially when dealing with you. Somehow you had gotten under his skin just enough that now he was pacing back and forth, mind racing of what to do if you didn't like the gift that he just left you on your desk. He was so lost in his own head that he didn’t hear the door open and Steve Murphy step in.  

“Javi, what the hell are you-” Steve said, stopping dead in his tracks when he saw Javi pacing back and forth, running his hand down his face.

“She ain’t gonna like the gift. Why did you say it was from you and not a secret admirer? Jesus. Soy un idiota (I’m such an idiot).” Javi mumbled to himself.

“You got a lady a Valentine’s gift there Peña?” Murphy said, slamming the files on the desk and causing Javi to jump.  Javi just stood there, not answering his friend and fellow DEA agent’s question.  Steve, seeing how nervous Javi was, continued to tease him slightly. “Who’s the lucky girl, Peña?”

Before he could answer, they both heard you marching down the hall, yelling, “Peña, I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you, you arrogant bastard.” 

About a year ago you were transferred to Columbia in an attempt to assist in the capture of Pablo Escobar. At first, you were excited about serving your country and bringing the bad guys to justice. That was before meeting your two male DEA partner’s, however.  The first time you met Steve Murphy and Javier Peña it was love at first insult. You were the head female DEA agent hired to work alongside them in helping bring down the Medellín Cartel, and subsequently Pablo Escobar.  However, your transfer to Columbia somehow pissed both of them off.  

Since you had arrived, all those two idiots did was piss you off one way or another.  They were the biggest source of your headaches and irritations to date, and one of the biggest reasons why you hated your current job. They wouldn’t listen to you, and they continuously left you out of the loop on information. To make matters worse, when they got bored you were the target of their practical jokes, like today.

Today was Valentine’s Day, and one day on the calendar that you wished you could just completely remove. You hated Valentine’s Day with a passion, ever since you found your ex-fiance balls deep in your sister on Valentine’s Day one year ago.  It was after that you found out that the man who you thought loved you had always cheated on you with your sister, from Moment. Fucking. One.  You were together five years with him, and apparently all those five years he was also fucking your sister every chance he got. You were happy to hear that her husband caught them in bed and had filed for a divorce.  You thought it was poetic how she lost a man who made a shit ton of money for an asshole who could hardly pay rent for his shitty apartment.  So when you took the job transfer to Columbia you felt okay with the situation that had happened, as shitty as it sounded.  

But then last night your sister called you and informed you that she was getting married, and that she was pregnant too. She advised you that it would be best if you didn’t attend the wedding because of hard feelings the two of you had. When you asked who the soon-to-be husband and dad was, she had informed you that it was your ex-fiance and that they both were happy they found someone that loved them deeply. As soon as you heard that, you told her to ‘go to fucking hell,’ and then slammed the phone down. Out of anger and rage you grabbed the bottle of alcohol that was on the counter, and downed most of it in one go. Yeah, you weren’t going to that fucking wedding. 

When you woke up and realized it was Valentine’s Day, you seriously contemplated calling in work sick.  But you remembered that you had a morning meeting with your bosses and you knew that Javi and Steve wouldn’t show up.  So you begrudgingly got up and showered, swearing underneath your breath of how life wasn’t fair.  You hated today, Valentine’s Day, with a passion.  Six years ago you met your ex on Valentine’s Day because he was stood up on a date, a date with your sister you found out much later.  Then last year, on Valentine’s Day, you caught him cheating with your sister.  How did life get so fucked up? 

To add to your already sour mood, when you got into work early you noticed that all the rest of the females in the office had big bouquet of flowers on their desks from Javi and Steve. Each of them had a note saying that they really appreciated all the hard work that they have done, and that they were special angels for helping them out.  When you got to your desk you didn’t see any flowers or note telling you that you were special.  The only note that you saw was from Steve saying “don’t fuck up this meeting” and asked if you took your “anti-bitch pill today yet.” Yeah you hated this fucking day.

The meeting that was only supposed to be an hour went on for three long hours, and you were berated for two out of the three hours in the meeting. You had to once again mop up the mess that both Steve and Javi had created, promising to get results instead of excuses. Recently, all the leads that your department was getting in capturing Escobar were cold, no one had seen him or heard of him in almost a month.  Even when you went in and shook the crime tree, nothing fell out of place which made everyone uneasy, especially your superiors. 

Finally when the meeting was over with you were able to return to your desk to try to let your heart and blood pressure return to normal.  When you approached your desk, you saw a little basket there with a pretty red ribbon with sparkles in it.  You looked around quickly to see if anyone noticed or was standing there, you also glanced quickly under your desk to make sure Steve or Javi wasn’t sitting there waiting for you to relax so they could scare you.  When you noticed nothing was out of the ordinary you felt your heart flutter in your chest, especially when the tag read “to the most special DEA female agent” in Javier’s handwriting.

At first your heart fluttered, thinking that finally someone, Javi, took the time to give a shit.  If you were being honest with yourself, you did like Javier Peña.  He was very sexy and attractive. When he wasn’t being an asshole, he was truly sensitive and understood the female sex with their emotions. You thought that he didn’t care anymore about you, but the longer you looked at the name tag on your gift, the more you thought that maybe you were wrong at your assessment. Your heart raced and you felt the heat creep up your neck at the thought that maybe Javi did see you as something more than just an individual who worked with him each day. But when you opened the basket and saw the gift that was laying there for you, your wonder turned into embarrassment as your face fell. Then when you read the note inside you saw red with anger. That bastard took it one step too far this time.

Once Javi heard your voice he suddenly froze, slowly listening to where you were coming from.  When he realized that you were getting closer, he glanced over at Murphy with wide, scared eyes. He mouthed “shh, shut the fuck up,” when Steve went to open his mouth to ask Javi something.  

As Steve stood there he was trying to understand what the hell his partner had done to anger you so much. He mouthed to Javi ‘what the fuck did you do man?’  Javi just shook his head and placed his finger to his lips to silence Steve’s further questioning.  He wasn’t trying to be a coward, but with how angry you were right now, he didn’t want to come face to face with you.  Yes, Javi had a knack for pissing you off so much that you’d threaten to kill him. But from how angry you sounded, he figured that if he was standing in front of you right now, that you would in fact shoot him dead.

Javi and Steve continued to stand in silence together for a few minutes. Javi was hoping that you would just continue down the hallway and not stop outside of this door.  For a moment it sounded like you had moved on, so much so that Javi felt himself visibly relax and let out a sigh.  But that moment was short lived.  When Javi heard the door knob turn he quickly said, “shit Murph, lie,” and then he ducked behind one of the filing cabinets against the wall.

“What the-” Steve said, looking confused, but for only a minute as you quickly came bursting through the door seething with anger.

“Murphy, where is he?” you said, steam practically coming out of your ears at how mad and pissed off you were at Javier Peña.

“I don’t-”

“Don’t give me that I don’t know shit. You two are practically glued together at the hip, so where the hell is he?” You bit back, standing right in front of Steve’s face.

“Woah, now wait just a second there princess, don’t be biting my head off. I don’t know where he is, or what he’s done, but you can just curb that attitude of yours and-”

“Don’t act like you don’t know what he’s done. This smells like both Peña and Murphy antics to me,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Well sorry cariño, I don’t know where he is or what he’s done.”

Huffing, you let out another long sigh, balling your fists up and slamming them tight against your side.  “This is what he’s done,” you said, shoving the box you were holding with the card in his face.  “And if you happen to see him, you can tell him that I’m looking for him.”

You went to leave, but Murphy blocked your exit saying, “wait a second here princess, don’t go and give me something like this and then take off. Let’s see what’s gotten your panties in a twist.”

“I knew it, it was your idea. I don’t get why you both have to always be so-”  But before you could finish Steve had opened the box and saw what was inside it.  Steve pulled out a pair of black lace panties that had a vibrator attached to them, and as he did he noticed the note at the bottom of the box.  The note was written in Javi’s handwriting and said, “for all those lonely nights baby, when you’re so wound up and don’t have a man that can be inside you. Enjoy.” Signed, Javier Peña.

Murphy was shocked at what he saw and couldn’t help but laugh out loud.  He knew Javi loved to rile you up, and he had to hand it to his partner, he definitely got you going. It was the perfect gift to get even for all those irritating moments the three of you had. But when he looked up at you he immediately froze, his laugh dying out in his throat. Your eyes were red and puffy now as frustrated tears streamed down your face. Steve could tell that the jokes maybe went a little too far this time.

“Sweetheart, we’re-”

“Don’t, just don’t Steve,” you said, grabbing the box and throwing everything back inside, not wanting to look up at him.  “I get it, it’s a joke. A really fucking mean joke, ya know. You all can have any woman that you want. And here I am, in Columbia, and I can’t even get sleazy drug lords to choose me when I’m undercover. Shit, I couldn’t even keep my ex-fiance faithful on this day. You guys will find this hilarious, last year I found my ex fucking my sister. Apparently he never wanted me, wanted her cause now they’re getting married and having a baby and I’m not welcome around my family any more, cause I guess I can’t keep anyone happy.  So nice of you to give the other girls flowers, and tell them how great they are when they don’t even fucking do anything for you.  Meanwhile I have five bullet wounds and several cracked ribs for covering your asses.  By the way, you guys are getting a raise in pay and I’m getting a 5 dollar reduction in pay.  Apparently the superiors feel that it’ll give you guys motivation or something. So yeah, you’re right, perfect joke.  Happy fucking Valentine’s Day to me.” And with that you left, slamming the door.  

This was a joke that Peña and Murphy started with you about six months ago when you were placed undercover to go and try to extract information of the whereabouts of Pablo Escobar.  They placed you at a brothel, knowing that some of Pablo’s higher up men were going to come to choose women to give them sexual favors for the night.  With the help of a few informants, they had dressed you up and gave you pointers on how women acted in these places in Colombia.  Javi had made a joke at you that you were the highest paid prostitute on the street, but when it came time for Pablo’s men to take you, you were the only one left behind.  You weren’t ugly, you actually were quite beautiful, but that night Javi and Murphy had a hay day with you, as you were the only one that was not chosen.  To make matters worse, you had gone out with them that night and couldn’t even get a guy to buy you a drink at the bar, let alone talk with you.  And now the joke, you thought, had gone too far.  Humiliated and embarrassed, you went and gathered your things and left to go home for the day, not wanting to see anyone again.

After you stormed out, and Murphy knew you were gone, he walked over to where Javi was, facing the back wall. “You got her vibrating panties?” Steve said, shaking his head and laughing.

“At the time, I thought it was a good idea. But something got lost in translation I suppose,” he said, still not wanting to leave his hiding spot. 

“Peña, let me give you some advice.  If you like a girl, don’t get her vibrating panties and then give her a card that says ‘for all those lonely nights when you don’t have a man.’  It just makes you look like an even bigger dick than what you already are.”

“Yeah, I realize that now,” he said, still not coming out of his hiding spot.

“Did ya know any of that other shit she was talking about?” Steve said, pulling a cigarette out and lighting it. Javi shook his head no as he came out of where he was hiding.

“Kinda fucked up if you ask me. Fucking her own sister and then marrying her.  Talk about a cold hearted son of a bitch.”

“Yeah, I never knew. Fuck Murph, what do I do?”

“You already know what you gotta do man. Or do I need to call her back in here so she can spell it out for you?”

“Fuck you,” Javi said, walking out the door to go find you.  He felt like the biggest dick right now.  The gift and note wasn’t a joke from him, and he hated to think that you felt like it was.

Javi eventually learned that you had decided to go home for the day, leaving your work here. “She’s taking a sick day,” is what Maria, the secretary in the front office, had told him.  Javi had attempted to get some paperwork done, but he kept thinking about you and how hurt you sounded when talking with Murphy.  He didn’t mean for it to come off as a joke, in fact Javi wanted you to have the panties for a good reason, he wanted you to wear them for him.

Javi had been the biggest pain in your ass from the start.  He was always coming over to your desk, forcing you to work through his work, making you work in the field with him, etc.  To you it felt like he was punishing you for being good at your job. But in reality, he secretly liked you and wanted to be with you.  Javi didn’t know why he couldn’t communicate his feelings to you, why he always had to make fun of you or rile you up.  “I’m taking a sick day,” Javi told Murphy as he walked towards the door.  

Murphy, who was still at his desk, said “Connie said she’s at home now.”  Connie was one of your best friends here in Colombia.  Being in a foreign country was hard, and making friends was even harder, especially what you did for a job. Your friends back at home disagreed with your career choice of being sent to Colombia, so your entire support structure was no longer there.  Connie was one of the nicest women you had met or seen in the longest time.  She understood your career choice, and didn’t hold it against you when your plans would change.  

Javi had stopped and bought a dozen flowers from a street vendor before he got to your house.  When he knocked on the door he softly said, “querida, I’m so sorry. Please open up, I didn’t mean to make you cry, I-”

“Who the fuck said you made me cry Peña?” you said, opening up the door suddenly, looking up at him with bloodshot eyes, tears at your lash line.

“No one I, Jesus woman, c’mere,” he said, stepping inside and placing the flowers on the end table by the door when he saw your face.  He then reached for you, pulled you tight into his chest, holding you as the dam opened up again and the tears fell. “I’m so sorry baby, so sorry. I didn’t mean how it came out, fuck-”

“What did I do for you to hate me?” you said, voice muffled in his chest.

“Nothin’ baby, I don’t hate you, I-” he said, rubbing his hand up and down your back, trying to soothe you.  This was not going the way that he had hoped.

“I mean, I pull extra duty, and am one of the strongest hitters on the team.  Fuck Javi, I even have brought in more leads than Murphy and yet you publicly humiliate me.”  You said, as a sob broke free from your mouth.  You didn’t know why you were opening up, allowing Javi to attempt to soothe you.  You just didn’t have it in you to fight right now, too emotionally worked up to even care.

“No, no, baby. It ain’t like that, look at me,” Javi said, pulling you away from his chest and gently cupping your face with his hands.  “Querida, I got them for you and for me, for you to think about me.”

Shaking your head you stepped back and said, “what? Peña, what the fuck are you talking about for you and me? I’m not-”

“Shit, this ain’t coming out the way I wanted it to,” Javi said, pacing back and forth in your living room.  Javi was mumbling to himself, unsure of how to deal with the situation and correct it.  Not knowing how to place it into words, his feelings, he thought that he could show you. He immediately reached for you and kissed you hard on the lips.  Javi, once again, was hoping the kiss would show you that he cared, but all you read was he was being condescending once again. You immediately pulled back and found your strength and slapped Javi hard across his face.

“Javi, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?  Just because I’m crying, trying to understand why the guy I have a crush on hates me, doesn’t give you the right to-”

“I like you,” he said, rubbing the sting site he felt across his cheek.  Damn that woman could hit hard, he thought to himself.  You continued to talk overtop of him, not realizing what he just said. You kept saying how much of an asshole he’s been to you and how much you hate men as you’ve always been taken advantage of.  Javi shook his head at you, hearing words such as dickhead, asshole along with other words such as, pendejo and cabrón. You kept telling him off, not listening to anything that he had just told you. 

With a sarcastic laugh, he said, “I can’t fucking believe you, you don’t listen baby.” He was now getting just as frustrated at you for not listening to him. She says I don’t listen, hell, she doesn’t listen.

All you heard was ‘I can’t fucking believe you’ and nothing else. Once again, you marched over to smack Javi hard across the face. But this time, he caught your hand mid-air saying, “I don’t think so cariño. You only get one free hit, and you already used it up for today.” 

The sadness that you felt earlier had now turned into blinding anger and rage. You started fighting back.  You were done with men treating you like assholes, for cheating on you with your sister, for not listening to you or even attempt at paying attention.  You started hitting Javi’s chest, yelling at him and saying, “you’re an asshole,” over and over again.  You were throwing a temper tantrum, frustrated about the last few days, and Javi was your outlet.  However, Javi didn’t see your attitude nor behavior as enduring or even cute.  Him, having about enough of you using him as a physical punching bag, decided to take matters into his own hands to calm you down.  He grabbed your hand and threw it behind your back, slamming you to the ground while yelling, “Enough.”

You kept trying to kick him, to hurt him more.  You weren’t part of this planet anymore, you just saw red at reliving every shitty moment for the last six years.  Of taking the smacks to the face your boyfriend gave you when he was drunk and you questioned why he had red lipstick stains on his shirt and around his cock as you undressed him from a night out with his friends. What you didn’t know is that it was your sister’s lips that were around him, and not some other woman.  It didn’t make those moments easier, but you always thought that maybe it was just a one night stand, not a five year long relationship behind your back. 

You kept kicking Javi, yelling that you were done with people hurting you, clearly not seeing him anymore. To help calm you down, Javi maneuvered his body so he was sitting on your ass, with your arm behind your back.  Your chest was laying flat on the floor, his chest then tight on your back as he snarled in your ear, “you’re gonna stop this shit, right now, stop trying to hit me.”

“Fuck you David-” you said, not realizing that you called him your ex. 

“I’m not him baby. I never was, nor will I ever be him. So stop calling me David, my name isn’t fucking David.” Javi growled in your ear, leaning harder into you to get you to calm down.

You finally relaxed at hearing Javi speak to you, reminding yourself that he wasn’t your ex. As soon as you relaxed Javi released your arm, but stayed firm against you, hands on both sides of your head as he breathed hard and fast at the fight that you gave him.  It was then that you remembered everything that Javi and you were, everything that you were alone.

Sometimes at night when you couldn’t sleep you’d go back into work and find Javi working alone at his desk.  He’d always come over and ask you why you were showing up at work around midnight on a day where you just placed in 12 hours. Alone the two of you would always find moments where you could be soft with each other.  He’d order you both greasy pizza to eat at night and he’d tease you of picking off all the pepperoni. Nights where you were scared to be home alone, he’d take you back to his house and you’d sleep in his bed when he slept on the couch.  When you got shot several times, after you were discharged home, he’d stay with you in your apartment. He even slept next to you on your bed a few times.  

He also bathed you when you got sick with a fever from the infection of the bullet wounds, and nursed you back to health for several weeks.  If you were being honest, Javi was your best friend when the two of you were alone.  But at work, he was the biggest dickhead.  You were jealous when he started flirting with the new secretary that came in, Phillis, and hated when you saw him at the brothel down the street.  Javi never attempted sex with you, and honestly, it upset you. You wanted him, but apparently he never wanted you.  So at work you took out your frustration the only way you knew how, you became a pain in his ass like he was a pain in yours.

But when Javi didn’t move, continuing to breathe hard in and out, you knew that something had changed.  You went to move your ass and immediately he hissed “don’t” as his hips stayed tight against yours, not moving nor letting you up.  After a moment of submitting to him you heard him ask in a strained voice “are you calm enough for me to move or do we have to keep you like this for a little longer?”

You didn’t know why you felt like saying it out loud, but you didn’t want to play this game of not being honest with him anymore. “I’ve calmed down, but Javi, I’d like it if you stay like this for a little while, hell you can even push deeper into me if you want.” You gave Javi a little wiggle of your ass at his statement.

The air around the two of you changed, thickening with sexual tension. “Shit baby, ya can’t say that to me,'' he said, slightly leaning forward and pushing his crotch tighter to your ass.  You felt him slightly rock back and forth, groaning at the feel of you beneath him.

“Fuck baby,” he said, grinding against your ass with a little bit more force. “Do you feel that?  See, that’s what you fucking do to me woman.” Javi was now rocking harder into you, giving you slow deep thrusts. You could feel his hard outline in his pants as he was seated firmly against you. “This is what you’ve always done to me. I don’t hate you, fuck baby, I like you. I want you. So if you’ll shut up long enough, then maybe you’ll hear me say it.”

You slightly arched your back, pushing up so he could kiss your neck.  When you changed the position both of you moaned loud in unison, feeling his hips slowly grind harder into you. You never remembered feeling this good by just letting a man grind into you, but fuck, Javi was slowly making you feel feral. 

“Javi, I don’t-” you said slowly.

“No,” He growled, not wanting you to tell him to stop.  He couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t hold back. He wanted so desperately to be deep inside of your warm cunt that he was struggling right now to keep his composure. “Fuck hermosa, feel what you do to me.”  

But you were, you felt how much Javi wanted you and you knew how much you wanted him.  You laid there and let him slowly grind his hips into you again until something snapped inside.

“Javi, fuck me,” you said, pushing your ass harded back into him.

Javi immediately stilled his hips at your statement, looking down at you, trying to determine if what you were asking was what he thought.  When he didn’t respond again, you said with a little more bite, “Javi, you gave me a vibrator for all those lonely nights when I don’t have a man’s dick inside of me.  Please, I don’t want to use the vibrator tonight. For once on Valentine’s Day I want a man inside me that fucking cares. If you really care, please give me that.”  

You felt Javi get off from you and walk away, towards the door, rustling around with something.  You laid face down in the middle of your living room, tears welling up in your eyes at being rejected once again.  You hated this fucking holiday, but when you let out a little sniffle you felt his hand cup your chin, turning you to the side. With the softest eyes possible he said, “come on now, no more crying. Now up you go,” as he helped you stand.  Once you were standing he smiled down at you and then gave you a slow tender kiss on the lips.  When he pulled back he held out the black lace panties in front of your face.

“Here, I bought these for you. Now, go and put them on, and let me see them on you.  Then I’m gonna fuck you like you deserve, like a man that’s wanted to be with you from the moment he laid eyes on you. Fuck what you stupid ex did to you last year-”

“And every year before,” you said softly.

Javi’s eyes got impossibly dark, anger and lust mixing with them.  He hated your ex, the man that broke you.  If Javi had to spend the rest of his life showing you that you deserved more, then he would do it.  Fuck his superiors, or anyone else that thought he and you shouldn’t be together. 

“The fact that you say that makes me angry that any man would ever-”

“Forget it Javi, it’s-”

“No. Now pay attention sweetheart, cause I’m only gonna say it once. No man should ever make you feel like this, ever, you hear me? Now, go put them on baby, and let me see you in them. Then, I’m gonna take you to bed and show you how a man is supposed to treat the woman he cares about.”

“Oh, and how’s that Peña, what are you gonna do that makes me forget all the stupid shit other men have done?” You said, playfully nudging Javi and his cockiness that you have found you love.

Javi grabbed you by the hair and tilted your head back while whispering above you, “I’m gonna fuck you so good that you’re gonna forget every man before me, baby.  Then I’m gonna show you how a real man treats the woman he’s crazy over. It’s just you and me, and I’ll remind you of that every night before we go to sleep. There’s no one’s pussy I’d rather be buried in than yours. I only want to be balls deep in you, and not anyone else.”  Javi then slammed his lips onto yours and gave you a kiss like you deserved.  

Maybe you had to have David be in your life and screw you over, because without him, you’d never have met Javier Peña. Javi was a real man that made good on his promises, of being the man that you needed.  Before the night was over, and after you came down from your intense rough sex with him, you found yourself looking into his eyes and seeing the potential for a future once again.  As Javi slowly rocked into you, making slow love at the end, he whispered, “you’re mine cariño, and I’m never letting you go.”  And that was the thing that tipped you both over the edge, moaning each other’s names and kissing each other like you both had just found your future soulmate.

Javi did make good on his promises, he never let you go.