#and i like breaking bad and he started watching breaking bad !!

[seeliemansi]

You Made Him Worried (Mr. Crawling x Reader)

Synopsis: The last thing you want is to make him worried

a/n: Wrote this while high on antihistamine, will probably rewrite after I got better *hic*

Part of this universe

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

Mr. Crawling despises it when you get hurt. He tends to be extra clingy, extra needy, and very shaky when it happens.

You have to be careful as you dance around the topic of you getting hurt because he is not playing with your safety.

That's why when you slipped, and the cause was just you being careless as you decided that running towards your apartment to go home is a good decision during a sudden rain, it hit you so bad, you didn't even have time to say ouch out loud. Enough with protecting yourself from getting wet. You were more worried that he will panic and will start a power surge that can cause an electricity loss in your apartment building. You need the heater and can't sleep with how cold it is tonight.

Your white dress is wet and ruined. Your hair is a mess. You are bruised and in pain. And you walk upstairs with a limp. A good way to end the day you supposed.

You remind yourself to be cool. Not to make Mr. Crawling worried. You just want it to not be awkward when you meet him back home, waiting for you at his usual spot.

At least that's the plan.

The moment you stepped inside, all smiles, acting silly, downplaying what happened, you tried your best. You really do.

But when you opened your eyes, and looked at him.

His smile was turned into a frown. And with a shaky voice he asked.

“You, what happened?”

“You. Blood? Wound?”

“Hurt? Hurt?” He continued asking as he grabbed your arm. A wince came out of your mouth not from his hold, but from a cut you never saw due to the dimly lit streets and the mud that clung on your skin.

“No! Mr. Crawling, I am okay. See, not hurt and painful at all.” You grabbed his hand and wrapped it around yours, trying to divert his attention. You bite the inside of your cheeks, pretending that your whole body is not sore from the fall.

“Let's go, Mr. Crawling. I need to change or I will get a cold.” You insisted as you stepped inside and tried to chuckle, trying to dissipate the tension that is slowly building up in the air. When suddenly, he stopped, pulled his hands out of your hold, slowly stood up, and towered over you.

“No!” He screamed, voice deeper than usual. He walked closer, an inch away from you. His breathing is heavy. His hair seems to have a brain of its own as it stood, like Medusa’s snakes. The electricity flickers as he moves.

You gulped, planning to take a step back but you’ve been cornered by a wall. You can only helplessly look up at him. Watching the dark look clouding over his face.

—-----

“You done?” He asked, too chirpy to your liking.

“I will be done soon. Can you let go of my hand for a moment?” You draw circles on his hand that was holding yours as you bathe in the tub. The curtains were drawn, to give you a little privacy. A little uncomfortable but if you fully close it, he will surely sit in the tub and watch you bath instead.

This is the only compromise he agreed to so he will stop standing up and darkening your hallway.

Although you know he wasn't capable of hurting you, you got so scared when he suddenly stood up and towered over you. All you can think about is to make a compromise that he will like, or at least to lessen his worry. It breaks your heart to see him worried.

“Yes. Yes. Towel?” He offered. But when you tried to grab it from his hold, he pulled it so you would let it go.

“No! Me help you.” He insisted.

“But I can do it by myself.” You countered.

“I said no. I will help you.” A shiver ran down your spine when he suddenly was able to form a whole sentence in your language.

“Alright.” You sighed and stepped out of the tub. He is standing up, hands holding the towel wide open. He is grinning and looking thrilled. Who would have blamed him? It is the first time you two are inside the bathroom together. “Come! Come!” He giggles as he wraps it around you.

The way he switches from terrifying to sweet is always a surprise to you. He can be the sweetest but when push comes to shove, the most frightening ghost you have ever seen.

“Here, kiss. Kiss. Kiss.” He spoke as he raised your arm and kissed all the visible cuts and bruises you have on your skin.

You can't help but giggle from the gesture, feeling your heart swell with happiness. You may be sore but you're glad that you took him home.

[keikikait]

ᴛᴡᴏ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴇᴅ (ʀᴀꜰᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴏɴ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

this is part two. for part one, click here!

pairing: rafe cameron x kook!f!reader, (not au, both are early to mid 20s)

word count: 4.4k

summary: rafe gives you an ultimatum, and in the setting sun, you see another

warnings: ANGST!!!!, pining/whipped reader, kook!reader & kook!rafe, suggestive but no outright smut, ultimatums, jj is alive, arguing, not proofread

a note: i'm sorry this is late!

please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

Were you being punished by your love for him?

You tried to move on, you really did. You tried everything you could think of, bar from ignoring Rafe all together. You had even joined a dating app, where you met a fellow Kook named Alexander, and you went on a few dates with him. He was a great guy, handsome, smart, and charming, but he wasn’t Rafe. Alexander didn’t draw your attention away from your best friend that you were hopelessly still in love with, even after trying to gaslight yourself into believing that you had a crush on him.

You kept Alexander around for a while. He was a fun guy, he paid for your little lunch or coffee shop dates, and he was a good fuck. You had lied and told him that you just weren’t a very vocal girl in bed, but in reality you were biting your tongue to keep from moaning Rafe’s name into his ear. It had been a few weeks, and even after everything, Rafe was still the only person you thought of when you slipped your hands under your panties at night. You eventually started to feel bad about leading him on and tried to break things off amicably. He didn’t take it well, but you didn’t expect him to.

You had tried to distract yourself, going to party after party and club after club, making out with whatever guy you could get your hands on. But nothing worked. You couldn’t stop thinking about your Kook prince, the most feared man on Kildare that had a soft spot in his heart for you. 

You had almost hoped that Rafe would’ve ditched you, would’ve kicked you to the side like a dog. At least it would be easier to move on that way, and you wouldn’t be stuck under his thumb, thinking about the ways you could get out of the hold he has on you. He still wanted to see you and be around you, constantly calling and texting like it was normal, like you hadn’t professed your undying love to him only three weeks ago. You felt like a two-headed monster. One head was his best friend, one head was deeply in love with him.

You know he’s fine, but what about you? What do you do?

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Even after everything, you still have to show up for your Friday night tradition; sitting on Rafe’s sofa, tucked under his arm, watching a shitty 80s zombie movies while eating a Costco pizza. You shouldn’t have agreed, knowing it would only make things harder, but you would do anything for him. Your poor heart would always surrender to him.

Maybe this time he would start falling for you, too.

You pull into the driveway of his new house, grabbing the pizza from the backseat before heading up to the front door, balancing the giant box with one hand as you knock.

The door swings open a second later, with Rafe standing in the doorway, grinning at the sight of the pizza box in your hands. He steps aside, gesturing for you to come in. “You’ve arrived with the goods, I see.”

You swallow hard. He looks so fucking good, wearing a tight black t-shirt and a pair of dark green sweatpants. You hug him with one arm, burying your face in his shoulder and inhaling deep. Your eyebrows furrow slightly and your free hand clenches around your keys. He smells different. Sweeter. Almost like candy.

Sofia must’ve been here earlier.

You pull away, carrying the pizza box into his living room. “Yup. I got you extra cheese, too.”

He follows behind you, shutting the door behind the two of you. His arm wraps around your shoulder when you reach the sofa, pulling you in tight to his side. “Extra cheese for my girl.” he teases, taking the box from you to set on the coffee table. You’re on the edge while he’s so goddamn polite and composed.

You tense up slightly as you settle into his sofa, grabbing the remote. You turn the TV on, trying to distract yourself from the empty feeling building up inside of you and gnawing at your guts. “Which movie are we watching tonight?”

“Mm…” He stretches out on the sofa, his legs tangling with yours as he looks over your shoulder at the TV. His body is pressed up against yours, and as usual, his proximity starts to stir up feelings deep inside of you. Feelings you thought you had managed to repress. “How about Romero?”

Your eyebrows furrow again. This man was going to give you wrinkles. “I thought we were watching zombie movies. Not ones about a Salvadoran archbishop.”

“No, not Romero like the actual archbishop, I mean like--” He lets out a frustrated sigh. “The man who invented the zombie film genre, dumbass. Do you need me to find a new best friend or something? Because you’re starting to get a little too idiotic for me.”

What the fuck? “Excuse me?”

He snorts, watching you get defensive. “Come on, it was a joke,” he says, nudging you with his knee. “Lighten up, I’m just teasing.”

“It wasn’t funny.” You say.

It’s then that he notices the way your shoulders are tense. Your jaw is clenched, and your eyes focus on the screen in front of the two of you with a bit too much intent. You’re upset. He can feel the agitation radiating off of you, and he hates it. He’s too used to his best friend being comfortable with him, happy around him. He lets out a breath, sitting up straight. “Don’t be like that,” he mutters. “Relax.”

“You don’t get to call me a dumbass, Rafe.” You say, your tone sharp.

Rafe stares at you, his irritation rising bit by bit. He takes in your expression, your sharp tone, the agitation that was practically coming off of you in waves. This was new territory for him. You weren’t just being cold, you were pissed. He’d never seen you this pissed at him. He didn’t like it.

He wanted the old you back, the you he thought you were. His best friend, his confidant, not the girl who’s helplessly in love with him, not the girl who lies awake all night thinking about him. Not the girl who moans his name into her pillow as she cums, hoping one day he would fall in love with her, too. He wanted you to just move on, to give up, to completely wipe your romantic feelings for him clean. He wanted more, while leaving you with less.

“You didn't use to care about this shit,” He says. “Not until you decided you were in love with me or whatever.”

“Decided?” You ask, scoffing. “It isn’t something you just wake up and decide.”

Rafe stares at you, his gaze hard, almost like he’s trying to search for the words that he wants to say. He was never good at this, talking about his feelings. He sighs, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “I… I don’t know.” He mutters, staring down at the floor. “I just wish things were the way they used to be, okay? I didn’t ask for all this bullshit. I never asked you to feel this way, so why are you making things so difficult?”

“I didn’t ask for this either.” You say.

“Well, you’re the one whose in love.” He says, the words almost bitter on his tongue. “You’re the one who made things difficult. I didn’t ask you to feel this way. I didn’t tell you to go and fall in love with me. So why are you getting pissed because I’m not in love with you too?”

“I’m not pissed, Rafe,” You say, although deep down you truly are. “I knew from the very beginning that I had no chance with you. I wouldn’t love me, either.”

He falls silent, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t know how to respond to that. He knew that wasn’t true. He knows that you’re beautiful, and sweet, and kind, and funny. He knew that you should have every chance with him. But he just didn’t love you that way. “How many times do we have to go over this?” He asks, his voice soft. “I’ve never loved you like that. You’re my best friend, you know that.”

“Thanks for the reminder.” You say bitterly.

He grits his jaw, frustrated now. He hated how bitter you were when it came to this. He hated that you expected him to be in love with you back when he just didn’t see you that way. He hated that he had to keep explaining this over and over again to you, and he hated the fact that you were just sitting here, pouting like a toddler. Like a girl who was in love.

He was tired of being the bad guy in this. “Then you shouldn’t have fallen in love with me.”

“I wish I never did.” You say.

He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t know what to say. He just turns to look at the movie, his jaw clenched. He hated that you said that. He hated that you wished you’d never fallen for him. He didn’t want you to wish that. If you didn’t fall for him, how long would it be before you fell for someone else? Someone who wasn’t him? He didn’t want the thought of you with another guy to piss him off so much.

Rafe sighs. “Quit looking at me like I’m the bad guy here.”

“Do you want me to pretend you’re a good guy?” You ask, crossing your arms.

“I am the good guy,” He snaps, his eyes narrowing. What the hell? He knew he wasn’t an angel by any means, but he was a good guy. He took care of his family, protected his friends, and stayed loyal to his girlfriend. “You’re the one who fell in love with me. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

You sigh, looking away. This was pointless, even more pointless than the daydreams you filled your mind with when you couldn’t sleep. “Whatever.”

He looks at you for a moment, jaw clenched, his body tense.

“You know, this whole self-pitying, 'woe is me, Rafe is the bad guy' bullshit is starting to piss me off. It’s getting annoying.” He says.

“I don’t know what you want me to do, Rafe.” You say.

“Stop acting as if I’ve done something wrong. Like I’ve wronged you,” He says, exasperated. He can’t understand why you’re being like this, and it’s pissing him off even more. “I don’t like you that way. I’ve never liked you that way. Why is that such a hard concept for you to accept?”

“It isn’t,” You say, your voice starting to get thick with emotion. “I know you don’t like me, I know you aren’t attracted to me, I just… it’s just so hard for me to move on, and I don’t know why.”

Rafe is silent for a moment, watching as your face starts to crumble. He can’t help but sigh. He moves closer to you, placing his hand on your thigh. Normally, it was the opposite. Normally it was you comforting him, not him trying to comfort you. “It’ll pass. You’ll get over it eventually.”

It’ll pass.

It’ll pass.

It will never pass, will it?

You sniffle, one hand reaching up to wipe the corners of your eyes. “I should go.”

He catches your wrist, tugging you back down on the sofa. “Sit down,” he says, his voice firm. “You’re not going anywhere yet. We need to talk about something.”

“About what?” You ask, not looking at him.

He lets go of your wrist, crossing his arms over his chest. “This,” He says simply, gesturing towards your face. “This…depression, sadness, self-pity bullshit. I hate seeing you the way you are right now, like you’ve just been kicked down. It’s pathetic. It’s not you.”

You don’t reply, finally looking over at him, eyes red rimmed with tears.

He stares back, his expression unchanging. You think he would’ve softened up at the sight of you, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to see you like this anymore. You’re supposed to be his best friend, the person he confides in and takes comfort in. “You’re supposed to be the person I come to when I’m upset. Not the other way around. This pity party you have going on needs to end. You’re better than that.”

You look back down at your lap, starting to pick at the skin around your thumbnails. “What do you want me to do?”

“Move on,” Rafe says, his tone harsher than he intended. “Move the fuck on. I want my best friend again, not this whiney, insecure brat. I don’t have any romantic feelings for you, and I’m tired of treating you with kid gloves because you can’t handle the truth. Get a grip and get over it. You either move on, and things go back to normal, or we stop being friends.”

You feel your stomach drop, your throat constricting, air getting caught in your windpipe. You don’t look at him, continuing to dig your fingernails into your skin. He watches you for a moment, noticing the way your chest shakes as you try to keep back the tears. He knew your habits by now, and he noticed the way your hands started to fiddle and pick. You did that when you were trying to distract yourself. You did that when you were upset, hurt. 

“Stop that,” He mumbles, reaching out and grabbing your hand.

You pull your hand away and stand up, fists clenching as your chest shakes. You couldn’t break down. Not here, not in front of him. “I should go.”

Rafe reaches out, grabbing your wrist again. He stands up too, using his grip to tug you back towards him. “We need to talk about this. Sit down.”

You pull away again, taking a step back, a soft squeak tumbling out of your mouth as you start to cry.

The squeak causes his stomach to twist. His face falls. “Don’t pull away from me.” He pleads softly, his hand reaching out for you again.

You retreat again, shaking your head as more tears start to fall. Your legs shake, your hands coming up to cover your face.

He grabs your wrist again, gently pulling you into his arms. “Stop it,” he says firmly, pulling you in close to his chest, his arms wrapping tightly around your trembling frame. “Stop.”

You sob into his chest, your hands still covering your face, shoulders shaking violently as you try and take a deep breath.

He stays quiet, one arm wrapped around your waist to hold you firmly against him. His other hand comes up to tangle in your hair, playing with the roots of it as his chin rests on the top of your head. “Stop crying,” He repeats, his voice a bit gentler. “I’m not worth it.”

“Yes you are.” You mumble, wiping your tears with your fingers, palms still pressed against your face, mascara smearing across your cheeks.

“No, I’m not,” He says firmly, his breath fanning over the crown of your head. His fingers tighten slightly in your hair, rubbing slow circles into your scalp. Not to offer comfort. No, he knew that wouldn’t work. But to just keep you where you were, firmly held against his chest. “I’m a disaster. Even after everything, after trying to change, I’m still a disaster.”

“You're not a disaster.” You say, pulling back to look at him.

He stares down at you, his expression hard to read. He has his usual, guarded look on, but the way his hand reaches up to gently wipe away one of your tears gives away the fact that he’s affected. “I am,” He repeats, his voice quiet. “And I won’t ever be the man you think I am.”

You hesitate. “I want the Rafe I’m looking at. Not the picture of you in my head.”

He lets a huff of air out through his nose, his expression softening for the briefest of moments as he looks down at you. You were so beautiful, even when you were crying and on the edge of a breakdown. But he couldn’t allow himself to get caught up in it again, like in high school. He had moved on. At least, in his mind. “You’ll never be satisfied with that. I’m no saint, and I’ll never be the romantic, fairy tale guy you want me to be.”

“I just want--” You try to correct yourself, although you meant the former. “I just wanted to be yours.”

He stiffens for a second, his gaze hardening again as he studies your face. “No,” he mutters, a tinge of something you can’t place in his voice. “You can’t be mine. I’m not yours, and I’ll never be yours. You’re not mine to keep, you’re not the one I want, you’re not the one I’m in love with.”

You sigh, your voice soft. “I know.”

He lets out a breath, the expression on his face pained. He cupped your face, wiping away some of the smeared mascara. “I don’t want to keep hurting you,” He says softly. “I don’t want to keep making you cry. I don’t want to keep disappointing you.”

“I’m hurting myself,” You say. “It’s not your fault. I’m the one who just can’t move on.”

“You’re not the one at fault,” Rafe says, his thumb still wiping at the tear stains on your cheek. “I’m the one who can’t love you the way you want to be loved. And I’ll never be able to. You deserve someone who can, and I want you to find that person.”

You did find that person, the one holding your face and looking at you like you’re his saving light in eternal darkness. You had ignored so many bad omens, hoping that the universe was wrong, that they made a mistake, that your red strings of fate were intertwined in the stars.

But they weren’t.

You swallow hard. “I’m sorry. I’ll try harder. To get over you.”

“Good.” He says, his thumb brushing under your eye one last time, wiping away a tear. His thumb brushes across your cheek, pressing down slightly to feel the softness of your skin. He moves his other hand to your jaw, moving his thumb side to side on your neck, feeling your pulse. 

His eyes meet yours before his gaze travels over your face, soaking in every detail of you. They linger on your lips, just for a second too long, and much to his dismay, you notice it. His eyes move back up to look into yours.

Your breath hitches ever so slightly, your lips parting. Rafe purses his lips together slightly, rubbing them together, his eyes looking back down at your mouth. He mumbles your name quietly, his voice soft.

“What?” You ask.

He doesn’t answer. 

His eyes are still looking at your mouth. He watches your lips move as you speak, watches how your tongue peeks out of the corner of your mouth ever so slightly. 

He can’t think straight. He can’t think at all. His mind has gone fuzzy, and every cell of his body is telling him something he knows he shouldn’t do. 

His hand slides from your jaw to the back of your neck, and he pulls you in closer.

He places a kiss to your forehead, his eyes closing.

Your eye twitches, your stomach churning, your face getting hot with shame and embarrassment.

He pulls away, looking down at you. “I’m sorry, alright? Can we just… can we just chill and watch a movie?”

You should say no. You should scream at him, yell at him for manipulating you, for looking at you like that and acting like he was going to kiss you.

But you can’t. You can’t bring yourself to hate him, even after this. 

You swallow hard, blinking a few times as you look at the long forgotten pizza box on the coffee table. “Yeah. We can watch a movie.”

He feels relieved. That’s good. 

He gives you a small smile, placing a hand on the small of your back and ushering you towards the sofa. He turns you towards the sofa, gesturing for you to sit down, his hand still lingering on your back, the feel of your skin under your sweater making his heart race. 

His eyes linger on you for a moment, before he turns to grab the remote off of the coffee table. He sits down next to you, trying to keep a normal distance between the two of you, instead of pressing himself up against your side. He opens the pizza box as he opens Hulu, handing you a slice. 

You take it, your fingers and hands numb and tingling as you try to suppress the bile in your throat.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

The Outer Banks is truly paradise on Earth.

Although The Boneyard isn’t the nicest beach on the island, it has a few secluded spots that still manage to take your breath away. You find your favourite spot easily, a small sandbank by the entrance to a long-forgotten cove. It was once filled with rumours of pirates and treasures, but now it’s full of seaweed.

You settle into the sand, holding your sandals in your hands, arms draped over your knees. You watch the sunset pink and orange streaking across the sky, listening to the soft crashing of the waves and the distant call of a seagull. The wind gently pulls through your hair, and you push some behind your ears, closing your eyes as you feel the sun on your face.

It’s peaceful.

Another soft breeze brushes over you, carrying with it the scent of weed, an uncommon occurrence for this particular spot. Not a lot of other people on the island knew of your spot, mainly just Rafe and Sarah.

You turn your gaze to your left, finding a familiar figure sitting about a yard away from you.

JJ smiles, head tilted to the side, a lit joint between his fingers. “Hey.”

“Hey.” You say, smiling softly. You had always had a little soft spot for JJ, considering him to be one of the few Pogues you could actually stand, maybe other than Kiara.

JJ takes a hit of the joint, looking out over the ocean, the sun starting to descend towards the horizon. He sighs contently before turning to look at you again, raising his eyebrows as he studies you. “What’re doing out here all alone?”

“Just watching the sunset.” You say. You pat the sand next to you, inviting him to take a seat.

“Yeah? Me too,” He says, moving closer to take a seat next to you. He stretches out his legs, leaning back onto his hands and resting his head against the sand. He takes another hit from the joint, sighing out the smoke before offering it to you. “Want a hit?”

You nod, taking it between your thumb and pointer finger. You take a deep hit, sucking in the smoke and blowing it out in a thick white cloud. You hold it out towards him. “Thanks.”

He takes it from you, his fingers brushing against yours. “Anytime,” He says, leaning back. He watches you for a moment, his gaze lingering on your face. The sun is setting in front of you, casting a warm, orange glow illuminating you that catches on your hair. He can’t help but admire the way the sunset looks against your figure, casting a glowing haze around you. His gaze softens in the presence of your soft glow. “You look pretty tonight.”

You smile softly, feeling your face get warm. “Thanks, JJ. So do you.”

He smiles back, his eyes locking with yours. It’s just the two of you out here, and JJ likes it that way. Just you and him sitting alone on the beach, watching the sunset. “Just pretty?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Handsome.” You add.

He’s silent for a moment, staring back at you. He lets out a breath through his nose, trying to hide the grin on his face as his cheeks turn a deeper shade of pink, but it’s still clear on his face. “Damn right, I am.” He mutters. The two of you just stare at each other for a minute, the quiet sounds of the ocean in front of you and the distant sound of a fish jumping, trying to catch a bug flying across the water.

You smile at him again, looking back over the water.

JJ studies your profile for a moment, taking a hit off of his joint before passing it back to you, still staring at you. His eyes linger on your eyes, before slowly dropping down to your lips. He watches you, the soft expression on your face and how your hair blows in the wind. He’s always liked the way you look when you’re relaxed. You always look pretty, but you really look beautiful when you’re relaxed, when there’s no stress or worry in your mind. 

He studies your face, committing every detail to memory. He sits up straighter, placing the joint back in his mouth. He hesitates before throwing one arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to his side. You oblige, slotting yourself against him, leaning your head against his shoulder. 

He smiles to himself, feeling you move closer. His arm tightens around you, fingers absentmindedly tracing circles into your shoulder. He watches the sun over the ocean, noticing how the light dances over the rippling water. He takes the joint from his mouth once again, taking a hit. He holds it in his lungs for a second, before leaning forward slightly, his gaze shifting down to your cheek. He lets out a cloud of smoke from his mouth, the smoke hovering in the air between the two of you.

You take the joint from him and take a hit before handing it back, holding it in your lungs before exhaling slowly. You look up at him, watching as he puts the joint in his mouth as he shifts in the sand. You smile softly again, admiring the way his eyes shine in the pink and orange hues of the setting sun.

Sometimes the one you want is not the one you need.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

part three?

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[reignpage]

Hi!! If you have the time- how would the jjk guys react to the reader giving them the silent treatment?

I hope you're having a wonderful day!

Gojo:

Would try to make you laugh at first When that doesn't work and he notices you're just getting more irritated, he'd start bribing you Buys you flowers, handbags, dresses, jewellery you name it If you're still silent, then he'll go deadly serious Would confront you in the dark, sitting on the sofa like he's been waiting for hours 'Is there nothing I can do? Are we done for good? Are you leaving me too?'

Geto:

Gets snarky Two can play that game He's not the calm and patient guy everyone thinks he is He just reacts in subtle ways Makes passive-aggressive comments But eventually will get tired, sighs and just asks you straight up what he did wrong 'Alright, what happened? Let me inside that head of yours.'

Choso:

Keeps asking you what's wrong Gets really sad and depressed Very much kicked puppy vibes Just follows you around everywhere Until you crack 'I didn't know what I did but I'm sorry. Please talk to me? I'm scared'

Toji:

LOL LMFAO ROFL This man would be soooo annoying He'd be smug as hell at first Says shit like 'It's nice to have peace and quiet here' 'You should get mad at me more often ma' BUT eventually realising you're not gonna crack He'll start to get nervous Starts cleaning up after himself Double checks to make sure the trash is out, he hasn't left any dishes in the sink, didn't miss any appointments or anniversaries etc etc Would send Megumi in to get a feel for your mood 'make yourself extra cute kid' 'ask her why she isn't speaking to me. no don't tell her I told you to. whose side are you on?'

Nanami:

Would ask you immediately if there's something wrong Is so mature and healthy it's irritating 'please communicate with me, darling. I can't apologise and fix whatever I ruined if you don't talk to me.' Eventually, he'll give you space But then you'll start feeling really bad because he'll assume that you hate him or something Like, he'll start buying sandwiches to take to work cause he thinks you won't make lunch for him like normal or sleeps on the couch eats dinner and watches shows by himself so you cave first and the smile he gives you is so worth it

Sukuna:

Doesn't notice a thing at first He isn't the type to be clingy, he's not the affectionate one, he mostly returns it So there'll just be a period of silence Until he begins to feel your absence in which case he'll seek you out and then becomes the clingy one 'it is a pleasant day out, would you care to join me for a stroll? gets sooo offended if you don't say anything 'no? would you prefer to stroll with someone else? tell me who and they will be killed. in fact, continue to remain in silence and everyone will be killed.'

Yuji:

Confused :0 asks Nobara for advice 'you're a girl, she's a girl. so tell me what's going on' 'is it the time of the month?' uses loads of different tricks to make you break performs dances and skits gets Gojo involved tries to get Megumi involved (no chance) he's so stupid you just have to cave and explain he's an idiot and he'll nod happily

Megumi:

yeahhhhhh you'll be having a silent off for days and weeks you'll both continue to co-exist in silence it's just not smart

Inumaki:

annoying as hell texts you shit like: 'when she copies you' 'ho is u good?' 'can you be original at least?' when that doesn't work he'll break into your social media or gaming accounts right in front of you and threatens to release a post pretending to be you like 'you know, hitler wasn't that bad' or an ugly picture of you then you'll have to cave and he gets so caught up in the victory, he'll accidentally post it yep, he's a dead man walking

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Thirty

Couple of things - I've been going through it lately and just wanted to get this bit out. I do have more planned but I need a break after this. The Carpenters song referenced is 'all you get from love is a love song' and if you don't know it you can give it a listen and then you'll get the 'broken arm' joke.

They squish together into the phone booth, Steve hitting the numbers almost on reflex now, going through the motions of briefly speaking to Robin’s mom.

He angles the receiver so that Eddie can hear too, their cheeks practically touching, “Steve! Chrissy’s here-”

“Why?” Eddie cuts her off immediately, “not time to close the shop,” he almost sounds a little critical when he says it, making Steve smile.

“I know I know,” Chrissy says, “but he came back!”

“So we waited for him to leave, and we followed him,” Robin adds enthusiastically.

If Steve couldn’t hear for himself that they’re both at Robin’s place, and they’re both absolutely fine, he’d be panicking now, maybe he kind of is, because he’s sort of snippy when he says, “Robin what the fuck, it’s not safe, you two aren’t- you’re not Cagney and Lacy for fucks sake.”

“Steve it’s fine,” Chrissy tells him, “he went to Starcourt, so we went home and called Hopper right away.”

“Good,” Steve breathes a sigh of relief, “okay, so what now?”

“We don’t know,” Robin admits, “we’re just waiting to hear now. See what happens?”

“Okay we could...Eddie, you want to kill some time in town, and we can call again later?”

“Yeah” Eddie pulls back his sleeve to check his princess watch, “...lunch. And shopping?”

“Sure thing baby.”

Chrissy squeaks down the phone, “oh you’re both just too cute together.”

“Oh my god don’t encourage them.”

“Oh!” Chissy starts, “I met El and all the rest of the kids, isn’t she just, so cool? She made some pens float around!”

“El is the fewest bad kid. She’s quiet,” Eddie agrees, but Steve is absolutely certain Eddie’s warmed to the kids a lot over the last couple of months, so he knows Eddie doesn’t really mean it like that.

“Least,” Steve corrects softly, “she’s the least bad. Probably.”

“Best of a bad bunch?” Robin hazards.

“Maybe,” Eddie tells her, “we can come home soon?”

“Errrr…I mean, see what Hopper says, I guess? We might know later, but you guys shouldn’t come back today anyway, it’s a few hours drive, and you’ll need to pack up and everything, right?”

Steve frowns, as Eddie, very briefly, looks sad, “maybe tomorrow,” he says to Eddie more than the girls, “is that okay?”

“Yeah,” Eddie nods, “I...like the flower shop?”

“You miss it?”

“Yes, and Chrissy. Miss them. I know they’re not gone but...they’re not here.”

“Oh Eddie honey, I miss you too, okay? And when you get back you can come into work, there’s stuff to catch up on,” she whispers then, “Robin isn’t good with the flowers like you.”

“Hey! I’m trying my best here-” but she gives up, everyone else laughing over her.

The payphone starts to beep, “we’ll call later okay!”

Steve’s pretty sure Eddie’s jar will be empty again after today. He’s bought four more records, more Led Zeppelin, plus a Dio record because ‘Rainbow in the Dark’ was playing when they walked in and Eddie really liked it. Steve absolutely certain that the girl with a green Mohawk wearing a Dio shirt sealed the deal, but he's not going to tease Eddie about it.

Eddie comes out of the changing room of the second hand clothes store, showing Steve the jeans he’s trying on. He’s been making do all this time with Steve’s draw string sweats and jeans with a very cinched in belt, so it’s definitely time for Eddie to choose his own things but...Steve wasn’t expecting Eddie to choose anything quite so tight.

“Stevie? What do you think?”

Steve swallows thickly before he answers, he swears Eddie’s only getting away with wearing them because his dicks on the inside, the thing would get strangled otherwise, “you look really good Eds. You like those ones?”

“Yes. Black, like my tail. And look,” Eddie scratches at the ripped fabric, his knees on display, “see my knees. I like to see them, they’re new.”

Steve bites his lips briefly to suppress the chuckle, “you should definitely be proud of those knees, you did grow them yourself.”

Steve frowns at the sight of Eddie in a leather jacket; it’s so very far removed from everything he’s been wearing. It’s so different from all of Steve’s clothes, but Steve can’t deny he’s making it work. It definitely suits the look Eddie’s starting to cultivate. He’s very much leaning towards darker colors, and he was really pleased when he turned up a Led Zeppelin tee shirt out of a pile.

The difference between the Eddie that comes out of the dressing room and the Eddie that went in is startling, Steve’s pullovers and polos all tend to be lighter colors, so all the black is very different.

“You like it?”

“I mean, as long as you like it, sure, you’re the one who has to wear it. But yeah, yeah I do like it. You look good.”

Steve has to stand by while Eddie rummages across a tray of cheap jewellery, “they’ll turn your fingers green,” he warns vaguely. Eddie shrugs, probably not understanding what Steve means as he tries things on, he likes the shiny silver ones that definitely are not silver, “you’re such a magpie.”

Eddie chooses two chunky rings that are so cheap he will get change from his last five dollars, but he clearly likes how they look on his fingers; he doesn’t even take them off to pay for them. Steve knows he’s just here to hold the bags, but he doesn’t mind. Eddie’s worked hard for this money, he should spend it on the things he wants.

Steve meanders through the store, it’s mostly second hand furniture and ‘antiques’, but Steve figures that term is being used very, very loosely. As near as Steve can tell it mostly looks like house clearances and that sort of thing. He spends a little while at the glass cabinets, staring at all the little figurines. 'Dust gatherers,' his dad calls them. There’s some tiny little jade ones, big tall porcelain ones and everything in between.

He’s distracted away from them by the sound of twanging. Bad, uneven twanging on an acoustic guitar. Steve follows the sound, finding Eddie just fiddling with the strings, the guitar still lying on it’s back. It doesn’t have a case, and looks pretty beat to hell to Steve, covered in stickers and all scratched up, but Eddie is entertained by the noises, and he looks up, smiling, “you going to buy it?”

Eddie shakes his head, “not enough left.”

“How much are you short?”

Eddie checks his pocket, and then the little label hanging from the neck, “six dollars?” he hazards.

“Okay, well, I’ve got four left on me, so maybe you can haggle the guy down.”

“I’ll try,” Eddie grins big, taking the change from Steve.

They’ve dropped everything off at the car and, with nothing left to do to kill any more time, they head back to the phone and smush into the booth together.

“He wasn’t there when Hopper got there,” Robin tells them, and Steve sighs, disappointed, “but! El looked into my head real quick, and she says he’s called Doctor Owens. She knew who he was, and she says he’s...nice.”

“Nice,” Steve repeats, deadpan, “a man who facilitated experiments on little kids. Nice.”

“Well...I mean maybe as nice as he could be given the circumstances. I got the impression he never...he wasn’t cruel about it. If you know what I mean.”

“I guess,” Steve hazards, “Eddie?”

Next to him, Eddie’s kind of staring into space, frowning, “Owens. Yes. Remember that word, maybe?”

“Okay. Okay, so what are they doing now Robs?”

“Well, Hoppers keeping an eye out and he’s going to try the Motel right now, but if he’s not there he’s going to start doing drive bys of Starcourt and stuff, and hopefully he turns up,” Steve can hear in her voice that she's shrugging, “but Hopper says since no one else is asking any questions, he’s hopeful that it’s just this guy working alone, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah okay.”

Eddie listens to his new record while Steve makes dinner. He has his guitar over his lap, and occasionally plays a note or two. He understood the mechanics of it already, but Steve figures he must have seen someone with a guitar on TV at some point.

Steve’s absorbed in what he’s doing, and doesn’t notice at first that the twanging noises have stopped. The record ends, but it feels like it’s been a long time of quiet, and Steve looks over to find Eddie, expecting him to be flipping it.

He isn’t.

Steve turns off the stove, covering the two pots he’s been carefully nursing. Eddie isn’t in the cabin; Steve finds him on the dock. He’s just...standing there, in the near dark. Just...staring out across the lake.

“Eddie? You okay?”

Eddie looks around again, “heard something. Had to check it’s safe.”

“You could have said,” Steve comes up close, wrapping a hand around Eddie’s hip. Eddie turns in reflexively, looking for a quick, soft kiss, which Steve is happy to give.

“Think the trees look like The Upside Down.”

“Do you?” Steve looks around; all the trees have leaves on, they’re dense and alive and nothing like the dead twisted things that litter The Upside Down, “I don’t think they do.”

Wind moves through the trees, the susurration of leaves is kind of loud, “sounds like bats. Many many bats,” Eddie shifts closer, pressing himself against Steve.

“You okay?”

“I don’t...I think I don’t like it here.”

“Oh...well,” Steve makes a decision, “since they’re pretty sure it’s just the Owens guy, how about we go home tomorrow? I mean, you might not be able to go to work and stuff until they find him-”

“Yes. Home tomorrow.”

Steve looks around again, tries to see it through Eddie’s eyes. Tries to see what reminds him so much of The Upside Down. Maybe the panic attack in the shower knocked some stuff loose; Steve doesn’t know. Eddie’s been making do with strip washing from the bathroom sink the last couple of nights, and that’s been fine but not ideal. Eddie’s hair needs a wash.

“Okay, we’ll call when we go through town, okay, let them know?”

“Yes...take my book back.”

“You finished it?”

“Almost.”

“Lets go inside, I can finish dinner and you can tell me what it’s about?”

“So they’re...stealing treasure from a dragon?” Eddie nods, his mouth full of dinner. “Okay, fair enough.”

Eddie swallows, “I want to read The Lord of The Rings.”

“Okay, I’m sure we can get it at the library.”

“You promise dragons aren’t real?”

“Yup. Definitely not real, and there’s no hobbits or wizards or- or elves or any of that stuff. And magic isn’t real- well. That kind of magic isn’t real, at least,” Eddie frowns like the book committed a crime.

“But...dinosaurs. Dinosaurs were definitely real, you have those in your book?”

“Yes...dragons can fly though. And breathe fire.”

“Well...some dinosaurs could fly, and they were big like a dragon, some of them.”

“Really?” Eddie’s eyes go wide, “I thought from my book like...cow sized?”

“Hu uh,” Eddie excitement is actually palpable, “definitely a dinosaur book next, some of them were like...as tall as trees,” Steve doesn’t actually know, he was most definitely not a dinosaur kid, but he’s pretty sure at least some of them were tall like that.

“All the time, used to do this. When I had a tail,” Eddie’s voice is muffled where he’s bent over the kitchen sink.

“Yeah...I guess I did,” and it’s true, Steve was washing Eddie’s hair pretty much every other day when Eddie still had a tail. He feels the back of Eddie’s head almost reflexively at the memory, following the ghostly, barely there ridges with his fingers through the suds, “it’s getting so long again already.”

“Good. El said Max makes nice braids when it’s long enough.”

Steve snorts a laugh, “oh yeah? That’s going to look great, now eyes and mouth closed, I’m gonna’ rinse.”

Eddie has his head resting on Steve’s tummy while Steve plays with his hair, hand buried in his curls, massaging his scalp, “what you doing baby?”

“Hear.”

“Hear? Oh what, you’re listening?”

“Listening to Stevie’s inside.”

“Anything interesting?”

Eddie nods, his cheek dragging against Steve’s skin, “funny tummy noises. And bumping.”

“Bumping? Oh, beating, my heart right?”

“Yeah. Stevie, we can definitely go home tomorrow?”

“Sure thing babe, we can get packed up in the morning,” Steve yawns, “you want to go to sleep?”

“Maybe. There’s bad dreams here.”

Steve blinks his eyes open to look down, a weird shiver raising goosebumps on his arms, all the way down to where his hand is still buried in Eddie’s hair. Eddie didn’t have to put that quite so creepily. “I think it’s just...maybe it reminds you of things here, so your mind is kind playing tricks on you a little? There’s nothing bad here baby, I promise. What do you think?”

“The water reminds me of Barb.”

Steve frowns, “Barb? How do you know about Barb?” Under Steve’s hand, something crawls unpleasantly beneath Eddie’s skin.

Eddie shrugs, “Nancy told me you killed her.”

“Stevie!” Steve fights, briefly, confused. “Stevie love, it’s okay. Bad dream.”

Steve’s kind of sweaty and panting, but he quickly realizes that it’s Eddie whose holding him, so he quits moving, “Jesus Christ,” he breathes out slowly, trying to calm himself down, “I’m fine. Thanks. I’ll be okay in a minute.”

“You want to tell me? Here, water.” Steve takes the glass, sipping it carefully. He can feel the cool water go down, grounding him.

Steve has no desire whatsoever to talk about it, so he deflects, “what time is it?”

“Five?” Eddie leans over, checking his watch before putting it back, “half five.”

“I miss you saying five and a half, it was cute.”

“I can say five and a half,” Eddie takes the glass again before snuggling in.

“Did I wake you?”

“No. Already awake...bad dreams.”

“Fucking hell. We need to go home just so we can get a good nights sleep. What did you dream about?”

“You. Lost you, in the trees...we were here but...Upside Down trees? I tried and tried to find you. Could hear you, ‘help help,’ really scared.”

“Maybe it is this place,” Steve settles down again, pulling Eddie close, “weird that we’re both having bad dreams right?”

“I don’t like it.”

“No but...lets just rest a little, and then breakfast and we can get packed up, okay?”

“Okay, Stevie love.”

Eddie waits outside the phone booth, leaning against the car where it sits parked by the curb. Steve calls Family Video today, knowing that Robs should be at work, “hey Bird-”

“He got him! Hopper! He got the Owens guy!”

Steve feels himself relax, one less thing to worry about, “good. Good, we’re coming home.”

“Okay, Hopper does think it was just this guy. He was staying at the Motel, Hop had to wait around a bit, like proper stake out!! But he did get him. Said he couldn’t find any evidence of him like, working with other people, and El’s going to talk to him or something. Make sure. I’m not sure about that bit but-”

“Okay, okay, so where is he?”

“Hopper’s got him at the Motel. Probably like, tied up, do you think? Steve what if he’s like, working for the government though. Or or the Russians-”

Steve rubs his forehead, “Birdie, I know you do love some empty speculation-”

“I do!”

“But how about we wait until we actually like, know?”

“Spoil sport.”

They say goodbye and end the call, Steve offering the keys to Eddie, “want to do a little of the driving?”

Eddie grins big, clearly surprised and pleased by the offer, “yes I do!”

“Okay, careful though, you don’t know the roads like at home. And no getting distracted by the cows.”

Eddie ‘moos’ really loudly in response, once in the drivers seat, he pauses for a second, “should have bought tapes,” he laments.

“Well, unlucky, I’m thinking some Carpenters.”

“Nooooo,” Eddie laughs.

“Shut up, I know you love it. Now sing to me about how the best love songs are written with a broken arm.”

“I think that’s what she said! Broken heart makes no sense,” Eddie grumbles, Steve still laughing.

Eddie had caved after two hours of driving, but still, considering all Eddie had done before today is short journeys around Hawkins, Steve figures he did really well in an unfamiliar place, and he told Eddie so. Eddie has turned into a surprisingly careful driver, Steve doesn’t know if it’s his consideration for Steve’s beloved car, or if it’s Steve’s constant reminders that Eddie cannot afford to draw any attention to himself. Either way, Steve feels safe in the passenger seat.

“Okay, I think I should take you home to unpack, then I can figure out how to call Hop and see if I can go over.”

Steve’s not even surprised by Eddie’s response, “both go, you mean.”

“Eddie...I’m not sure it’s-”

“Stevie,” Eddie manages to make it a complete sentence.

“Look...I’m not going to take your choice away, okay, if you want to come, then that’s fine. But...you get I just want you to be safe, right? And I feel like the less this guy knows, the better?”

“I know...I know,” Eddie has his thinking face on, when he’s wrestling with how to say something. It’s been happening a lot less lately, but this concept must be more complicated. “The people had me in a tank. They...hurt me. I was scared. Now...Owens is in the tank? He has to...he has to say why. To me. And sorry.”

“I...is that what you want? For him to apologize? To...explain?”

“Apologize and explain. Yes. And...I will not hurt him. I’m Eddie. I’m not people.”

Steve shouldn’t be surprised, not really. He feels like he knows Eddie inside and out, but his natural compassion, his...kind of innate goodness still blind sides Steve sometimes. Steve had vaguely considered that a realistic outcome of this may be that he’s helping Hopper hide a body. Maybe. It was kind of an abstract thought he hadn’t wanted to poke too hard but, realistically, they’re talking about a man who experimented on children, on Eddie.

Steve is clearly no where near as forgiving.

Hopper meets them both outside the room. Steve has no idea what to expect, really. The rasp of Hopper stubble is loud when he scrubs at his face, “El thinks this Owens guy is legit. He already knows Eddie has,” Hopper gestures vaguely, “human parts.”

“How?”

“After Starcourt happened, he went back to poke about, and he saw you both. More importantly Eddie, driving a car,” Hopper’s words are full of accusation, like ‘see I knew him driving would be trouble.’

Eddie waves a hand dismissively, “I can go in?”

Hopper sighs, but Steve isn’t going to fight Eddie on this. He knows what he wants, and he’s so fucking smart. Steve’s sure Eddie doesn’t fully appreciate the risks, not since he doesn’t get fully grasp how stuff like actual governments work but...yeah. It’s Eddie’s life, but Steve still takes his hand. If they’re doing it, they’re doing it together.

Hopper just sighs and rolls his eyes.

Steve figured that, somehow, this guy would just...look evil. He doesn’t. He looks like a harmless old dude, sitting on the edge of a sagging motel mattress, looking over some papers. He cannot disguise his interest when Eddie walks in.

He’s not restrained or anything, he’s just...there. There are books and pens and folders and shit spread out on the opposite bed, like he’s been working.

“Owens?” Eddie checks.

“Yes. Yes hello it is...so wonderful to see you again. And to hear you speak! How good is your understanding-”

“I think we have questions, first,” Steve cuts him off sharply. He doesn’t seem threatening, just...genuinely pleased to see Eddie. The guy has to be up to something, Steve can’t shake the suspicious thought that the guy must be one hell of an actor.

“Yes. Of course. I have everything, all of my notes, from Starcourt, so any questions you have I will do my best to answer.”

“Okay, where the fuck do you get off experimenting on people?” Steve’s pretty sure his voice is reasonably calm. He’s vaguely aware of Hopper coming in behind them, pulling up a folding chair he must have gotten from his truck.

Owens closes his eyes briefly, before addressing Eddie,“yes. Of course. I am so so sorry for what you were put through but..the work we were doing. I was not fully aware of just how intelligent you were. Are. I didn’t at first fully comprehend that we were even dealing with a sentient specimen-”

“He’s not a specimen, he’s a person,” Steve snaps.

“I am very smart,” Eddie adds helpfully.

“Yes. Yes you are. And the transformation you have undergone is nothing short of miraculous, if I could take some bloods-”

“Absolutely the fuck not. What were you doing with the Russians?”

“Oh,” Owens seems genuinely confused by the question, like it hadn’t really occurred to him, “when the original labs were closed, the funding ended. Of course we were aware of the mirror dimension-”

Eddie looks at Steve, “he means The Upside Down.”

“-Oh, is that what you call it? Well, it was deemed for too dangerous, and not worth the expense, to continue, not after such a catastrophic failure. The Russians however didn’t seem to have any such issues and were interested in opening a gate; I had to go where I could to continue my work, you understand. And then they brought you back with them. What should I call you?”

“Eddie. I’m Eddie.”

“And you’re working? And you’ve learned to speak and drive a car...your ability to process new information is staggering. The physical changes, did they just happen? What was the-”

“Stop, just stop. What do you want with him? Why have you been asking around?”

“Stevie,” Eddie says quietly, pulling Steve back a little by his shirt. And yeah, okay, Steve may have taken a step forward.

“I just...want to continue my studies. Eddie’s change...the differences in his make up, his body’s ability to rewrite itself – it could lead to...well, significant discoveries. The data I could gather, imagine the effect on modern medicine, what we might achieve – the potential to help people could be immeasurable.”

“We could...help people?” Eddie echoes.

“Yes, well. We could try. Like I said I would have to do some tests to understand-”

“No,” Steve crosses his arms over his chest.

Next to him, Eddie asks quietly, “what tests?”

“Just...take some blood, for now. Just try to understand how this happened and...what the changes mean on a genetic level.”

“Look, Eddie, you do not have to do a single thing for this guy, okay? This could be dangerous, they could come and take you away again-”

“I would most certainly like to avoid just that,” Owens interjects.

“Oh yeah, right. Sell me on that then,” Steve snaps at him.

“Look,” Owens spreads his hands, he hasn’t moved from his seat on the bed, “I’m the only one who knows about this. The little contact I’ve had with my previous...employers implies that they’re done with the site, they’ve scrubbed the remains of Starcourt, it’s already being filled in. I only know you even exist because I just happened to see you. No one knows Eddie is alive right now, that he didn’t die in his tank, except for me. If I tell anyone they will take him, potentially back to Russia, and I’ll loose access to him. If I inform the American team, I’ll have to admit that I was working for the Russians, which would cause some obvious fall out for me. This way I can just…continue with my work.”

Steve rubs his eyes. It sounds...legit. He guesses. Logical. “Hopper?”

“El says he’s on the level.”

“Jesus fuck,” Steve huffs, walking in a circle.

“Stevie? I want to help people.”

“I know you do baby.”

“Oh, are you two in a relationship-”

Steve finds himself leaning over to point in Owens face, “do not.”

“Okay, okay,” Owens spreads his hands, “look, I think you need to see this from the other side too. What if Eddie gets sick? What are you going to do, take him to the doctor? And what about El, and her powers? What if something comes up with her? I’m more than happy to-”

“I’m sure you are,” Steve stops him, “and you agree with that Hop?”

“I mean, he’s got a point. Don’t think we could take Eddie to a regular doctor, and El was fine with letting him look her over. I mean I maybe don’t agree with the shit he’s been involved in but...I don’t currently have a lot of choice with getting my kids brain powers looked at.”

“I don’t like it.”

Hopper shrugs, “nope.”

“This is such a bad plan.”

“Not as bad as-”

“Don’t you dare-” Steve starts.

“Letting some fish guy-”

“Hopper!” Eddie adds, affronted.

“Bite your toes off.”

[reagi-df]

Prodigy

Usagi watches as master eyes him and he has to grit his teeth as he hold himself back. He hates this dead eyed look with a passion, those soulless eyes that see right through him always haunt his dreams.

“Come” master beckons and is turning without waiting for a reply. Like someone waiting for there obedient pet to come trotting along.

And that’s what he does. He pushes the anger down and follows.

Runt can’t say he’s not 100% familiar with the Baron. He’s never been one of the fully fledged assassins to have had the pleasure. But he knows his reputation, knows how much he frustrates the heads. He’s also heard Fox complain about him. And she’s pretty hard to annoy.

That dosent stop the feeling like he’s seen him before though. That if he focuses hard enough he might remember er. If he-

F̴͇̻̝͌͊̀ö̵̠͉́̔̐͜c̵̪̪͓̓̓͊u̴͉̞̓̕͝��s̴̻͓͚̀͛̕

He starts to swim up, the water cool on his skin and there’s a childish voice inside of his head that loves the water, love how freeing it makes him.

Runt feels like he’s heading towards a session. It’s not just his mind that’s making it hard to concentrate, but his body feels off. Feels like there’s a coil inside of him growing tighter and tighter, threading to snap and explode.

He hope he dosent have one, sessions always him feel worse. Not that he remembers what happens but he’s always struggling to get back to the room.

F̴͇̻̝͌͊̀ö̵̠͉́̔̐͜c̵̪̪͓̓̓͊u̴̢͉̞̓̕͝s̴̻͓͚̀͛̕

Runt breaks the surface of the water.

Part 1

Sep!Leo au where he was raised by the council of heads and becomes one of their assassins, and his new mission is to bring his brothers to the heads. However it’s not as easy as he thought it’d be, especially since the orange one says he knows him, and wants him to be his “brother”

@kinky-asexual its actually getting started properly 🤣

I’m trying smth new… don’t know how well it’ll end. My arts pretty inconsistent as you’ll see later xD, plus a lot of theses drawing have big gaps between each of them as to when I drew them. I did redraw some of the rise two chapters m. Please excuse bad spelling/grammar mistakes

[clawsdevour]

last customer

wc: 0.6k content warning: post-time skip, osamu x reader, fluff, not proofread

⠀ೀ * : ,,,

it's cold and frosty out as you made your way down the concrete sidewalk to the brightly lit restaurant. the snow's starting to pile up, each snowflake landing on your flushed cheeks before you're under the roof of the address on your phone.

stiff fingers gripped on the doorhandle as you pushed it open, the warmth of the restaurant immediately rushing towards you as you sighed out of relief as the bell rang at the top of the door.

the ringing caught the owner's attention from the kitchen. sticking his grey head of hair out from the kitchen doorframe, he looked at you with confusion before checking his watch.

"um.. hi!" immersing yourself in the heated restaurant as you stood by the door staring back at his figure.

"hi, i'm sorry we just closed.." his brown eyes peering back at you from his watch with concern as he noticed how cold it must be outside.

"oh- i'm sorry.. i thought i'd arrive before your shop would close," looking down at your shoes wehre your toes are absolutely frozen despite having fluffy socks on before turning your body towards the door that showed the chilling winter night through the glass.

right when you were about to head out as the bell rung due to the movement of the door just slightly moving, the owner calls back at you while you heard the restaurant's air vents turn on.

"wait, since you've come so far in this freezing weather i might as well whip something up!" his deep voice shouted from the kitchen, catching your attention.

you felt bad since he was almost done getting ready to close, but you couldn't turn down his offer. his face was as grey as his hair with a slightly worried expression plastered on his face.

"..okay, sure! i'd love that," your lips jolted into a big smile as the blush on your cold cheeks lit up.

turning your back away from him, his fingers got to work and started scooping up some fresh rice to wash.

his other hand gestured at you to have a seat right in front of him where you can watch him work his magic.

"soo.. what would you recommend chef?" putting your arms on the table and leaning in to examine his skills at work like a curious cat.

his brows just so slightly raise when he notices your gaze upon him. looking up from the rice pot he mumbles out a mmm.. to think, what would be nice and warm to suit this weather? he thought to himself thinking about what would be the best to offer.

"hmmm i'd say the salmon yaki onigiri. it's got a crispy fried outside with some delicious fresh salmon on the inside," his droopy eyes giving you a gentle smile as he works relentlessly at the rice.

pouring out the starchy water to refill the pot before he plugs the wire into the rice cooker, he's leaning on the counter to make some small talk.

"what brings you here so late? and in the freezing snow?" taking his hat off to comb his fingers through his hair.

"just felt like trying a new restaurant.. in the middle of winter," you can't stop holding eye contact with his deep brown eyes that drew you in.

pausing for a second as you two stared, you had to break it up, "..oh! i'm y/n by the way. nice to meet you..?"

"osamu miya, like atsumu miya's twin brother" nodding his head as he took a rag to wipe his wet hands with before walking into the fridge to grab fresh orange salmon out.

"you're gonna love this dish," placing the slab of fish onto the cutting board while taking out his knives to sharpen.

masterlist here

[damiansgoodgirll]

don’t break my heart 8 i can’t wait 💕💕

I’M SO SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG…part 9 is already in the making!

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7.

rhea ripley x reader (platonic) / damian priest x reader (platonic) / drew mcintyre x reader

likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

‼️this chapter contains topics like fear of abandonment, negative thoughts, loneliness, panic attacks, fear of rejection, paranoid reader, anxiety, angst in general‼️

DON’T BREAK MY HEART - PART 8

it was bad blood weekend and you were a nervous wreck. you didn’t know why but you had a sixth sense, feeling that it was going to be bad. in your mind you saw rhea and damian losing. you saw drew and punk destroying each other and you were terrified because you couldn’t do anything to prevent all of that. it was just your imagination - you told yourself - but as the days passed, your feelings got worse and in less than two hours from the start of the show, you were completely terrified.

adam forbid you to go and help rhea, meaning that she was alone out there. you knew she didn’t need your help to win a match, especially against liv morgan, but you never knew what the judgment day was up to.

you saw how drew trained himself this week, you knew he was ready for the match, but having him, alone, in a cell with punk, was scaring you. he told you multiple times that no matter the outcome, he would make punk see hell, and by now, you knew that drew was serious. he didn’t care about winning or losing, he wanted this to be a revenge on punk, for costing him the world title.

as you were all backstage, you could feel the tension. drew tried to stay calm, especially seeing how agitated you were, but truth was, he wasn’t calm either. he was ready for that match.

the hell in a cell match was going to be the first one, probably the most anticipated match of the night.

“be careful out there okay?” you whispered as he finished getting ready.

“i will, i promise” he tried to reassure you but you didn’t really believe him.

chuckling, you looked up at him “you won’t, i know you…i already see blood and tears so please, don’t be the one i see bleeding in my imagination” you tried to be sarcastic but deep down you know that there was a huge possibility of drew coming back with blood and deep cuts.

“well, then you have a large imagination” he joked “i can’t promise you that but i promise you that i’ll be careful okay?” he smiled down, trying to reassure you as best as he could.

rhea and damian were both getting ready for their matches so they weren’t watching punk and drew completely destroying each other, meaning you were left alone in your little changing room watching the show on the tv screen in front of you.

drew wasn’t careful. you saw blood during the first fifteen minutes of the match. both men were heavily bleeding. you wished they stopped at the tables and chairs but they both went too far. you could hear the crowd cheering but there was an heavy tension backstage, as if this wasn’t supposed to happen.

of course you knew there was going to be blood and a lot of brutality but for a minute you thought that it was too much. thirty minutes into the match and both men had no intention of stopping. more blood, more violence, more gore. you quickly left your changing room and walked around backstage, you had no intention of finishing that match.

you tried, but seeing drew like that was too much for you.

“girl where are you going?” you heard jey’s voice calling you when he saw you wandering around with nowhere to go “come here!” he gently smiled and pulled you into a bigger locker room. him and few people of the crew were watching the match.

“oh god…” you whispered seeing how badly injured was drew. you saw the big jump he took on the metal stairs and how hard he hit his back. you closed your eyes for a moment, trying to get that image out of your head - he broke his back - you thought - it’s over for him. you didn’t care who was going to win, you just wanted the match to be over. luckily a few minutes later, punk finished his moves on drew, making him the winner of the match.

you could see that neither of the men were able to stand properly. punk fell on his knees and drew was still trying to catch his breath inside of the ring. it was an hell of a match but it was too much for you. you just wanted to get to drew and hug him, comfort him.

you excused yourself from jey and the rest of the crew and sprinted out towards the entrance but security stopped you, telling you that drew needed to be medicated first.

your mind was racing. rhea was getting ready for her match. damian was getting ready for his match. drew was being medicated somewhere in the backstage and you were standing there alone with your thoughts as people kept working around you. you felt small, too small.

you didn’t care - you needed to know how drew was doing so you walked towards the medical area and when you saw him getting his wounds cleaned, your stomach turned on you.

drew saw you and he weakly smiled at you, aiming for you to come in.

you didn’t know what to say. he didn’t know what to say. but the sight of blood made you sick so you tried to look anywhere in the room expect him.

“y/n…” his rough voice called you.

“hey…” you walked a little closer till you sat down next to him “you promised me that you would have been careful” you joked, making him slightly chuckle.

“i’m here, alive…that’s a promise” he smiled, looking at you.

“you got everyone worried…you got me so fucking worried, drew i thought i lost you” you didn’t mean to sound so weak, you didn’t mean to let everyone in the room know about your relationship but you couldn’t help your emotions.

“hey…i’m okay, i’m here…just some cuts but i’m okay, i promise you” drew reassured you to keep you calm but deep down he knew he failed. he wanted to show you he was capable of doing it but he failed and he was ashamed of himself. he knew that you would have never judged him but that wasn’t what his mind was telling him “hey y/n…do you mind if i rest a little bit? i feel like i just need to close my eyes” he wanted - needed - your comfort but he felt like he didn’t deserve it.

you were taken aback from his demand but you knew that you couldn’t say no to him. after what he just been through, he needed to rest, he needed time for himself “absolutely…let me know if you need anything okay?” he smiled softly kissing your cheek before letting you go.

feeling a little down you hoped to meet either damian or rhea backstage but none of them was anywhere to be found.

damian was next and he was about to enter the ring so you sat backstage and watched the match with a little anxiety as he was going to face finn. after everything he put you through you knew that all you wanted to see was damian destroying finn but the judgment day was going to interfere and he was there all alone. anxiously you watched the match and couldn’t help your happiness the moment he won. even if the judgment day tried to help finn, they all failed miserably and you couldn’t help but laugh.

as time passed you waited for rhea’s match. she trained so hard for this moment and you knew that she was more than ready to fight back. she had this match, she had this moment and no one was going to take it away from her, especially liv. she didn’t have dom’s help and she was there all alone. you knew rhea was going to win. she had to win. it was such an easy match for her, plus seeing dom in that cage made you laugh - he had what was coming for him.

so what did go wrong?

no one expected to see raquel back. she wasn’t in the script, she wasn’t in the plan.

rhea won by disqualification but liv still held the title, she still held the crown and no matter how good rhea was, she knew it would have been hard to get her title back.

you stayed there, watching as liv and raquel along with dom celebrated over rhea’s lost and your heart broke for her even more. she didn’t deserve all of that.

wondering what to do, you let rhea have some time for herself before you could join her in her changing room.

around fifteen minutes passed and you couldn’t wait any longer, you needed to see her, to comfort her and to let her know that she did amazing no matter the outcome. seeing the two most important people of your life losing on the same day made your heart sank.

slowly approaching her changing room, you softly knocked on her door and stepped in when she said so.

but she probably wasn’t expecting to see you because her nose scrunched a little too much for your liking.

“rhea…you were so great out there, you had the match in your hands…” she didn’t even let you finish.

“yeah but i lost. again, once again i don’t have my title, so who cares if i was the best one out there? listen, i need time alone” she was clearly upset and you couldn’t blame her.

“rhea…” you whispered. it pained you seeing her talking so low of herself.

“i don’t wanna talk” she spat back.

“rhea…”

“no! i don’t wanna talk! i don’t wanna talk or see you!” - oh, she was mad but with you?

“rhea what?” you weren’t used of her screaming at you, you weren’t used of fighting with her.

“i lost! i fucking lost against that liv morgan and where were you? i needed you, but you weren’t there?” she waited a few seconds before start screaming at you again “where the fuck were you!” this version of rhea scared you.

“rhea you knew i couldn’t! the management said…”

“i don’t give a shit about what they said! i needed you and you weren’t there! i’m always here for you and for one time where i needed your support, you weren’t there! fuck!” she knew better than to scream at you, knowing she would have triggered some memories of your past but anger was taking the best of her and she didn’t care about you or anyone at the moment.

“rhea i’m sorry…” tears in your eyes.

“i don’t care! now go, i need to stay alone!” she said turning her back on you.

you slowly walked away, letting all of your tears fall down.

you needed to talk with someone, anyone yet drew was probably sleeping and damian wasn’t answering his phone, too busy celebrating his victory.

you were alone - again.

liv was right. finn was right. you would ended up being alone. rhea was going to leave and it was just a matter of time.

you needed to leave the arena as soon as possible.

you felt like the space around you was suffocating you. the air was thick and you struggled breathing. what was going on?

walking fast through the corridors, you took a deep breath when you saw one of the emergency exit and the big orange door right in front of you. quickly pushing the door open, you took a deep breath when you felt the cold air hitting your face, you were free - you thought.

but your chest was still heavy and the tears wouldn’t stop falling.

you took your phone out of your pocket and quickly called damian, hoping he was going to answer this time. “come on damian…please, please…” but you were met again with his voice recording saying to leave a message if needed. where was he?

you needed to go back to the hotel as soon as possible but with no rental of your own was pretty hard. wiping your tears away and calling an uber, you tried to act as everything was normal even if you were slowly dying inside. everything was so wrong and the worst part is that you couldn’t do anything about it.

as if the night wasn’t already ruined, the uber driver was a fan. you didnt mind talking with fans - you could talk about wrestling all day long - but your mind wasn’t in the right place at the moment and all you could focus on was the fact that once again you were alone. you tried to be polite but all you wanted was to get away from that small space and breathe fresh air again. as you got out, you couldn’t help the tears falling down your cheeks. you felt pathetic, crying over nothing. the words liv and finn said to you echoing in your head - how you would ending up being alone - and the things was you started to believe them.

why were you being so paranoid? drew was sleeping, the match took a big tool on him but that didn’t mean he hated you or he didn’t want to see you. damian was celebrating his victory somewhere with his family, friends and probably some models too. but if you were family too, why didn’t he invite you? and rhea was mad. you still couldn’t point out if she was mad because she lost the match and needed someone to blame or if she genuinely was mad at you for not interacting with her during the game. she knew you couldn’t. she knew that if you intervened, both of you would have gotten in big trouble with the management, risking up to month fine without wrestling. did she really wanted that?

your mind was spinning and you tried to reach your bedroom as fast as you could.

in the meantime, damian was at the arena, he didn’t leave, he stayed there the whole time finishing up some interviews and even if he wanted to go out and drink something with his family, he was tore down and all of his body ached - he couldn’t wait to go back to bed.

“…thank you so much damian” jackie thanked him once he finished his interview, leaving him there in his changing room.

taking a deep breath, he took his phone out of his pocket and grew immediately worried when he saw all of your missed calls.

he tried to call back but your phone went immediately on silent mode, as if it was turned off.

weird - he thought - you never turned your phone off.

walking to find rhea, she was nowhere to be found. he knew she was a hothead and he knew that she probably wanted to stay alone.

his only option was drew and he prayed the man was still in the arena. someone from the staff told him that drew was still in the medical bay so he walked over there, asking from time to time if anyone had seen you.

knocking on drew’s door, the scottish man let him in.

“damian…” drew definitely wasn’t expecting him. he was hoping it was you.

“how are you man?” damian genuinely concerned about drew’s condition after the rough match he had in the cage with punk.

drew chuckled a little before letting his real thoughts out “i’m glad to be alive you know? i wasn’t expecting this much violence but it was one hell of a match, i felt better to be honest” he joked “i’ll be okay, thanks…”

“listen man, have you seen y/n? she called me a few times earlier and i couldn’t answer but when i tried to call her back it goes straight to her voicemail…” damian directly asked drew.

drew knew you never turned your phone off so he was taken aback from damian’s words “i saw her once the match was over, she came here and we talked a little bit…then i asked her if…well, i asked her if she could leave, i wanted to sleep a little…”

“and…?”

“and she left. she probably wasn’t expecting my request” drew took a deep breath “i just needed some time alone you know? i haven’t seen her since then, but i checked my phone a few minutes ago and she hasn’t called me. have you tried rhea?”

damian shook his head “rhea is nowhere to be found. she needs time to cool off after her match, i don’t think she saw y/n…i just feel like it’s weird, she has called me five times and now her phone is like dead…” worried look painted his face.

drew stood up immediately from the couch he was sitting and checked damian’s phone as he tried to call you once again.

“dead line…” damian whispered.

where were you?

back at the hotel, you quickly paced around the room, trying to focus on something, anything that could have helped you relax and yet nothing was working.

your hands began shaking and while you reached for your phone, you saw that it died while you were walking to the hotel. looking for a charger, you threw your suitcase upside down and when you found it, you plugged it into the wall and rapidly waiting for your phone to turn on.

“come on…” you whispered. you didn’t know what you were actually waiting for. damian wasn’t going to answer anyway and drew said he needed time for himself, leaving you with no options at all.

as your phone turned on, you saw the missed calls from both damian and drew and a shaky breath left your lips.

you didn’t even have time to call one of the boys back that an incoming call from drew appeared on your home screen.

taking a deep breath you answered his call.

“y/n?” drew asked the moment you answered.

“drew…” your voice shaking. what were you crying for? he answered and yet you couldn’t find peace.

“y/n, what’s going on? baby, why are you crying?” drew’s heart broke when he heard your soft sobs from the phone.

“i…i don’t know, i don’t know what’s going on…drew i, i can’t breathe…i don’t know what to do…” clearly panicking again, drew needed to know exactly where you were.

“y/n where are you? i’m coming to get you” he was worried and his heart was racing.

“what? no, no drew you need to rest, i…you stay there and-…”

“cut the bullshit y/n, where are you?” he hated being so severe with you but he needed to know what was going on and if you were in any type of danger.

“at the hotel…my room” was all that you were able to say before drew spoke again.

“we are coming to get you…” he said before cutting the call off.

was he really coming for you? were you really so pathetic that you needed him? did you wake him up just because you were acting stupid again?

your mind couldn’t stop those horrible thoughts and all you wanted to do was disappear, pretend like you never existed - maybe everyone life would be better without you.

what if rhea had a better teammate? what if that teammate would have broken the rules for her? what if you are the reason the judgment day broke up? were they really so tired of you? what if drew had a girlfriend who was normal and not acting crazy like you did?

you tried to breath as drew taught you but you couldn’t. and the idea of drew seeing you like this again was killing you. you made so much progress and now you felt like you fucked everything up.

you were sat on the floor, your back on the edge of the bed as you tried to calm yourself down when you heard the hotel room door opening.

a very bruised drew sat on the floor with you, right in front of you while damian stood behind, clearly worried about you.

“y/n…baby, what’s wrong?” drew’s voice was soft. the moment he met your eyes, he knew something wrong had happened.

“i’m sorry…i’m so sorry i shouldn’t have called, damian you don’t have to be here…you should be out celebrating your victory and-…”

but damian wasn’t agreeing with you “the hell? hermosa, what’s going on? i’m sorry i didn’t answer before but i’m here now, we are both here…”

“yes that’s the problem! you shouldn’t be dealing with me! you have a life and worse problems than to stay here with me!” you couldn’t stop the tears from falling “i told you drew, my head is a fucking mess, i don’t deserve you, i don’t deserve any of you…all i do is complain and fucking up, i’m just a burden to everyone and”

“what the heck are you talking about darling…look at me” his big calloused hands gently lifted your face “look at me love” while his thumb was wiping your tears away “i don’t know what’s going on in that pretty head of yours, i wish i knew but i don’t…” he spoke softly to you “you’re not a burden, listen to me, you’re not a burden. don’t listen to what those voices in your head are saying, listen to me…you’re everything to me, i love you so much and it’s okay to cry, to feel lost, but i’m here, your family is here and we aren’t leaving you…” he really hoped that you could listen to him.

opening his arms for you, he gently let you lay your head on his shoulder. his hands stroking your back as if he wanted to calm you down, knowing how much you craved for physical touch.

drew and damian knew that you needed help and they were both right there for you. they knew you were strong and yet so fragile. they knew the toxic environment you came from, they knew that you feared of being left behind, alone. they knew that somehow, no matter how much love they showed to you, you still felt alone. and they knew that you get easily overwhelmed by the smallest things. people screaming, making too much noise or breaking things - that would wake terrible memories.

“yet she did…” you whispered, closing your eyes because the idea of your mind playing flashbacks of what happened with rhea earlier was enough to send you on the edge.

“who?” damian asked.

“rhea…she left, and it’s all on me” tears couldn’t stop falling from your eyes.

damian and drew exchanged a worried look. you two were practically inseparable.

what did rhea do?

[puckinghischier]

last time quinn got a penalty i thought about him being angry and taking it out on you but tonight im thinking about you comforting him bc he starts spiraling that he’s not worthy of the c on his chest and you’re the only one who can ground him

he was off from the second he walked in the door. shoulders slumped and eyes rimmed red. he came over to you immediately and draped his large body over yours, needing your comfort.

you don’t say a word, letting him lay for as long as he needs to, one hand softly scratching his back while the other lightly scratches his scalp. when he finally sits up, alleviating the pressure on your body, you see how dejected and sad his features are. you sit up with him, standing and grabbing is hand, leading him to the large bathroom attached to your room. you turn the shower on and start removing his clothes, not a sexual motive to be found.

it’s like he’s a ragdoll, limbs heavy and easily manipulated. he lets you undress him fully before you undress yourself, leading him into the warm shower. you take your time, washing his hair thoroughly before switching to his body. you massage and caress every muscle. leave a trail of kisses along his chest as you rub your sudsy hands across his back. even take a cheeky handful of his ass, causing a hint of a smile to ghost over his face.

after the shower you dry his hair for him, bring him clean pajamas — stealing one of his shirts as your own pajamas — and let him rest his head back on your chest when you crawl into bed.

he still hasn’t said a word, but you figure he will when he wants to. so until then, you just keep playing with his soft hair.

“d’you think i’m good at this?” he breaks the silence, feeling the movement of his words against your chest at his refusal to raise his head.

you’re shocked at the question, wondering where it came from. “at hockey? yeah, of course i do? you’re one of the best defensemen in the league, q, and you have the trophy to prove it,” you reference the james norris somewhere in your shared apartment.

he shakes his head back and forth. “no, i mean the whole captain thing,” he clarifies. “just…feel like maybe it’s not for me anymore.”

you sit up straight, forcing quinn to sit up, too.

“excuse me?” your shocked tone echoes around the quiet room.

quinn just shrugs, not looking you in the eye.

“where’s this coming from?” you ask him, not understanding the sudden lack of confidence.

he still won’t look you in the eyes, his tell-tale sign of being anxious. “i don’t know i mean, i let them down by getting ejected in the first period, and then they get out there in the second and thrive without me,” he says earnestly, sounding so defeated that your heart breaks.

“oh q…” you wrap him in a hug. “quinn you didn’t let anyone down, you hear me?” you grip his face in your hands, ensuring he hears you and pays attention to your words. “they thrived without you because they didn’t want to let you down. they wanted to show you that all of the guidance and wisdom you’ve given them has paid off,” you reassure him, watching his eyes change from sadness to recognition.

“i think the fact that your team can hold their own on the ice, even without their captain, is the sign of a great captain, not a shitty one,” you continue, trying to ensure he never doubts himself like this again. “so, yeah, i think you’re good at this. you just…had a bad night.”

his eyes have shifted full to nothing but love now, knowing that you’ve always been the only one that can get through to him when he gets like this. you lean in and press a small kiss to the tip of his nose, watching him scrunch it after the action.

he clears his throat, sitting back so he can talk. “have i ever told you i couldn’t do this without you?” he blurts out, causing your cheeks to flush. it’s your turn to look away from him.

“i’m being serious. you’re the only person who can snap me out of hockey world for a few minutes, good or bad,” he continues. “just needed to hear all this from you, i guess.”

your heart swells knowing you’re the sole person he wants to reassure him.

“well, i’ll tell you whatever words you want or need to hear, always,” you run your hands through his hair once again, simply because you can. “but right now, i’m telling you the words ‘i’m sleepy and want bedtime cuddles.’”

he laughs at you, knowing how much you love being the little spoon, and he basically just deprived you of it for hours.

“whatever you say, my personal motivational speaker,” he earns an eye roll, but lays his body back down and opens his arms up for you to crawl into.

[lostintransist]

Seamstress | Part 7

Check out part 1 here.

CW: Momma drama. If you have a bad mom relationship like I do please read with caution. Also John comes home a bit broken. He gets better but not in this part.

John appears behind you as you are stepping into your shop. When his hand pushes the door open wider from behind you startle.

“Jesus fuck me!” You jump and spin, eyes wide and chest heaving as you confirm who stood behind you.

The slightly worried look on John’s face tells you he didn’t mean to startle you.

“Sorry dove thought you heard me.”

“Apparently my thoughts were too loud,” sheepishly you push the door shut behind him and begin to flick on lights.

Waiting for you at the counter with John is your jewelry box. It looks better than before if that is possible.

“I didn’t stain it,” John runs a finger down the side and you wish that digit dragged down your side instead.

Fuck, bitch you can’t be this horny yet, he just arrived. Apparently, the earth-shattering orgasm from your vibrator last night with the taste of him on your lips wasn’t enough. When did you get so greedy?

“Why not?” You ask as you fold your arms, not one hundred percent sure your bra would be able to trap your steel-tipped nipples.

Glancing from the box to John you see a soft smile. When he looks up at you it grows.

“I noticed how much you seemed to like the grain of the wood and seemed sad at the idea of it being covered up. A few coats of clear lacquer to protect it and it was done.”

“I love it. I’m so glad you chose lacquer. I would have been happy with any choice you made but this? It’s wonderful.” Leaving the box at the counter you waved John to follow you.

“I made you something as well.” Putting a hand on the nob of the door to the back room you spun. “I know it’s not really a problem, but you have complained about going into what you call “power meetings” with only your slacks or your fancy uniforms so I made you something that should hold up against scrutiny.”

John’s arms are folded, head tilted ever so slightly to watch you with the smile tucked under his mustache.

Taking a deep breath you twist the handle and step back into the room. You hung the suit on the wall directly in front of the door so you could watch his face as he saw it. You had paid a pretty penny for the fabric, thread, and buttons. They all came together so seamlessly that even your friend who was a tailor wouldn’t have been able to know a suitmaker hadn’t put it together unless he started to pull it apart at the seams. You had also purchased the silk for his shirt and made that by hand as well.

The smile falls from his face as he steps up to the suit and runs a hand lightly over it.

“Holy fuck.”

Glancing from side to side you bite your lip.

“So what do you think?”

When he turns you know why people like blue eyes so much. John’s blue eyes are enchanting with the tears rimming his lashes. They remind you of the ocean in the photos you’ve seen of tropical places.

“I can’t think of a gift that has ever meant more to me,” he chokes out around the tears in his throat.

“Do you want to try it on?” You suggest, heart fluttering in your chest.

“I want-”

His desires were cut off by the sound of the bell.

Turning you call out.

“Sorry, we are closed today,” when you catch sight of your mom.

The warmth that had settled over you like sunlight as spring breaks chilled to the harshest of winter breezes. Shutting the door to the back room, and your joy from your sorrow you face your mother.

“You didn’t come to Christmas,” she starts.

“I told Pop I would be going to Nana’s this year.”

“You’re still mad at me,” she pouts with her eyebrows.

Your mother had skills in expressing herself without making a scene about it.

“I am not mad, I’m done.”

Your mother stepped up to the counter, slowly opening each drawer of your gift. Snatching it off the counter you placed it on your working desk next to your sewing machine.

“What does being done have to do with not coming to Christmas?”

She’s pulling that mom tone again, trying to force you into a child role whether she knows it or not.

“I do not enjoy the way I feel while spending time with you. I do not like the comments you make or the fact that even when my brother is being rude I am still in the wrong. And I am done putting myself in situations to be hurt because you happened to get knocked up and produce me.”

She had told you once that you were a birth control failure baby. She had been drinking, you had been ten.

“I did not happen to get knocked up,” she sputtered.

Taking a deep breath you point your eyes at the ceiling and pray for patience.

“That is not the point of this conversation and I apologize for bringing it up. What I am saying is that I won’t be spending more time with you until we can go to family therapy. I’ve told this to Pop several times. I will send you a few options between us and will set up the appointment as well.”

“But I am your mother!” She is getting shrill, a sure sign she is losing control of the conversation in her mind.

“And I am grown. Now I have a private appointment I need to get back to.”

“Is this because of the comment about no one paying to see you naked? I’m sorry that you were offended by what I said.”

Your jaw works as your fingers curl into talons and your shoulders stiffen.

“I am not having that discussion here and now. Pick a therapist from the list I send you or leave me alone.”

Mom looks shocked, scared even, at the tone you use. She turns leaving in a huff and you open the door to the back to see John, shirt unbuttoned and eyes blown wide as if someone dosed him with drugs.

“That’s an option? I can pay to see you naked? Is a hundred enough?”

“A hundred?” You ask, confused but slightly hurt that he thought you were so cheap.

“No? Okay, a hundred and fifty thousand?” He looks desperate and hopeful and lost and like he might combust all at once.

You choke on your spit. Did that man just offer a hundred and fifty thousand dollar bucks to see you naked!?

All it would have taken is a glass of wine, a smokey look, and an invitation to bed and your clothes would have disappeared from your body like they never existed. Like damn you had high self-confidence, forged out of hate comments online and in real life, but you weren’t worth that much. Maybe John did like you like you liked him?

He stepped forward, mouth opening to form words when his phone went off. The instant change told you it was work.

“Dammit all to hell and may it never return,” he snatched up his pants from the cot and answered the phone as he moved it to his ear, snarling. “What?”

You watched as the soldier overtook the man. His back straightened as he tucked the phone between his shoulder and his ear beginning to work at the buttons at his wrists. Stepping into his space you took over the task freeing him faster than he would have managed. Helping him out of the shirt you fold it over one arm, watching as he disappears below his shirt to reappear through the head hole. You don’t offer to help him remove the pants but take them when offered without comment.

John doesn’t spare you a glance as he pulls his cargo pants up, sheathing the deliciously thick thighs he hides. When he sits to tie his boots you toss the clothes from your arms to the cot and kneel to take over that task for him. Tying them tight you stand and offer him a hand. He takes it, holding on as he stands.

Still on the phone he pulls your knuckles to his lips and turns the phone away from his mouth.

“When I get back, we are talking about this.”

It’s all you can do to nod before he dons his coat and slips into the precipitation of January.

🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡

The last of the snowdrops are blooming when John makes it back home. Between the knocks at the front door and the vibrating of your phone from under your pillow, you wake enough to stumble to the front door. The door opens fully before your eyes do.

John looks haggard, as if he aged ten years in the three months he was gone. A full beard had grown in, the ends ragged and uneven. His eyes flick over you. No expression crosses his face.

“John? You’re home,” the sigh in your last word pulls him through the door and into your arms.

It’s too late for your mind to come up with reasons why dragging him into your room after locking the front door would be a bad idea. Stripping him of his boots and his pants you invite him to lay under the blankets with you by laying them atop him and letting him settle into the mattress. Crossing around the bed you join him between the sheets. Laying on your side you stare at him.

Something about him felt broken and you didn’t dare hold him and make it worse.

“What can I do John?” You ask the darkness between you.

The words settle on him like the ice blown around in the wind of the gulag.

“Tell me what happened while I was gone. I don’t feel real.”

You scoot closer to him in the bed, less than a handswidth between you.

“I brought your suit home. I missed you a few weeks after you left and had nothing but the photo from the party and your gift. My mom started going to individual therapy. We tried a couple of family sessions but the therapist recommended that she do some personal work before we attempt to do much more work on fixing our relationship. My brother called me on my birthday, which was unexpected. I bet my po-”

“I missed your birthday?” John’s broken whisper cut you off.

“Yeah,” you reach out and touch his pinky. He flinches so you shift your hand back, but before it can go too far his hand chases you locking your fingers together.

“When is your birthday?”

“Valentine’s Day.”

“You must hate that.”

The accurate observation surprises you. You’ve talked with other people who have birthdays on holidays, most Christmas and New Year’s babies hate it, birthdays on big celebration days that aren’t the big big ones tend to go either way but for you, it always felt required to have a date on your birthday. Were you out because your date wanted to celebrate you or show off for the table around you?

“I do,” you let out a small chuckle. “My brother was born on May Day, he doesn’t seem to mind it. When is your birthday John?”

“July second.” He pulls in a deep breath, “Will you hold me?”

Small and scared his voice pierces into your chest.

“However you want to be held,” you answer in earnest.

“Lay back?”

You adjust to settle on your back, fixing the pillow below your head. John follows you, as cautious as an alley cat. Once his head is resting against your chest, chin tipped between your breasts you curl your arm around his shoulder next to your ribs and rest your hand on his back. The shuddering breaths that start from him prompt you to keep telling him about what happened while he was away.

“Did you know your muppets came to visit me? They all brought in their own fixes and asked to use your cot. Every one of them woke looking like they had no clue where they were and agreed that they understood why you kept coming back for naps.”

You talk until you drift into sleep, but your dreams are full of stories so maybe you talk to John until you wake.

Seamstress Masterlist | Masterlist

[ladykailitha]

The Au Pair Boy Part 5

Hey! This will take a short break until December then it will begin posting on Fridays to take place of The Hellfire Exotic Club.

In this we have all Robin and Steve with a little cameo of Chrissy. Steve just needed a little bestie time.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

~

Steve stared at the little black card in his hand. He had waited until he had gotten one in his name before using the account, even though Eddie had said that he was already an authorized user and the bank had been told that Steve would be using it immediately.

He just didn’t feel comfortable with doing so. So Eddie had one overnighted to him to make sure he could get whatever he needed as soon as possible. It was his first day off since Eddie left, Steve having refused to take one until he was sure the girls could handle it.

So here he was with his best friend standing outside of an Ikea with a black credit card and a dawning sense of dread.

“If I go in there,” he huffed, “I’m never coming back out again. You know that right? These places are cursed.”

Robin burst out laughing. “I think the power of your newly minted black credit card will act as a talisman of getting lost by the power of capitalism.”

“If you say so,” Steve scoffed. “If I don’t escape, I am totally blaming you, I hope you know that.”

She grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the entrance. “Come on, you big baby.”

They were looking at sheets when she spoke up again. “I think it’s really cool he’s allowing you decorate your room.”

Steve chuckled as he weighed the two options in his hands. “I think it’s because he really wants me to stay. If I put effort into my own space and get really settled in, I’ll be less likely to want to move.”

“Any spicy texts from ‘Daddy’?” Robin asked wagging her eyebrows suggestively.

“No.” He bumped her with his hip. “Knock that off. Yes, he is hot and sweet and funny, but I’m not going got cross that line. Especially not with him currently traveling the country with his metal band.”

“That’s too bad,” she pouted.

Then his phone rang. He put the dark blue sheets in the cart and the light blue ones back on the shelf and then he answered the call.

“Hey, Chrissy,” he greeted. “What’s up?”

“I hate to call you on your day off, Steve,” she began. “But Joanie can’t find her elephant plushy and she’s on the verge of a meltdown.”

Steve pinched his nose and sighed. “That’s because she insisted she wanted to bring Mr. Puff and Stuff, her wolf plushy instead. Snuffymuffie is still out the house.”

The sound of absolutely agony echoed through the phone line. Steve could almost feel her soul leaving her body from here.

“It’s on her bed with all her other plushies,” he assured her. “And when I come pick them up tomorrow I’ll bring mint ice cream.”

“I love you, Steve Harrington,” she breathed. “You are a saint among men!”

“No, just a seasoned nanny,” Steve replied with a chuckle. “Now go on before she decides that you’re ignoring her pain and starts wailing.”

Then wailing could be heard at full volume through the phone causing even Robin to wince from the sheer sound of it.

“Too late.”

Steve stared at his phone for a moment or two after she disconnected. He turned to Robin. “How is this my life now?”

“Don’t ask me,” she said with her hands up. “That couldn’t be me. I like kids in short spurts not long hauls.” She pointed to the phone in his hand with her chin. “So who was that then?”

“Chrissy Cunningham,” he replied pocketing his phone and pushing the cart forward. “She’s Eddie’s manager. Usually she goes with them when the band tours, but for the first little bit he wanted someone who the girls knew close on hand.”

“So why didn’t she take the kiddos?” Robin said, falling instep next to him.

“Because she still works,” Steve said. “So she can’t watch them during the day. Plus, Eddie had been wanting to get a live-in nanny for awhile. So this solved both problems.”

“Do you miss it?” Robin asked. “Having your own space?”

Steve wasn’t sure what she meant. He had his own space and told her so. That was what they were shopping for after all. Decorating his space.

“I meant an apartment of your own,” she said a little exasperated. “Like you really don’t have any freedom. It’s not like you can paint it all pink with white fruit everywhere.”

“I could actually,” Steve said with a shrug. “Though the example Eddie used was neon orange with brightly color rainbow dicks everywhere.”

Robin blinked at him for a moment. “But what if the girls saw that?”

“It would probably be explained as a banana and a couple of peaches or whatever,” Steve said, waving her off. “But that’s not the point. The point is that if I wanted to buy a racing car bed and make everything chrome, I could. I just don’t want to. It’s a gorgeous room, I want to add to it, not make it into a hellscape or whatever.”

“So what’s with all the nautical stuff, then?” she asked picking up the back of fake seashells.

“It’s very dark wood and deep blues,” he explained snatching them back from her tossing them back into the cart. “I makes me feel like I’m sailing on the ocean. But I also want to give it a haunted vibe, too. To go with the rest of the house.”

“I’m really going to have to see this place,” she huffed.

Steve stared at her for a moment. “I thought that was the plan. I thought you were coming over after we were done shopping to help me set everything up.”

“I wasn’t sure I was allowed to be there when it was just you,” she said with a half shrug.

“I’m allowed to have friends over,” he replied, rolling his eyes. “If I break anything, he just asks that I let him know. He’s got four year old twins, like I’m pretty sure anything fragile or expensive was put away a long time ago.”

Robin blinked for a moment as she processed that thought. “Right. What was I thinking?”

“You weren’t,” Steve huffed. “Now come on there are ten million miles to get through and I would like get through this before I die of old age.”

She scoffed but let him lead her through the store as he asked for her opinion on some things and to get her to mock others.

By the time they reached the check out, their cart was overflowing with all sorts of fun things for his room. Or rather, as Steve had learned. Wing. An entire fucking wing of the house was his. It had his bedroom, the bathroom, a small sitting room/library, and fucking kitchenette for entertaining guests.

He paid with the card Eddie had given him, both Robin and the cashier’s eyes went wide.

The cashier kinda gave him the stink-eye, like ‘what are you doing in an I-fucking-kea with a card like that?’ But Steve steadfastly ignored her and grabbed his packages.

“Why did we go to Ikea?” Robin asked as she helped load up his car with the stuff he bought.

“Because what I wanted was here,” Steve said rolling his eyes. “More expensive doesn’t equal better quality.” He slammed the trunk closed and got into the driver’s seat.

She rolled her eyes back at him, but wisely said nothing. He was the one with the ultra credit card and she wanted nachos from her favorite Mexican restaurant, something she would not get if she pushed Steve too far with the card. She could tell he was uncomfortable having it, so it was sure bet Eddie had insisted.

When they got to the house, Robin was in awe. She could see why Steve had fallen in love with the place. It gave off that tastefully haunted vibe of the Addams Family. Inside was even cooler as Steve showed her around. The only places they didn’t go were the Munsons’ bedrooms and Eddie’s studio and office.

But Robin was okay with that when she saw the game room, and the movie theater and the swimming pool and the actual fucking library. Here was a guy who took his money and put it to tasteful use.

“This is really neat,” she said as she flopped on the sofa in Steve’s study. “And this all yours?”

“Until they get old enough not to need me,” Steve said with a shrug. He began putting things away on the shelves. “Which is probably at least ten years off, maybe more if I’m really lucky.”

“Here’s to that,” Robin said, impressed. “Is he looking for another nanny? Because damn, I’d love a sweet place like this.”

“No,” Steve said and smacked her with his dust rag. “Get up on your feet and help me Missy!”

She leapt to her feet to get away from the dusty rag. “I surrender! I surrender!” She opened the first box and got to work sort things into proper piles so Steve could them away as he went.

“He’s looking for almost everything else though,” Steve said as he put books on the shelves. “Like everything else. A gardener or two, a couple of grounds maintenance guys, a cook, a pool cleaner, a couple of maids. All that sort of stuff.”

“Wow,” Robin said, opening another box, “that’s pretty much everyone. What happen, he fire everyone at once?”

Beat.

“Wait, what?” she said, whipping her head up to look at him. He was looking at the floor biting his lip. “What happened?”

“His ex slept with everyone on the staff who would let him,” Steve mumbled, “and those he didn’t sleep with kept it from him. With having no one trust, he just got rid of all of them.”

“Holy shit,” Robin hissed. “Way to upend the kiddos’ entire lives.”

“Ethan or Eddie?” Steve said with a shrug and grabbed the nearest pile of books to start shelving.

“Oh, totally the ex,” Robin hissed, “what an asshole. And the fact that all of them colluded to keep it from Eddie? That’s the major dick move. How long has he been struggling to do it all on his own?”

“About a year,” Steve replied absently as he tried to decide whether or not ‘Good Omens’ would go under G for Gaiman or P for Pratchett. He decided on Pratchett since it was the name on top. “I think his friends staged an intervention a la reunion tour to force him to move forward with his life.”

She snorted and shook her head. “Men. I am so glad I’m not attracted to them. Emotionally stunted morons. Well most of them anyway.”

“Anyone can get overwhelmed, Robs,” he huffed picking up his last stack of books. “I’ve gotten a few prospects for the yard and swimming pool.”

“Yeah, I was noticing how overgrown everything was,” she agreed, “even if the vibe was haunted house.”

Steve sighed and plopped down next to her. “I didn’t even show you what the gardener’s shed looked like or the pool house. He really let everything go in his grief. He didn’t say anything to me, but you can tell he took the break up really hard. This was his person. The one he thought he was going to spend the rest of his life with. And then Ethan went and blew it all up with no explanation, just a gigantic mess to clean up.”

“Well, I’m glad he has you,” she said bumping him with her shoulder. “And I was only joking about the being hired too. As long as I get to visit this place and hang out by the pool on occasion, I’ll consider it even.” She held out her hand and Steve took it with a smile.

“I think we’re all done in here,” he said standing up and dusting off his knees. “Bedroom is next.”

Robin got up and looked around his little study. “I’m happy for you, Steve. I think you’re going to be really happy here.”

Steve smiled. “I already am. I know it’s only been a week since Eddie left and ten days since I was hired, but I really don’t want to screw this up.”

She hugged him tight. If anyone deserved a fairy tale ending it was her platonic soulmate. Now all she had to do was convince him to get flirty with the hot frontman of Corroded Coffin and her boy would be set for life.

They walked into the bedroom and got to decorating it. When they were done, she flopped down on the queen size bed, spread eagle.

“We should order in and watch horror movies on that massive screen,” she suggested, staring up at the ceiling.

Steve cocked his head to the side and tapped his lips thoughtfully. “Make it pizza and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

“Fine!” she huffed, seeing her dreams of loaded nachos flutter away.

He kicked her foot, causing her to sit up abruptly. “Buy your own nachos, you big baby. You have a job. Or at least you did yesterday, so unless there is something you’d like to tell me you can get your own.”

“You’re a real bitch, Steve Harrington,” she huffed, hopping off the bed. “Tell me again why I like you?”

“Because you get to watch Jamie Lee Curtis in full high definition projection,” he said, giving her a kiss on the cheek and then walked out of the room.

“Wait!” she huffed, scrambling to catch up. “He has the original ‘Halloween’? You can’t just drop that on me and run, Harrington!”

Steve giggled as he ran down the stairs, with Robin hot on his heels. He cut a corner tightly, causing her to careen into the opposite wall.

“Curse you and your jock reflexes!” she hissed as she pushed herself off the wall to continue her chase.

By the time she had caught up with him, he was already on the phone with the pizza place. “At least get something with vegetables! You don’t want scurvy!”

“And one medium raspberry lemonade and one large cherry limeade,” he said with a wink at her. “Yes that will be all.”

“All that sugar!” Robin huffed. “I don’t know how you don’t kill over from sugar shock or something with all the sweet stuff you eat and drink.”

“Because I exercise and eat right most of the time,” Steve said back. “Diet culture is such BS, your body needs sugar to function. It’s why I put it in my tomato sauce when I make it from scratch.”

“Betrayal!” she cried and flopped on the sofa. She tilted her head for a moment and then melted into said sofa. “This is a really soft sofa, Steve. Everything here is so soft. I don’t know why but I pictured everything being so hard and stiff and uncomfortable.”

“Eddie certainly isn’t your stereotypical rich guy,” Steve agreed. “And I think this place was soft before the girls, because I think Eddie likes soft.”

Robin looked at her best friend fondly. She could tell he was already in love with this Eddie, he was just very deep in denial.

They had their movie night complete with pizza and drinks. One of the pizzas even had vegetables on it. For her. And when Steve dropped her off the next morning, she was content in her knowledge Steve wasn’t just going to do well there, he was going to thrive.

~

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @tartarusknight

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @ollieolive

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @sadisticaltarts @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @dolphincliffs @steddie-as-they-go @steddieislife

10- @kultiras @morallyundefined @themoonagainstmers

[waiting-for-motivation]

inside out

summary: Carlos is there for his girlfriend when her darkest insecurities take ahold of her.

pairing: Carlos Sainz x Reader

warnings: insecurities, angst, fluff

words: 1129

a/n: thanks to tumblr for being my unpaid therapist, I guess <33

MASTERLIST REQUEST RULES

Having some time off feels relieving as well as overwhelming at the same time. Carlos fears not valuing his free time enough, although he does everything in his power to experience a lot. With his girlfriend, he visits museums, aquariums, exciting cities and breathtaking landscapes.

Other times, they share some quality time, cuddled up on the couch, watching a movie or cooking together. When Carlos is gaming, (Y/n) is always in the same room reading. They exist in silence, still savoring the shared moments with their partner.

Today is no different, relaxing after yesterdays hiking tour, Carlos plays a new game he had been yearning to have a look at. His girl sits next to him on the couch, so close their thighs touch, scrolling through social media. From time to time, she shares some memes, also calming him whenever the game is getting too rough.

“Car?“, (Y/n) breathes, discarding her phone on the side table. Not knowing if Carlos even heard her over the sound of his gaming, she throws a cautious glance towards him. His brown eyes are already on her, concerned about the serious tone. Carlos even places his controller aside.

“Do you think I‘m pretty?“, (Y/n) asks with an unsteady voice, avoiding her boyfriend's eyes. Her heart feels like it might break her rips apart, and her breathing keeps getting tougher. Right away, (Y/n) regrets expressing her insecure mind.

Subconsciously, she starts fumbling around with her fingers, pressing her nails into the palm of her hand. It might be a bad habit, but the pain is what distracts her from her depressing thoughts. What even works better is Carlos taking care of her. He grabs her hands, warm touch halting her nervous fiddling.

“Of course, mi corazón“, Carlos answers, almost at a loss of words. Her question caught him of guard. Watching (Y/n) shrink in front of him, her insecurities heavy on her shoulders cause him to feel rather guilty. Maybe he did not show her his appreciation enough. Maybe he tells her how much he adores her too seldom.

If (Y/n) could see herself through the eyes of Carlos, she would have no doubts about her appearance. The word perfection is not enough to describe the way Carlos perceives her. He might not be an artist nor a writer, but he would use only the brightest colors for her portrait and could write an entire trilogy about everything he loves about (Y/n).

“You are my gorgeous girl“, Carlos adds and places a hand on her cheek, forcing her eyes on him. Pressing her lips to a tight line, (Y/n) regrets exposing her thoughts at the sight of her concerned boyfriend. “Where is this coming from?“

“Forget about it“, (Y/n) says in a rush, already jumping to her feet and leaving Carlos alone on the couch. But she can't escape her boyfriend, who quickly follows her and wraps his strong arms around her from behind, lifting her up.

“I‘m going to show you how much I actually admire you“, Carlos announces as he throws (Y/n) onto the couch. Her screaming turns to soft giggles because of Carlos decorating her face in kisses. His lips wander from her forehead over the frown between her eyebrows to her nose and lead eventually to her neck. Over and over again, he whispers how much he loves her, how pretty she is.

“You are all I need, mi corazón, all I want. Without you, I feel like I can't breathe“, Carlos declares his deep-rooted love to his girlfriend, kissing a trail down her arms. What causes him to halt his fondling is a quiet sob leaving (Y/n)s throat. Quickly, she places both her hands on top of her mouth, but the tears streaming over her cheeks reveal enough.

“No, please don’t cry“, Carlos whimpers in shock, watching his girl sit up with a shaking body. Out of instinct, (Y/n) turns away from her boyfriend, not wanting him to see her so vulnerable, though Carlos won't simply accept that. He hugs her tightly to his chest. Her tears quickly dampen his shirt, but he couldn't care less at the moment. “Tell me what darkens your mind.“

“I feel like I will never be enough, not for anyone, not for you in particular. Comparing myself to the other girlfriends on the paddock, I realize how plain I must be. They are naturally so magnificent, know how to handle all this attention, and treat their partners perfectly. I will never be like that. I‘m not good enough“, (Y/n) manages to say between her sobs, now wearing her heart on the sleeve, revealing her worst thoughts.

“You are enough, mi corazón. Those other girls are nothing compared to you. I would not want you any other way because I see you as you are: wholeheartedly kind and breathtakingly beautiful. You are all I want and having you here with me makes me so happy“, Carlos tries to encourage his girlfriend, caressing her back and placing soft kisses on the top of her head. Bit by bit, (Y/n) seems to calm down, though she keeps her arms wrapped around her boyfriend.

“I just believe that neither my appearance nor my personality are what you deserve“, she whispers against his chest. Having heard enough, Carlos forces (Y/n) to face him, placing both his hands on her cheeks. Their eyes meet, both glinting with tears.

“Stop right there! If I have to say it over and over again, then I will: You are what I want. I love everything you might hate about yourself. I love seeing the brightness in your eyes whenever you see a dog. I love your passion for things you appreciate. I love the little scrunch on your face when you are reading. I love the way you hide behind me when a camera is near. I love you, (Y/n), and nothing you will do or say will ever change that because my affection is unconditional.“

At a loss for words, (Y/n) just stares at Carlos with wide eyes. This sweet monolog was the deepest profession of love she ever witnessed. Her heart felt like it was falling apart moments ago, but with every word that came over his lips, the pieces found shape again.

“Thank you“, she says with a rough voice, all that crying took a toll on her throat. After wiping all the tears from her face, Carlos leans down and captures her lips in a short yet tender kiss. His smile is bright, lightening her mood greatly.

“Don‘t worry, I will always be there when you are too deep in your own head, mi vida.“

[viceroywrites]

deja vu - part six (stan route)

planning out your road trip through the pacific northwest, you find yourself inexplicably drawn to the town of gravity falls.

little did you know that this town held more memories than you could have possibly imagined.

too bad you didn't remember any of them.

stan x fem!reader / ford x fem!reader

choose your own adventure / contains fluff and angst (w/ happy ending)

part five | part seven

interested in the ford route? click here for masterlist.

tag list: @awitchersbard | @theilluminatidragonqueen | @jazzypop-op | @jonndoe | @chaimshelii | @starship606 | @swimmingrascalbatdragon n | @stanfordsbaby | @gxstiess | @skrunkle11 | @valinbean | @funkyenby | @therealgoofygoober69 | @theblueraven | @adrian920155 | @im-kinda-bored | @miarabanana | @leo4242564 | @soupieoopieisloopie | @marvelous-maniac | @opossumclown | @m4x-3dw | @nothingbutcloud | @reivelmin | @grimometry | @walmartjim | @reiofsuns2001 | @bunni-teeth81 | @satorisgirl | @pen900 | @creat0r-cat | @lackingoriginalthoughts | @fries11 | @sunniskyies | @policedeer | @sadslasher13 | @kittenlover614 | @margibees | @lunnybunny12 | @the-hufflebird-girl | @sawendel l | @shamrockfish | @atseoks | @luckybatbones | @ryuyukawa | @mekkori | @bigbodycity | @kawaii1369 | @333brat333 | @styxxcrossing

The drive back to the Mystery Shack was a bit tense to say the least.

Stan and Ford had both agreed to not mention your dream to the kids, not wanting them to worry but immediately, Mabel and Dipper started to pick up on the tension between you and Ford.

The pair watched the two of you, eyes darting back and forth over their cereal, ate out of plastic cups as you both tried to avoid interaction with one another as much as possible.

The tension became apparent when you asked Dipper to switch to the front seat when Ford slid into the driver’s seat, offering to drive back since Stan was sleep deprived.

Due to the lack of sleep over the past two nights, both you and Stan knocked out in the back next to Mabel, the only sound echoing through the car was Stan’s snores.

Mabel breaks the awkward silence, “Are you and Y/N fighting, Great Uncle Ford?”

Dipper looks up from his book, back at his sister, “Mabel..” He mutters, not wanting to upset Ford even further than he already seemed.

“It’s alright, Dipper. You and your sister are much more perceptive than I give you credit for.” Ford glances back at Mabel who stares back at him in concern, “We’re… at a bit of an impasse, Mabel. Y/N got a painful memory back last night and I’m giving her some space as she processes everything.” Ford explains.

“Did you two get into an argument or something? Is that what she remembered?” Dipper asks.

Ford hesitates, not wanting to mention Bill at all after what they went through last summer, “Something like that..”

The two decide to drop the matter for now.

As Mabel looks through the photos she had taken during their camping trip, she glances to the side briefly when she hears Stan’s snore stutter. Usually, she would nudge him awake, thinking he was choking in his sleep. Instead, she blinked owlishly at the scene before her. Your head had slumped to the side in your slumber, landing on Stan’s shoulder. A bit of drool leaked from your mouth onto Stan’s shirt yet her uncle was still fast asleep, snoring away, with his head atop of yours.

‘Y/N has been a lot more comfortable with Grunkle Stan compared to Grunkle Ford. But that would be devastating for Grunkle Ford…’ Mabel muses before snapping her fingers and rummaging through her bag to pull out a tween magazine she had buried at the bottom.

‘A good ol’ compatibility test should prove that Grunkle Ford and Y/N are a perfect match!’ Mabel grabs a glittery pen and flips to the dog eared page, smoothing out the wrinkles on the paper.

“Mind if I ask you a couple questions, Uncle Ford? It’s.. uh… for a summer project of mine to interview a family member.” Mabel comes up with a fabricated excuse, causing her brother to glance back at her skeptically. She quickly hushes him with a finger over her mouth and he sighs, putting in his earbuds and going back to reading his book, accustomed to his sister’s antics.

“Sure, go right ahead, sweetheart.” Ford says, appreciating any type of distraction from the worries he had circling in his brain about the memories you were going to uncover tonight.

“What adjective best describes you? Smart, Cute, Flirty, Goofy?” Mabel asks, pen hovering over the bubbles.

“Well.. that’s a bit of an odd question. Smart probably is the most accurate descriptor for me out of all of those.” Ford hums.

“Got it. Next question, what do you look for most in a partner? Humor, A Killer Smile, Quick Wit, or Positive Attitude?” Mabel decides to skip over the option ‘A Six-Pack’.

Ford raises his eyebrow, “What class is this for, Mabel? These questions are quite peculiar.”

“It’s… uh for my Science class. We’re learning about the science of attraction!” Mabel comes up with hoping Ford will buy her answer.

“Huh, fascinating. The curriculum they’re teaching the youth nowadays is a lot more diverse. I probably could have used a class like that growing up…” Ford mutters mostly to himself.

“Quick wit. I value a mind that can keep up with me.”

“Interesting… Now what animal resonates with you the most?”

- You were woken up with a gentle shake, your eyes fluttering open. You’re greeted with the sight of the Mystery Shack with Dipper and Ford’s backs disappearing inside, carrying their backpacks and gear. Letting out a yawn, you’re about to sit up but pause, feeling the weight of Stan’s head still atop of yours. Your eyes flick over to Mabel who attempts to wake her Grunkle but with no success.

You decide to pull your head out from underneath Stan’s, feeling slightly embarrassed at the thought of how long you two were leaning on one another for. This causes his head to toss suddenly down, jolting him awake as his head whips back up, “Wha-? Where are we?”

“We’re back home, Grunkle Stan. Your snores were practically shaking the car.” Mabel teases her Grunkle before her eyes look over at you.

You see a certain look in her eyes and can’t help but gulp.

You knew you were in for a Mabel interrogation session.

Did Ford tell the kids about your dream?

You barely understood what was going on - how were you supposed to explain this to a 13-year-old?

“Y/N, I wanted to ask you a couple questions for… a school project.” Mabel says with a grin that you can’t fathom saying no to.

Stan glances over at you and chuckles, “Trial by Mabel again… good luck, toots.” A warm hand encloses over your shoulder, patting it in a mockingly sympathetic manner.

“How about we head inside first, Mabel?” You say with a tired smile.

Surprisingly, said interrogation was not about your first encounter with Bill. Instead, it was a quiz straight out of a teen magazine.

‘Huh, somehow I thought this would be way more intense.’ You think to yourself as Mabel finishes the last question, sitting on the floor in front of your air mattress.

“Hey… are you mad at Great Uncle Ford, Y/N?” Mabel asks, putting her glittery pen down to look up at you with a concerned tilt of her head.

Ah, there it is.

“Mad isn’t really the right word.” You explain, trying to find an accurate descriptor for your feelings towards Ford at the moment, “Frustration fits a bit better. Mix that with a good amount of confusion and that’s how I feel towards your great uncle right now.”

“You think you’ll be able to forgive him?” Mabel questions, “Grunkle Ford kinda gives off a prickly cactus vibe when you first meet him but he does have a softer, less prickly side.”

You laugh at Mabel’s comparison, envision a cactus with Ford's nose and glasses, “I guess that fits him, doesn’t it?”

“I really hope I can, Mabel. I still don’t know what your Grunkle did that led to us going our separate ways but I definitely don’t want to be holding a grudge forever.” You admit as honestly as you can.

A knock on the closet door interrupts your discussion, your voice telling the person on the other side of the door to come in.

Stan opens the door, “Is the interrogation over? Is it safe to come in?” He jokes, eyes flitting between you and Mabel.

“I don’t know, am I done, Mabel?” You ask, glazing down at the pre-teen who nods, “Yup, got all the information I needed!”

“Mind giving us some privacy, pumpkin? The adults gotta talk about adult things.” Stan asks his grand-niece and Mabel grimaces, remembering the birds and bees conversation Stan had with her in Dipper’s body last summer.

She quickly takes her leave, thanking you before shutting the door behind her.

Now it was just you and Stan.

“So what adult things do we need to discuss, my fellow adult?” You say teasingly.

“Hey, you try to find a better way to ask your niece to leave to have a private conversation without getting a billion questions asking why she has to leave.” Stan scoffs before his expression looked a bit more serious.

“Ford told me you wanted to break into the museum tonight to maybe find more of your memories.” Stan pauses.

You notice his reluctance, “Is breaking and entering against your moral code?”

“Of course not, I’m all for breaking in, but… you sure you want all your memories back all at once?”

“I mean yeah, why not?” You say, wondering where Stan was going with this, “Who knows how long it’s going to take for these memories to come back organically, especially since Ford has nothing from our time together?”

“Guess that’s true…” Stan mutters, not considering that he had a lot more to work with to bring back his memories compared to you, “Listen, I’m just speaking from personal experience here. I know ya got a time limit compared to me but it gets pretty overwhelming getting a ton of memories back to back. Just… pace yourself, if it gets too much tonight, okay?”

Despite your initial skepticism, you see the genuine concern in Stan’s face. You knew that while you had a few years of memories to get back, Stan had 60 years worth of joys and sorrows all flooding back to him at different stages. You were still determined to get as much of your memories back tonight as possible, but you better understood the potential pain and confusion that came at the cost of that.

“I’ll try…” Your answer doesn’t give Stan full certainty but he recognizes that’s the best he can ask for at this point.

“Well, I’m gonna catch up on some more sleep. The real reason I came in here was Ford wanted me to tell ya that the museum closes at 10 PM so we’ll head out at 11 PM, don’t forget to wear all black.” Stan reminds you, heading towards the door. You were slightly perturbed by the fact that Ford was using Stan as a messenger of sorts. You recognize you had asked for space but this was a bit much.

“I’ll remember to bring some black gloves too.” You say jokingly.

“I mean if you’ve got 'em…” Stan says with a shrug, having a pair himself that he was going to wear.

He sees your surprised expression, “Oh.. you were joking. Forget I said that.” He says, closing the door behind him.

Meanwhile, Mabel stares down at the results of the compatibility quiz in her and Dipper’s room in the attic, having compared you and Ford’s answers.

40% - Good friends but not much more.

“That can’t be right… they should at least have a 70 or 80% compatibility rating for them to be soulmates!” Mabel says in shock, her pen running across the pages to make sure she tallied up the scores correctly.

Dipper looks up from his journal, halting his own writing, “Ya know, it’s been almost thirty years since they dated, Mabel. People can change, maybe they just aren’t compatible anymore.”

“But Dipper, I failed at matchmaking for Grunkle Stan last summer… I was really hoping I could find a match for Great Uncle Ford and Y/N seemed like a perfect candidate.” Mabel sighs, flopping back down onto her bed and burying her head in a pillow. “Maybe Great Uncle Ford’s match isn’t even human. He did date a siren at one point.” Dipper points out.

On his way up to his room, Stan stops at the twins’ room, giving a courtesy knock before opening the door. He sees Mabel buried in her pillow and glances over at Dipper who merely shakes his head in response, a silent way of communicating ‘It’s complicated.’

“Hey kiddos, me, Ford and Y/N are going out later tonight to hopefully find some of Y/N’s memories back in the old museum. Soos and Melody will be in charge if you need anything.” Stan announces nonchalantly, leaning against the door frame.

Mabel sits up, “You guys going on an adventure without us?”

“Why can’t we come, Grunkle Stan? We’ve been down there before last summer, we can help you guys search.” Dipper protested.

“Hey, this isn’t an adventure - I’m just tagging along to help break in, and keep your Uncle Ford and Y/N from fighting.” Stan puts his hands up defensively, “Besides, you kids gotta remember that they didn’t end on… the best terms to put it lightly. Y/N’s might have a lot of not so great memories with your Uncle Ford that I don’t think either of you want to see.” Stan explains with a slight sternness to his voice.

The two twins look at each other, knowing Stan only uses a serious tone when he means business before nodding in understanding, their prior protests gone.

“Alright, your Grunkle’s gonna take a siesta before another late night. I swear I haven’t stayed up this late in ages.” Stan is about to take his leave before Mabel stops him in his tracks.

“Wait, Grunkle Stan!” Mabel calls out, causing Stan to pause at the doorway and groan over the fact that he was being kept from the sweet solace of his bed.

“Can I… ask you a couple questions too?” Mabel asks, clutching the magazine.

‘Maybe there is something there.’ Mabel thinks to herself, recalling the last few interactions you’ve had with her Grunkle Stan.

“I swear I think you’re starting to get a kick out of interrogating people, pumpkin. Someone's gonna recruit you for the FBI someday."

-

Your fingers ran over the ink of your journal, looking through the pages of the dreams you had cataloged over the past twenty plus years.

Tonight was hopefully the night you would uncover the meaning behind them.

Slipping the journal into your black fanny pack that you are thankful you packed, you close the door of your room behind you, decked in all black attire. You pass by the living room on your way outside, seeing the peaceful scene of the twins watching Duck-tective with Soos and Melody in the living room before making your way to the front door of the Mystery Shack.

As you step out into the cool summer night, you see Stan and Ford already standing outside, their deep voices bickering. Both wearing all black attire with gloves. They practically matched aside from some clear stylistic differences in their tops - Ford wearing a black turtleneck and trench coat and Stan wearing a black t-shirt and black leather jacket.

“Stanley, if we just bring a pair of bolt cutters, that should be enough to just cut off the lock.” Ford argues, holding up the bolt cutters.

“When you’re breaking and entering, you want to bring as little equipment as possible - otherwise, you might leave evidence at the scene. Besides, you’re the one who said you needed me to tag along for my lock picking skills!” Stan protested.

“Am I interrupting something?” Your voice cuts through as you approach, causing the two to whip their heads around and fall quiet out of embarrassment.

Ford clears his throat, “No, we were just discussing the best method of getting into the museum.” It was the first time he had spoken to you since this morning, and the tension between the two of you was still present as he redirected the conversation back to Stan as he brushes past you to put the bolt cutters back inside, “We should probably get going, I’ll concede and let you pick the lock.”

The three of you piled into El Diablo, the twins sitting in the front and you sitting in the back behind Stan. Stan toyed around with the radio, the music filling up the awkward silence. You glanced over at Ford who had a steely look in his eyes, quickly averting your gaze when he saw you looking in his peripheral, taking a look himself.

Stan’s eyes flicked between the two of you in the rear view mirror before letting out a heavy sigh, “You know, this night’s gonna be a lot harder if you two knuckleheads can’t at least talk to one another. I know I’m supposed to be the mediator here, but I can’t translate silence.”

“Stanley, I’m just giving Y/N the space that she asked for.” Ford mutters defensively, his arms crossing in an almost childlike manner. “She said space, not a cold shoulder, Poindexter.” Stan points out before glancing at you through the rear view, giving you the floor to speak up.

“We do have to communicate… you’re really the only person who can help me understand my memories.” You admitted, rubbing the back of your neck. “I can’t promise that I won’t get upset tonight, but I will at least give you the opportunity to explain everything before jumping to assumptions.”

Ford glanced back at you, a sense of relief washing over him, “Thank you… I hope tonight gives you some type of closure depending on how deep we get into your memories.”

Stan’s shoulders visibly relaxed at the sound of you and Ford putting aside the tension for now to address the issue of your memory loss. The rest of the drive goes smoothly for the most part aside from the twins’ usual bickering and bantering.

Once Stan parks in front of the museum, Ford quickly steps out to scout the area for any cops or security while you and Stan wait in the car. “Already doing a great job as our mediator.” You mention with a grin to which Stan rolls his eyes, “Please, I was just pointing out the obvious. I can’t do much mediating if you two aren’t even talking.”

“By the way, these are for you. Need to make sure we don’t leave any prints behind even though I’m doing the lock picking.” Stan reaches into his jacket pocket before fishing out a pair of black gloves and handing them to you. You look between Stan and the gloves before taking them from his hand, your fingertips brushing briefly as you do so. “They might be a little big… they’re an extra pair I have.” Stan admits sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Well, I appreciate it either way. Thanks Stan.” You say with a soft smile, sliding the gloves on. Ford raps his knuckles on the glass, signaling the coast is clear. He eyes the gloves on your hands briefly when you slip out of the car before addressing Stan. “So how do you plan on picking the lock?”

Stan pops open the trunk of his car, pulling out a briefcase that contains all the tools of the trade that he has used before in his many years on the run. “Ford, could you go and check what kinda lock is on the door?” He asks his twin as he rummages through the briefcase. Ford walks off again to assess the entrance and your eyebrow raised, “Does it matter what kind of lock it is?”

“Well yeah, you got your deadbolt locks, padlocks, mortise locks, cylinder locks. I know how to break into all of ‘em… except those new-fangled locks that you just put in a bunch of numbers.” Stan explains before glancing over his shoulder as Ford calls out ‘Padlock.’ “Oh this’ll be easy then.” Stan pulls out two small tools before pocketing them and beckoning you to follow him.

You’re not sure whether to be concerned or impressed by Stan’s vast knowledge of lock-picking, but you’re grateful for it the moment the padlock comes loose, dropping onto Stan’s hand. “Great work, Stanley, that went much quicker than I had anticipated.” Ford says, pulling a flashlight to illuminate the dark museum as the three of you slip inside, shutting the door behind you.

You gently nudge Stan on the side, the two of you trailing behind Ford who leads the way, “Nice work, you gotta teach me how to do that one day so I don’t have to call a locksmith whenever I accidentally lock myself out of my place.” Stan’s chest swells with pride from the praise, “Well, it’s pretty simple, I’ll give ya a tutorial before you head out of town.”

Making your way through the museum, the figures and masks that adorn the walls and space looking creepier in the dim lighting, Ford searches for the room full of eyes that Dipper had mentioned to him during their encounter with the Society of the Blind Eye. “Hey Ford, mind explaining how my memories would be in this museum?” You ask.

“Would you believe me if I were to tell you that Fiddleford started a cult?” Ford lets out a dry chuckle at the statement, glancing over his shoulder to see your look of disbelief. “You’re gonna need to elaborate on that one, Sixer.” Stan pointed out. “Honestly, at this point, I would have believed you if you told me that you and Stan were actually clones more than that.” You scoff, causing the brothers to laugh.

“When Fiddleford first invented the memory gun, I had warned him about the potential risks it could pose if it fell into the wrong hands. Unbeknownst to me, Fiddleford continued to use it to deal with his anxiety. After…” Ford paused, clearing his throat of the nervous lump that got stuck, “After the two of you left, Fiddleford created what he called the Society of the Blind Eye. Its sole purpose was to help the people of Gravity Falls cope with the weirdness they witnessed on a daily basis by forgetting.” You stop in your tracks, your brain seemingly buffering. Just when you thought things couldn't get stranger, there was always something that caught you off guard.

“Excuse me, one second.” You announce, walking away from Stan and Ford into another exhibit away from them.

Ford looks at Stan in confusion before both of them jump at the sound of you exclaiming.

“What the fuck?!”

You walked back into the room, letting out a sigh after getting that out of your system, “Alright, let’s keep moving.”

Ford and Stan look at each other and Stan pats Ford’s shoulder sympathetically, “Better get used to that, I have a feeling that’s gonna happen a lot tonight.”

After following Stan and Ford down a pole that Ford had insisted lead to where the memories were stored, your eyes widened, taking in the sight of a room full of capsules with different names laid across the floor, and a statue of a figure in a cloak at the center of the room.

The Hall of the Forgotten etched above the entryway.

“Jeez, how many minds did that old hillbilly erase?” Stan comments, kicking aside a capsule that rolls across the floor.

“I highly doubt this was all Fiddleford’s doing. Apparently, when his mind was gone after multiple uses of the memory gun, someone took up his mantle and took the job quite seriously by the looks of it.” Ford crouched down to survey the different names on the gold tubes.

“Well… where do we start?” You ask, still dumbfounded at the sheer amount of memories that seemed to have been erased.

Ford glances around the spacious room before giving an answer, “Divide and conquer is likely the best strategy. I’ll take this area over here. Stan, could you take the area on the other side of the room? Y/N, you can check the capsules that are next to that statue.”

With the directions given, the three of you split up, the sound of metal clanking against the floor with each tube tossed to the side amidst the sorting. Each new name that you read causes a pit in your stomach to form, becoming more and more hopeless about the possibility that your name would be found amongst the massive pile. Part of you wonders how many hours, days, potentially years of memories of people’s lives are lost within this room.

The hours spent searching drag along, time standing still underneath the museum. “How long have we been down here for?” Stan asks, making it halfway through a pile in the far corner of the room. Ford pulls back his sleeve to reveal a calculator watch the twins had gifted him for his birthday, “Approximately two hours, eight minutes, thirty-one seconds.”

“Should we just call it? There’s still a good chunk of the room left to sort through. We’ve already lost sleep over this.” You sigh, tossing another tube to the side. Stan glances over his shoulder to see you sitting on the floor, your shoulders slumped down dejected.

Stan gets up from his spot on the floor, walking over to you and placing a hand on your shoulder. You glance up, giving Stan a look that he understood immediately. You were getting exhausted by this search. He’d been there before after sleepless nights spent with Ford, looking at old photos and videos of them growing up. He would stare at them over and over again in the tiny hope that his memories would return.

“Hey, Ford and I are ready to stay up all night to help you look as long as you are. Right Ford?” Stan attempts to reassure you, looking to his brother for back up. Ford nods, “I drank a whole pot of coffee right before we left. I’m prepared to continue searching until the sun rises as long as that’s what you want, Y/N.”

Stan looks back at you, “How about it? You wanna keep going or you wanna throw in the towel for tonight?” With the newfound encouragement, you make the decision to push onward. To pass the time, Ford and Stan would share stories about their adventures this past year as well as a few adventures they took when they were kids to help pass the time.

Stan stood up to reach for a box that contained more of the gold capsules. His hands wrapped around the wooden box, slowly lowering the box that was filled to the brim. One of the capsules fell from the pile, hitting him straight in the nose. “Son of a-” Stan winces, placing the box down to rub his nose before snatching up the capsule that fell to the ground. His eyes widened at the text on it.

Before Stan can speak up, your voice cries out excitedly, “I found it!” In your hand, you hold up a capsule that reads ‘Y/N L/N Memories’

Ford puts down the tube in his hand and rushes over to your side of the room at your announcement, “My god, it actually is here. I was starting to worry that my theory that it may be here was completely off base.” He mutters, taking it from your hands to assess it.

Once the high of finding the capsule has worn off, Stan watches you and Ford look at each other, knowing what lies ahead. Stan decides it may not be the best time to mention the capsule he discovered and pockets it for now, joining the two of you in front of the monitor that displays the memories.

“I’m not sure what lies ahead in these memories… but words cannot express how truly sorry I am for everything that unravels moving forward.” Ford sighs, “I know you may not want comfort from the person who hurt you deeply, but if you need any clarity in what you see, I will give you those answers.”

You look down at the capsule, looking back at the twins before letting out a sigh, “Here goes nothing.”

Your hands place the capsule inside the holder, the screen flickering on the moment that it is inserted. You sit on the floor, knowing you’re in for a long viewing. Ford and Stan follow suit, sitting behind you to give you space.

Memories flicker onto the screen like a tape, playing back every single interaction you had with Ford.

Your first meeting in the library.

All-nighters you pulled together.

Reading under the trees in the quad, Ford’s head on your lap.

Tender kisses exchanged, his six fingers intertwined with yours, falling asleep in each other’s arms.

Ford carrying you on his back as you wear your graduation attire.

Stan glances over at his brother who watches on with a bittersweet smile.

It’s such a strange sight to see such tender moments between you and Ford when the two of you weren’t talking to each other just this morning.

There’s a tinge of something else there that stirs within Stan as he watches on.

‘Now’s not the time, Stan. Pull yourself together.’ He thinks to himself, trying to push down the emotion that he did not want to admit.

The memories from college that were still quite murky were becoming crystal clear, everything unraveling in front of you. You could almost feel the feelings of affection towards Ford come back, the butterflies in your stomach stirring.

They suddenly drop at the sight of an offer letter to the National Parks in your hands.

You were about to knock on Ford’s door before he suddenly burst out, grabbing you and spinning you around in excitement. “Ford, put me down! What’s with all the commotion?” You chuckle, still clutching the letter in your hand.

“Y/N, my grant proposal got accepted!” Ford shared the news excitedly. Your eyes widened, and you embraced him in response, “That’s amazing, Ford! I-” Ford cuts you off, “I’ve decided that I want to study anomalies, the oddities of the world like myself… There's a sleepy town in Oregon that is a hot spot for them!”

“Oregon…? That’s so far away from here… but I suppose we could do long distance while you’re doing your research.” Your voice wavers, clutching the paper in your hands tighter.

“Well… we don’t have to.” Ford pauses, holding you by the shoulders, “I would love for you to accompany me on this journey. Oregon is chalk full of geological findings, I’m sure you could find work out there.”

“Right…” You trail off. You had to make a decision right here and now - pursue your dream job or follow the man that you loved to support him. You knew if you shared the news with Ford, he would insist on you taking the job.

“Is everything alright, my star?” Ford asks with a furrowed brow, seeing the conflicted look in your eyes.

“Yes… I’d love to join you in Oregon.” You say, crumpling up the offer letter.

Ford watches in awe, guilt washing over him. He was not aware that you had been offered your dream job right after finishing school. He wonders in his excitement that he took away that moment for you to shine. That you shrunk back into his shadow, like you had always done.

Your first year of Gravity Falls flies by, showing your adventures with Ford hunting anomalies, several nights of attempting to get Ford to go to bed at a reasonable time that seemed routine, and Fiddleford’s arrival to help with the portal.

Shortly after a clip of you, Fiddleford and Ford building a snowman in the front yard of the Mystery Shack, the beginning of your dream from the night prior plays on screen. Ford’s figure whips around revealing those vibrant yellow eyes and face-splitting grin characteristic of Bill’s possession.

Stan reaches over to place a hand on your shoulder, “Maybe we should take a break…”

You shake your head vehemently, “No, I want to keep going.”

“Y/N, maybe Stanley’s right…” Ford chimes in before being silenced at the sight of you turning your head around to face them, a look of determination etched across your features.

“It’s going to be painful. I know that. I know what I’m getting myself into.” You snap at the two before looking over at Stan whose gaze acts as a silent plea, “I promise.. I’ll tell you when I need to pause.”

Stan and Ford back off, allowing you to continue watching the memories that play out in front of you.

You wince as the screen plays out your nightmare before your eyes. Your hand clutches your necklace tight to your chest, almost wanting to rip it off as it feels constricting, your breath picking up in pace. Your body was stuck in freeze, unable to fight or fly your way out of the scene before you.

Ford watches the screen helplessly, watching Bill use his body like a puppet. Anger and sadness washes over him, wanting nothing more than to comfort you, but knowing it may only make things worse. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Stan scooch forward to take a seat next to you.

Perhaps if he couldn’t comfort you, at least Stanley could.

After all, Stan was much better at reading people’s emotions and offering comfort than Ford ever was.

Stan notices your tense posture and places a gentle hand on your back, “Deep breaths, you can look away if you wanna.” His deep voice coaches you through it, feeling him rub gentle circles against the material of your top. You look away briefly to focus on evening out your breath, inhaling and exhaling slowly, “Atta girl, you got this.”

“Is it done? I think I might need a minute.” You ask, peering up at Stan, finally ready to tap out for now. Stan nods his head, his hand lingering on your back before looking back at his brother, “This thing got a pause button?”

Ford’s gaze lingers on his brother’s comforting hand still resting on your back, and Stan takes notice of it immediately, pulling away.

Shit.

“I believe so. It’s 3 AM so we still have about an hour or so before we have to absolutely be out of here.” Ford says, standing up and tinkering with the machine before pressing a button on the side that pauses the video on a still-frame of you sleeping with your back turned away from Ford.

‘How fitting.’ Ford muses to himself.

You look around the room, trying to distract yourself from the image of Bill’s hand around your throat. Your mind is still racing at a million miles an hour, blurry images in your subconscious slowly coming into focus. Your shaky gaze ends up landing on the statue that towers before you, staring at the daunting symbol of the Society of the Blind Eye.

An X through an all-seeing eye.

Your pupils dilate as the symbol suddenly conjures up a memory that was shoved deep in the back of your head.

The symbol glaring back at you, etched atop a red hood that cloaked its wearer’s face. Staring down the barrel…. though it was more like a bulb… of the memory gun. The cloaked figure’s hand trembling, the finger on the trigger slipping off every time it tries to pull it.

The constant shaking causes the hood to fall out of place, revealing the holder of the Memory Gun to be Fiddleford before a flash of light clouds your vision.

The sleep deprivation over the past few nights mixed with the overwhelm of all these memories flooding back, caused your body to begin to slump over, your vision blurring and making the room hazy.

‘Y/N!’

One pair of hands keep you up right to prevent you from falling over, while the other cups your cheeks, slapping them lightly to knock you out of your stupor.

“Come on, don't pass out on us now.” Stan’s voice rasps. Feeling five fingers against your skin tells you that Stan is the one in front of you holding your face.

Your eyes flutter open to see Stan staring back at you with concern before he looks over your shoulder to address Ford, “We’re calling it a night, let’s head back to the Mystery Shack.”

“Wait… I’m okay… please, let’s keep going.” You say shakily, your hand grasping his forearm. After that memory resurfaced of Fiddleford erasing your memories, you’re now more than ever desperate for answers. Desperate to make sense of the voices ringing in your head.

‘I don’t need you, I don’t need anyone!’

‘Stop being a distraction.’

‘You’re useless.’

‘I thought you of all people would understand what I’m up against!’

Stan shakes his head, “Kid, you nearly passed out just now. You just got at least three years worth of memories back in one night, they’ll still be here tomorrow.” He tries to talk you down but you’re persistent.

“I don’t have any more time to waste, Stan! I can’t keep waiting every single night to sneak back down here and uncover maybe another few months of my memories! I don’t have time to take it slow like you did!” You argue, hitting your breaking point and irritated from the lack of sleep.

Stan’s expression falters, and you immediately wish you could take back the last few words that escaped your lips.

His expression shifts after that brief moment of vulnerability, practically unreadable, a blank poker face as he looks past you to address his brother, “Ford, is there a way to take this hunk of junk back to the Mystery Shack with us?” Stan gestures back to the machine that displayed your memories.

“Yes, let me see if it’s connected to anything. Otherwise, we should be able to just pick it up and go.” Ford says, standing up to check if there were any cords keeping the monitor tethered.

His eyes flick over to you and Stan, “You two can head back to the car, we’ll reconvene back upstairs.” He figured it might be best to give you and Stan some time to talk, it’s clear to him now that Stan must have shared with you that he lost his memories as well.

Making your way back up to the museum and wandering through the dark halls, the two of you walk next to each other in absolute silence. You’re not sure what to say to the man that you just attacked with your words. The man who had gone out of his way to help bridge the gap between you and his brother, comforted you these past two nights.

A gust of wind hits your skin the moment you push the large oak doors of the entrance, the moon still high in the sky. After holding the door open for Stan, you lean against the pillar, pulling out the journal of your dreams you had brought along and a pen. You skim through the pages, marking off on each page each dream that you now had the full memory of. Stan watches you, rummaging through the pockets of his leather jacket.

The first words that come out of his mouth aren’t what you are expecting.

“Mind if I smoke?” Stan asks, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a worn-out lighter with the Mystery Shack logo etched on the side. You look up from the pages of your journal, “Yeah… sure.”

The sound of the lighter clicking and a deep exhale follows, the heavy scent of smoke filling your nostrils.

It was a scent that lingered on Stan’s jacket when he had lent it to you a few nights ago, mixed with some form of woodsy cologne. Pine-scented, fittingly enough.

Closing your journal and slipping it back into your bag, you break the silence finally.

“Stan I-”

“Save the apology, toots. You’re right.”

Stan’s response catches you off guard.

“I hit below the belt though. I didn’t mean to minimize the journey you went through getting your memories back. I mean I’ve got what… maybe five-six years of my life to recover? You had to get back a whole lifetime’s worth, the fact that you were able to get most of it back already is a feat in itself.” You spill out all your feelings, worried that Stan may cut you off if you don’t get it all out in the open now, “God, I can barely handle one night of memory recovery, how the hell did you survive months of this?”

“If you think that’s below the belt, you should hear me and Ford’s fights back in the day.” Stan scoffs, taking another hit from his cigarette and blowing the smoke away from your direction. “Listen, I get it, you’re on a tight schedule and I don’t want you leaving here with half of your memories of my brother still missing. That’s why I asked Poindexter to bring that machine back to the Shack with us, that way you can watch back the memories whenever you want.”

“That’s why you asked Ford?” You ask in alarm.

“Yeah, of course. Why else would I ask him to do that?” Stan stares at you as if his intentions were glaringly obvious.

“I dunno… just thought you wanted to wipe your hands clean of this situation. Leave it up to me and Ford.” You mutter, rubbing your arm.

“Hey, you can't get rid of me that easily, toots.” Stan chuckles, “I dragged you into this mess, picking you up off the side of the road. Now I’m invested in helping ya get your memories back as much as Ford is. Also, I would very much like to get my sleep back and I don’t feel like baby-sitting you and Ford from killing each other every single night.”

“I could probably use the sleep myself.” You admit.

“Ya think? Thought you were gonna bite my head off in there from how sleep deprived you looked.” Stan teased.

You both let out a chuckle, just in time for Ford to walk into the scene, the gold monitor in his arms, with a sense of relief. He wonders how you and his brother seemed to have worked things out in the brief amount of time, he can’t help but envy how Stan seemed to have gained your trust and comfort so quickly.

To be fair, though, you did not have the same history with Stan as you did with Ford.

“Shall we head out?” Ford pauses, seeing the cigarette in Stan’s hand.

“Seriously, Stanley? What did I tell you about smoking?”

“Oh, get off your high horse, Stanford! I know how bad smoking is for you, I don’t need the three hour lecture about carcinogens again!”

The light-hearted bickering between the twins distracted Stan enough to completely forget about the capsule that weighed heavy in his pocket.

‘Y/N L/N Memories 2.’

[nebulastarss]

Catbatfam Wayne family lore pt2 (Mostly Tim cuz I had thoughts)

Next door to the Wayne family are the Drake household. Now, you know how fanon Tim Drake has horrifically neglective parents to the point where he should definitely be dead by 6 years old? Yeah Kitty Timothy has that. Since he is just a cat, they pile food in a few bowls and then leave. They have an automatic litter box (DANGEROUS. ESPECIALLY FOR KITTENS.) so he's not getting infections, but he's definitely running out of food before the weeks are over and they pop back in (also the food is stale. Gross)

Timothy is a well behaved pet regardless, essentially hoping that if he's cute enough they'll stop leaving him to his own devices. Never works. He becomes a real good hunter, and no one ever finds out about the rat infestation. So he's pretty independent, but not feral. He also gets into the habit of watching the streets from the window, catching Bruce walking past multiple times.

(Sometimes the Drakes forget to pay the power bill for a little. Thankfully they gave him his own cat room, and he piles blankets that he lies under with only his nose poking out.)

One day, he has ran out of food and he must've over hunted because the rats aren't there. But Bruce is outside again. And Tim is hungry. So he starts screaming, yelling and rubbing his face against the glass. Bruce stops and runs up to press his nose against the glass, proceeding to break into Drake Manor and steal their kitten

Martha and Thomas are once again rushing to the vet, and once again contacting lawyers over animal neglect. The poor thing is half starved! He's got scratches and illnesses from the rats! He has signs of prolonged exposure to the cold! Bad pet ownership!

They now own 5 cats. They never planned on 5 cats, and the kittens all get along like a house on fire. They're all similar ages, only a few months in between them, with such different personalities.

Dick won't stop hissing at strangers but turns into a loud and clingy kitten the second he's near family. He's curious and constantly overestimating how far he can jump. He's often in the living areas, perched over the fireplace or becoming one with the couch. He's also the most prone to going full Zoomies. He will be running in circles for the next 10 minutes actually.

Jason isn't loud but he's clumsy (he trips on the stairs like. A lot. They think it's because of the lack of tail) and he prefers the library and the kitchen to any other room in the manor. (Some servants will open random books and leave them out, they have lists of which ones he does and doesn't lay on, called "Jason's Favorites") he gets along with Alfred, who also frequents the kitchens.

Tim, despite being initially quiet and loving, has taken a more aloof stance once he's sure they won't just leave he hangs out in the offices a lot, to the point where they get him a little laptop toy (it's actually a real laptop. They enjoy looking through his search history: "afwgvbndnnnnnn nnnn") he does love pets, but won't actively push against someone. He will, however, linger in a room and stand juuust close enough that you could pet him. If you wanted to. Yknow, no pressure or anything. He's a little stalker cat, and prefers to watch everyone from above.

And all of them sneak out. Together. They use the doggy door, of course, but sometimes they all just vanish and then come back in using the door. Literally how, they have CAMERAS. Martha loves her grandbabies but she swears they're giving her gray hair. She's only in her thirties! She should not have gray hair!

Once again though, another video surfaces on the internet. Tim is sitting on a box, watching Dick and Babs play while Jason bats at Bruce's tail, when another cat literally falls on him. A Bengal with a large bell attached to her collar that darts away at Tim's affronted screech. She crouches down, tail flicking, before rolling around like a dog asking to play. Tim watches, unamused.

They end up playing anyway. Bruce also catches her at one point and licks the shit out of her fur, which is dirty as all hell. A post from a tired nurse reveals the kitten to be Stephanie, though Crystal Brown records herself fondly saying hello to her "dear Stephie" and asking how she got outside. Stephanie responds by rolling onto her back and purring.

Tim starts regularly showing up at her window, where they either watch pedestrians or play fight with the window between them (have you ever seen videos of kittens doing that? Cute as shit. They end up bonking their heads against the glass every single time) they officially don't do much more though, as Stephanie is supposed to be a strictly indoor cat. (More videos emerge of Stephanie breaking out while Crystal is at work. Poor nurse is fighting a loosing battle)

After a few weeks, the family relaxes again. Surely that's it, Bruce and his weird kitten collecting is over now.

Then he comes home with a silent Burmese kitten.

Bruce where do you keep getting these. They find nothing on her. As far as they can tell, she's a stray, but she's not injured or ill in any way. There's no identification and she won't speak at all.

(Did you know that cats don't meow into adulthood? Meowing is a baby noise. Cats actual noises are outside of our hearing range, all we can hear are "FUCK OFF LEAVE ME ALONE!" and "IM BABY GIVE ME LOVE!" Cats are taught by those older than them to keep meowing so that they can communicate with us.)

They take her home, and she follows everyone around. She walks on silent feet, often scareing the absolute crap out of however spots her (or trips over her)

One day she's watching Dick intensely, watching the way that Thomas interacts with him. She pads over, sits, and stares at him. He stares back. She tilts her head. He blinks and then Dick calls his attention away by meowing at him. And Cass stares at the both of them. Then she hops up on Thomas's lap, props herself up on his chest with her front legs, and meows at him. He's delighted, she loves being able to ask for shit and communicate, Dick is mostly just grumpy that Thomas stopped petting him.

Then, again surely that's it. Surely. We definitely have the room but Bruce we went from 2 cats to 6 in a month. Slow down. Martha is it just me or does taking care of these cats feel like we just chose to have children in a more convoluted way?

They are wrong.

[sturniolo04]

Workout Gone Wrong C.S.

Bf!Chris x Gf!Fem!Reader

A/N: If you don't like the preadded name in my stories, you can either add your own name or not read it; it's up to you :)

It wasn't unknown that you and the triplets go to the gym when you guys have time in your busy schedules. Between filming, merch drops and photoshoots, your guys' schedule never really allowed you to have a day were you did get to better your personal health and work out. Not to mention,Chris, your boyfriend of 1 year, aside from Nick, was one who worked out nonchalantly. Meaning he would consider climbing a two flights of stairs his workout for the day. Cardio was not his thing.

Today was one of those days that you guys collectively decided to go to the gym to workout, knowing you guys haven't been in a hot minute.

"Let's do this"

you exclaim out kind of excited as you all arrive at the gym hopping out of the back seat with Chris right behind you.

"im not excited for this at all"

nick complains out with Chris and Matt agreeing with their older brother.

"you okay"

you ask chris as you all finally step inside the facility, him nodding in response and you comfortingly and lovingly rub his back. Truth be told this was a off day for you all which mean no meetings, no photoshoots, and not even having to post anything if we didn't want to. Chris was always good about hiding things from you. Not in a bad way but like if was sick or not feeling too good, he wouldn't let you know. Which was the case today, Chris really wanted to take advantage of the off day and stay at home because his stomach was not agreeing with the rest of his body because he was simply dreading this workout, the nervousness getting to him.

Time Skip

you guys had made it halfway into your set and of course out of all days Chris could have asked for, they ended up doing a full cardio working, it not being his strong suit.

You had already noticed that chris was off before you all started your workout with the coach you guys always request when you come work out, just because of Chris not having his normal chatty self so you knew something was up.

"Chris you good"

matt asks him as he squats down next to him seeing we had a 1 minute break before our next set.

"y-yeah im good just havent done cardio in a while"

he strains a chuckle out, carefully rising to his feet since the minute break was about to be over. Throughout the last set of cardio Chris' face was abnormally a raging shade of red. You subtly look over a him, him catching your eye as you guys come to a complete stop signaling that the workout was completed.

"fuck babe i feel like im going to puke jesus christ"

chris mumbles out at a volume you could only hear him in, since you were right next to him, placing his hands on top of his head trying to catch his breath, to fill his lungs up with much needed oxygen.

"im sorry my love"

you state rubbing his shoulder, comfortingly as matt and nick make there way over to you two.

"im never doing fucking cardio again"

nick groans out as matt chuckles next to him at his statement. Chris let out a frustrated and strained sigh, as matt and Nick started a conversation on the side with each other.

"fuck"

he groans out as he starts pacing back and forth still trying to not only shake off the feeling wanting to vomit but also trying to still catch his breath, feeling like he didn't have enough oxygen still.

"do you want to go the bathroom you know just in case"

you ask your boyfriend watching his pacing figure worriedly as he subtly nods his head agreeing with you to make their way to the bathroom.

"okay- hey we are going to head to the bathroom before we leave we will be out in a second"

you reply softly to your boyfriend and then shifting to alert Matt and Nick was you two were going to do. They simply said a quick 'okay' and started making their way out of the facility.

You and chris head over to the bathroom. Chris continues to pace back and forth subtly as he started to continue to take even deeper labored breaths than he was before.

"hey talk to me whats going on"

you ask grabbing his waist halting his pacing.

"god here it comes"

chris mumbles out shuffling out of your loving grip to lean over the open toilet seat, placing his hands awkwardly on the metal bar to left of the toilet next to the toilet paper and the other on the tiled wall in front of him above the toilet itself. As he heaved downward spilling the contents out of his stomach into the toilet bowl a couple times.

"Chrisss"

you coo out from behind him dragging out the 's,' rubbing his back comfortingly as he begins coughing returning to his upright state, meeting your concerned eyes.

"fuck sorry"

he sighs out as you pull him into a gentle hug.

"are you okay now"

you ask.

"yeah im fine im with nick i am never doing cardio again jesus fuck"

he groans out as you giggle.

Taglist

@mintsturniolo @dirtylittleheart333 @wh0resstuff @spicymuffins03 @aaliyahsturn @stayingstromboli @ksturnz

[pedrosgrogu]

Born Too Late - Chapter 5

pairing/au: neighbor!joel x reader // no outbreak

Warnings: MDNI!!! SMUT (2 chapters in a row :0.. So much for slow burn), age gap, no use of y/n, i think thats it fr, dirty talk, unprotected p in v (be smart yall, wrap it up). thats it i think, lemme know if i missed something :) 

Summary: Sarah's conference is this week and seeing Joel is not on your list of things you want to do. Then he invites you over to talk. You need to set the boundary now, what could go wrong? (1.6k+)

a/n: i tried to write a lil more than usual bc i feel bad about inconsistent posting. (shoutout no personal life bc work/school) hopefully with winter break i can post a couple times a week. also trying to figure out how to make a taglist so if you want to be notified of new chapters, lmk!! If you have any suggestions, give em to a girl. i love to see/hear feedback :) <3

Yet again, you’re avoiding Joel like the plague. You have an unknown amount of missed calls from him. You also have conferences today. This means you have to see him, and you feel like you could throw up. He’s your last one at 5:30 p.m. The day goes by slowly, and you have lunch duty so you don’t have time to finish planning your conference notes. After lunch is the worst part of the day. Kids are tired and barely give a shit, but you have a couple good ones that you try to focus on. Sarah being one of them. The 2:30 bell rings and by 2:40 your class is empty. Conferences start at 3:30 so you finish your notes and try to eat your lunch but that sinking feeling is still there. 

By 5:15, you’ve talked to so many parents that they’re all starting to blur. You’re exhausted and would rather be quite literally anywhere else by now. You gather Sarah's notes and sit them on the table, one stack in front of you and a copy of your stack in front of where Joel will sit. Sarah really enjoys a select few books from your classroom library so you sit them on her desk for her in case she's with Joel. 

Before you see him, you smell him. The air in your classroom fills with hints of cedarwood and lavender. You look up and Sarah is already at her desk looking at the books. You stand to greet Joel. “Good Evening Mr. Miller” you reach to shake his hand but he doesn't move, he is staring right through you. “Sweet girl, you don't have to call me that.” He says, still staring. You smile and invite him to sit. “So” you start “Sarah is doing phenomenal, she loves to read and write, and is always very engaged. I pulled a few samples of her writings from the last couple weeks so you could read them. They’re the first sheets inside your fold-” “Babygirl” he says gruffly “I know my daughter, and she has excelled and exceeded every year. I'm here for you. Why have you been avoiding me?” You look at him, wide eyed. Half wanting to laugh and half wanting to cry. Your door is open and anyone could walk by and hear him, Sarah could hear him. “Joel I promise I'm not trying to avoid you” you say quietly, lying straight through your teeth. And he knows it. You stand up and walk to close the door and can feel his eyes burning through you. “I just dont think-” “I've called you more times than I can count, and you aint returned a single one. Shit baby, your bra is still on my bedroom floor. Taunting me every night.” You can feel the warmth begin to rise on your face, and between your legs. “Mr.Miller, now is not the time or the place for this conversation. If we could please get back to Sarah.” He looks at you, deadpan. “Alright, come to my house tomorrow night at 8. Sarah will be with her mom for the weekend.” Internally, you groan. Externally, “Yes sir”. You watch him stir in his chair at your words, repositioning himself. 

The rest of the conference goes well, Sarah reads some of her writings to her dad, and shows him her favorite books. He asks her so many questions about her work and she is extremely detailed in every answer. He seems like a great dad, and it puts him in a different light for you. Now he isn't only hot, and great at sex, and great at aftercare, but he's a good dad. You are so fucked. 

Friday comes and goes, yet again you're exhausted. You take a steaming shower when you get home. Shaving your legs, just because. NOT for Joel. Once out of the shower, you change into a pair of blue biker shorts and an oversized Texans crewneck. You throw your hair up in a bun and make yourself some coffee. Hoping the coffee will help combat the sleepiness, you throw yourself onto the couch and turn on some Grey's Anatomy reruns, and begin to drift into a nap. You try to fight it, but it's inevitable. 

You wake up to your phone ringing. You check the time. 8:17. “Shit” you grumble. You flip your phone open without even checking the caller ID. “Hello?” you say, groggily. “There's my sweet girl.” He says, pausing briefly. “You’re late. Better get here fast, dinners gonna be cold.” And before you can get a word out, Joel hangs up. “Fuck fuck FUCK.” You say, frustratedly. This has gone too far, and god forbid your work gets wind of this disaster. You’d be screwed. You throw your shoes on and walk next door. 

Joel opens the door right as you walk up the steps. The smells instantly take you back to that morning. You still remember how he felt inside you, how his lips felt on yours, how his hand fit around your neck so perfectly how- “You gonna come in or you just gon’ stand there?” Joel snaps you out of your trance. You follow him the rest of the way in, kicking your shoes off at the door this time. “I made spaghetti with garlic bread. Stuck it in the oven to stay warm since you tried to stand me up.” He says, grinning. “Joel look” you start, “I really appreciate this, and I really had a” “Sit down and eat. We can talk after.” He says, pulling a chair out. He walks around to the fridge, opening the door. You can't stop staring at him. His shoulders so broad, and biceps borderline busting out of his shirt. You’re in a trance. “Red or white?” he says, but you don't hear him. You’re too busy eye fucking him, completely forgetting that the only reason you’re here is to end this before it starts. He turns around and sees you still looking straight through him, undressing him with your eyes. He grins a devilish grin and you snap back to reality. “Huh? Sorry I was-” “No need to explain, I asked if you wanted red or white wine?” he says, grinning “Oh.. ummm.. White please!” He sits the glass next to you, along with your plate of food. 

Dinner goes well, you talk about Sarah and how great of a student she is. You realize Joel could go on and on about her, because he does. Before you know it, its 10:00 and you're fighting sleep again. But this conversation needs to happen. You gather the plates and wine glasses and begin doing the dishes. “Darlin’ don't worry about those. I can do them in the morning.” “Joel, we need to talk.” You say, hoping it doesn't come off too harsh. You turn the sink off and dry your hands. “Joel, I had a lot of fun a few weeks ago. But I don’t think-” he cuts you off. “Why’re you thinkin’ baby? Thinkin’ don’t never lead to nothin’ good.” He says, wrapping his hands around your waist. As much as you don’t want to, you lean into his grip. “Joel, please.” you almost moan. “I don’t want to get in trouble at work, it's a huge ethical misconduct if the school were to ever find out, especially since Sarah is in my class.” He’s kissing up your neck, and you aren't doing anything to stop him. “I just want to taste you, just one more time.” He groans into your ear, nibbling on the tip. “This has to be the last time.” you think to yourself.

You don't fight it, you give in. And you enjoy every second of it. Joel picks you up and lays you on the table. The same table you just had dinner on. Your shorts are thrown across the room and your sweatshirt is being used as back support. He’s devouring every inch of your body. Leaving bite marks in unseen places. You hear his belt hit the floor and watch his shirt peel off of his body. You moan at the sight. He lines himself up with your aching cunt. “What was all that earlier about you gettin’ in trouble at work?” he says, comically. “Joel, please not-” and before you can squeak the rest of your sentence out, he's ramming his cock inside you. Over and over. “What's wrong baby? Can’t speak?” he says, laughing. Hes fucking you so hard that the goddamn table is moving. “I need something more stable.” He grunts, picking you up and throwing you on the island, his cock never leaving inside of you. He rubs vigorous circles around your clit, watching your eyes roll into the back of your head. “Dont. Stop. Joel.” You manage to say in between breaths. “I don’t ever plan to babygirl.” He says, rubbing faster. Your release is on the horizon. Everythings gone white and all you can focus on is the sound of skin slapping skin. Your back arches and you scream with pleasure. “Let it out babygirl, cum for me.” Just as you begin to come down, you feel Joel's cock tense up inside you, and he falls to your ear, moaning. He pulls out and you moan gutteraly. You feel the warmth of his seed dripping  Yet again, he disappears and reappears with a warm washcloth. Cleaning and kissing every inch of your body. 

You get cleaned up and dressed. Joel puts on a pair of sweatpants, no shirt. You could go for round 2 but 2 times is 2 too many. You begin to put your shoes on. “Darlin’, why don't you stay the night?” You instantly get nauseous, and feel tears? Maybe? You barely know this guy, what the fuck? “Joel, I told you. This cannot happen. Not again.” You say, trembling. “We can-” You cut him off. “No more Joel.” and you open the door and walk out. Leaving him just as quickly as you found him.

Masterlist - Chapter 4

[carry-the-sky]

go spin the wheel, see where it lands—

Here's the thing about time: it's always running out. He felt it even as a kid, this urgency moving through him, around him. Always just ahead. He'd catch up, if everything else would just slow the hell down. But there are rules, and rule number one is that time tends to be, well, linear. Directional. Things get a bit messy when it's not.

Four seconds. That was rule number two, and the consequences for breaking it are— bad. To put it lightly.

He doesn't exactly have a choice. Or, he does, but if it's between breaking the rules or not, watching everything he loves get ripped away or digging in, claws first— well. He knows a thing or two about fighting dirty.

So, no, it's not a choice. It's immutable, like gravity. Time. A strict progression from cause to effect.

Ekko breaks rule number two.

And the line becomes a circle.

.

He thinks it's a dream, the first time. What else would it be? She fell. She's gone.

She's here now, though. Whole and happy and here, running a hand through her chopped-short hair. That single streak of magenta hits him where it hurts, square in his chest. You can't feel pain in a dream, can you?

"You're back," she says, without looking up. She's lying on her stomach, sketchbook open, a whirling kaleidoscope of color on the page in front of her. "Took you long enough."

"Was I gone?" Ekko says.

She actually laughs at that, the sound filling up his ears, warm and bright. "Benzo was starting to worry, not that he'd ever admit it. Big ol' softie." Her hand flashes, chalk sticks arcing across the page. "You seem to have that effect on people."

He shakes his head. "I don't. I'm not—"

She scribbles faster, fingers stained pink and blue and every shade in between. "You know, for a smart guy, you're kinda dumb."

"Ouch."

"I still like you, though."

This is a nice dream. Maybe the only nice dream he'll have again.

"I miss you," he says, dredging the words up from some sunless space inside him. "I didn't tell you before."

Her hand slows to a stop. From where he's standing, Ekko can only see a few snatches of detail on the page; a fuchsia smile, twin blue braids.

"I'm right here, buster," she says, not looking up. Grinning softly at her hands. "Never left, actually."

The circle wobbles, shifts out of focus. Time and space folding in on each other like paper cranes.

When he blinks, Powder is gone.

.

Too late. It's always, always too late.

.

"It's you," she says, the next time.

They're somewhere green, somewhere he's never been. A part of the Undercity that doesn't exist where he's from, that never existed.

"Uh." He blinks against the sun. "It's me, yeah."

"Seriously?" Beside him on the lawn, she pops up on an elbow, scrutinizing him. "You still don't get what's happening? Sheesh, hopping dimensions really does do a number on the noggin."

Okay, this is a weird dream. Still, as long as he keeps her talking, as long as he has sun on his skin and grass beneath him, he doesn't really care. He'll take weird. He'll take whatever he can get.

"Noggin, right," he laughs. "Synapses. Drunk slugs."

Powder scrunches up her nose like she's trying not to laugh. "Alright, I give. If you wanna dance around the giant elephant in the room, be my guest." She turns her head into her arm, a shield from the sun. Between them, their hands brush in the grass, pinky fingers tangling together. "Next time, though."

Ekko hums, content. More than that— happy. Overflowing with it. Then he frowns. "Wait. Next time?"

Paper cranes, folding in and in and in.

"Dummy," he thinks he hears her say before she disappears.

.

"So when you said 'hopping dimensions', you meant—"

"Yeah."

"And that means—"

"Yeah."

Ekko spins in a circle, arms thrown out wide. "But— how? All of this, the lab, the tech— it shouldn't exist here. Heimerdinger made sure—"

"Hey, you're the genius," Powder says. "I just live here."

Four seconds. He lets it sink in for four seconds—she's whole, she's happy, she's here, at least in this tiny pocket of space and time—before he's crossing the space between them and pulling her into a bruising hug. Her breath puffs out in mild surprise, and then she's hugging him back, arms cinching tight around him. I won't forget this. But he's already started to. He drops his head to her shoulder, breathing her in, every tiny detail. He won't make the same mistake twice.

Her eyes are wet when they untangle. Ekko swipes at his cheek to find that his are, too.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I'm so sorry. I thought I saved you, but it wasn't— I wasn't—"

"Don't," she says fiercely. "Don't do that. Not with me, not here. I meant what I said, okay? You're a good one, Ekko. You don't give up on people. If I'm— if the other me is— then there was nothing you could've done to change it. That was always gonna be how the story ended."

The tears are a river, streaming salt down the slope of his nose and into his mouth. "I was too slow. I'm always too damn slow."

Powder's hands are on his face, her lips kissing the salt from his cheeks, his eyelids. "The boy savior," she murmurs. "It's not your job to save everyone, you know. But I love you for trying."

She's fading, or maybe he is. Time and space, a never-ending anomaly. But there are constants, too, things that keep the universe spinning. Rules worth breaking.

He feels it, this time. It's like someone's scooping out his insides, rearranging his atoms. Like he's being wiped clean, unmade. Hollowed out so that some other him can be stuffed into his skin. Four seconds is all it takes, or maybe four million.

I love you. I love you, too.

.

He tells her for real, when he sees her again.

"I know," she says, elbowing him in the ribs. Her cheeks are dusky-pink. "Following my lead, huh?"

He looks at her, really looks. Every detail; the dainty point of her chin and the dusting of freckles across her nose and her eyes, big and bright and blue.

"Always," he says.

.

Time and space. Paper cranes, folding and unfolding, creasing the lines of reality. Some rules can't be broken, but they can bend a little.

Here's one: when you die, you stay dead.

.

He must be dreaming. She's standing right in front of him, in this dimension, on this plane of existence, real and whole and here. Her hair is still short, all of it blue.

Four seconds. He holds his breath for four seconds, and then: "Jinx."

"Hey, buster," she says.