invaderg1

[the-crafting-gremlin]

I love my coworkers so much. (For many reasons, including that they're all genuinely pretty good people, open and accepting, and funny.)

One of them and her husband are going to a metal concert this weekend, and it turns out that our manager is going with his oldest daughter because they're also fans of this band. The one coworker commented that she wonders what people must think when they hear about the different concerts she's gone to this year since its kind of a weird variety--an old folky-country singer who's mostly only popular with older people (in their mid 50's and up; she and her sister were the youngest there by quite a bit, in their late 20's and early 30's respectively), Taylor Swift, and now a metal band.

Another coworker piped up, "That's why I like you; your music tastes are eclectic. You're poly-jam-orous!"

I about died laughing, y'all. Her pun game is on point, as usual.

[tan1shere]

Mind Games

Billie Eilish x Female reader !

A/n: got a few ideas for this story and I'm so insanely proud of it, I just hope everyone else enjoys it <3

Warnings: SMUT HOES mdni. Ice play, pure filth, strap usage, sub/bratty reader, soft dom billie + a mommy kink 😁 lmk if I missed anything !!

Summary: Billie had been working all day for the past few days, you had been a bit bored and she was being a bit dry with you, causing you to get moody, just wanting some of her attention. You definitely got your wish in the end.

Masterlist

All day. All fucking day she had been in that room. You understand she was working, you got that. But even Finneas told her she didn't need to. Billie was always a hard worker but this had been going on for three days straight you missed her. You were starting to get sexually frustrated, considering you hadn't even had a slight kiss in days, you just wanted to be with her. You'd occasionally go in there to check on her, but she was always so dry with you. Which lead you to your new found behavior. And only then did she pry her eyes away from that stupid computer screen.

It was currently 9 pm at night, nearly 10. Your small figure glided through the small Crack of the door, shutting it quietly behind you. "Baby, come to bed." She waved you off. "Inna minute." Her voice was sharp but at the same time so incredibly dull. This set something off in you. "Orrr you could do it now." She didn't even respond, continuing to click away at the keyboard. You let out an annoyed breath. "You're annoying." You then say. Still, nothing. "My fucking God." You muttered quietly under your breath, but being so close in the silent room, she most definitely heard it. She didn't stop what she was doing though. Letting out a small chuckle. "No need to be like that." Your eyes only roll at that dumb statement. "Theres every need." Again shes not giving you any time of day. "Don't be a pest." Your brows furrow deeply at her words. "Me?! Pft, I'm not the one being dry." She lets out a deep sigh, it coming out a tiny bit raspy.

That just went straight to your core, but you couldn't let it. You needed to keep pestering her the way you were, in order to get any kind of message across. "You want attention?" There, she finally looks at you for what felt like forever. Her eyes had slight bags under them, making her eyes more provoking, you wanted to give yourself up then and there, but you resist. Playing that game. "Yeah, maybe I do? Cuz you're held up in here, when you don't even need to be." Her eyes dart back to the computer screen ignoring everything you had to say, making your frustrations even more visible. "Bitch." You mumbled, going to walk away.

"Sit." She demands sternly, her voice now carrying a slow, taunting tone in the way she spoke. Her hand grips your arm, tightly. Tingles, you silently swallow feelings that sane tingle go through your entire body. You reluctantly do as told, slowly going to sit on her lap. Her hand moves to your hip bone, having it rest there. But she doesn't keep her focus on you for very long. Back to that damn screen again. That irritation still deep within you, taking only one single flick to ignite. She knew what you wanted, but she still wasn't giving it to you. Why? You huff out, letting your focus go onto the door to the room, not even looking at her. "Why so bratty? All because you aren't getting your own way." It's your turn to stay silent. "Cat got your tongue?" Nada. A breath of disapproval leaves her plump lips. Her eyes occasionally look at you and your posture. Your figure. You always wore a black silk night dress to bed, she loved it. The way it'd fall on your body so beautifully. She could never ever resist you when you wore them.

Maybe that was how to get her attention all along. That, and the brattiness. "Alright. Where's my good girl at?" Silence from your end, you wanted to keep this charade up still. "Hm?" She'd continue when you wouldn't respond. Her finger dug into your hip, making you move around a bit, when you finally look at her. Her eyes were the same as her voice, taunting. Sending a shiver down your spine. Those fucking eyes. "Answer me." Again, nothing. "That's the game you wanna play huh?" Her attention was definitely on you now. For the right reason? Who knows. You wondered if you had fucked up, getting a bit nervous at the way she was acting. So nonchalant, her actions so aloof. She wrapped an arm around you, standing with your legs wrapped around her waist.

She strides over to your bedroom, it being dim. The only source of light was coming from your ensuite, that blood red color from the led's cascading into the room you two were in currently. Contrasting how filthy this moment was truly about to be. Your body fell onto the soft black duvet, the bottom of your night dress riding up in the process. She lets her eyes wander for only a second. Making her way over to the closet. "Billi-" But that was instantly cut short when you saw the mix of her HMHAS belt and chains dangling in her right hand. Uh oh. Was the only thing racing through your brain. You were truly in for it.

She comes over to you, her eyes remaining the same, lust filled libido ones from earlier. God this woman. You watch her left hand as it comes in contact with your chin, lifting up your face to look at her. "Do I even need to utter instructions?" She spoke lowly. Do you test it? Continue to be bratty? She wasn't going to go easy on you either way, so you decided it's probably best to behave for now. You give it a moment, putting both of your hands behind your back. She smirks slightly at how well you obeyed. She moves closer to you, looming over your body to tie the belt around your wrists. "Very good." She whispers near your ear. Your breath hitches, closing your eyes. Feeling the coolness of the metal, making your mouth let out a soft gasp. Feeling those same exact shivers all over, once again.

She stood back, observing the scene infront of her. Usually she'd do that and fuck you right then and there. But oh boy were you in for a rude awakening tonight. She leaves the room, making your brows knit together in such confusion, only for her to soon come back with a small glass of ice. Your eyes widen, drifting from the ice, to her face. It had turned evil. Sexy. You didn't want to admit how turned on it made you when she got like this, but it sure did. She drops to her knees, slowly going for the strings of your underwear, sliding them off your soft legs. Letting them pool around your ankles. Her fingers grip one cube, bringing it to your chest. Your body jolts at the cool feeling.

It being soothing in a strange way, as your body had became super hot. Due to the fact she was tormenting you, her eyes, her voice. Her hands. Your brain couldn't function properly. A small noise escapes your lips as the ice slides across your cleavage. Your eyes shutting in the process. She removes it shortly after, getting you to lean back ever so slightly. Her hands spread your legs apart, making the silky fabric slide up your body. Resting on the top of your thighs. Showing how absolutely wet you were for her. She lets out a low hum. Bringing that same chunk of ice to your inner thighs. Sending your eyes shut and mouth agape again. The cool wetness coating your thighs, having you feeling crazy. Loving exactly how it felt. She thought over her next move, gazing your pussy in anticipation. "Watch me turn your mind into my home." She rasps, still maintaining that lustful manner.

Your head lifts, to look at her as she says that. But you're immediately sent back into the state you were in before, as the ice comes in contact with you folds. A moan finally escapes you, she rests her head on her hand, watching everything unfold. You felt such ecstasy as she eventually slide it to your hole, her mouth opens. Mimicking your tiny gasp. She lets a slight chuckle out. "Cute." Your eyes yet again shut, tugging slightly on the restraints. "Bil-"

"Are you my good girl?"

You swallow. "Y-yes." She meets your eyes as they reopen, tilting her head in a way that made a tiny whimper emerge from your slightly swollen lips. Swollen from all the biting you were doing. "Then zip it." You start to frantically nod, earning a cheeky smirk from her end. "Good." She whispers, bringing the ice out again it melting heaps, but before it has completely she moves it up. Kissing your clit perfectly. The icy feeling making you whine out. Keeping silent with your words knowing what she had just said. You couldn't fight this. She thought. Once it's gone she grabs another one, the chill hits your thighs again. "Cold?" You just give a simple nod. "Hmmm. Good." Feeling the feeling you felt before as the ice cube enters your hole. Your back arches wanting more of this feeling. And more. A tiny tired smile is spread across your face, feeling blissed out.

"Think you're winning? With all your grinning?" No answer, only a shake of your head. "but baby. I got the last laugh." You choke on a moan as her fingers suddenly enter you, pushing the ice further in you. Feeling it melt slowly. Her pace was slow and torturing, watching your face contort in pure pleasure. "There she is." Billie draws out. Loving how she has you. Her fingers eventually pick up the pace, sending you into a fit of moans at the rough manner. You were getting there, so incredibly close. She felt it exactly. So ofcourse she pulls them out. "Billiee." You whine, falling back against the bed. She tuts as you speak. "Uh uh, remember what I said." More whines fill her ears, she fucking loved it. Soaking up every delicate sound you made. "Billi please I've been g-" A hand is met with your mouth. "Don't even think about finishing that sentence." Your eyes roll.

Letting out an annoyed groan, her eyebrow raises. To which you only let out a longer one. She removes her hand from your mouth, watching you continue to make that noise. "Touch me." You seem to demand. This makes billie laugh. A laugh you only heard whenever she found something really funny. But this was more vile... Evil... Vicious. You whimper at the jeering tone she was eliciting. "I'm sorry." You pout, regretting all your past decisions that led to this moment. "But I'm loving watching you think you're controlling me instead." The pout becomes more prominent on your lips. She gets close to your face. "Who made you like this?" Her fingers go between your sticky folds. Gathering the sweet necter on her digits. Eventually bringing it to your face. "Go on baby, tell me." Her voice sounded like how velvet felt.

"Y-you." You mumbled. "Sorry what was that mama?" Her fingers go to her mouth, sucking that previous liquid that was coating them. You gulp. "You billie.." Her eyes move to yours, her fingers still in her mouth. Another hum was heard. "Good girl." You breathe out as she says that, feeling your head fall back into the sheets once more. That same finger comes in contact with your face, gently moving over the skin of your cheek. Before she moves it to your lips, you instantly open them, sucking softly. Being on your best behavior now, desperately wanting that release that she neglected earlier on. "Very, very good. Aren't you?" There was a pause. "Only when you want to be, isn't that right?" You keep silent, the most silent you've been that night.

"Don't go quiet on my now angel." You swallow thickly. Her face was inches away from your own. "Isnt. That, right." "Y-yes mommy." A satisfied grin emerges on her features, loving how you called her that. "Such a good girl, huh? ... maybe I should let you cum." Your eyes lit up. She just laughs at your patheticness. Getting up to go get the strap, attaching it to her body. She unties your restraints, letting your arms free. But not for long. She was swift in moving them above your head with one of her hands, staring deep into your soul. "Mind games until you loose control." She breathed against your lips. Your lids flutter shut, squeezing your thighs together. Failing as her legs felt you doing that, using her knees to spread them again. "Once I'm in, there ain't no letting go." She continued, slowly bringing her hand over your face.

Leading down towards your neck, she tightened just a little, watching as your eyes widen. "So pretty.." She trails off, watching the way her hand fit perfectly around your throat. "Mmm." You shut your eyes, feeling the tip prodding at your entrance. A tiny moan surfaces, her hand still holding your wrists letting her other one run from your neck, to your breasts. Very, slowly. When without any warning she takes one big thrust, immediately bottoming out. Having your eyes roll back and your mouth ajar at the insane feeling. "So tight." Your breathing becomes ragged, her pace quickens as more moans come out of you, louder. Just how she liked. If anything you were driving her insane. Not the other way round.

And exactly like before that euphoric feeling crept up making your vision blur. "Please billie please-" You begged. She adored it, she had to let it sink in. The way your whiney voice cracked. "Go on then pretty girl. Cum for me, you deserve it for being sooo good, huh?" You frantically nod as her pace quickens. Her smirk returns as you take every bit of what she's giving you. The feeling comes round, feeling it come crashing down. Gushing out all over the fake dick. She hums truly satisfied at how fucked out you were right now, your breathing slowly coming back. When all of a sudden, she removes her hand from your wrists but only to turn you over. "B-but-" "you didn't think I was done with you, did you?"

A whimper gets let out, feeling the cock still in your sensitive hole, you felt shakey after that last orgasm, trembling as she slightly moves in you.

"Too much.." you breathe sluggishly, closing your eyes as your face smushes into the sheets.

"Mm, isn't it just." .. "might I remind you that you wanted this earlier, correct? Baby."

[reiderwriter]

She's a Silver Lining

Chapter Nine of I Can't Help Myself

Summary: Spencer comes to terms with your abduction.

Warnings: ANGST, Suicidal ideation, kidnapping, mentions of fetal abduction and murder of pregnant women, descriptions of abuse, descriptions of prenatal care, typical case details. Spencer is depressed.

A/N: I'm sorry this chapter is a day late, I literally saw God this weekend (I saw Taemin perform live), and really, all that's been on my mind is how God is Good (Taemin is hot), and so I haven't been able to write anything as depressing as this chapter. I hope you enjoy (?) it anyway~♡

Masterlist || tags are currently broken, I'm sorry ♡

Eight days. It had been eight days since Spencer had last seen you. Eight days since he'd screwed up his one job so massively that he'd lost you. 

He'd lost people before. He'd lost people on cases. Victims, unsubs, bystanders, and family members who didn't stand a chance at recovering from their own loss. He'd lost Maeve, which was a little too similar to his current circumstances to think about too hard. He'd been losing his mother since he was born, and he'd really lost her again a few months ago. He'd lost Gideon. He'd lost Elle, too, before that. He'd lost Emily, and though she'd come back too, it wasn't the same. He'd lost Morgan, and then Hotch. He'd lost Alex Blake.

He'd lost nearly everyone in his life. Some of them had come back, most of them hadn't. 

He'd thought himself immune to the pain of losing someone at last. 

He'd certainly lost enough of himself in prison. 

It may have only been 84 days, but whatever was left in him of hope before was gone. He'd emerged completely empty. 

He supposed that's why he'd accepted the role at the university. There was nothing left for him to give to the BAU, but he couldn't be the one to leave. 

As it was, he'd already been unsettled enough by leaving you behind when he'd finished up his time there. 

It felt weird to him, saying goodbye. Not that he'd actually said goodbye. He'd kissed your forehead as he slipped out of your bed, sure, but you'd been neither conscious, nor fond of him in anyway. It was a parting gesture just for him  and he hadn't been quite sure why he'd done it. 

It was just a gesture and one he'd repeated multiple times after getting you back. You didn't know, of course. How could you? 

He'd either woken up before you and kissed your forehead, or climbed into bed beside you late at night and greeted you then. 

You'd lain side by side, drifting to sleep slowly, when he realized it had become a daily habit. 

He hadn't any idea of what he'd do when you left. 

And now you had. And it was his fault. 

In the eight days since you'd been kidnapped, Spencer had come to terms with a few facts.

He knew 64,956 women were currently declared missing in the United States. He knew that 77% of adults reported missing were found in 24 hours. You weren't. He knew 4% were found in 48 hours. You weren't. Only 3% were usually missing still after a week. 

You were somehow in that small minority, even though there was an entire team of FBI agents working around the clock to find you. 

He'd had faith in his coworkers before. Before, he'd begged for their help, and they'd succeeded in 24 hours, even if the outcome wasn't preferable. 

This time, he didn't beg. He had no faith. He just hoped to be present with a gun, loaded with two bullets, if this time went the way of the last. 

On the eighth day after your abduction, Spencer finally returned home.

The damage from your abduction was still apparent. 

Not that your captor had left many clues. In fact, they'd left none. Not even a fingerprint or a good angle on the CCTV. But he hadn't taken returning to an empty apartment well.

He slashed through the crime scene tape quickly, letting in hang in the doorway as he entered. The bookshelves he'd attacked were limping, leaning on each other for support after he'd ripped books off so violently he'd set them askew. 

He'd kicked and ripped and punched the wall so hard he'd needed stitches that he'd absolutely refused to get. 

He'd cried and sobbed into his bloodied and bruised hands until Emily had arrived, and then he'd cried some more, leaning on his friend, his sister, for her support. 

Returning now, there wasn't a single tear left.

In the hospital, they'd addressed his flesh wounds, but the emotional ones would never hear. 

You were gone. And now there was only a 3% chance he'd ever see you again. 

Emily hadn't allowed him to stick around to make their jobs harder. She's placed him on house arrest - funnily enough, her house, where you should've been if he wasn't such a selfish ass - and assigned a watch. 

She’d said it was for protection, but what she'd meant was it was to protect him from himself.

The rest of the team had avoided the topic entirely. They didn't know how to deal with whatever stage of grief he was going through. Many of them had comforted him the first time. They didn't know how to do it a second. They didn't know if they could. 

After eight days, Spencer had left Emily’s apartment. He'd dodged the Agent she'd stationed alongside him, got into a taxi, and gone home. 

Surveying the damage, he was surprised how deep the hurt had already cut to not feel much anymore. 

He looked at the books splayed on the floor. It was a title that you'd been reading that week. One he remembered you using at the office, one that had been on both of your courses reading lists. He picked each of them up and put them back on the shelf. He righted each shelf and organised them neatly, how he thought you'd like them. 

He picked pillows up and rearranged them. He vacuumed the debris from the floor, the thin layer of dust that had gathered since he'd left, the splinters pf bookcase that had crumbled off, the shards of wall that were speckled with his blood. 

He wept the entire time, though silent, until there were no tears left to cry. 

Then he'd come across a tiny package underneath his coffee table, a single corner of plastic peaking out, begging for attention. 

He'd picked it up and wept again as he found depths of sadness to reach further down than what he'd assumed to be rock bottom. 

Aa he lay in a pool of his own despair, a new, haunting fact crashed from his brain to his heart. Since 1987, there had been 21 foetal abductions in the USA. 19 of them had ended in homicide, with the mother dying. 

You made 22. 

In the two months since you'd been abducted, you'd learned three things. 

The first was that you absolutely loved Spencer Reid. You'd spent enough time sitting introspectively about everything in your life to realize you had to stop being so stubborn and admit just that. You'd been about there before all of this, but now you knew for sure. 

You should be cursing the man that inspired your horror show of a life, after all. But instead, you thought about him and held back tears. 

She gave you updates these days, testing your reactions to his name, waiting to see you crack, to see you cry, and sob and break down completely. 

Today, Spencer had been to see his mother, she said. He'd broken down in her arms and caused her to have an episode. She'd hit him so hard, his face had already been bruised by the time she saw him. 

The second thing you knew was that your baby was going to be born healthy. You had no plans of having a home birth, but now, at seven months pregnant, and large enough that you almost thought about doing your conception math again, you knew you were on track for giving birth in the room you'd been in for the last 58 days. 

You hadn't counted. 

She’d been good enough to tell you the date, the day, and her plans every morning when she visited you. She checked your vitals, your blood pressure, the position of the baby, your temperature, your heart rate, and recorded everything in her chart. She asked you how the pregnancy was going, almost as if she was the nurse she'd been training to be. 

Her bedside manner was so good some days. You forgot entirely that you were tied down to the bed, ankle clamped down. 

She let you walk for an hour a day, but recommended bedrest after that for health reasons. You didn't complain or talk back because she didn't like that. 

She let you read, and she was even curious about your reading, asking you questions and taking notes as if this were just part of her regular college schedule, an office hour that had taken over her life. 

You shuddered sometimes as she stared up at you with those big eyes, so wide, and young, and naive, and full of hatred, and evil, and you wanted to claw them out and scream for help, and stab her with the pencil she wrote notes with, and stab, and stab, and stab, and-

The third thing you knew was that you'd never hold your baby in your arms because you'd be dead moments after they breathed their first breath.

You knew, because she had told you as much everyday since you'd woken up. 

In two months, Spencer had become more manic and self-destructive than he'd ever been in his entire life. 

His world centred around you, and finding you, even as his 3% slipped to 1%, slipped to 0.1%, and he knew deep inside that he'd never see you again. 

He hadn't returned to the BAU but had instead turned his home into an investigation room, emptying the walls so he could pin up information, evidence, pictures of you, everything he could find. It wasn't that he'd regained hope, but he'd grown so desperate that he suddenly gripped hard onto the only slither of it that he had left and refused to drop it. He was a dog that didn't know the game of fetch only conti he'd if he dropped the ball. His life would not go on without you.

So he searched. He knew how far along you were. He knew how far along a woman had to be for a c section, professionally performed or not. 

He barricaded himself into his house and paced for days as his friends pounded down his door. He let none in. He didn't go out. He wasn't sure what he ate, or drank, or if he slept, but he knew he paced, and he thought, and he came up with theories. 

After two months, Emily was tired of knocking. 

“Spencer Reid, I am coming in,” she shouted from behind the door. 

He usually ignored her. She couldn't pass the bookshelves he'd moved in front of the door anyway, even if his superintendent had given her a key. 

This time though, he heard a banging, a creak and a crash as the bookshelves went down and Emily, who had left him and returned, made her way inside his apartment. 

“You barricaded the door?” she said, looking at him. 

He took a shaky breath and tried to answer as she surveyed his apartment, the mess of papers, books, string on the wall. He saw her stare down at the pile of sheets on the floor where he'd been sleeping, the bag of your things he had dragged to be closer to him. 

He saw her look at the baby shoes, and baby grows he'd laid out neatly on the floor, and he saw the pitying look she turned on him. 

“She's pregnant,” he finally said out loud, though you must've been 7 months along by then. “I'm going to be a father.”

“Spencer,” Emily said, grasping his hand, voice cracking from the strain of emotion that coated her tongue, making her voice thick. “You would've been an amazing father.” 

“No. No-” he said, breaking away and moving back to his wall. “No past tense, I won't let you… I won't let you give up on them.” 

“It's been two months.” 

“So she's only seven months pregnant. I have two more months to find her, Emily. Two more. At least allow me that.” 

The tears in his eyes streamed freely now as she nodded. 

“We will…. you know we'll help you. We'll do everything we can, so come to the office.” 

He didn't want to give up his space. His reminders of you, the baby grows, the information he'd gathered.

Equally, he didn't like Emily being in this space. She thought you were already dead, and he couldn't even look her in the eye. 

Reluctantly, he nodded, lifting himself up on legs weakened by insurmountable grief, and he followed her to Quantico. 

By the end of your third trimester, you wondered how you could ever have gotten so big. When you gave birth, the child inside of you would only be the size of a small pumpkin. You felt like you'd swallowed five regular size pumpkins whole, and you felt you were still expanding. 

The point worried her. She'd broken two glasses in tantrums this last week alone, measuring you every day. 

The closer you got to birth, the more agitated she grew. 

“This demon inside of you is going to kill you. I won't even have to do it myself,” she'd whispered to herself, or to you, as she took your vitals that morning. 

“Please don't say that.” 

“Why not? You're a whore, and you're going to give birth to a devil. You have seduced my soul mate, because you are a jezebel and the Lord is punishing you.” 

You'd needed all the strength you could get for these conversations. Even one tear, and she'd erupt and put a knife at your neck. With only a few weeks left, there was no saying whether she'd speed her plan along. 

“I did not seduce your soul mate,” you said as calmly as you could muster, taking deep breaths, hoping that she would mirror them and calm down. 

“Do we have to watch the fucking video again?” she spat at you, stomping around to the side of your bed and pulling out her phone. She queued up the video quickly and you averted your eyes. 

She turned them back quickly, holding your head in place as she forced you to watch your own office space. She showed you the videos of you and Spencer talking, teasing each other. She showed you the video of you insisting you were not attractive to him. She showed you the video of Spencer fucking you on the sofa, though she screamed and cut her fingernails into her skin the entire way through. 

She even showed you the video of her attempting to seduce Spencer during their office hour. It was the first video in her collection, the first time she'd set up the camera. She used your entrance as proof that you were breaking her apart from her soul mate. From Spencer. 

You were a whore who had thrown herself at him in anyway you could, and you had trapped him with a baby. 

She was going to free him from all responsibility so he could be with her. 

“My baby will be your devil,” she said as the video ended, and you forced your heart to settle. 

“It is not your baby.”

“Spencer won't know that. He doesn't know it's your baby either, and who are the authorities going to believe when I show up with his child. One paternity test later, and I'll have him, and we can be a happy family together, and we can live happily. I'll take in your devil  and raise it as my own, and we'll forget about the whore who almost ruined it all.”

The psychosis was so clearly written on her face, you were surprised no one had caught onto her state yet. She was devolving. She'd been calm, and contemplative the first week. She'd laid out her plans still, her insane plans, and seemed somewhat coherent. 

Then she'd began rambling about the devil and soul mates, and you'd pitied her, even in your fear. 

Now you were just glad she counted your office tryst as your conception date, and you'd never corrected her. 

She still believed there was a month left until your death. You knew it was days. 

You just prayed your baby could buy you some time.

“Professor?” she said as she carried away the tray of items she'd checked your vitals with

“Yes.” 

“You are not in love with Spencer Reid,” she said, as if trying to convince you. 

“No,” you said, trying to convince yourself  though it was hopeless. “I am not in love with Spencer Reid.”

The first lead in the case came on your due date. Patient confidentiality was, happily, overlooked by a few doctors when he pressed the issue, needing to know until when he was counting down. 

He'd done the rough math himself, but he needed a professional opinion. 

The lead came in the form of an email. The university was cleaning out your office to make way for a new professor, despite his insistence that you'd return, and they needed him to collect things. 

And though he knew you'd be giving birth that day, and he had run out of time, something compelled him to go and do this menial task on today of all days. 

Luke had joined him, and then so had JJ and Emily, and Penelope and Tara. Rossi had even arrived to watch you pile books into boxes that were supposed to have lived on these shelves for a long career. Everyone in the room was so busy watching him, waiting for him to crack, that it had to be him to find it. 

At first, he thought it was a hole in the couch. It was so dark and black, its curved corners giving the illusion of introversion. Then he'd touched it and felt the rough bump. 

“Penelope, here, now,” he breathed out, gasping for air as he finally pulled the tiny spy camera free and thrust it into his friends hands. 

He had a lead. He had you now. 

The first hour of labour was inconvenient only because you weren't alone. She'd been tending to you all morning, fussing over your food, trying to maintain the right amount of prenatal vitamins as she usually did, but she'd ran out of two bottles, and the pharmacy wasn't open. 

You sat still and uncomfortable, trying to not even flinch as your water broke, too afraid of death to be thinking about the life you were bringing into this world. 

The second hour ticked by much the same until she left. 

The third came, and you ceased your screams of pain, even as your hands bore holes into your sheets. She returned, and you knew there wasn't much longer until she knew. 

By hour four, she had your legs spread and was watching you deliver your baby, and you knew the same blade that would sever your umbilical cord would also end your life. 

By hour five, you were so delirious with pain that you thought you saw Spencer. You heard his voice cooing to you as you pushed. You felt his hands wipe away your sweat, smooth the hair from your eyes. You heard his voice announce your daughters birth, and you felt his lips against your skin as you finally gave up fighting and drifted into oblivion. 

[ckret2]

Chapter 52 of human Bill Cipher being the Mystery Shack's prisoner: the Pines get their hands on a book that, they hope, might explain Bill's entire history.

And Ford, Dipper, and Mabel debate the ethics of executing a wanna-be tyrant who recently saved their lives.

"Hey, hey you with the inner eye! How'd your show go, inner eye?"

"Did you read anybody's mind?"

"Did you get next week's lottery numbers?"

"Yeah! Did you predict when anyone's gonna die?"

Brag one time about identifying somebody's cancer and nobody lets it go for years. As the triangle stuffed his bookbag in his locker, he tried to ignore the square and rectangle laughing at him down the hall. Every time he missed a few days of school so his parents could haul him to a speaking engagement several states away, he got this when he got back. They knew he couldn't read minds and they knew he couldn't tell the future. They didn't care; they just wanted to make him mad. If he tried to correct them, they'd just laugh at him for caring about what they said.

"How come your inner eye's on the outside, inner eye?"

"Yeah, shouldn't it be in your stomach?"

"Can you see the ghosts from in there?"

He slammed his locker and turned toward the square leading the harassment. "You know what, I did have a vision at the show," he shouted. "I saw who your real dad is! Hey, did you mom ever get that mutt fixed?"

He didn't need to tell the future to know he'd better run for it. He bolted for class.

He'd missed the last three days of school so he could wow the crowds by telling them what was in their pockets, while his parents talked about cleansing negative energy from their spirits or some junk like that; and he'd come back just in time for a history test he hadn't studied for.

He wasn't worried. He was sitting behind the smartest line in class. On test days, the teacher set up cardboard barriers between everybody's desks to prevent them from reading each other's tests, and he took it on faith that this worked on the other students; but for his own part, the barriers were so thin that sometimes he walked into them without noticing they were there. He just looked straight past them as if they didn't exist. He had a clear view of the smart line's test.

As he bolted for his classroom, he could see through the walls that the line was already in there, talking to the teacher. He slowed down his mad dash before reaching the doorway and came in at a stroll, just in time to hear her quietly say to the teacher, "Just for this test, can I switch seats? I don't want to sit by..." She trailed off when she caught the triangle coming in; she and the teacher both stared.

He stared back, irritation flaring up, and snapped defensively, "What?" What did she care if he copied her test? It didn't cost her anything and it didn't make her do any extra work. Wasn't it considerate to help a fellow classmate out? Why should she be selfish about her test?

The square and rectangle tumbled into the room, advanced on the triangle, saw the teacher watching, and shoved past him to get to their own seats. They glared at him as they passed, but didn't say anything. Yeah, that's right, look who got the final word in.

To the line, the teacher quietly said, "Don't worry about it, just get ready for the test." She raised her voice. "All right, settle down, everyone at your desks. Put your notes away. This is a long test, so we're starting immediately." Several students grumbled in dismay.

The triangle couldn't be more delighted. The teacher didn't believe in psychic abilities—to his benefit, since so far it had let him get away with copying other students with impunity—but she also didn't like him. He'd been sure that she'd agree to let the smart line switch seats to get away with him. But apparently she'd rather dismiss the class pet than admit that maybe it was possible for him to psychically cheat. He smugly headed for his desk, ready for the easiest test of the class.

The teacher put a hand on his arm before he could pass her. "Not you," she said. "Get your stuff from your desk, you'll be taking the test at the front of the class. At my desk."

"What!" He whirled to stare at her indignantly. "Why?!" (The rest of the class fell silent. He could feel a dozen eyes on his base.)

"Because, your last few test scores have been... unusual. I want to keep my eye on you—"

"Unusual how! My grades have been great! You should be thrilled I'm keeping up with my absences!"

"Your test grades haven't been consistent with your classroom performance," she said tersely.

The other students started to titter. His sides flushed in humiliation.

His classroom performance was abysmal. He never finished his homework (he rarely started his homework), he never had an answer when he was called on in class and usually substituted with something sarcastic that'd at least make the other kids laugh, he never did the readings, and he wasn't even sure which town he'd lost his history textbook in. Studying was boring! He had better things to do! He was a busy guy! (And why bother, when he wasn't any good at it anyway.)

"What, you think I'm too stupid to make A's?!" He planted his fists on his corners. "If I'm cheating, how!" She had the privacy walls between students on test days, she'd searched his desk twice, and during the last test she'd passed behind him like a dozen times as he filled out the answers. Sarcastically, he asked, "Am I psychically reading the other students' minds? Maybe looking at their tests through the walls with my laser vision?"

The class giggled again, but at least this time it was with him. Everyone in the school knew about his family's traveling show and the performances he put on. And everyone in class knew that the teacher thought his family's shows were scams and that he was a fraud, and she'd made that clear from the first week. The other kids believed in his abilities. He'd been in class with most of them since they started school, and his default reaction to being called a liar about his abilities had always been to do something to prove them wrong—and he'd kept doing that even after he realized that telling kids what they were hiding in their bags only creeped them out. 

But it didn't matter if all the kids believed. As long as the teacher didn't, he could get away with anything—and everyone else in class knew he was making a fool of her.

She narrowed her eye. "That's enough. Just get your pen and come to the front."

"This is stupid! You can't prove I've done anything wrong!"

"I'm not going to fight with you."

"You just hate my family, you don't have any proof I—"

"Get. Your. Pen. Or you'll be taking your test in the office."

He shot her a dark look; but stormed to his desk, snatched up his pen, and returned to the front. Times like this, he really did wish he had laser vision. He could, just, grow a laser gun out of his eye, shoot her in half...

As he passed the teacher, he muttered under his breath, "I'm telling my mom," but apparently not quietly enough, because the square who'd been bothering him all morning announced, "Hey, he's gonna tell his mommy!" and half the class laughed.

"Behave," the teacher snapped; then said tiredly to the triangle, "You can tell anybody you want, just—take your test."

Sure, she said that now. She didn't know what his mom was like when she thought her golden child was being mistreated. He'd go home whining and moaning about how unfair his teacher was, and tomorrow morning his mom would be in the front office ripping into the principal over the terrible teacher slandering and humiliating her perfect little triangle. And she was shrill. The whole hallway would hear it. Wielding his mom was a double-edged sword (or maybe double-edged whip would be a more apt metaphor): the other kids would make fun of him for weeks; but he'd definitely get what he wanted. Either his teacher would shape up, or he'd get a new teacher.

Assuming he did convince his mom he was being mistreated. His confidence waned as he waited at the teacher's desk for her to finish passing tests out to the rest of the students. What if calling in his mom backfired? What if his teacher graded his test tonight? What if his mom got there in the morning and the teacher could show her that he'd gotten almost perfect grades on his other tests, but flunked the one where he'd been forced to sit at the teacher's desk? The teacher didn't believe he could see through walls, but his mom sure did—and he wasn't sure whether she'd care that he'd cheated, but she'd sure care if they could prove that he'd cheated and make her look bad. But now that he'd said he'd tell his mom, he'd look like an even bigger loser if he didn't...

The teacher set his test on her desk last. He filled out his name and stared miserably at the first question. Who was the first triangular president. How was he supposed to know? There'd been like, seven. It was a multiple choice question; he looked at the options to see if any names sounded old-timey, concluded they all sounded old-timey, and sighed in frustration. Now what? He'd heard a kid say once that if you didn't know what to guess, you should always guess C. Would he get enough right answers to pass...?

He let his all-seeing gaze drift past the test to snoop through the teacher's desk—sheets of stickers he'd never earn, eye drops, coupons to a movie theater, spicy novel... and then stopped in wonder. She'd left the answer key to the test inside her desk. Every answer, right there. This would be the easiest test he'd ever taken!

As the teacher watched in increasing frustration, he cheerfully highlighted answer after answer, pausing between each question to read a couple paragraphs from the novel in her desk to make it look like he was actually thinking.

The line at the top of the class and a couple other kids had turned in their tests by the time the triangle had finished his performance. With a flourish, he turned and presented his test to the teacher still standing behind him. "Well?" He gave her his most innocent look. "So how'd I do?" He'd almost asked her, so how'd I do it?

She glowered at him, seething; but simply took his paper and snapped, "Go back to your desk."

"Whatever you say!" Cheerfully, he sauntered back to his desk. As he passed Miss Perfect Grades, he said quietly—but not so quietly the other nearby kids couldn't hear—"You got question 7 wrong, idiot." She groaned.

Nobody would get the best of him. He was making it through this class with flying colors. Maybe the teacher was right, maybe he was stupid—but he certainly wasn't a loser.

####

As soon as he'd dressed, Dipper ran downstairs to get the phone book in Soos's office and call the library. This was it. He was rested, his schedule was free, and he was ready to read. Today, he was buckling down and reading Flatworld. He was gonna crack Bill's secret history wide open—and on top of that he'd get a leg up on a year of math, and he'd learn something big about Bill before Mabel.

Which he felt guilty for being excited about; but he figured it wasn't wrong to want to be the better twin at paranormal investigation, right? That was his whole thing. Anyway, Mabel might be grateful for it—she'd seemed annoyed at the prospect of reading a hundred year old book on math; maybe he could summarize the important parts for her, it was just like when he'd help her study for big tests...

The librarian on the phone said, "Flatworld by Edward Bishop Bishop? Sorry, our only copy is checked out."

There went Dipper's plans for the day. "When's it due back?"

"In twenty days. Do you want to put it on hold?"

"Yeah, thanks."

Dipper hung up. The Gravity Falls Library let you check out a book for twenty-one days; so somebody had grabbed Flatworld yesterday. Who else would want it?

####

Absolutely aghast, Mabel cried, "They banned colors?!"

Bill and Abuelita, sitting at the kitchen table having breakfast, stared at her. Mabel was standing in the doorway, still in her pajamas, hair unbrushed, bags under her eyes, distraught. Bill said, "What?"

"On Flatworld!" Mabel dragged her hands down her face in distress. "They made colors ILLEGAL?! It's ILLEGAL to have COLORS?! That's as bad as—as—I can't actually think of anything as bad as banning colors!"

Bill gave her a surprised look. "Oh, you're reading Flatworld!"

"Bill, you've been through so much!" Mabel grabbed his shoulders. "What a traumatic childhood!"

"Mabel."

"No wonder you turned evil, I'd be evil if I grew up without coloring books—"

"Mabel. Kid."

"What!"

"Colors weren't illegal," Bill said.

Mabel paused. "They weren't?"

"They weren't. I was even born gold. I drew my house, remember? You saw the rose bushes?"

"Oh." Mabel thought about that. She planted her hands on her hips. "Then I take it back, you've got no excuse for being evil!"

"I'm devastated."

"What is Flatworld?" Abuelita asked politely.

"Book inspired by my home world," Bill muttered. "Loosely."

Abuelita nodded, puzzled. "¿Pero tú no eras del infierno?"

Bill laughed. "¡Puede ser!"

Mabel asked, "So if colors weren't banned, why did the book say they were?"

"Ahh, Eddie was a writer." Bill shrugged and turned back to his breakfast. "He took some creative liberties to make the story more exciting. He wasn't writing a history textbook."

"Which parts are true?"

Bill gave her a sly sideways glance. "Which parts pardon me from being evil?"

Mabel blew a raspberry.

In the entryway, Dipper said, "Mabel? You checked out Flatworld?"

She jogged over to him. "Yes! Augh, Dipper, you've gotta read it after me! There's some crazy bonkers stuff in here!"

"Yeah," Dipper said, mildly deflated, "sure. When did you pick it up?"

"Yesterday! I biked to the library after Bill fell asleep. I had to find out what it said. Did you realize we don't know anything about where Bill came from? I don't even know if he had dirt."

Bill had avoided looking at Mabel as she talked to Dipper, focused on eating, mouth set in a flat line; but without glancing over, he said dismissively, "Sure, of course we had dirt. It was cheap to import."

Mabel turned back to Dipper, her eyes bugging out. "He had to import dirt. I didn't know that!" 

"Okay, I get the picture."

"Here!" She dragged Dipper into the living room.

Bill looked at Abuelita. "Ask how cheap it was to import dirt."

"No."

"It was dirt cheap. Ha!"

Abuelita shook her head.

Mabel picked up the book from the end table by the sofa bed. Out of range of the kitchen, she whispered, "All that talk about the Axolotl and prophecies just kept bugging me until I read the book. I stayed up half the night! I thought maybe it'd help us remember more of the poem."

"Did it work?"

"Not yet. But I think I feel something percolating in my brain! It's coming, I know it." She pushed the book into Dipper's hands. "We've gotta talk as soon as you read it."

It was a much smaller book than Dipper had anticipated; a cover about the size of a paperback novel, but it was only as thick as one of those easy chapter books for new readers that Dipper had started devouring in second grade. Even if the text was dense, it shouldn't take more than a couple of hours to read.

"By the way, who put me back in my bed?" Mabel asked.

"Oh. Bill d—" The hairs on the back of Dipper's arms stood on end as he realized something he'd been too tired to notice last night. "Bill did."

"Aww, that's sweet of him," Mabel said.

"But Mabel," Dipper hissed. "I don't know how he got through the bedroom door."

####

Ford shut his journal and turned his desk chair to face the children. This was serious enough to warrant his full attention. "You're sure you didn't prop the door open last night?"

"Positive," Dipper said. "We talked about it. We decided it would be safer if Bill was stuck in one spot and had to ask to leave."

"The doorknob's been busted since the tooth fairy broke in," Mabel said. "Maybe Bill just pushed it open?"

Ford said, "Under the terms of the curse, he shouldn't even be able to do that much. It's supposed to magically prevent him from remembering or imagining any way to get through a door." Still, he made a mental note to ask Soos to repair the door as soon as possible. They ought to at least remove the possibility that Bill might have found a loophole.

"Could the curse be wearing off?" Dipper asked. "Maybe you just need to do it again?"

"This isn't a curse that should wear off. It was originally designed to keep hidden treasures guarded for a thousand years—and as far as I know, the only way to remove it is for the person who placed it to lift it," Ford said. "If Bill's getting through doors, either he knows a way to break the spell that he never told me, or he's found a way around the spell. Both mean bad news. For all we know, he might already be able to get through any door and is just pretending he can't."

Dipper thought back to the pitiful performance he'd seen in the bathroom. "I... don't think he's faking." Unless that wasjust a big act? Bill flung himself down staircases and stuck forks in his arms for fun; what was stopping him from writing on the walls in his own blood?

"Well, he can get through at least one door." Ford got to his feet and began pacing up and down the length of his study. "On top of that, by now he's revealed he can see through walls, see the future, see in the dark, and see who knows what else in other dimensions... He's trying to befriend Wendy, he's already befriended—" he cast a guilty look at Mabel, "... one of us, and I suspect he's getting into Stan's head... He has a standing weekly appointment to network with the mayor, the sheriff, and the deputy... He could be up to almost anything by now. I'm afraid he's right on the verge of slipping through our fingers. If only we could get that blasted fuel! We need to destroy him before he finds a way to escape for good—"

"Wait," Mabel said. That alone was enough to make Ford flinch. "Didn't he just save you guys' lives yesterday?"

Dipper winced, but Ford didn't seem surprised that Mabel knew; he just averted his gaze and sighed. "I know. And I'm..." he wrestled with his words until he reluctantly conceded, "grateful that he did. But even so—"

"Grunkle Ford! How can you still hate him after that?!"

Ford pressed his lips together to avoid saying pretty easily. "It's not about hatred, Mabel. It's an issue of the greater good."

"The gr—pbbbt!" Mabel blew a raspberry and flung her arms in the air. "Come on!"

Dipper said, "Grunkle Ford's right. Even if Bill isn't just trying to manipulate us somehow... if he had a chance, he'd still take over the world."

"Exactly," Ford said. "Two lives isn't a sufficient down payment to let him purchase the rest of our reality. We must put the safety of the universe first, and... put our consciences second."

Mabel looked between them in disbelief. "It's not a down payment, it's—it's progress. It means he's changing for the better! Guys, you don't know what the world he came from is like!" She pointed at the book Dipper was carrying. "Of course he's evil after how he grew up! Maybe he just needs some people to be nice to him and he'll learn to be nice back!"

"He grew up more than a trillion years ago," Ford said. "That's over seventy times longer than our entire universe has existed. He's had plenty of chances to outgrow his upbringing. I'm sure somebody's been kind to him in that time." He'd been kind to Bill.

"Then why is he being nicer now? First he was nice to me, now he's been nice to you two—if he keeps getting nicer to more and more people..."

Ford shook his head. "He could be nice to the whole world and it wouldn't mean he's any different."

"How do you know?!"

"How often does he talk to you about his plans for Weirdmageddon?"

Mabel fell silent, thinking uncomfortably about all the times he'd freely told her what boring animals he planned to upgrade once he'd conquered the world, or which fun places he wanted to destroy with his alien friends, or which laws of physics and spacetime he planned to change. She thought about all the times he'd expressed his gratitude by swearing to shed blood or rearrange stars on her behalf.

"He doesn't see befriending his future victims as a conflict of interests. So why wouldn't he start Weirdmageddon again?" Ford asked. "He doesn't feel remorse over a single thing he's done."

Mabel thought about Bill offering to put back the stolen ring at the mall.

Dipper thought about Mabel's Fault.

But did that really prove he felt remorse?

"But—doesn't he ever get a chance?" Mabel's voice was thick. "How do you know if he'll be selfish next time if you don't let him try? He can do better, I know it! He just needs a chance to prove it!" She looked pleadingly at Ford, then at Dipper. "What if he could be good this time? What if he could help?"

Dipper had to avert his gaze. "If we were talking about shoplifting or vandalism, yeah, but... if we give him a chance and he lets us down, it's the end of the world. We can't risk that."

Ford knew Bill would be just as selfish this time, because Ford knew Bill. Because Ford had heard, throughout the multiverse, on world after exploited world, just how selfish Bill had been for billions and billions of years. Because as far as Bill was concerned, he didn't have any reason to change outside of the fear of death—and fear never made anybody better. But Ford said, "His second chance is whatever he can do between now and whenever we find or make a fuel that will let us destroy him. But once we can..."

Mabel's face scrunched up as she fought not to cry. She squeezed her eyes shut, crossed her arms, and lowered her head.

"Mabel..." Dipper reached for her shoulder.

She shook him off and shook her head; but she said, voice muffled by the collar of her sweater, "I know. You're right. He's too dangerous." She sniffled.

"I'm sorry," Ford said.

"It—it's fine." She wiped her eyes and turned away. "I'm gonna get breakfast."

"Mabel, wait," Ford said. "You... know not to mention any of this conversation to Bill, right? Even if you want to help him, it might just make him pretend to be better long enough to fool us—or escape entirely, if he's found a way how yet..."

She turned to give him a teary-eyed frown; but she said, "I won't. I promise." She got into the elevator to head upstairs.

Ford sighed and sank back down into his chair. Should he have done more to keep her from Bill? Used his summer guardian privileges to ban her from talking to him, and dealt with the relationship fallout? What he and Stan really should have done was just send the kids home. He'd thought this would all be over weeks before now.

He didn't think Mabel would betray them for Bill. He hoped not.

But this was going to break her heart.

"Grunkle Ford?" Dipper said. "About the fuel we need to power the Quantum Destabilizer..."

Ford sighed. "The impossible-to-synthesize paradox fuel?"

"Actually... I think I have an idea."

####

In order to generate NowUSeeitNowUDontium, Fiddleford had said, they needed a paradox: someone to simultaneously both observe but not think about and think about but not observe the miniature particle accelerator as the experiment was run. Fiddleford had tried to cheat by using a pair of twins, hoping they'd be similar enough that they could still generate Dontium, albeit at a much slower rate; but to no avail. Which left them at a road block. How could one person both observe and not observe and think about and not think about the experiment at the same time?

Dipper thought he might have found away.

Bill had made a comment last night that stuck with Dipper, about how his body stared at nothing while he was outside it. (He'd called him "stupid looking." That was the real reason it had stuck with Dipper.) Would that meet the criteria of the paradox? A body that was looking at the experiment, but not thinking; and then if his soul was thinking about it but not looking...

Ford thought it was worth a shot. He could call Fiddleford and propose it. "As long as you're sure you want to try?" he asked Dipper. "You only just figured out you've been slipping out of your body—and too long a separation without anything occupying your body might kill you. And who knows if there's more risks we don't know about yet?" Ford put a hand on Dipper's shoulder. "We can still look for other possibilities first. You don't need to be a hero."

Dipper scowled. All he could think of was Bill capturing Ford, laughing at him as he turned him into a statue, burning up his journals in front of Dipper's eyes: Don't be a hero, kid. This is what happens to heroes in my world!

"I'm going to do it," Dipper said. "And we should do it now. Before I lose my nerve."

Ford frowned. "I'm serious, Dipper. If you're afraid—"

"I didn't mean that," Dipper said. "I mean—about Bill. He did just..."

"Ah," Ford said. "Yes. There's that."

It had been easier to treat the issue like it was black and white when Mabel was in the room—when she saw it all in black and they needed to balance out her perspective with white. But when she was gone, and the muddled shades of gray crept in like fog?

Dipper could still see Bill gloating as he kidnapped his great uncle and burned the journals; but at the same time, he could also see Bill angrily muttering under his breath as he delicately reeled in Dipper's body by a thread, and then rushing to the cliff's edge to drag Ford to safety. Safety of the universe aside—it felt wrong to plot to kill the guy who'd just saved them.

After an uncomfortable silence, Ford said, "But it doesn't change anything else he's done."

"Yeah," Dipper said, "it doesn't change anything." All the same, his stomach twisted with guilt. He wondered if Ford's did too.

Ford sighed heavily. "I'll call Fiddleford."

####

Fiddleford was wary about trying a new strategy, although for different reasons: he didn't want to change their method to create Dontium before he'd spent several days calculating how the new variables would affect the experiment. But desperate times... He agreed they needed to do whatever they could before Bill found a way to escape.

Dipper went upstairs to grab his backpack. He didn't even unpack all his camping equipment; he just shoved in his journal and Flatworld, and headed back downstairs.

Meanwhile, Ford tracked down Soos in between tour groups to ask him to fix the kids' door.

To Ford's surprise, Soos looked uncomfortable at the request. "Dude, are you sure that's... y'know... necessary?"

"Even if Bill weren't a threat, it would need to be fixed sooner or later, wouldn't it? I can help when we get home if it will take too much of your time." Or maybe Stan could help, he didn't seem too busy; last Ford had seen, he was hunting through the house for a missing remote control.

"It's not that." Soos fiddled with his hands uncertainly. "It's just, I know Mabel and Bill have been getting along really well lately, and I think that's probably a good sign for Bill; and I thought, if Bill can use their door, maybe Mabel would like it if Bill can visit her a little easier?"

Ford stared at Soos, bewildered. He'd expected this out of Mabel, but Soos? "And I think Dipper would like it if he couldn't."

"True," Soos conceded.

"Not to mention ensuring he can't sneak in during the night, or snoop when they aren't home..."

"Okay, okay. You're right." Soos sighed. "I'll fix it after work."

"Thank you."

A tourist family came in, and Soos went to greet them; Ford watched him a moment. Where had that come from? Soos rarely interacted with Bill; if anything, Bill seemed to steer away from Soos, and certainly never had anything kind to say to him when they did interact.

Maybe the pet geodite had won him over. Ford shook his head and returned to the living room.

Dipper was waiting on the couch, adjusting the straps of his overstuffed backpack. Ford glanced in on Mabel having breakfast by herself in the kitchen, picking at a waffle, lost in thought; but they left without saying anything to her.

####

(Took two weeks to get the next few chapters cleaned up, but finally here it is! Hope y'all enjoyed—and we'll be hearing a lot more about what's in that book next week.)

[vivwritesfics]

Daddy Ricciardo

Just some Danny Ric marriage/parent headcannons. Fluffy AF

Have you ever met somebody so in love with their girlfriend that it consumes their entire being?

Well, if you're friends with Daniel Ricciardo, you certainly have

Daniel was utterly obsessed with Y/N when they were dating

He brought her along to every race and showed her off whenever he got the chance

Any Y/N fan pages were probably run by him

Daniel was obviously a man who couldn't wait to get married

Especially to Y/N

You know that bit from The Office when Jim shows off the ring he got the moment he and Pam start dating?

That would have been Danny if he got the chance on drive to survive

No, Daniel got the ring on their six month anniversary

He already knew she was the one

But six months felt like the perfect timing

He didn't propose right away

Things kept getting in the way

But then, there was the perfect storm

Y/N had just come to watch a race

She hadn't been to the last one and had hardly been on the phone to him

Danny thought something was wrong

When she came to the race, Daniel was overjoyed

But then, in the hotel room after the race, she'd gone all serious

"Danny, I've got something to tell you. But I need you to promise me one thing," she said, grabbing a hold of his hands

"Anything," he replied, utterly concerned

Y/N sucked in a deep breath, calming her nerves

"Don't freak out."

When she told him, Daniel didn't freak out

He took in the information silently

Why would he freak out?

This was going to be the best day of his life

Two little words, that was all Y/N had said to him

Two words with so much weight to them

When Y/N was done and looking ready to start crying, Daniel slipped from the bed and pulled the ring box out of his pocket

He got down onto one knee and opened it

"You've just made me the happiest man in the world. Want to make me slightly happier and marry me?"

Y/N found a dress, her dream dress

Three weeks before the wedding, that dress no longer fit

The joys of being pregnant

Sobbing, Y/N made her mother take her shopping for a new dress

Before the wedding, at the rehearsal, Daniel had said he wasn't going to get drunk

If his soon to be wife couldn't drink, then he wouldn't either

But Y/N had insisted

Her soon to be husband was cute when he was drunk

So, Daniel had a few

He had more as the reception went on

Max and Christian were there, drinking alongside him

By the end of the night, Y/N was sat at the table, hand on her bump, cheeks rosy as she laughed at Daniel

He had pulled Max in for a dance and the Dutchman couldn't say no

He literally couldn't say no, because drunk Daniel wasn't listening

The honeymoon was gorgeous, like a dream

They went to the Maldives, stayed in a luxury resort

Four months later, Y/N was going into labour

It was, quite frankly, terrifying

Fifteen hours later, Charlie Ricciardo was born

He was his fathers pride and joy

Where Daniel used to show off Y/N, he now showed off Charlie and Y/N

His camera roll was all pictures of Y/N and his son

As Charlie got older, they started taking him to the races

He had little headphones to wear as the cars went around the circuit

He'd wave (aka, Y/N would hold him on her hip and wave his hand for him when his daddy came into the pits)

Charlies first word was car

Daniel was driving at the time, during free practice

He was so pissed that he missed it

Daniel was the fun parent

He was the one who let Charlie stay up past his bed time and let him have chocolate and fizzy drinks

In moderation, of course

But then Charlie did something scary

"Mummy, I want a brother," he said

Y/N couldn't reply

She had to turn around and pour herself a glass of wine

So, he asked his father

Daniel was so happy to hear it

If Charlie wanted a sibling, he was going to get a sibling

So, Daniel brought it up with Y/N

"Danny, no," she said the moment he suggested it. "When I was pregnant with Charlie and you were travelling for work, I was struggling so much without you. I can't do that again"

Daniel tucked some hair behind her ear

"Don't worry, Angel. I can talk to Christian and get the last few months of your pregnancy off," he said. "Keep you and Charlie travelling with me until then"

That sounded amazing to Y/N

She loved her little family and it only seemed to be growing

She jumped onto her husband

"Get ready for the night of your life, honey badger"

[void-wolfie]

Forty-Five Days

summary: you come back on Valentine's Day after being away on a work trip.

pairing: Jenna Ortega x gn!Reader

words: 1.89k

tw: very fluffy (is there such a thing as too fluffy?), kissing, light making out, let me know if i forgot anything

a/n: happy valentine's day everybody! tried making this as fluffy as i could, not sure how i feel about this one, let me know what you guys think lol

Jenna checked her phone again; 5:15 pm, no new texts. You should be here any minute now. She looked around the crowded lobby, but there was no sign of you yet.

You'd just finished filming for a big project, somewhere in New Zealand. It was a long process, over five months to film. You'd only seen each other for a few days during the holidays and before you had to leave again.

She was excited, to say the least, and nervous. She hadn't seen you in over a month. It made her wonder how you managed to go all that time without seeing her when she had to travel.

Home just wasn't the same without you.

You searched the lobby for any sign of Jenna. It'd been forty-five days since you last saw her, which roughly translated to 1,080 hours or 64,800 minutes. And each minute you were away from her felt entirely more agonizing than the last. (and yes, you did all the math on the plane, it was a very boring flight).

Finally, your eyes settled on a short brunette standing off to the side, away from the crowds. Tan and layered in freckles, her sunglasses were on and one of your jackets was draped lightly over her shoulders. She had a cheeky grin, and you knew she'd been watching you look around cluelessly for at least a few minutes.

You tightened your grip on your luggage, breaking out into a jog to go greet your amazing girlfriend. The second you were close enough you dropped your bags and nearly tackled her into a hug.

"I missed you so much." You whispered, still hugging her as if it were the last thing you might do.

"I missed you more." You could hear the playful smile she wore, her happiness more contagious than the plague. But more than that, you could hear the relief in her voice.

You squeezed her even tighter. You needed this. You needed her. Forty-five days was too long.

"Baby, you have to let go," Her arms gently tugged at your hands, she didn't really want you to let go, but you two couldn't exactly stand around in the airport all day.

"Nooo, just a little longer," you whined, sounding a bit like a child about to throw a tantrum.

"Come on, you can hug me all you want when we get home, ok?"

"Fineeeeee," You sighed. You didn't exactly mind letting her go, knowing there'd be plenty of time for cuddles later, but it was always more fun to be dramatic.

The minute you let go of her, she stuck her hand out, a bouquet of roses held out in front of you, "Happy Valentine's Day, baby."

"You got me roses?" You weren't exactly the type for flowers, but the idea of Jenna going out of her way just to get you something had a way of making your heart melt.

"Yeah? I know you don't really do the whole flowers thing, but I saw them, and I thought of you so-"

She didn't even have to finish her sentence. Before she even had a chance to stop and ask what you were doing, you had hooked your finger into one of the belt loops of her jeans, tugged her in close, and kissed her with all the pent-up passion you had.

God those lips. That smile. Her scent alone was enough to drive you mad. Your whole world could be falling apart, and you couldn't care less as long as you had her in your life.

The kiss didn't last long, much to your disappointment. It did, however, leave Jenna a blushing mess, which was more than enough to leave you satisfied.

You reached into your coat pocket and pulled out a necklace, holding it out for Jenna to see, “Happy Valentine’s Day, love.”

It was a simple necklace, an ivory pendant held by a plain black cord. The pendant looked similar to a vertical infinity sign, except instead of one twist, there were two.

Jenna looked it over in her hands, admiring the craftsmanship and the tiny details.

“The symbol is called a pikorua, it represents two people coming together for eternity. Two people bonded by friendship and loyalty.”

You bounced on your heels nervously. You weren’t a hundred percent sure she’d like it, but the meaning behind it was too good to pass up. You wanted Jenna to have a reminder of your love, especially when you two were apart for work.

“I know it’s not much, but-”

“No, no, no. I love it, baby.” She looked up at you and gave you that smile, the one that made you weak in the knees and your heart all melty. “It’s beautiful.”

She gave you a small peck on the cheek. And despite the heavy kiss from just minutes ago, the small action still made you blush, your heart swelling with feelings you couldn't comprehend, "Come on, love. Let's go home."

Her smile. Her laugh. Her eyes. God this girl was your kryptonite.

You walked through the front door and immediately your jaw dropped.

"Jenna... is this?”

“Yeah…”

“…for me?”

“Yeah…”

“You did all this?"

“Yeah…” Silence. Tension filled the air. You could practically feel the nerves radiating off the girl next to you.

"I wanted to surprise you..." she fiddled with her hands, wringing her fingers nervously as you admired the scene in front of you. "Is it too much? It is, isn't it? I'll clean it up-"

"No!" You said it too fast, too forcefully, "No," You tried again, much more calmly this time, "I love it, baby, it's awesome. I just- I didn't expect this at all."

The house was completely decorated, like something straight out of a Hallmark movie. Candlesticks decorated tables and hallways, lighting up the whole house with a soft yellow glow. Red and pink balloons lined the doorway and silver garland hung from the ceiling. The dining table was adorned with a white tablecloth and a vase filled with more roses. A ‘welcome home’ banner hung over the dining table, swaying slowly as you stared at the painted black letters in awe.

This Girl.

She did all this… for you? Just to surprise you?

“Baby?” You felt her hand on your arm. You hadn’t even realized how long you'd been staring in silence.

You turned around to see her looking at you, her expression a mix of emotions. There was hope and fear, she was so worried you'd hate the decorations, she wanted you to like them. But at the same time, you could see the love in her eyes, whether you loved it or hated it, she only wanted you to be happy.

Your body seemed to move on instinct.

You leaned forward and kissed her without even thinking about it. Your hands gripped her waist and pulled her in closer, anything to be near her. Her hands seemed to naturally find their way up your face, cupping it as she kissed you back.

Forty-five days was too damn long.

The kisses turned into something more. Before you knew it, Jenna had you pushed up against a wall, her hands roaming under your shirt, leaving goosebumps wherever they traveled. Her lips were at your jaw, sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin. It took everything in you not to melt under her touch.

“Baby?” You breathed out, not sure how much more you had in you before your knees would give out.

“Bedroom?” She already knew what you were going to ask, her lips pressed into the base of your neck sent chills down your spine.

“Please.”

You woke up to the sunlight peeking through the window, filtering in between the blades of the blinds. You groaned, tossing and rolling back over in bed. Stupid sun… all you wanted was to sleep in…

You rolled over only to notice the void in the bed. Something was missing… or more like someone. Where was Jenna?

“Baby?” You called out, your voice hoarse and rough from sleep.

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes taking in the state of the room. Candles all burnt out, clothes strewn in every direction, rose petals covering every surface like confetti, half the bed sheets covered the floor while the other half haphazardly covered you.

You could hear noises coming from somewhere outside the room. What is she doing?

You picked up one of Jenna’s t-shirts from the floor and threw it on before stumbling out to the living room. You followed the noises to the kitchen.

Jenna was wearing a pair of sweatpants and a sports bra, her hair tied up in a messy bun. She was working away in front of the stove, the smell of food cooking and something sizzling catching your attention.

You strolled up behind her, wrapping your arms around her waist and resting your head on her shoulder. You didn’t have to look to know she was smiling, you could tell, it was in her body language. The way her muscles seemed to relax with you around, the little laugh she let out under her breath, the way she tried not to move too much so she wouldn’t jostle you around-

“Baby?” Her voice pulled you from thoughts.

“Hmmm?” You barely mumbled, your head still hazy with exhaustion. Between last night's activities and the jet lag from the flight, you were going to need at least a week to catch up on sleep.

There was that cute little laugh again, so quiet you would miss it if you weren’t paying attention. “What are you doing up, love? I figured you’d be asleep for at least another hour.”

“I missed you,” you wrapped your arms around her a little tighter.

“I missed you too, baby.” She leaned over, kissing you on the cheek before going back to whatever she was doing.

Your eyes were half closed as you stood there, clinging to her like a koala with your face nestled into the side of her neck. Despite the fact you were standing, you were comfortable enough that you could almost fall back asleep, if it weren’t for her little movements, you probably would’ve already.

“What’re you doing?”  your voice came out all muffled from talking into her shoulder, but she seemed to understand what you meant.

“Making your favorite. I was going to surprise you with breakfast in bed.” She could see you nodding off on her shoulder, it made her smile. She always found you extra cute when you were sleepy. “Why don’t you go back to bed, babe? I’ll be there in a bit.”

“No.” You meant to sound firm in your decision, but between your morning voice and how tired you were, you sounded like you were about half asleep already. Which wasn’t too far from the truth.

“Babe, go to bed, I’ll be there soon,” She chuckled, smiling at your resolve to stick with her even if you were basically already sleeping on her shoulder.

“I’m fineeeee. I’m going to stay right here and help you cook.”

And you did. You stood right there and ‘supervised’ as Jenna cooked one of your favorite meals, pancakes and bacon. Normally she would’ve pushed you out of the kitchen for being in her way, but after not being together for so long, she didn’t mind the intimacy.

[seventeenpins]

Can we perhaps have something where stepdad Joel makes reader squirt-😗

alskdfjal yes of course this is so perfect :))) thank u for the prompt 💕

practice makes perfect

pairing: stepdad!joel miller x f!reader

word count: 2.5k

summary: follow-up to bad girl. your mom decides to go out one night, leaving you and your stepdad at home alone together. feeling hurt and petty in response to his wife's cheating, he has no qualms with fucking you in your mom's bedroom. you make a mess.

warnings: okay lets go, a lot of fucking (so much fucking), stepcest, infidelity, oral sex (mentioned), unsafe piv, SQUIRTING, dirty talk, fingering, daddy kink, age difference (reader is late 20s, joel is mid-40s), a bit of dom/sub vibes, multiple orgasms, creampie -- let me know if i missed anything?

a/n: i am so completely blown away by the response to my first stepdad!joel fic -- thank you all so much for the comments and reblogs and messages, i fuckin cherish them all. as always, pls feel free to reach out. i hope you enjoy this instalment!

for the first week after joel walked in on you, you were half convinced your entire experience with him had been a fever dream. you hadn't seen all that much of him on account of a big project he's been grumbling about, something about a delayed material delivery that pushed him closer to a deadline than he'd prefer. you were busy yourself, too, going out with friends and spending long hours on some of your freelance work.

there were moments, though, that you'd catch one another and there'd be a glint of something in his eye.

one night, you, your mom, and joel are all sat at the table for a family dinner. your mom has drained her wine glass twice already, and is reaching for the bottle again as she tells you both, "i'm afraid i can't stay for long tonight, i just got a text from vera. sounds like she's having a bad night and needs a friend."

joel makes a sound like a snort that he follows up with a cough. "poor vera," he says, "she's been havin' an awful rough time lately, hasn't she? it's like she's inconsolable every other day."

"yes," your mom says, "she has been going through so much."

joel stares at her for a moment and you almost expect him to challenge her on it, but then he lets out a breath and smiles.

"you're such a good friend, baby," he tells her and she grins before turning back to her glass of wine and taking a big gulp. joel fixes you with a knowing stare and smirks. you both know she's not going to vera's.

after she finishes picking at her plate, she announces that she needs to get ready and dips out of the room.

"so, vera, huh?" you ask and joel snorts.

"can't believe your momma forgot she made me follow that woman on instagram months ago. according to her recent posts, she's currently travelling through iceland."

you roll your eyes and laugh, "seriously?" you ask, and joel nods.

"you'd think she'd be a better liar by this point," you say, and joel smiles but winces a little too.

it's not a game. you know it's not a game. just because you're used to your mother's antics doesn't mean it isn't new to joel, and he's only known for certain for a week that she's been unfaithful to him and that's gotta hurt. despite whatever's going on between you two, you know joel's heart is aching.

you're pretty sure you've just poured salt in the wound.

"i'm sorry, joel," you say, suddenly embarrassed, "i didn't mean to- i don't know. i didn't mean to make fun of it. i know you're dealing with... a lot."

joel shrugs and relaxes, "ah, it's alright sweetheart. just something i need to deal with. but you've done nothing wrong."

"okay," you say, and it's only then that you realise how close you've been leaning towards one another. at the sound of your mother's heels on the stairs, joel clears his throat and the two of you put more distance between yourselves.

your mother's voice carries down the hallway. "will you two be alright without me? i know you haven't had a chance to spend much time together."

"i'm sure we'll manage." you say, and joel smirks.

"she's a real good girl," he says, "'m lovin these opportunities to get to know her better."

"i'm glad to hear it," your mom says, and smiles between the two of you as you do your best not to choke.

"ya look great, baby," joel says, eyebrows raised as he looks your mom up and down. "cute dress. that makeup's gonna get ruined with your face masks, though, huh?"

she blushes and waves him off, "you know i like to get all get dolled up for my girls night," she says, "i can wipe the makeup off later."

"i'm sure you will," he says, and though you can hear the edge to it, you don't think your mom can. he presses a kiss to her cheek.

"i might be home late," she tells you both, "don't wait up!"

"no worries, baby," joel says, "in fact, if vera's having such a hard time, maybe you should make it a sleepover"

your mom grins and it's dazzling and heartbreaking. it's moments like this that you can see exactly why so many men have fallen in love with her. "that's a great idea, honey," she says, "i think i'll do just that! i'll see you both in the morning."

with a swish of her hair, your mom has left through the front door. joel groans, folding forward and resting his head in his hands, letting out a low "fucking jesus" before he sits back and composes himself. he lets out a deep sigh and then turns to look at you and shakes his head, closing his eyes, resigned.

you're not sure what's appropriate. you nearly reach out to deliver a comforting pat to his hand, but change your mind at the last moment, instead batting your hand out like a cat's paw and then recoiling.

joel's eyes weren't, apparently, closed. he sees your indecisive gesture, frowns, and gives you a look, before laughing. "you're okay, sweetheart," he says, his voice still tinged with the rumble of laughter, "it's all a lot to deal with. but i'm managing. and guess what?"

"what?" you ask.

"we've got a whole night to ourselves. just the two of us."

"oh yeah?" you ask, and you suddenly feel hot all over. joel's staring at you with such a darkness in his eyes that you're certain you're already wet.

"'f that's something you'd like, that is." joel smiles and it's almost unexpected the way he checks in with you, that he still has the capacity to focus on your needs. in his position, you might just be out to take what you could get, wholly and selfishly.

he's so... considerate. fuck he turns you on.

"i've got an idea," you say, and you take him by the hand and lead him upstairs.

you can feel his body stiffen when you stand in the doorway to your mother's bedroom. "you want me to fuck you in here?" he asks, and you can't parse his tone.

you're worried that you've gone too far, that despite the filthy way he fucked you only a few days ago, you've hit a barrier you should never have crossed, but you nod. before you can ask is it too much? he's growling "yes" and dragging you into the room.

he pulls you into a kiss, frenzied and feral, his teeth biting at you, nipping at your lips and cheeks, laving kisses down your throat. before you know it, you're both fully naked, clothes littered all over the floor of the room and joel's teeth are gently biting down on one of your nipples as he rocks his hips against yours.

"are you gonna let me take care of you? gonna let daddy take care of you?" he asks, "use your words."

"yes, daddy," you tell him.

"ya know," he tells you, running a hand down your sternum and resting between your breasts, feeling the rise and fall of your breathing, "there have been a few times i've gotten home late these past few days, and when i walked past your bedroom door i could swear i heard the sweetest little moans."

you blush and look away from him.

"uh-uh," he says, tipping your chin up, making you look at him, "were you thinkin' bout me?"

you nod. "yes daddy" it's the truth, after all.

"good girl," he smiles, "thank you for being honest with me. now i already know you're a dirty girl, what with all your naughty videos. and i know you're a fuckin' slut the way you spread your legs so easily for me."

"yes daddy," you echo.

"but what i don't know," he says, and his voice is velvet and dangerous, his pupils blown with hunger, "is just how many surfaces in this room i can bend you over and fuck you till you're so cock drunk you can't speak."

your eyebrows shoot up and your jaw drops.

"i ain't even started with you, honey," he smiles, and he drops to his knees.

it's a fucking marathon.

he eats you out at the foot of your mothers bed till you're panting, his lips glistening with your slick and he makes you feel so good you're certain you're gonna die.

then, your positions are reversed, joel trying his best to plant his feet into the carpet so he doesn't melt off the bed altogether, while you kneel before him. he fucks up into your throat, delighting in every vibration your moans and swallows provide.

soon, you're pressed up against the dresser, your fingers gripping onto the drawer handles as he fucks into your pussy from behind.

then against the bookshelf. the closet doors. there's a moment where joel gets closer than he'd like to coming and he has you grab onto the floor lamp as he eats your pussy again on bended knee, only this time you're standing up and trying your best not to crumple onto him when he makes you come a fourth and a fifth time.

you're starting to get overstimulated. no, you are overstimulated, but it's in the most oddly delicious way. joel has you folded over the foot of your mom's bed, your knees on an ottoman, the rest of you pressed against the mattress, fists groping at sheets, holding on for dear life.

it's a good angle, hell, it's the perfect angle. not only does it feel incredible, it helps prop your ass up to a height that allows joel's huge cock to fuck you deeper without too much more effort, gripping your hips as he pounds into you. the best part, though, is that you're both at the perfect angle to see yourselves in the full length mirror.

"jesus christ, baby," joel is saying, "you see how deep i am? feel how deep i am? pussy's so tight around this cock. can almost feel myself in here," he says, and presses two fingers against your tummy.

you moan, using every ounce of strength you have left to keep your ass in the air and take joel's cock so nicely.

"it feels so good, daddy," you sob, "it's so big, making me come so many times. fuck, i can feel it building- it feels so good, you make me feel so good-"

"yes, baby," he growls, "let go for me, let me feel you come stretched so pretty 'round daddy's dick."

"fuck, daddy," you whine, because you realise it's a different sensation that's been building and even though you know what it is, you've never quite reached an orgasm like this before. "i'm gonna come, daddy! i'm gonna fuckin come-"

"shit, baby," he says as he starts to feel hot wet spurts of liquid splashing out of you, "oh fuck, you gonna wet my cock with your cum?"

you're screaming now, so fucked out and overstimulated

"oh, shit honey, yes-" joel shouts, a man possessed, as he pulls his cock out from you and rubs furiously at your clit, moaning loudly as you gush all over his hand. "oh, i'm gonna need more of that," he groans, and you can't find words to argue. he fucks back into you, hitting that same spot, finding that same pressure.

"could fuckin drink this, baby," he says, "comin' all over my cock like the fuckin whore you are. look at us, baby, look in the mirror and don't you dare close your fucking eyes."

you obey. it's a struggle to get your eyes to even focus, but when you do, you're sent over the edge again and again and again.

the two of you look so fucking good, the jiggle of your ass, the angles of your bodies and the way you slot together, the tan of joel's arms, his muscles, his control, the silver of his hair.

his breathless mantra "good girl, good girl, fuckin' take it, such a good girl-," as you take everything he gives you and more.

he finds a rhythm for fucking every last drop out of you. he'll give you a few harsh, deep thrusts and then pull out and rub your pussy till you aren't gushing around him anymore. then he'll slap your pussy with the head of his cock, making you shudder before he stuffs it back in and builds you up again.

your thighs are drenched and the wetness down your legs is cooling. you've lost count of the number of times he's made you come like this, but finally, you're shaking so hard you can't bear it and his thrusts are getting staggered.

he's breathless when he manages to ask, "you want me to fill up this lil pussy? fill it full of daddy's cum?"

"yes, yes, yeesss-" you beg, and you watch your reflection as joel's hips stutter a final time and he lets out a strangled groan as he loses control and fucks his release into you.

the second after he comes, he collapses onto you but you're so weak and fuck-drunk you collapse, too. joel rolls off of you so you can breathe, but then both of you are laughing. you're disgusting, covered in sweat and spit and squirt and cum, but joel dips a finger into your pussy and then licks up the combination of juices.

seeing your awed expression, joel shrugs and then smiles, a little embarrassed. "just needed to taste ya like this," he says, and it's incredibly endearing.

after a few more minutes of laying around in messy, sticky comfort, joel gets up. and then- "shit".

"what's wrong?" you ask as you look up at him and he's- laughing?

you look down at what he's looking at -- the ottoman. you've drenched it entirely. it's at least three shades darker than it was to begin with, and reeks of sex.

"well," you say, "that's not ideal."

"guess i'll have to buy your momma a new one," he says, rubbing against his temples and barking out a short laugh. then he leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your lips, and one to your forehead.

"you go have a shower," he tells you, "i'll take care of this mess, and then let's get some snacks," he winks, and you smile.

he starts to back out of the room when you call to him, "so, mom's gonna be gone all night-" you start to say, tentative.

"you already askin' for round two?" he asks, incredulous.

"if we're calling all of that-" you gesture around the room, "round one? then yeah. i'm asking for round two."

"dirty girl," he laughs, "you're fuckin insatiable!"

"that's not a no-" you point out.

"no, it's not a no," he says. "let's refuel. rehydrate. and get right back to it."

[seramilla]

I ended up binging all your posts about Vaggie being related to the Carmine's and ended up having a dream about all the wedding prep, including Carmilla actually meeting Charlie and thanking her for loving and helping Vaggie heal and grow from her time as an exorcist

I'm sorry, but this gave me ideas, so have some fluff instead of angst on this goddamn page for once.

Charlie Morningstar paces back and forth outside Carmine Industries for several minutes before she even thinks about touching the buzzer. A myriad of thoughts race through her mind as she steels herself for what she came here to do. Vaggie is distracted, back at the hotel helping Alastor with some kind of workshop or other for their guests. She has at least an hour until her presence is needed again -- plenty of time, she hopes, for a meeting with Carmilla Carmine.

Ultimately, it's not her who buzzes herself in, but one of the other Carmine girls. Charlie literally falls over in surprise as the metal door clanks open, but she manages to right herself before face-planting on the concrete outside. Odette, if memory serves, is standing there with a confused expression on her face, cocking an eyebrow at her and turning her head 30 degrees like a curious puppy. Charlie clears her throat, blushing profusely at her almost-fumble.

"Od-Odette! Hello! Did I get that right? Um, yeah, hi! I'm here to see Carm--Ms. Carmine. Is she home--at work--do you live or work here? I guess I don't know. I'm sorry, that's a dumb question, I just--!"

Odette chuckles. "She's here. Are you looking for an audience with her?"

Charlie lets out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "Yes! Ma'am! Yes, ma'am! Oh, I'm sorry, do you mind if I call you ma'am? Is that weird? Should I call you something else?"

Odette chuckles again. "Odette is fine. No need for any formalities, your highness. You know you're welcome here. Follow me."

"Thank you so much! I'm coming!"

Charlie talks Odette's ears off the entire time they're walking toward Carmilla's office. Up a huge flight of stairs, around a corner, and all the way down a long hallway, Odette is given a crash course on all the current events happening at the Hazbin Hotel. She could probably give a lecture on the topic, given how good Charlie has gotten at really drilling home all the highlights of her redemption program.

When they finally stop in front of Carmilla's office, Odette gives Charlie's hand a firm shake, saying, "It's been a pleasure, Miss Morningstar. Now I must return to my tasks for the day." Then, without another word, she's gone again.

Charlie pauses at the ornate door leading to Carmilla's office. It's tall, and imposing. She's the princess of Hell, goddamn it! Something like this should be super simple for a daughter of Lucifer Morningstar!

Shaking all her misgivings out of her head, she says to herself, "Right! Let's do this!" before knocking firmly on the door three times. After a moment, a muffled yet prominent, "Come in!" reaches her from the other side. Taking another deep breath, Charlie opens the door, and steps inside.

Carmilla Carmine is at her desk, working away at a stack of files and papers that are practically as tall as Charlie is. Other stacks, she assumes the finished ones, are scattered in boxes around the floor at Carmilla's feet. Charlie doesn't even begin to know where to look -- the office is so busy. Instead, she ignores it, and smiles at Carmilla when the other woman's gaze meets hers.

"Charlotte!" Carmilla says, a happy lilt to her voice. She immediately stands and greets the princess with open arms. One of the privileges of dating the daughter of Carmilla Carmine is she's often privy to the woman's more maternal side. A notion that is quite welcome, as far as Charlie is concerned. It's nice, feeling that kind of maternal love again -- it's been so absent from her own life since her mother...left all those years ago.

"It's so nice to see you, Charlotte. Please, have a seat. What do I owe the pleasure of your company today?"

Carmilla gestures Charlie over to the plush couches on the opposite side of her office. The furniture has been upgraded since the last time she's been here. Charlie obliges and takes a seat. Carmilla joins her.

Charlie debates whether to break through her own misgivings with small talk, but decides better of it. She came here with a purpose today; she only has so much time before she's needed back at the hotel, so she decides to just get to the business at hand.

"Well," Charlie starts, immediately fumbling all the words she'd so diligently practiced earlier. That's so like her. But she won't be deterred! She grips the fabric of her pants tightly in both fists and continues.

"As you know, Vaggie and I are coming up on our 5-year anniversary in a few months. It's a big milestone for us, and I wanted to do something really special for her..."

Charlie pauses, waiting to see if Carmilla will interject. The older woman is as poised and stoic as ever, waiting patiently for Charlie to continue. Charlie wishes she could better gauge what the woman is thinking at the moment...but it can't be helped. Charlie's not a mind reader. Nowhere else to go now, but forward!

"...Anyway...um...what I came here to do today was...uhh...oh, fuck, why is this so hard?"

"Take a breath, Charlotte. It's okay."

That definitely is not helping Charlie's nervousness at all, being reminded to breathe, like she doesn't have two perfectly capable lungs, all her own. Carmilla is still looking at her with that face, like everything is fine. How does she know it's fine? She doesn't even know what Charlie's going to say!

Breathe, Charlie!

"God, okay. Hoooo boy. Carmilla. I came here today to ask...to tell you...that I love Vaggie very much. More than anything in the world. My life was not complete until she literally fell into it, and every day since then has been more rich, more fulfilling, and more full of joy than I can ever put into words. I'm telling you this because I'm going to...I want your blessing when I... I'mgoingtoaskhertomarrymeandIwantyoutotellmeit'sokay! Okay?"

The last part comes out of Charlie's mouth in a flurry of words. She lets out a sigh of relief, thankful she was able to get it out. She hopes Carmilla had understood her. Thankfully, the sparkle in Carmilla's eyes tells her that she has, and so much more. Before she can even protest, Carmilla pulls Charlie into a hug that's so tight, her spine nearly bows from the force of it.

Shit, this overlord's strength is nothing to sneeze at.

"You don't need my permission, Charlotte," Carmilla says, squeezing Charlie even harder around the waist. Charlie squeaks.

"I...I don't?"

"Of course not. You're already family. And Vaggie's a big girl. She can make her own decisions. But if you want my blessing...then of course you have it. I can never repay you for protecting her, loving, her, and watching over her when I couldn't. I would love nothing more than to welcome you into our family...officially."

"You, too!" Charlie says, not wanting to diminish the other woman's contribution to Vaggie's healing process. "Also, I almost asked my dad if he would do it, but...I want you to be the one to walk her down the aisle, if she says yes! I know she would want that!"

Carmilla can't hide the fact that she's the one crying now. Charlie sees her trying to hide the tears behind the hand in front of her face, but the cracks are breaking around the older woman's facade like a dam trying to overrun its banks. She smiles at Charlie, and nods.

"Of course I will. I would love nothing more than to give my girl away to you."

Charlie can't wait for the day she can pop the question to the love of her life. She's already bought the ring, got the date planned with Asmodeus, and booked an opulent night full of food, dancing, and every other pleasantry the Lust ring has to offer. She vows to make it the best night of Vaggie's life, second only to their wedding day, if she accepts Charlie's proposal.

Beyond that, all Charlie can see is happiness. She never dreamed as much for herself. But it's so close, she can almost grasp it. She leaves Carmilla's that day feeling more light and airy than she has in a while, and more full of conviction that she has the strength to see this through.

She deserves it. Vaggie deserves it. Carmilla deserves it. Her heart is so full of love and raw tenderness, she could practically burst.

[dronebiscuitbat]

Hi! I have something new to show you guys.

Oil is Thicker Then Blood is my baby, and it's not ending. There's still more I wanna write and explore.

However, I haven't tried my hand at a human AU yet, and I wanted to, it's gonna be a side work, so probably not updated as often, but I hope you all enjoy it regardless. Since I had fun writing the first chapter! (Is rated as Mature! So nothings being held back here. It's pretty adult and pretty dark.)

Give me a Reason: Chapter 1- "Uzi Doorman"

Pale morning light bounced off blackout curtains not quite pulled tight enough to keep it at bay, the small tendrils of light broke through, drawing shapes of light on a deep purple blanket, bunched and tousled by a fitful sleep. A small body lay halfway off the bed, fair skin exposed to the bedroom air, eyes screwed shut and drool pooling out of their open mouth, a frame of violently purple hair rested of their head, the natural black only showing through at it's roots.

A soft snoring was the only sound in the dimly lit room, stuffed full of band merch, anime posters, and a touch of macabre, a fake human skull on their desk, a dreamcatcher in the shape of a pentagram hung on the wall, and purple L.E.Ds were spread like a vine growth, draped over everything, painting everything in a soft violet glow.

There were clothes and papers littered all over the carpeted floor, far more then could be accumulated in just one night of neglect, instead being a sign of something more chronic, the snoring continued, filling the space

Then, in an eruption of noise, the phone lying next to the mattress rung out it's morning tune, an 8 bit rendition of an anime opening that while may have been fun to listen to at some point, it's use as an alarm had made it's charm rapidly shift to hatred.

The body jolted awake, muscles all tensing at once as a very loud grunt escaped their mouth, they stretched and fumbled their way to grab the phone, missing several times before bringing it close to their face and quickly silencing the alarm.

“Uuuuuuggggghhhh.” A disgruntled cry left their mouth, and moth their arms ended up above thier head as the gazed at the ceiling in retrospection, wearing a black pair of boyshorts and a tee with a faded, nondescript band printed on the front. They looked at their phone, eyes a deep magenta as they squinted, looking at the time.

It was 6:30 in the morning, too early, in this person's opinion as they rolled their eyes before rolling over entirely before facing the black, grey wall.

“Uzi! Get up! You have school!” A voice called from behind her bedroom door, Uzi sighed deeply, nibbling on her lip as she tried to find the energy to get up and get ready.

She found it difficult to find, forcing her brain to send the correct signal to her arms and legs was like trying to pull teeth, but eventually, after much forcefull squirming she finally managed to sit up, her joints groaning in a way that shouldn't be normal for someone who's only 19.

She stood, groggy and irritated though what else was new. At a resounding 4,8. She yawned, scratching her head and only made her already impressive bed head look like a tangle of briars.

“I'm up!” She yelled through her door, voice montone despite her volume, while she heard no response, she seemed satisfied she'd been heard, and stepped over the mess on the floor to her closet, where she quickly picked out shorts, a purple tank top, and a hoodie made by one of her favorite bands “Dead Batteries.”

She was lucky to have a bathroom connected to her bedroom, so she made her way to it, stepping over more junk to take a shower for the first time in like 3 days, she hadn't been stopped by anything, not really, it had just been not worth the effort when she had nowhere to be.

She washed herself and her hair, causing just a little bit of the dye to come out in her hands, staining them pink, she rolled her eyes, oh well, she wasn't going to be making a good impression anyway, everyone already knew who she was.

She got dressed, throwing on her purple socks, boots, and beanie before walking out into the combined kitchen and living room of her house, her father, Khan, a bald man with a mustache, steely grey eyes, and age lines on his face was making breakfast, eggs, bacon, with a side of toast.

“Good morning! I made breakfast!” His voice was naturally deep, but right now it was loud and booming and immediately made Uzi wince at it's intensity.

“Thanks.” She offered quietly, sitting down and eating absent-mindedly as she looked over a the television they had mounted on the wall in the kitchen, it was turned to the news, and Uzi had to surpress another eye roll.

More Prostests at the JCJenson head office today, the popular technology company facing heated backlash after it announced a campaign to delve more into their recent exploration into artificial intelligence, despite the recent controversy after a government sting operation found human brain scans within thier internal documents.

“Dad, please watch something other then the news. It's nothing but rage-bait.” She hummed with egg still in her mouth, Khan didn't seem to pay any mind to his daughter however, as he was too focused on the television.

“Don't talk with your mouth fill honey.” Was all he said, and Uzi closed her mouth, breaking her eyes from the screen onto a new one, her phone, where she scrolled through pictures her classmates had posted over the summer.

Her eyes landed on a picture of Lizzy, self-proclaimed “Queen of Mean.” Of Copper High, though Uzi had to agree, the girl was always doing her best to make Uzi's life a living hell, this picture only continued that. Lizzy was pretty, gorgeous even, with her immaculate blonde hair and strangely florescent pink eyes, she was skinny, yet muscular from being on the cheer team. And the two peice pink bikini showed off her figure even more.

Uzi would think she was hot, if she wasn't such a bitch.

She only half finished her breakfast, scraping the rest of it into the cats, Salem's, bowl, who purred and danced around her legs in thanks, Uzi scratched the black cat's head, before finding her backpack by the door and slipping it on, it was faded, and while it used to have two cute little bat wings they'd since been torn off, leaving two little black scars where the wings should have been running down the face of it. It was whatever, it was just a backpack.

“I'm headed to school!”

Khan was still too busy looking at the TV, but Uzi left anyway, sighing to herself as she put black earbuds in her ears to listen to nightcore as she walked to school.

Her pace was slow, she was in truly no rush to get to her destination anytime soon, or really, at all, if she could get away with it, she'd simply ditch and then buy some mushrooms off Sam, her kinda freind/dealer. But she couldn't, not now. There was a reason she was still in high school at 19, that being one of them.

So she grit her teeth and bared it, stopping to stare at the school building, being a classic, flat roofed high-school made of red brick and tears before heading inside.

She wasn't late, couldn't be late. With her guidance counselor breathing liquor fumes down her neck about her attendance and very thin ice she was on with the rest of the schoolboard, so she at least attempted the bare minimum of being on time, and actually showing up.

She only had one more year of this anyway. Though west she planned to do after was up for debate. Probably somewhere between homeless and prison if what the police told her dad was true. Which it was.

She knew her homeroom, it was the same as last year, but her saving grace was that Lizzy and her best friend Doll wouldn't be here this year, as they had already graduated. So no more getting shoved into lockers and being blamed for shit she didn't do.

She did plenty already to get her in trouble, she didn’t need help, thank you.

She expertly weaved her way between the tall, sweaty high schoolers and walked onto her homeroom, Mr. Brown was sitting at his desk, looking over his itty bitty glasses to read the newspaper.

Who the fuck read newspapers in the year 2024? This dumbass man, apparently.

“Uzi. Didn't expect to see you again this year.” He said before she had a chance to sit down somewhere, she looked at him blanky.

“Bite me Mr. Brown, you know damn well why I'm here.” She snapped back, knowing that he knew why she was back, it had been him that had caught her high in class, and him that decided to call the on campus police on her, and got her suspended, and was the one that got her held back a year.

Granted, she was the one high, but if you thought she was going to take credit for her own behavior then you haven't been paying attention very well, now have you?

“And with that attitude, you'll likely be back next year.” He still didn't feel the need to look at her, taking a sip of his coffee instead, she felt a feral hiss claw its way out of her throat, but chose to just sit down, though she slammed her backpack down a little hard.

The room steadily filled in with students, a few she recognized from the year below her last year, a few more she didn't, most didn't pay her any mind which she preferred over the other options, the attention she got was usually negative.

A very tall figure caught her attention, someone she really didn't recognize, because she would have definitely remembered them. They were male presenting, had a shock of decently long platinum blond hair that went down to his shoulders. His eyes were amber, though so bright they were almost golden, and honestly, he looked like he was about to hurl.

His hands tapped together in what was obvious to Uzi as some type of self-regulatory behavior, and he looked to be trembling with anxiety, eyes scanning over the mostly filled room. They made eye contact.

A wide, sunny smile broke onto his face, she felt as though she was almost flashbanged by it, she blinked before she turned away from him, she really hoped that he wasn't in her class and was just lost, because she had a feeling she'd have to find some way to ditch this kid if he did.

“Nathaniel, go sit down, you're in the right class.” Mr. Brown spoke up, and Uzi quickly looked around at the empty seats, only to realize the only two were near her, the one in front, and directly beside her.

Fuck.

He found the seat next to her, making her curse a few more times internally, he looked around again, either trying to see if he knew anybody or maybe catch anyone else's eyes to speak to.

Before he turned back to her with another massive ass smile.

Double Fuck.

“Hi, I'm Nathaniel, but you can just call me N.” His voice was just as bright as his smile and Uzi kinda just wanted to keel over and die rather then interact with him, Jesus, he was like a walking sunbeam.

“Uh, Uzi.” She replied in a noncommittal fashion, though the one letter nickname intrigued her just a little bit, it reminded her of anime.

“Oh, like the submachine gun?” He cocked his head curiously, still smiling, Uzi didn't even really want to look at him, but she was appreciative that he knew that. Her mom had been really into guns, what can she say?

“Yeah.” She replied simply, giving him nothing to work with in terms of more conversation, not her fault, she hated small talk and eye contact, both of which he was trying to initiate.

“Oh, um sorry, I just recently moved here, I don't know anyone, I can stop talking if you want.” He suddenly turned sheepish, and he was doing the tapping thing with his hands again, Uzi almost winced, as much as she didn't exactly want to talk to him, he suddenly looked too much like a kicked puppy, and it was wearing on what little empathy she had left.

“Nah, I just don't talk much… you can keep talking.” She offered, she could at least do that right? Let him talk without the expectation of her responding? Yeah, that was fine, he was probably in just her homeroom anyway, and once he met some more people, he wouldn't talk to her anymore.

“Oh! Uh okay!” He glanced around again, before focusing back on her.

“I like your piercings! They look cool!” Uzi looked surprised for a moment, she didn't remember putting in piercings this morning, but she felt her ears and sure enough the two black studs and the small gauge were there. Oh right, she hadn't bothered taking them out.

“Thank you?” She really didn't know how to respond to that, she never really got compliments ever, especially not about her piercings, most people just told her they looked “unbecoming.” or “god awful.”

“You're welcome!”

“Morning class.” Mr. Brown began, standing up and addressing his class from the front of the room, N immediately turned his attention to him, making Uzi have a sigh of relief internally.

“I'll be passing out your schedules, make sure you read it and memorize it, most of you already know the layout of the school, so there's no excuse to be late to your classes.” He was always monotone, which was unfortunate because he normally taught history, making an already boring subject even more boring.

Uzi picked up her phone again, putting one of her earbuds in, on the side opposite to the one N was on, so he could still talk if he wanted, and began a scroll through Tumblr, there wasn't really anything new, but it was something to do with her hands, so that was something.

“Hey, uh… wanna see if we have any classes together?” N was turned towards her again, holding his schedule in front of him and again looking a little nervous.

Uzi groaned, not out loud, but internally, she wasn't creeped out, she knew what guys were like when they were being creepy, and this wasn't it, but he was being so friendly, it was putting her off, people weren't this friendly, not for no reason. She just couldn't understand what his was yet.

Next ->

[roosterforme]

The Curveball Part 4 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: Bob ends up on thin ice with Molly after Bradley ends up on thin ice with her sister. But all he can think about is the perfect night he spent with her and how he'd be crushed if he didn't get a chance to do it all again. 

Warnings: Fluff, angst, 18+

Length: 5300 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story accompanies Batting Practice!)

Check my masterlist for more! The Curveball masterlist

Thank you to @mak-32 and @teacupsandtopgun for the beautiful banners!

Bob was trying his best to be in the moment at the Hard Deck, since he was the one who invited Molly's sister out for a drink. He wanted to say thank you for all the hard work she put in while Bradley was away. But he was so distracted. 

Molly had spent the entire day sending him selfies while she was at work, and some of them were definitely rated mature. Bob had almost broken his phone earlier trying to minimize a photo of Molly's pierced nipples when Coyote walked over to him. She had snapped the photo of herself in the bathroom at the hospital when she was on break along with the caption I miss you, Bobby <3

The little heart at the end reminded him that he had already said he loved her. He assumed she hadn't heard him, but it made him blush just the same. And now he was at the bar with her sister and Bradley, which should have been fun, but he just wanted to get home and see Molly. 

Bob watched Nat and Jake both relentlessly flirt with Team Mom, but there was no way she had eyes for anyone except Bradley. And then he wondered what it would be like if he brought Molly here. He wanted to, because he already wanted to be with her all the time. But...Bob looked around at all the guys, and that feeling of self doubt was back. Jake was handsome and charming, and probably the kind of guy Molly was used to being with. 

When Nat offered to buy a drink for Team Mom, Bob cut her off, glad for the distraction. "No, it's on me! It's the least I can do since you gave up so much of your time this week to fill in for Bradley. What do you like?" And while he was up at the bar, waiting patiently for Penny to fill his order, Molly's sister ran out of the bar, followed closely by Bradley. 

"What happened?" Bob asked, holding two beers while Jake rubbed his forehead with his fingers. He mumbled a response and walked away, but when Bradley finally came back inside, he looked like he was ready to kill Jake. 

And then the barrage of text messages from Molly came through. Bob's eyes went wide as he read them.

Are you aware that your buddy Bradley is actually a fucking dickhead? I can't BELIEVE what he did to my sister! 

Seriously, Bob. Why didn't you warn my sister about him?! What the fuck! He called Everett baggage!

Please tell me you're not like him!

You know what? Maybe I don't want to find out. 

Bob called her immediately, but she didn't answer. When he got her voicemail, he said, "Mo, please call me back so we can talk, okay? I don't think Bradley meant any of what he said. He's not a bad guy. And I... don't think I could ever do anything to hurt you." He contemplated telling her he loved her again, but he ended the call before he could. 

He was already home for the night when he got one last text from her.

I'm not coming over. 

Bob collapsed in his bed, raking his fingers through his hair, wondering if this, of all things, was what would cost him his chance with her.

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

Molly was having a wonderful evening with Everett. They painted huge masterpieces on poster boards and left all the messy brushes in the kitchen sink. Molly secretly loved leaving an innocuous mess for her sister to clean up in her otherwise spotless house. It kept her on her toes. 

"Movie time? With ice cream?" she asked Everett, checking the time. Of course she'd let him stay up late. That's just what aunts did. 

"There's ice cream?!" he shouted, sprinting back into the kitchen.

"Of course there's ice cream," she replied, kneeling in front of the freezer. "I know all of your mom's secrets. She thinks she's so sneaky, but you can't get anything past me." After removing all the healthy, pre portioned frozen dinners, Molly hit the jackpot. There was a gallon of fudge ripple and a gallon of vanilla raspberry. "See?" she asked Everett, holding them both up.

"Fudge ripple! Fudge ripple! Fudge ripple!" he chanted, and soon they were watching a PG-13 movie with two spoons stuck in the ice cream carton. 

"Want some more?" she asked, passing the carton to him.

He took a bite and said, "I don't think my mom wanted me to watch this movie."

Molly sighed and shook her head. "I'll cover your eyes for the scary parts, okay?"

"Okay!" he agreed.

Molly took a few more bites before she asked him, "You like Coach Bob, right?"

"Oh yeah, like a whole lot," he replied. "Almost as much as I like Coach Bradley."

"That's a lot," Molly muttered. "I like him, too." She was smiling as Everett looked at her. 

"You should probably marry him," he said seriously. "I heard my mom say that Coach Bob is smart and nice and that she never thought you could do so well."

Molly scoffed and rolled her eyes. "That sounds exactly like something your mom would say, and that's exactly why we are eating her overpriced ice cream without her. Now close your eyes for the scary part."

About twenty minutes later, Everett was sound asleep on her lap while she finished the ice cream. Then she carried him up to bed, starting to get a little nervous that her sister would be back soon. She tucked him in, turned on his nightlight, and then hightailed it back to the kitchen to hide the evidence of the empty ice cream carton. 

But when she got home, Molly could tell something was wrong and went right into protective jungle cat mode. "What happened?" she asked softly as soon as she saw her sister's tear streaked cheeks and quivering lips.

After a few minutes of being held in Molly's arms, she was able to whisper, "Bradley told all of his friends that he'd never date me, because I have baggage."

"That fucking prick. Does Bob know about this?"

"Probably," she said softly against Molly's shoulder. "He must."

"I'll call him right now," Molly said vehemently. 

"No, please don't. You had an immaculate first solo date with him last night which ended in a hot makeout session. I don't want the three ring circus that is my life to start messing up yours."

It had been more than a makeout session, but Molly wasn't going to correct her. She was so into Bob after being intimate with him, that she was devastated now. Because Molly knew she would ditch him in an instant, even if it would hurt, in order to support her family. 

Molly kissed her sister's cheek and promised, "Your life is not a three ring circus. And Everett is not baggage. And Bradley isn't worth your time if that's what he thinks. Now let me help you get changed for bed."

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

Bob barely slept, and he was wide awake before his alarm went off on Saturday morning for the tee ball game. He hadn't heard another word from Molly. Even if she wanted to yell over the phone, he would have loved to hear her voice. 

When he arrived at the ballfield, Bradley was already there. "You look like shit," Bob told him, and he could hear the disappointment in his own voice. 

Bradley closed his eyes briefly. "I feel worse. Promise."

"Did you talk to her?" Bob asked. Bradley didn't hang around at the bar last night after things blew up, so Bob really wasn't sure exactly how bad it was.

"She doesn't want to talk to me. I'm such an idiot."

Bob just kind of shrugged as he set things up for their game against the Tiny Blue Jays. "Molly is angry, too," Bob informed him. "She's barely texted me back since yesterday."

Now Bradley looked sincerely upset on Bob's behalf. "I'm so sorry."

"I'll figure it out," Bob mumbled. "And you need to apologize to Team Mom until she forgives you. Did you tell her that you said all of that stuff a long time ago? You barely even knew her then."

"Yeah, but I still said it," Bradley replied, rubbing his eyes with his fingertips. "And between the slap to my face and the valid points she was yelling at me, I didn't get a chance to try to explain myself. But she's not going to want to hear it anyway."

Then Bob felt his heart lurch as he looked up toward the parking lot and saw Molly and Everett headed his way. "I'll be right back," he mumbled and headed for her immediately. 

Everett ran past him, calling out, "Hi, Coach Bob!" before continuing on to Bradley. But Bob had his sights set on Molly and her beautiful face filled with indignant anger.

"Molly," he gasped, wanting to reach for her as she came stomping to a halt in front of him. She was glorious. God, he was in love with her.

"Tell me you knew," she demanded. "Tell me you knew Bradley was trying to play my sister." She was practically vibrating with concealed rage now. "Tell me you fucking knew he doesn't deserve to breathe the same air as them."

Bob swallowed hard, and her eyes flashed. "Molly, he loves them. I don't think he would do or say anything to intentionally hurt either of them." 

"He has a sick way of showing it," she spat. "He called Everett baggage."

Bob held his forehead in his hands. "I think Bradley just needs to talk to her. He's so crazy about them, he's really beating himself up."

Bob watched Molly glance past him to glare at Bradley while he helped Everett get ready for the game. "He can rot," she said, but her voice was softer now. "And so can you if you agree with what he said." 

"I don't," he promised. "Please, Molly. I...I missed you yesterday as soon as I dropped you off at your car. I missed you all night. I missed texting with you until one of us fell asleep."

She looked up at him, eyes searching his face. She muttered, "I missed you, too," and then she was heading toward the bleachers. 

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

Molly was finding it hard to keep giving Bob the cold shoulder after another day. She was spending a lot of her time with her sister and nephew, sleeping over there and taking Everett out to keep him entertained.

She didn't feel any better after she blew up at Bradley. In fact Molly felt worse, because she sensed that Bradley really was sincere in the way he just wanted to apologize. And he clearly doted on Everett. Maybe he really did just want a chance to apologize, but Molly knew her sister wasn't ready to listen yet.

Her phone went off, and she reached for it while she was making coffee at her place late on Sunday morning. 

Coach Cute Glasses: I miss you, Molly. 

She groaned; the gas station flowers were in the vase right next to her, and she was trying not to look at them. Casey never did anything like give Molly flowers. He'd given her some hickeys and exactly two orgasms. But he also hadn't been friends with anyone who hurt her sister. 

She moaned helplessly. Her body was betraying her. She wanted to spend another night curled up with Bob, all warm and protected. She wanted to feel his even breathing and listen to his soft voice as she fell asleep. "Damn it," she whined, typing out a message to him.

Miss you, too. Any chance I'm still invited to your place? 

Molly was weak for Bob. She knew that already. Just one night with him, and she was constantly daydreaming about him at work. His rough hands. And how sweet he was. And how he wanted to be exclusive with her already. And his big cock. 

Coach Cute Glasses: You are always invited. Please, Molly, anytime. Do you want to spend the night with me? 

Molly snorted as she read the text, but another one was already coming through.  

Coach Cute Glasses: I didn't mean that the way it probably sounded! I'd just love to see you. I would be so happy if you wanted to come by, and even happier if you wanted to stay with me all night. I liked how it felt to wake up in bed with you. 

Molly tucked her phone into the pocket of her scrubs. He could wait it out for a bit. That sort of thing was good for a man. Especially one who was that eager to see you. But by the time she parked at the hospital, she texted him back. 

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

Bob was in such a panic. Molly was coming over. And he wasn't sure if she was upset with him or just Bradley. He wasn't sure if she was planning on staying over. 

"I'm sorry," Bradley told him for the hundredth time when he called him. "I'm sorry if I blew it for you."

"I'm going to talk to Molly in a few hours," Bob said, rushing through the parking lot to his truck. He was running around, grocery shopping, trying to distract himself. 

"Can you tell her I miss her sister and Ev?" Bradley asked.

"I'll try," Bob promised as he got into his truck and ended the call.

Molly worked until 8 o'clock. He had a few hours to kill before he'd see her, so he wasn't quite sure why he was rushing. Then he stopped for more gas station flowers and cleaned his already spotless condo. He tried to eat dinner, but he couldn't stomach anything except toast. And when he finally heard her ringing the intercom button, he ran to answer it.

"It's Molly," she said softly, and he quickly let her into the building. He stood with his front door open, and a minute later, there she was. She had changed after work, and she looked stunning. No make-up at all and just some jeans and a crop top, but Bob felt suddenly short of breath. He wanted to run his hand along the flower tattoos on her side, and kiss her there too. 

"Molly," he whispered, fighting the urge to blurt out another I love you. He needed to keep it together right now. "Come in."

She walked past him and looked slowly around his living room and dining room while he closed and locked his door. He didn't have a lot of stuff, and suddenly he felt a little ridiculous that his place was so sparse. 

"Very clean," she muttered, her voice and clothing filling the space with so much color and warmth as she examined the gas station flowers. "I wouldn't know how to keep up with it," she said, turning and smiling softly at him. 

"I missed you," he blurted out, and her smile grew.

"Tell me more," she demanded, turning to fully face him. 

Bob swallowed and took a few seconds to gather his thoughts. He was afraid he was going to stutter or say something stupid, but Molly just smiled at him, her all-knowing eyes gentle on his face as she waited.

"I...can't get you out of my mind. I called the runway attendant Molly by accident earlier, because I was thinking about you. Phoenix, my pilot, will never let me live it down."

Molly's laughter had him taking a step closer. "Tell me more," she said, also taking a step toward him. 

"I can't stand the thought of you being upset with me," he said sincerely. He ducked his head and added, "Thursday evening was one of the best nights of my life. Because I spent it with you." He paused, finally daring to meet her eyes.

"Oh, keep going," she said with a nod. "You're doing great."

"I want you to believe I'd never be friends with Bradley if I didn't think he was a good person. And I think he just got a little mixed up. Your sister and nephew really threw him for a loop, you know? But he really loves them."

Molly hummed and shrugged. "I guess I could relay that message to my sister. But I also have a message from me to you."

Bob took a deep breath. "What is it?"

"I missed you, too. I can't stop thinking about you either. And Thursday night and Friday morning, you were so sweet to me, I just want more." Then she kissed his chin and took his hands in hers. "I want you to touch me."

Bob pulled her close as she placed his hands at her waist. He would never get used to being around her, not as easily as she seemed to already know how he operated. She looked up at him, gaze open and earnest. Soft fingers gliding up his arms, tucking into the short sleeves of his tee shirt and gently squeezing his biceps. She placed three soft kisses to the corner of his lips, and he was done. He had to fight the invading thoughts of her nipple piercings and the way her body feels and looks when she's whining for him in her bed beneath him.

"Molly," he begged, but he wasn't sure what he was begging for. 

"Bobby?" she asked softly, pushing one hand through his hair and keeping his gaze focused on her. "I think I need you to fuck me."

"Oh," he groaned, turning her and pushing her back against the wall. He caged her in, and she looked absolutely delighted. 

"If you want to." Her voice was soft and sweet, and her gaze was anything but.

"Honey," Bob managed between ragged breaths as she let her hands come to rest on his abs. She was messing with him. Messing him up completely. She knew exactly what she was doing, but meanwhile, Bob was new to this game. But he was a quick study. A fast learner. 

So when Molly licked her lips and pouted, saying, "You don't want me Bobby? I thought you wanted to be the only one," he was ready for her. 

He wedged one thigh up between her legs, and she gasped. Then his mouth was on hers, rough and demanding. She was grabbing for his shoulders, rubbing herself all over him. He could feel her teeth, digging into his bottom lip, not hard, but definitely not soft. When she released him, she licked his lips until her tongue was in his mouth. 

Bob was rock hard, and try as he may to keep control in this moment, he couldn't. Because Molly was stroking him through his pants and tasting his mouth. Her nose was rubbing along his as she whispered, "Do you want me, Bobby?"

He reached down, wrapping both of his hands around the backs of her thighs and hoisted her up into his arms. Then her lips were on his neck and her arms were wrapped around him as he took her to his bedroom. She was on her back on his bed, kicking her shoes off while her little top rode up so Bob could see the soft undersides of her breasts. There was too much to admire here, and he froze up. 

When Molly's hands found the zipper of her jeans, she whispered. "I want you to say it, Bobby. I want you to tell me everything you plan to do to me." And then her hand was slipping inside her underwear, and she was stroking herself as he watched. 

"Mo," his voice was hoarse. He pushed her knees apart and settled between her legs, bending to kiss her wrist before pulling her hand free of her jeans. "I want to put my mouth on you."

The smile that curled along her lips as she started to shimmy out of her jeans and underwear should have made him a little nervous, but he was beyond help. Her bare pussy was right there, and she smelled so good. As soon as her jeans hit his floor, Bob's face was buried in her. 

"Alright, Lieutenant Floyd," she moaned softly. "Okay." And to Bob's delight and dismay, Molly's hands were on her own breasts, pushing her shirt up and playing with her piercings. She tasted so good as he ran his tongue through her wetness and sucked on her clit. But soon he was rutting into the bed, the sight of her fingers on those little barbells spurring him on. 

When Bob slipped his tongue inside her, Molly's back arched off the bed as she started whining for him. "Bobby, I want your big cock." He grunted in response, willing to give her anything in this moment, and shocked by how much he liked her dirty talk. 

He worked the zipper over his painfully hard erection and scrambled to get himself free. And then he was rocking into her at the same time he got his mouth on her nipples. 

"Yes," she hissed softly, head tipped back with a soft giggle on her lips. He was fucking her, and it felt just as perfect as it had a few days previously. Like her whole body was made for him. Like every response from her perfect lips was just what he needed to hear. "So fucking big."

He pushed those little, silver barbells around with his teeth and tongue, tugging a little bit until Molly was gasping his name. When he sucked harder on her nipples, she was screaming for him. And when she came on his cock, holding his face against her breasts and shaking beneath him, Bob could hardly believe he'd been able to make her orgasm again. 

"Molly," he gasped. "I love the way you shake."

"Oh my god," she moaned as he fucked her through her little tremors. But then she was sitting up, kissing his face, and Bob slipped out of her perfect warmth as she moved to kneel on his floor.

"What are you doing?" he whispered as she guided him to sit on the edge of the bed. She pulled her shirt over her head, and ran her hands up over his thighs. Bob's pants were pulled down to his knees, and Molly pushed them to his ankles before wrapping her pretty lips around his cock. She settled in between his legs, and Bob could only stare at her and try to memorize the obscene sounds they made together. 

Molly was good at this. She was good at everything. Bob tried to keep up, but her mouth felt too perfect. And then she popped up onto her knees and started running the tip of his cock along those pretty piercings. "Molly!"

"You like that?" she asked coyly, but Bob was hypnotized by the look and feel of the barbells on his erection. With a soft groan, Molly squeezed her perfect breasts together, sandwiching Bob between them. He thrust himself up closer to her mouth, and sure enough, she parted her pretty lips and licked him. Bob continued to do this until he was grunting and Molly's saliva was dripping down her chest, making the sensations even more spectacular for him. 

Slick saliva, wet breasts and Molly's mouth. "Oh!" he grunted, stroking her cheek with his knuckles as she sucked on him. But when she took his tightening balls in her soft hand and gave him a little squeeze, Bob came hard, without any warning. He watched in alarm as his cum spurted all over her lips and cheeks while she giggled. Molly jerked him off until he was gasping for air and wishing he had enough in him to coat her whole body, because it looked that pretty.

She licked her lips and opened her eyes, and Bob watched as his cum dripped down from her eyelashes, along her cheek and landed on her nipple piercing. Molly took his hand in hers and ran his fingers through the mess before guiding his hand up to her lips. She tasted him there and ran her tongue between his long fingers and across his palm. 

"You made the mess," she whispered before sucking on his thumb for a beat. "Now you have to help me clean up."

"Gladly," he promised, nearly rocketing off the bed as she set his hand on her breast. Bob used his wet thumb to collect his cum from her piercing and then he let her take his hand between her lips again. But then he was on the floor with her, pushing her gently onto her back as she laughed. 

"What are you doing?" she asked, but the words died on her lips when Bob licked his own cum off of her chest before kissing her and letting her taste it. He held both of her wrists in his hands above her head, and he was treated to the sights and sounds of Molly. She was rubbing her pussy along his soft length as she licked his cum from his mouth, and Bob just enjoyed making out with her on the floor. Everything tasted like him and smelled like Molly, and he listened to her soft laughter. 

His hands and shirt were a mess of cum, and Molly's pretty face absolutely lit up for him when he whispered, "I like the way I taste on your skin."

"Bobby. You fucking deviant," she moaned, taking his face between her slightly sticky palms and leaning up to kiss his lips. She wrapped one leg around his waist to keep his body against hers, and Bob let his cheek come to rest on her chest. He'd never been called anything close to that before, but he could tell he'd lose himself in the moment with Molly over and over again like this if she'd keep letting him. 

And then he blurted out, "You're not mad at me then?" while she combed her fingers through his hair. 

She hummed in contemplation. "No, I'm not mad at you, Coach Bob. I'm pissed off at Bradley, and I'm trying to protect my family. But I'm not mad at you."

Bob sighed in relief and ran his fingers along her pretty tattoo. He had found it actually painful the way she'd been avoiding talking to him, but he could see where she was coming from. 

"That makes me happy. And I can understand you wanting to protect them. They are where your loyalty lies."

"Don't fuck with my family," she whispered softly as she turned her head, and Bob glanced up at her as she swiped at her eyes. "I hardly have any left."

Bob could sense that she wanted him to change the subject, so he kissed her soft skin and said, "I like your tattoos."

She laughed sardonically and said, "Thanks."

"Did you get the carnation tattoos because it's your favorite flower?" he asked, running his index finger along the colorful ink.

"No," she told him. She was quiet for a moment, and Bob started sweating before she asked, "Did you know that there are different flowers that coordinate with your birth month?" 

Bob had heard of this before. "Sure," he told her, wondering where she was going with this. 

Her voice sounded a little rough, but her fingers were still soft in his hair as she said, "My parents were both born in January. Carnations were their birth flowers. That's why I have the tattoo. And kind of why I love the gas station flowers."

"Oh," Bob said, about to add that she didn't need to talk about it if she didn't want to. But then she rolled a little closer to him as he sat up, and she pointed to the other three flowers mixed in.

"The morning glory is for my sister's birthday. The chrysanthemum is mine. And the pretty red rose is for Everett's birthday in June. I got that one the day after he was born. It's actually my favorite one."

"It's beautiful," Bob told her, running his thumb along the chrysanthemum and meeting her eyes. 

"Listen," she told him, kissing the tip of his nose. "I'm protective of my sister. She took care of me when our parents both died. I moved in with her while she finished college. She shared her bed with me and made sure I ate. She sold my parent's house and gave me most of the money to pay for nursing school and a new, reliable car. And the fact that I can occasionally help her out a little bit now is really important to me. So if you think I need to castrate Bradley, you should probably just tell me now, okay?"

Bob laughed in spite of himself. "Maybe a kick to the nuts, but castration is probably not necessary, Honey. He's beating himself up enough, I can tell you that much. And I honestly think Bradley would jump in front of a moving car for Everett." 

"See, now that's what I like to hear," she told him, sitting up and draping her arms around him. Her skin was a little sticky from his cum, and Bob let her push him back until he was laying on the floor underneath her this time. She settled her chin in his chest and looked up at him. "Now tell me when your birthday is, Lieutenant Cute Glasses. I want to know how your flower would look in my tattoo bouquet."

Bob could feel his cheeks warming up. She wanted to know what a tattoo in his honor would look like on her perfect skin. And now she was just lounging right there on him, naked as the day she was born and just completely flawless. And she was waiting, just like she always did. Waiting until he was ready to say what he was thinking, but never rushing him.

He laughed softly and shook his head. "I have the most embarrassing birthday," he told her, and she cocked her head to the side. 

"Oh," she sighed. "April twentieth?" 

"No," he told her. "Worse. Leap day. February 29th."

"Oh! No, that's such a good one, Bob!" she insisted. "And your flower would be a violet. So pretty!"

But he just kept shaking his head. "Mo, you don't understand, Honey."

"Then explain it to me," she whispered, kissing his chest and stroking his skin. 

"My name is Bob. B O B. Bob. I got the nickname Baby On Board during flight training a decade ago, because I was technically five years old...."

She blinked at him a few times before she burst into laughter. Bob waited while Molly rolled around on the floor, gripping her sides and gasping for air. "And technically how old are you now?" she managed to ask through her laughter.

Bob waited until she calmed down a bit more. "Eight."

"Eight!" she screeched. "Don't say that to me! We've had sex!" Her laughter had Bob chuckling too now. "How old would you be if you had a birthday every year?" she asked, eyes wide as she giggled.

"Thirty two."

"Thirty two! Perfect," she sighed, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. "I'm not going to get arrested then."

Bob rolled his eyes and whispered, "I think a new flower would look pretty good in your bouquet."

And now Bob was thinking about a violet tattoo on her skin next to the other pretty flowers as Molly curled up on his bedroom floor with her arm wrapped around him. 

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

Bob without Molly....it just doesn't make sense. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls and everyone who bugged me to make Molly and Bob a thing!

PART 5

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[putellas14]

Mapi- "Go to sleep, I will not leave you alone."

content warning: R is a war time reporter assigned to Ukraine

It had been five months since you'd been home. Your job as a journalist for one of the largest news outlets in Spain had sent you to Ukraine to cover the war. The assignment wasn't officially over but they were pulling you out over growing safety concerns. Although you were desperately scared, you didn't want to go home yet. There was still so much news to cover and if you went home, then no one from Spain would be left there to report on what was happening.

They had arranged transport for you the day after notifying you. Which had left you very little time to finish documenting everything you needed for the story you were writing. You worked all night, meeting with different officials and witnesses. And by the morning, you felt mildly confident that you had enough information to write your next piece.

You knew it was nowhere near sufficient, though. All the Ukranian people would be left behind with no option to evacuate with you. And that was something that had begun causing you heartache as soon as you'd read the email you were going home.

The plane ride home was one of the longest flights you'd ever been on. Everyone was completely silent, lost in their own heads processing the last five months and trying to figure out what comes next. Processing how they would return to normal life.

Your team rode in a bus to the office. It was the middle of the work day but your boss had told you all to go home and get some rest.

Your heart started beating a little faster when you saw the familiar car in the lot. And the brunette leaning back against it, arms folded. You'd texted Maria this morning to let her know you'd made it on the plane and you'd see her at home after her training was over. Frowning, you looked down at yourself. Your clothes were wrinkled and hadn't been washed in a few days. You hair was an absolute mess. You smelled slightly from the flight.

But when she spotted you through the window of the bus and smiled brightly up at you, none of that mattered. You waited impatiently to get off the bus. Crossing to her quickly, you collapsed against her, your arms tight around her neck.

"Welcome home, my love," she whispered into your neck.

"I missed you," you said before kissing her. Leaning back, you ran a hand through her hair. "I like your hair."

"Let's get you home," she added. She kissed your cheek before bending down for your bag.

At home, you ate a snack, marveling at how amazing it tasted before passing out on the bed. In month two, your hotel had been bombed and since then, you'd been sleeping on a broken cot in a crowded basement with a bunch of other reporters, never sure when your next substantial meal would come.

It was dark outside when you awoke. Maria had laid a sweater at the foot of the bed for you. Smiling at it, you pulled it on, appreciating her thoughtfulness. It was something small but it meant a lot to you.

You found her in the living room, playing with one of the three cats the two of you had adopted last year. "He's gotten so big," you said after watching her from the doorway for a minute.

She looked up at you, smiling. "How was your sleep?" She held her hand out to you.

"Weird to sleep in a bed," you answered, crossing the room to take her hand and sit down on the floor. "It's going to take some getting used to." The black cat crawled up into your lap. "Hola, mi gordito," you whispered, giving him pets.

"They missed you. They'd wait at the front door after I came in, hoping you'd come in behind me."

"That's really sweet," you said. Leaning down, you kissed the top of the cat's head. You snuggled him close for a few minutes before he jumped out of her arms to curl at your feet.

Mapi watched the entire interaction with soft eyes. She'd missed you. Your presence. Your scent. Your loving nature. Even with all the cats, the house had seemed empty. Clearing her throat, she said, "I've got the potatoes boiling. Figured I'd make your favorites for dinner. Probably been a while since you've eaten any of them."

"Thank you, amor."

"I was thinking about getting a run in before we eat. Do you want to come?"

You felt awful but a run would help. You couldn't remember the last time you had been on a run for exercise. Your boss had essentially forbidden leaving for anything non-work related. "I might be a little slow to keep up with you," you admitted shyly.

"You set the pace, babe," she said, reaching over to take your hand. "I'll run with you."

You squeezed her hand and gave her a small smile, grateful to have someone next to you that was as sweet as Maria. And she was true to her word. During the run if her stride starting getting too long, she pulled herself back. She always let you lead.

And in the shower afterwards, she let you lead the slow dance to relearn each other's bodies.

You were quiet through dinner, Mapi knew it. But she filled the space. She let you be as quiet as you needed to be. She gave you everything that you needed that night. She held you on the couch afterwards, running her hands slowly through your hair. The tv was on low in the corner. She whispered sweet words in your ears and made sure you knew how missed you had been. Your emotions got the better of you at one point and tears had filled your eyes. You tried to hide them but she saw and gave you soft kisses in response.

Everything was fine until it was time for bed. Until you laid down in bed and she turned out the light. The dark. The dark was the worst time over there. During the day, you could see. More people were around. At night, it was dark. You were alone. Even in a roomful of people, you were alone.

You were shaking when she got into bed. "Babe." She touched your arm. "What's the matter?"

"I." You grabbed onto her hand. "Can you just hold me?" She laid down, putting her arm around your waist. "Tighter. I need to feel you here."

She pulled you closer to her, keeping a hard grip on you. "Go to sleep, baby. I won't leave you alone." She kissed the top of your head and snuggled into you. "I love you."

"Love you," you muttered into her, slowly relaxing into sleep.

[icallhimjoey]

More!!! More!!!! More bookstore!joe! MORE!!!!!!!!!! we've seen his erratic behaviour when he visits the store after not having been able to come in for a while, but what about the visit before he knows he's not going to be able to come in for a while?

omg im so here for the bookstore!joe requests, but the "i already miss you even though youre still here" somehow turned into whatever this is... idk why i went where i went, my apologies, and tw for vomit Wordcount: 3K

---

Lost Moments To Keep

You hadn't stopped staring at Joe with the biggest eyes. You seemed confused and weirdly mesmerised. Your eyes tunneled a little, vision darker around the edges.

"That's Joe." Anne just said, and then your eyes moved to give her the same wild look.

"And I'm Anne. We like me, a lot. We don't like Joe. You've got temporary loss of normal brain function, look, Google says." Anne held her phone to your face, too close for anything to register.

"You're not helping, Anne." Joe scolded through clenched teeth.

"Wha–"

Joe was on the phone to someone, and... you knew who that was. You knew who that was. What the fuck. What was Joe Quinn doing in your bookstore?

And why were you on the floor, exactly? Your left elbow hurt, but the back of your head much worse.

"Yea, she's awake. She hasn't lost consciousness at all." Joe said to whoever was on the other side of the line. "Confused, though. Brain's all scrambled."

"Do you feel dizzy? Google says you might feel dizzy."

"I... what day is it?"

"Oh my God, she's asking what day it is." Anne said, turning to Joe like she was blaming him for what you'd asked. In Anne's terms, she was panicking. Anyone who didn't know her, though, would think she was being exceptionally calm given she'd just witnessed her boss lift a box of books that tipped her over backwards.

Your head hurt.

And you did feel dizzy. And nauseous too, a little.

It made sense that you had fallen, but it was strange to not remember and to have two strangers fret over you in your own business.

Your eyes darted from the worried face of famous actor Joe Quinn who was stood by your feet, to the wildly uninterested face of a younger girl who sat next to you with her legs crossed as she scrolled on her phone.

"Any vision disturbance? Are you more sensitive to light than you'd usually be, do you think?" Anne asked, seemingly going down a list she'd found online.

"Okay, thanks. We'll make sure she doesn't move until you get here." Joe looked at you as he said goodbye and hung up. That looked like your phone.

"Her mum's on her way."

Why was he using your phone?

"Any mental fogginess?" Anne continued, ignoring Joe and additionally ignoring you, entirely unfussed that you weren't answering any of her questions.

"Hey," Joe softly said, catching your attention as he stepped closer and leant an elbow on the counter as he bent down a little. He smiled warmly at you when he asked, "How are you feeling?"

Joe Quinn.

Joseph Quinn.

What was he doing in your bookstore?

And who the fuck was Anne?

Your eyes moved from one to the other until you saw black spots and the pain behind your eyes grew. Your ears were ringing when you softly said, "I'm... I'm gonna throw up."

Joe almost hadn't gone in today. He almost hadn't, because he didn't really have any time to waste. But, Jesus, he was glad he was there.

God, imagine if he hadn't been.

When Joe had woken up that morning, he thought he was likely going actually insane. He was flying out for work the next day, and instead of preparing, of packing, of seeing family and friends before he'd be off for a while - instead of all that, he showed up on the bookstore's doorstep at 10 am sharp. Right when Anne unlocked and opened the door. Just because that was where he wanted to be. He kind of already missed the store, even though he was right there.

Anticipatory nostalgia; Joe could feel it in his bones.

Instead of stepping aside and letting him in, she gave him a deadpan tired stare and waited for him to take the A-frame from her hands to put outside on the pavement.

Joe happily helped out. Said, "Good morning, sunshine!" all chipper and laughed when Anne looked like she had to try really hard not to vomit.

He'd called a good morning into the store, got a faint "Morning!" in reply from the backroom where you were making yourself a coffee, and found his ledge... empty.

Anne saw him look at the spot where he usually left the books that he was reading. You'd granted him that small little surface area of the store so you wouldn't have to keep putting his books back on the shelves, and so Joe wouldn't have to go looking for those same books again the next time he'd come in. A win win little ledge of excuses for Joe to return to your store. A real privilege, Joe thought.

Except he'd left books there.

He knew he did.

Where had they gone?

"I tidied." Anne said unsentimentally and challengingly looked at Joe over her mug as she took a sip of hot coffee.

She loved being a little shit and inconveniencing Joe wherever and whenever she could. Tidying the store was part of her job, and Joe knew if he was to complain, she'd have the upper hand, because what was he even really doing? The store wasn't a library, no matter how much he had starting treating it like one.

So instead, Joe used her inconvenient power move as an excuse to take his time to browse the whole store and took care to be in the exact wrong spot at the exact wrong time.

You secretly smiled every time you heard Anne sigh with frustration and heard her mutter, "Move!" under her breath before using a shoulder to push him aside. Every single time, Joe pretended he was totally oblivious. Would go, "Oh! Sorry! Was I in the way?" all innocently, but you could see how his mouth was fighting to keep his own smile hidden.

It took maybe forty minutes for Joe to have built up a little stack of books on the small sidetable next to your granddad's armchair in the window, and then Joe sat and read undisturbed for an hour and a half.

You loved it when Joe was in.

Just sat there.

Reading.

Absolutely engrossed in his own little world.

The faint feeling of envy was always overshadowed by the joy of being allowed to unashamedly stare at him from the counter, leant on both elbows.

You'd brought him a coffee after those 90 minutes of silent reading, and he'd given you a quick wink and a smile as a thank you.

Customers filtered in and out, and you went from moments of it just being Joe in the store to having eight people needing your attention simultaneously. It was both busy and not, and the switches in energy had left you in a weird spot mentally.

You hadn't realised you'd fully skipped lunch.

You'd seen Joe dart out for some pastries, and you'd ordered Anne to get her ass into the back to go and eat something, but you never followed up on your "I'll take my lunch after."

It was why, in a moment of quiet, you'd picked up a box of books from behind the counter that had sort of been in the way the whole morning, you been unsuccessfull.

Maybe you'd gotten up too fast.

Or maybe the box was just too heavy.

The entire thing had taken you down quicker than you'd been able to get it off the floor. It didn't help that the box was open. The reflex of your body became about making sure none of the books would tip out and hit you in the face, when the reflex should've been about cushioning your fall.

You shot no arms out.

You didn't drop the box.

You just... fell.

The weight of the box pushed the air straight from your lungs and left you gasping.

The back of your head had hit the wooden floorboards so hard, you immediately saw stars.

After impact, for a short moment, it was pin-drop silent. Anne froze, pausing for a moment, listening. She was waiting for you to go "I'm all right!", but that never came.

Joe was ripped from his book at the sound of the fall, but was confused. One moment you'd been there, and then now, you were gone.

When a soft wincing gasp was heard from where you were hidden form his view, he was on his feet in an instant, rounding the counter and finding you there on the floor, box of books heavy on your stomach, eyes completely glazed over as you rapidly blinked up at the ceiling in an attempt to erase the fuzzy bits in your vision.

"Oh my G– Anne!" Joe was quick to remove the box and the books that were tumbling out. "Breathe. Careful, don't move, just focus on breathing." Joe advised as he watched you struggle.

"What dropped?" Anne asked, getting closer now and trying to find the source of the whack.

"She did."

"I know she did, but what was that–"

"That was her." Joe tried to make eye-contact. "Hey, just breathe, all right? Are you hurt?"

The eye-contact failed, as did answering Joe's question.

You hadn't even properly heard him it felt like.

Anne and Joe shared a look, for a moment both unsure of what to do. Who was going to take the lead on this? Joe didn't work there, but Anne was a literal teenager.

Before they could even think of discussing a game plan, you incoherently asked through a constricted panicked voice if anyone had thought of the fire escape. They both turned to look at you, both faces frowning in confusion.

"Huh?"

"What was that?"

Joe and Anne spoke at the same time.

"I think I forgot. Are the bugs gone?" you winced as you moved a hand to where your head hurt, and Joe was quick in deciding he was going to have to be the one to call the shots on this. He'd clearly chosen to spend all day at the bookstore for a reason, so it seemed.

It took a little while for you to return to normal.

You babbled through some more disjointed chat whilst Joe carefully checked with his fingers if your head was bleeding. It wasn't, which was good. But you did wince in pain as he slowly felt around in your hair before you tried to sit up and take your shoes off.

Anne had to fight you back down onto the floor and sternly told you to relax whilst Joe slid his folded jacket underneath your head.

When your consciousness returned into the room, you were met by a girl sat by your side who was scrolling through concussion symptoms, and a guy stood up by your feet, talking to someone on the phone.

"What's going on?" You'd asked, and Anne had just casually said, "You fell."

Joe'd called your mum on your phone. Anne knew the code. Joe told himself he'd give her a stern talk about normal-people things like privacy later. Priorities lied elsewhere right now.

And then you'd thrown up into the box of books that had taken you down earlier.

Served it right, Joe thought.

Joe'd held your hair through it, and kept brushing back little pieces that kept falling into your face. His touches were so tender and gentle but they still hurt, and you were absolutely mortified. So fucking embarrassed. There was a fucking celebrity in the store and you were vomming into a box of books that, halfway through, got swapped for an empty bucket.

It smelled awful, and it probably was the most unattractive thing in the world.

You felt like the most unattractive thing in the world.

"Sorry you had to see that." you croaked when Anne handed you a glass of water to rinse your mouth.

"We think you're concussed."

Somehow, that made perfect sense.

"You took quite the tumble. The back of your head must be hurting."

You moved to sit with your back against a cupboard door, careful to not lean your head back too far, and Joe decided to stay put next to you. Keep an eye on you. Hold your hair back in case you weren't quite done throwing up yet.

Meanwhile, Anne had moved into the backroom and did her best in trying to save whatever books she could from where you'd thrown up over them.

"Do you have any pain anywhere else?"

You paused a second to focus on the feelings inside of your body, and then moved an arm to touch the opposite elbow.

"Your elbow? Are you bleeding?" Joe used a soft hand to move your arm so he could have a look. "Does it hurt a lot?" No broken skin. Joe hoped that maybe the blow he'd heard had been your elbow, and not your actual skull.

"Stop asking her a million questions!" Anne shouted from the back, like she hadn't been doing the exact same thing before.

"You'd tell me if you weren't okay, wouldn't you?" Joe's voice remained soft and warm for you. All kind and gentle.

For a moment, you just looked at him.

"Hi," he smiled, and he saw how you were trying to puzzle the situation together. "I'm Joe."

"I know who you are."

"Oh, that's great!" Joe exclaimed.

"Were you... did you happen to just be in here to buy books, or..."

Oh.

Not so great.

You knew who he was, but you didn't know who he was.

"Um, no, not really. I actually come in here a lot. I um... you let me hog one of the armchairs where I read books."

"You do?"

"Yea, it's awfully rude of me." Joe smiled. "But I'm lucky. You're very cool about it."

Joe could feel his chest swell at the faintest hint of a smile coming from you.

"He's your boyfriend." Anne bluntly interrupted as she stepped back into the storefront, and before you could even begin to process that wild bit of information, she added, "But not really. The two of you are... you're really weird about it."

It sounded like a weird joke, and you looked between the both of them to figure out what the punchline was, because you didn't get it.

Joe just smiled when you looked at him.

"She hates it."

"I do." Anne confirmed, walking across the store to move the sign on the door to 'closed'. Your mum was going to come by and pick you up to get your head checked and there was no way Anne wasn't going to go with.

Joe craned his head to watch Anne as she went to fetch the A-frame out front and then leant close and whispered, "We kind of like that she hates it."

That made you smile into your lap.

"Have you um..." you started, suddenly frowning. "Do you have a plaster for me?"

Joe's concern immediately grew again. He wasn't quite back where he was twenty minutes ago, when you'd laid right where he was sitting now, unable to catch your breath properly, but his eyes bulged like he was just as worried anyway.

"Why? Are you bleeding? Where?"

"I've not finished my homework."

"You've not..." Joe tried to make sense of something nonsensical before he realised he'd lost you again.

Joe wondered if he could let someone know he wasn't going to be able to leave the city tomorrow. Let alone the fucking country. The prospect of leaving you like this for a few weeks and having to actually do a job seemed impossible.

How was he not going to be thinking about you all the time?

To be fair, his life was already like that, a little.

But especially now; after all this, no one could expect him to not constantly worry if you were all right, could they?

"I don't think I've got any plasters for you, sorry."

"Oh," you seemed disappointed, but only for a second. "You bought Blindness from me."

There you were. Back again. God, he really did already miss you, even though you were right there.

"I did."

"You hadn't... you'd not read it, but you'd seen the film."

"I had."

"I remember."

"Read it in one day."

You'd likely be fine.

People got concussions all the time, didn't they?

"Sorry, I'm all over the place."

"You're not actually," Joe smiled. "You're right here."

Joe was going to leave the country tomorrow, and you'd stay with your mum until you'd be one hundred per cent again. You would keep the store closed, so there was no use in him hanging around anyway. And then, when you'd be all better, he'd pop back in on a random Tuesday morning without any warning, and then he could tell you all about today. You'd likely not remember a thing of it, all of it a lost moment to you, but one that he'd get to keep. Get to cherish. Get to share with you later.

"My head hurts..." you suddenly said like you'd only just realised it.

"Yea, you fell." Joe could go through this loop again, he didn't mind.

"I did?"

"Hmm, we think you're concussed. Your mum is coming to pick you up, have you checked out by a doctor to double check and make sure you're okay."

"We?"

Joe saw how you went to reach for the back of your head again, but before your fingers could disappear into your hair, the bell above the door chimed and Anne said, "No sign of her yet."

"That's Anne." Joe calmly explained, and then reached to grab hold of your hand, protecting you from touching your painful bits again. He'd make sure to hold it until your mum arrived.

Joe saw your eyes grow wide as you recognised him again, and smiled.

"And I'm Joe."

---

The Taglisted

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

@phyllosilicate-s, @royale1803, @sherrylyn0628, @sidthedollface2, @solzi1420,

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

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

taglist currently full, sorry

[luveline]

Jade! For AU’s could I request a Roan and Eddie b where reader has to go away for a couple days for work and when she comes back home Roan cries happy tears and Eddie is all :0

thank you for your request! eddie and roan ♥︎ fem!reader 2k words

You absolutely do not want to go away for work. You love your life and you hate your job, and it actually feels like a nightmare situation. If it weren't paid you'd probably quit rather than go. But it is paid, and you need the money for the wedding.

Or rather, the honeymoon, the familymoon, to somewhere fancy. White sands, a waterpark. You'd already bought Roan the cutest swimsuit with pink skirts and a bow, and a towel with a hood that makes her look like a dolphin, and those jelly shoes that change colour in the sun. Basically, she's ready for a vacation, except you haven't gotten around to buying the actual vacation yet. 

And so. Work conference. Paid handsomely. 

Leaving Eddie and Roan behind for a full five days. 

It's been a very, very long time since you spent that many days apart. 

Eddie is supportive. "Don't get me wrong, sweetheart, I'm gonna miss you like crazy, but you'll be okay. There are phones in Phoenix." 

"I won't be okay, Eddie," you say swiftly, "I will not be okay. I will miss you so much, I'll probably die." 

He laughs at your conviction. "I'll miss you too, but you won't die. You'll be making the big bucks, bringing home the bacon." 

Roan sleeps in the backseat. Your flight is a late one and she'd insisted she wanted to see you off. She hadn't been able to fight the lulling rumble of the car. You're glad that she's sleeping — you'll descend into tears if you have to say goodbye to her. 

"This sucks," you mumble, sinking down into the passenger seat. 

Eddie reaches over the console to grab a rough handful of your thigh. "This sucks," he echoes. He gives you a squeeze. "Are those new jeans?" 

"You were with me when I bought them. I tried them on for you."  

He gives you another squeeze. "You sure?" 

"Yeah, you said if I didn't get them you'd break up with me." 

His smile turns sheepish. "Who, me? I wouldn't say that." 

You cover his hand. The airport comes into view, a hulking, towering building that blocks the sun. The irony isn't lost on you. 

"Slow down so I can kiss you," you say. 

"Why do I havta slow down?" 

"You'll crash the car." 

"What kind of kiss are we talking?" 

You laugh and unbuckle your belt to climb on knees. It is an entirely unsafe manoeuvre that you wouldn't normally do but you're sick with missing him already and Roan isn't awake to see it. You slide your hand into his hair and tilt his head. 

"Keep your eyes on the road, okay?" you murmur.

You're delighted to hear his breathless reply, "Okay." 

You kiss his cheek, his jaw, all the way down to his chin. He turns his face toward you and you refuse to let him in case you end up in a bender, trying for lovely and ending up sloppy. "Sorry, I think I just slobbered on you," you say into his cheek, punctuating with a last firm peck. You sit back properly and tuck his hair behind his ears. "I love you." 

"I love you, too, weirdo," he says, eyes flitting between you and the road, creased soft with his smile. 

He pulls up to the curb. He can't park here, so you rush around to the trunk, grab your suitcase and wizz to the driver's side to kiss him again through the window.

"I love you," you say quickly, "I love you. Tell Ro I'm sorry, and I miss her, and I'll be home so fast and we are going to Hawaii." 

"We are not going to Hawaii." 

"Pick somewhere while I'm away and that's where we'll go. Tell Roan."  

He reaches for your hand through the window and kisses your fingers. "I love you, sweetheart. Have a safe flight. We'll be right here when you get back, okay? Chill out." 

—

Eddie's lying in bed missing you so much it's driving him crazy when Roan climbs up onto the bed and flops on top of him. 

"Dad, you have a case of the frownies," Roan informs helpfully, draping herself over his lap with her handheld fan sputtering away. 

"I'm fine." 

She turns the fan toward his face, a pleasant break from the stuffy humidity today. She has a case of the frownies too. 

"When's she coming back?" Roan asks for the millionth time. 

Eddie checks his watch. "Uh, sixteen hours." 

"What?" 

He sighs morosely. "Tomorrow, babe." 

"Did you find a new country?" 

He hooks his hands under her armpits and forces her into a hug she didn't ask for but melts against anyways. Her hair is soft under his mouth, and he lays kisses across the top of her head until he feels like he's gonna sneeze. "I give up. If she wants to go on vacation, she has to choose." 

"Dad, that's lazy." 

"I'm allowed to be lazy. You're lazy all the time." Then, because he's trying hard to be a good dad all the time, "You're not lazy, baby, I'm sorry. I'm just cranky." 

"You miss Y/N." 

He pats her back. "Yep." 

He seems to be missing you a lot more than Roan is. While she'd cried when she woke up and realised you'd already left, she's been okay since then. Eddie supposes it's not too different from the life they'd lived before you met. 

Still, he'd expected more. He remembers when Roan was a little younger and she'd cry every time you went home. Funny how the home you'd go to is now their home too.  

"Do you want burgers tonight?" he asks. 

Roan cheers. "Yes!" 

He swings her over his shoulder and carries her squealing down stairs to the kitchen. Her handheld fan gets lost somewhere on the landing. 

He sits her on the countertop and gives her a plastic knife, instructing that she chop the lettuce as he cuts the onions. The frying pan warms, and soon the kitchen is fragrant with the smell of hot oil, caramelised onions and melty cheese. 

They eat standing up. It reminds him of the old days and the nostalgia is nice, but he can't lie to himself. He misses you. He wishes you were here. 

"Babe-" He says, laughing through a mouthful. Roan's got cheese in a huge, impossible stripe over her left cheek. He peels it off using his index knuckle. Roan ignores him, munching through crispy lettuce and tomato with a huge smile on her face. 

"Good?" he asks. 

"So good! You make the best burgers." 

He gives her a slightly greasy kiss on the cheek. "Why, thank you. You chop the best lettuce." 

"And the tomatoes!" 

"And the tomatoes." 

He drops his burger onto the chopping board they're using as a plate and wipes his hand before grabbing her legs to pin her in place. Sure she won't topple forward or sideways into the hot stove top, he reaches around her to toggle on the radio. It's already on a rock station, not necessarily his taste but listenable, and after a few more bites of burger and a glass of juice Roan is bobbing her head happily. 

He doesn't expect her to eat it all and she doesn't, picking out the rest of her vegetables and eating what's left of the cheese. He heats her up another slice and lets her eat it with a spoon. 

Before he starts on the dishes, he picks her up and helps her wash her slimy hands in the sink. He turns the faucet up too high and they both laugh as they're sprayed in cold water, shirts wet, faces damp.

"Guys?" 

Roan literally screams. Eddie slaps off the faucet and whips her around, and there you are in the doorway with your suitcase and the world's biggest smile. 

"Hey, what are you guys doing?" you ask, peeling off your jacket and throwing it across the bannister. "I thought I said no fun while I was away?" 

Roan drops like a stone out of his arms and hurtles toward you, leaving a trail of water drops on the floor as she goes. You gasp happily and drag her up the length of you, your shirt tucked between your bodies. He's missed you, that little slip of tummy on display, the way you wrap your arms around Roan like she's made of marshmallow, the way your laugh lights up the room. 

"Roanie," you coo, dropping a kiss into her cheek, "my girl, I've missed you so much." 

And that's when Roan bursts into tears. 

Eddie gawps, horrified, and sidles up to you to help. He tucks your shirt back down over your tummy and covers the bump of it with his hand, the other sliding perfect between your shoulders. "Roan?" he asks softly. 

Roan is inconsolable. It's startling, the ferocity and thickness of her tears, fat teardrops rolling down her cheeks as she sobs and fists her hands in the neckline of your t-shirt. You look up to Eddie and frown in question. He has no answers for you. 

"Sh, sh, princess," you whisper, hand behind her head. You start to sway slowly, the smallest movements from left to right. "It's okay, baby." 

"I missed you," Roan sobs out, arms sliding around your neck. She clings to you hard.

"I missed you too!" you rush to say. "I missed you so much, Roan, I'm so sorry. I wanted to come home every single day, I promise."

"I missed you," she says again.

Eddie knows the difference between Roan's crying. There's angry tears during a tantrum, and sick tears when she's not feeling well. There's crocodiles when she doesn't get her way, and the quiet, quick tears after a sad movie. 

There are happy tears, like when you went to her mother's day class performance, and there are sad tears, like when she realised you'd left for phoenix. Eddie thinks these tears might be a mixture of the two, plus a smidge of good old fashioned overwhelmedness. Big feelings in a little body. 

You drop your lips to her head and kiss her between gentle reassurances. Eddie would help, but he honestly thinks you have it covered. 

"Please don't go away soon," Roan says. 

You smile. "I'm not going anywhere." 

Eddie smashes his cheek to your temple and tries to hug you and Roan both at the same time. 

A little later, when Roan is wiped but insistent on sitting in your lap anyways, dozing face pressed to your chest, you start a conversation in whispers. "Eddie, you said she was okay!" 

He turns from the frying pan in front of him where your burger is browning, helpless. "Sweetheart, I genuinely thought she was!" 

"Don't sweetheart me," you say, a little less incensed. Your anger isn't real, anyhow. Your exasperation, however. 

"Sweetheart," he says again, because he can, because you're home, "she was doing okay. Guess she missed you more than she was willing to show." 

You look down at Roan, pretty much lovesick. Your shoulders deflate with relief. "I missed her. I missed you both. That was…" You scratch your nails through Roan's hair, lost in thought. 

He turns back to your burger. "We missed you too." 

He serves up your food with a kiss, and then another when he remembers how long it's been since the last. 

"Did you at least pick where we're going for the honeymoon?" 

Eddie sits down heavily in the seat beside you and beams. "No, not even slightly." 

Your answering groan makes him laugh, and the pit framed from your absence in his chest steadily refills. 

"Hey!" he defends himself. "You came home early."

-

more eddie and roan

[nuria-schnee]

Hi everyone! ❤️ In this week's sneak peek, I bring you a bit of one of Crystal's scenes in the first chapter. She seems to be onto something...

Crystal almost fell asleep in the lift. She’d had to escape a swarm of monstrous iron-stinger wasps and neutralise a poltergeist that night, and Jenny scolding her had been the last thing she needed. Not that she exactly disliked it. She knew it was her way of showing she cared about her well-being. This was the part she hated the most. Facing the door of her flat, getting the keys out of her pocket. It shouldn’t fill her with dread, but it did. She always hesitated for a second before opening the door, fighting against the delusional hope that bloomed under her skin. What Crystal wanted was to open the door and find someone waiting for her inside. To be welcomed by the sight of a warm, cheerful smile, one she couldn't help but miss. Instead, only the silence and the obvious emptiness of her new home welcomed her when she returned. Everything was as she'd left it, and she hated it.

Read the rest of the scene under the cut!

[...] Crystal stepped into the flat, closed the door, and collapsed back against it. Letting out a tired sigh, she closed her eyes and dropped her bag on the floor. She was cold and every part of her body ached after such a long night of running around solving cases. The feeling was gratifying, even if it wasn't physically pleasant. It reminded her for a little while that she wasn't alone, that she had a purpose now. That knowledge kept her sane when she was by herself. Made sleeping much easier, considering how plagued by nightmares and fears her nights were since Niko died. A continued feeling of loneliness had taken roots in her mind, every empty corner of the flat a reflection of it. She hadn't bothered about buying furniture and decorations yet and still hadn't the energy or the time to do it. In the end, she had more important things to take care of at the moment. She breathed in and out, and pushed herself away from the door. Dragging her feet, she crossed the empty living room. Jenny had blamed the boys for her lack of energy and sleep, but they weren’t truly at fault. They weren’t forcing her to come along at night, or asked more than she could take. It was another thing entirely, what had been exhausting her. Because— The most logical thing to do after such a night was collapse on the bed and sleep. And she didn’t do the most logical thing most nights. That flat only had one other room, aside from the bedroom. It was narrow and dark, without windows, probably meant to be a storage room. She liked to think of it as her own private study, her little agency, if only to make it less bleak. She was working on a case of her own, in the end. Her investigation, the process of trial and error, was probably taking longer without the boys’ help. Even so, Crystal couldn’t tell them what she was doing. In fact, what scared her the most was Edwin finding out. Charles might be excited, would want to help, no doubt, and would worry too much, for sure. Edwin, instead— She had got to know him pretty well, in all those months since they’d met, and they still argued and metaphorically head-butted most of the time, but Crystal cared about him. He was her friend, and she wanted to be a good friend to him. So, she was worried Edwin might stop trusting her, or resent her, if this didn’t go well. When they met, she wouldn’t have guessed she’d end up craving his acceptance. Not in a million years. In the security of her mind, she didn’t mind admitting it, since it was the truth. The thought of breaking Edwin’s heart perturbed her greatly. Even if she couldn’t read him, being a ghost and all, she didn’t to. Not to know he had suffered losing Niko more than he’d allowed them to see. He'd busied himself with work, was all day thinking, pondering, trying to find the reason for the influx of missing ghosts' cases that had been flooding the agency. So, it was in brief moments, easy to miss if she didn't pay attention, that she could see the sadness in him. So, for now, this was her secret.

[vivwritesfics]

helping Lando recover from a breakup with his ex-girlfriend, and after months he realizes your feelings for him, that you kept secret the whole time??

"You'll be okay, Lan," Y/N said over the phone.

He'd had a breakup, and a messy one at that. Normally, when Lando and his now ex-girlfriend fought, Y/N was there to support him. She gave him the advice he needed and got them back on the right track, no matter how much it hurt her.

But not this time. This time, she was out, heading on a date. What? She couldn't keep loving Lando from afar forever. It hurt. It really, really hurt.

Y/N arrived at the restaurant. Her date was there, sitting in a booth on the corner of the room. Y/N ordered herself a drink and sank into the seat opposite him.

The date was, well, terrible. The guy spoke about himself for the entire thing. And, if he wasn't speaking to himself, he was getting Y/N to talk about Lando. Essentially she spent the entire date talking about Lando, which didn't much help with the way Y/N was feeling.

She didn't go back to her own apartment. Instead she went to Lando's, knocked on the door and waited for him to answer.

When Lando did answer, his eyes were puffy, dressed in his favourite hoodie and pyjamas. "Oh, Lan," Y/N whispered as she threw her arms around him.

"I mean, she sucked, but I hate not feeling loved, you know?" He said as Y/N led him over to the couch.

She didn't know why they broke up. Their last few fights had been about Y/N, but that couldn't have been why they broke up, right?

Yes, it could. Y/N was exactly why they had broken up. She made Lando's ex feel threatened just by being there for Lando in a way she wasn't. In a way she didn't feel she could be.

"Can we have a couple of days, just the two of us?" Asked Lando as he laid his head in her lap. "Please?"

"Of course we can, Muppet," Y/N said softly as she leaned down to kiss his head.

Lando smiled. It was tender, in a way he hadn't felt in the longest time.

So, the two spent the weekend together. It was all movies and snacks, not sticking to Lando's diet at all.

They cuddled close throughout the weekend, Lando treating her like his girlfriend. He didn't know he was doing it, but he was. And Y/N was loving it.

But then the weekend ended and Y/N had to go off to her job on Monday. Lando missed her. He missed her terribly. Lando couldn't work out what it was, why his chest was aching whenever he thought about her.

It took Lando a good few weeks to work out he was in love with her, to work out that he wanted her by her side all day every day. He wanted her there and Y/N was nowhere to be seen. But, she'd never like him back, would she?

(Yes, Lando. Yes, she would)

[purposefully-lost]

Jack,

Sorry I haven't written in a while. Things just got busy at school. I'm still playing basketball, but I think I might quit after this year. It's just taking up too much time. Especially if I want to stay on the school newspaper and work on photography a little more often. I don't know if I told you last time, but I sold off my old camera and finally saved up enough to get something a little bit newer. It's done me a lot of good.

I hope you're settling in alright. I miss you when I don't Write back soon.

Chris.

She stared down at the letter with a frown. It wasn't very long. Not at all like what she used to send him. It used to be so easy to write him pages and pages of every little thing that'd been on her mind, from school to her hikes in the woods to the books she'd been reading. It wasn't that she didn't still want him to know about all of those things, it was just that she didn't want to be a downer when he heard from her. School had been awful, she didn't get out to hike much at all anymore, and she hadn't been able to focus on books to save her life. Even her old favorites hadn't been any comfort to her anymore. Her absolute lifeline when it came to making herself feel better had, for a long time, been to reread Rabbit's old letters, but even those just made her sad.

But she didn't want to lose touch with him entirely. That would be.. awful. The worst. She didn't know what she'd do if one day, he stopped writing her back. Chewing on the inside of her cheek, she sighed through her nose, tugged open a drawer of her desk to search for an envelope, and tucked the letter inside. Alongside it, she found a couple of the photos she'd recently developed- one of beautiful stag she'd caught sight of, and one a rare photo of herself, taken in the reflection of a guard station window at the campgrounds she'd visited. She'd smiled for it, but looking at it now, she still didn't think she looked happy, exactly. She still added it just because she wanted him to have it.

She sealed it, placed a stamp on the corner, and scribbled their addresses out on the back. She hoped it reached him soon.

@unwillingprince