#that’s the sound of my heart cracking into two pieces

[swifty-fox]

coping with fluff and christmas fic

“Hey,” the clerk greets him, wiping chlorophyll-stained hands on his smock, “What can I do for you?”

“Is the owner around?” Gale asks.

That easygoing smile directed at every other customer so far slightly fades in wattage. 

“That would be me,” He says. His green apron has a nametag labeled ‘Bucky’ and his hand when he holds it out is still stained, smelling of dirt and sap and fresh cold water, “What problem can I fix?” 

He has a loose-limbed way of moving, leading with his extremities rather than the bulk of his body, like a dog not quite grown into its frame. Gale feels himself prickle, the faint spice of attraction, though it could just be irritation lost en route. Either way, it’s politeness that doesn’t have him rubbing the sticky cling of sap from his fingers and or from outright asking if he had any idea how to run a business. 

“Your phone,” is the compromise of temper, only a brief window for this conversation to happen, and a preservative interest in getting away from those eyes. 

Bucky's smile doesn’t falter, though it takes on a puzzled slant, “My phone.”

“Your phone is routing to our shop,” Gale explains, slowly, like one might to a child, “I’ve been fielding calls all day asking if you carry sunflowers.”

“We do,” Bucky informs him, reaching for the phone.

“That’s great,” Gale answers mildly. 

They can both hear the sound of the dial tone, and Bucky’s brow creases in a frown as he pulls his phone from his pocket. The screen is cracked, the phone case covered in stickers of different national parks, the lock screen is a picture of a sports stadium. It’s a far cry from the smooth black case of Gale’s own phone, his home screen a picture of Pilot asleep on his chest, hugging her own feet. 

“Been watching you guys paint, kept meaning to come over and introduce myself but holidays are killer,” Bucky explains, still fiddling around with his phone. Gale resists the urge to tap his foot, straightening his back the longer he waits. 

“It used to be a hair salon, and god those ladies would come over here all the time just to flirt. We could barely get any work done, broke their hearts when I had to shoot them down. I mean you boys are welcome to come over and do the same thing, cos’ I don’t discriminate, but I’ll ask you gotta at least buy some flowers when you do.” 

“I’ll be sure to let them know.”

Making a soft noise of triumph, Bucky holds out his phone, close enough to Gale’s face that he has to squint, reach for his glasses until he realizes he left them back in the studio. He squints, frowning. 

“Google’s got my number over your shop,” Bucky wiggles his phone, as if that would make it any easier for Gale to read. He pulls it away and Gale blinks his eyes back into focus, frowning harder.

“How do we fix it?”

“I dunno,” Bucky shrugs, “Usually you can go in and edit it yourself, but I can’t get into mine. I think it’s down.”

His own phone confirms much the same and Gale bites his tongue on a curse, wanting a cigarette with an ache that borders on nausea, “Fine. I gotta get back. Look– just. Keep trying will you? I don’t know what the hell an Azaelia is.”

Bucky points behind him with an uncapped blue pen, a scribbled-upon green sticky note clamped between his two fingers, “That one.” 

“Thanks,” Gale says, throat slightly strangled. 

“This is my number. Shoot me a text if you need help answering any floral questions.” 

He would not be doing that.

“Sure,” He pinches the piece of paper between two fingers, winding his way back to the front door. 

[notachicken68]

For all intents and purposes, the weather couldn’t have been any more perfect than it was that Friday. Only a handful of cotton ball-like clouds dotted the azure sky, and the mild temperatures brought some people out to enjoy the sun while exploring the Californian sandy beaches. Marty knew, because on the drive over he saw the state of the few public beaches as the truck drove past.

While some miles away families were busy enjoying a relaxing summer picnic, Marty McFly chose to spend the day in seclusion. He needed to be able to access his most repressed thoughts and feelings without running risk of being interrupted by any external stimuli. Despite appearances, Marty took his decision to come here and do this very seriously. . .

Dr. Emmett Brown had entrusted the safekeeping of the most important and world changing invention since the discovery of fire into the hands of the teenaged Marty McFly. For six years the boy (now a grown man) kept the vehicle relatively safe… but, with another swig from the whiskey bottle that sat upon a flat portion of the wrecked hood… Marty was finally ready to let go of his past, if it made his future any more brighter.

He swore he heard the scientist’s voice over the sounds of the crashing waves below, and the shorter man couldn’t help but laugh. Laugh at the sheer audacity that his mind chose this moment to hallucinate his voice. Marty shoved the picture back into his wallet, then he wet his tongue with another swig of the amber whiskey. He stared straight ahead, looking at nothing in particular as he spoke aloud (in a slurred voice):

“The moment I’m in trouble you’re nowhere to be seen, but the millisecond your precious car is in trouble, you appear. Your priorities are insulting, Doc.”

Birthday Reunions

[snoopyearss]

When jjk characters call you ‘clingy’

Feat. crybaby-ish!reader

Gojo, geto, toji

Cw: hurt, guilt, angst (if you squint)

This is inspiration from a mini series i read a few days ago by user @fumekara. It was so good, I love me some angst to hurt/comfort.

But i also wrote this from personal experience too, my bad yall i treat this like my own personal diary

Anyway, enjoy!

Satoru Gojo

He was pissed. He doesn’t typically show it much, but when he does, he gets kind of scary. He’s more quiet, his voice gets deeper, and his whole body language just shifts. So when the higher-ups piss him off after a very long meeting, the last thing he needs is someone to pounce on him. He usually loves it when you greet him at the door when you’re home for work. But today, he just wanted to strip off his clothes and hop into bed.

Gojo huffs as he leaves the elevator of your shared apartment and grabs his keys from his pocket to unlock the door. As he opens the door, he sees you in the kitchen grabbing ingredients for dinner. “Hi baby,” You softly greeted him. “Hey.” was all he said back. It confused you for a second because he’s never greeted you like that before.

“Is everything okay?” You walk up to him to try to kiss him on his cheek. “God- Y/n, please.” He grumbled, walking right past you and placing his briefcase on the table. “I’m just trying to help,” you defended, walking up to take his coat off for him. “At least let me take your coat-” That’s when he snapped. Something he’s never done to you before. “Y/n, I fuckin’ got it! Geez, you’re so fucking clingy!” He aggressively shrugged your hands off his shoulder. It scared you a bit, to see him so angry at you. You were confused, all you wanted to do was make him feel better. Were you really that clingy?

“I-I’m sorry.” your voice came out shaky and defeated. Hearing how small your voice sounded in response to him lashing out made Satoru’s heart shatter into thousands of pieces. He wanted to turn around and apologize, but the words weren’t coming out. By the time he turned to face you, Your back was already facing him, preparing dinner for the both of you as tears rolled down your face.

Suguru Geto

It was 2 weeks after Suguru deflected. 2 weeks since he committed mass murder in that village. 2 weeks since he left Satoru, Shoko, and the others. It was weighing on him and you could tell. Nothing but him, his two adopted girls, a few people who believed in his cause, and you.

You promised him you would go wherever he would go, and he was so grateful for it. He loves you deeply and would do anything for you. But some days just threw everything on him at one time, today was one of those days. Monkeys non-sorcerers begging him to exercise curses left and right, Nanako and Mimiko begging him to take them shopping, missing payments from those begging for his service. It was all too much. And the guilt was eating away at him.

He genuinely wasn’t paying attention to what you were saying and it annoyed him how much talking you were doing in his ear at that moment. You were both sitting outside watching the two girls play in the yard. “Y/n,” He interrupted you. “Don’t you have something better to do than to just bother me?” He sighed sounding so condescending. “What do you mean?”

“Must you always cling to me? Isn’t there something else you can do besides following me everywhere I go, at all times of the day?!” His voice raised a bit as if he was talking to a non-sorcerer. “I didn’t realize I was. I was only trying to tell you about what me and the girls did today,” You defended. “You’re always so busy, I rarely get to see you anymore.”

“Yeah, because you’re always underneath me. Sometimes-” He stopped mid-sentence because of the saddened look on your face. His eyes softened a bit. “Sometimes I just need my space.” He sighed. You only nodded and started to walk back inside. “Ok, I understand.” Your voice cracked. Leaving Suguru alone to think about what he had just said to you. As if he didn’t feel guilt then, he definitely feels guilt now.

Toji Fushiguro

Toji was a bit frustrated today. He was cheated out of his money after doing a side job, the bet he placed on the race he kept constantly telling you about fell through, leaving him with zero, and to top it all off, the child support payment was coming up. You being an empath and knowing your boyfriend so well, you wanted to help him any way you could.

He was sitting in the chair by the island in the kitchen with his fingers combing through his hair. He was on the phone with multiple people at once, trying to solve his money issues. “Shiu, you guaranteed me way more money than this! How am I supposed to cover this months child support with this amount?!” You walked up to where he was, wondering what all the commotion was about. “Baby?” You softly called out. You could hear Shiu on the other line trying to calm him down and explain the situation.

“That sounds like a bunch of bull and you know it Shiu, you better have my money by next week thursday or else I’m taking it myself.” He grumbled and hung up the phone. “Baby,” You gently placed a hand on his broad shoulder.

“What, Y/n.” He sternly said. You merely blinked a few times. “I was just checking to see if you were okay. What’s with the attitude?”

“I’m fuckin’ frustrated okay? Please leave. You aren’t helping right now.” He waved you off.

“I barely did anything, I just wanted to know if you needed help with anything-”

“Jesus, I said enough! I don’t need your help. Fuck, you’re so clingy.” His voice booming caused you to remove your hand from his shoulder in fear. Seeing your reaction caused him to think about what he said and how he said it. The last think he wanted to do was scare you. He wanted you to feel safe around him. But with the way you jumped at how he raised his voice, it saddened him a bit.

“Y/n, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-” He was cut off by the sound of his child wailing in the background. “I’ll take care of it.” You said in the smallest voice, not even leaving him time to protest against it and apologize.

“Fuck.”

Part 2

[peachesofteal]

Cool Girl

Ghoap x female reader / 18+ / masterlist / warning: cancer

“Wait… I’m sorry, I… I think I misheard you…”

The doctor gives you a very kind, but very practiced smile and pats your hand gently. “It’s a brain tumor.”

Oh god. Oh my god. You’re going to throw up. White hot fear rockets up your spine, spreading through every nerve, vessel, piece of tissue like a crack of lightning, obliterating everything in its path.

A tumor. A brain tumor.

“Okay… uh,” you don’t know where to begin. What kind of questions do you ask? What happens next? “Do I… get surgery or something? What… what do I do?” She nods, pointing to something on the tablet screen, scans of your brain lit up like a fucking Christmas tree.

She’s explaining something to you, something you don’t really understand, but you vaguely catch the end of it. “-to try to shrink it. The chemo will hopefully do that for us, and we can move to next steps.” Chemo. Chemo?

“Oh.”

“I know this is a lot to take in, but we’re going to do everything we can.” Everything we can?

She sends you home with a stack of papers, pamphlets, and more appointments than you could possibly remember.

Your empty apartment suddenly feels more sad, more morose than it ever has before, and for the hundredth time today, you think of Simon and Johnny.

Pathetically, you want to call them.

Maybe Simon would let Johnny come over. Maybe he’d let Johnny hold you.

Maybe Simon would even want to hold you too. You snort. Unlikely.

Instead of someone to lay with, be with, you slip fitfully into a restless sleep, buried in a pile of pillows.

Your days turn into Russian roulette.

You meet your oncologist, you start chemo. You take medical leave from work, considering you can’t do anything except go back and forth between appointments, and try not to think about the monster that’s living in your head, sucking you dry. Mornings roll into nights, and you become some sort of zombie, dragging your feet around the building, unable to eat, unable to sleep.

You can sometimes stomach soup though. Soup of all kinds, chicken noodle, ramen, tomato, you name it. It takes two weeks for you to get through your mostly broth diet before you’re forced out into the world to buy some more.

The grocery store is a nightmare. The lights are too bright, the people are too loud, and it’s freezing, even though most people are in shorts and short sleeves.

You’re bundled up. It’s a little ridiculous.

You take your time in the soup aisle with your basket, glancing over your options, trying to push down your nausea and figure out what you might feel like eating later. It’s a daunting task, considering what you threw up before you left the flat.

You fill your basket with as much as you think you might need, ignoring the throbbing in your head as much as possible, and round the corner to the frozen section, looking for some ice cream. Something sweet doesn’t sound so bad, you think. Maybe some mint chocolate, or cookies and cream.

You stand in front of the frosted doors, debating your options, oblivious to the world.

Oblivious until you hear someone calling your name.

When you turn your head, there’s a flash of a mohawk from the corner of your eye, and then Johnny is standing in front of you with his jaw dropped.

“Oh. Hi.”

“Hi?” He bleats. “Hi? Bonnie, ye… ye look-“

“Like shit?” You finish for him, unimpressed, and he shakes his head.

“No. Sick. Are ye alright?” Truly, you want to lie. Throw yourself at his feet and beg him to come home with you, cuddle you, help you.

You can’t though. You know you can’t.

Johnny’s heart doesn’t belong to you. Neither does Simon’s.

“Oh, yeah I’m fine. Just tired.” His eyes narrow, your own heart bleeds. “Swear.” He shakes his head.

“Ye’re lying.” You’re about to tell him to mind his business, to tell him you’re not his business anymore, when his eyes go incredibly soft, and he steps closer. “If this is about what happened-“

“I don’t… I can’t do this.” You move away, backwards. “I just wanted to get some ice cream. I don’t want to do this with you.” You cast a mournful look at the freezers behind him, and then turn away, a barely there goodbye whispered over your shoulder.

[uniquexusposts]

Taking care of you - L. Hamilton

Summary: Y/n broke her wrist and Lewis is taking care of her. Genre: fluff

Pain.

The muscles were contracted, released, contracted, just like in the rhythm of a heartbeat. The pain moved to the rest of her arm, it reached her shoulder. Something was hurting Y/n’s stomach, as well. Brick? Stone?

She turned on her back and squeezed her eyes closed. Her arm was hurting even more now. She held in her breath. Stop, stop, stop. I can't handle this, were the words that were going through her mind. She almost forgot that her arm was in a cast and that she had surgery a week ago. Everything around her was annoying her; the darkness of the night, the heavy blanket with the hotel scent, the pillow what was way too hard for her liking, the light crack under the door, she even got annoyed by herself.

A broken wrist, that is what's happening, she thought. 

Tears escaped her eyes, and she gasped for air. "Fuck," she mumbled and pressed her head in the pillow.

It felt like a knife was digging in her wrist, what absolutely happened during the surgery, but why do I feel it now? Minutes passed, hoping the pain would go away and could have a proper amount of sleep time. Not to mention she was in Singapore, which meant it was time for a jet lag.

Lewis woke up by the heavy breaths Y/n took. He didn't feel her moving and twirling around, but he knew she were awake. Soft sobs filled the hotel room.

"Babe," Lewis mumbled and turned on a small light. "Are you alright?" His deep voice overmastered the sounds of the sobs in the room. She turned her head towards him, and she saw his look soften. "Babe..." he whispered worriedly.

"It's nothing," she pressed the words over her lips. He brought his hand to her face and dried her cheeks. "I somehow managed to lay on my arm, and there got pressure on it." Her watery eyes showed pain. "It hurts so fucking much," she groaned.

He pressed a kiss on her forehead.

"I can't have meds yet. My goodness. There's nothing I can do." Y/n’s voice cracked.

Lewis gently wrapped his arms around her, trying not to touch her painful arm, but to comfort her. "You can lay your arm over my stomach, babe," he whispered. He could feel the tension and fear of accidentally making the wrong movements on Y/n.

"But this is heavy," she mumbled softly and pressed the side of her face in his chest.

"We have pillows enough," he said and looked around for another pillow. He grabbed one of the ground - with a lot of yoga exercises, and placed it on his stomach. "There you go."

With gentle movements, Y/n lifted up her arm and placed it on the pillow, on Lewis' stomach. "Is it not hurting or annoying you?"

He let out a soft chuckle; even though she knew it was better for herself, she always made sure others were good too. "I'm fine, love. Don't worry about me," Lewis said and removed a piece of her hair from her face by stroking it behind her ear.

"Thank you, Lew," she mumbled. It was still hurting, and it was a nasty, throbbing pain, but it was better.

•

After the two free practices of Friday, Lewis opened the hotel door of his shared room with his girlfriend. The practices were fine, there wasn't much to complain about. Lewis was acting like nothing was going on, but he was worried about Y/n; she was in pain and begging for more painkillers. She usually refuse to take meds when it wasn't necessary, but this time she begged for it. It was breaking his heart.

The room was dark, not to mention it was evening. He threw his bag on the ground and walked towards the bed. A smile spread out on his lips when he saw Y/n peacefully asleep. He grabbed the laptop from the bed and paused the film she were watching. It was almost near its end, there was a chance she didn't know what kind of movie this was because she fell quickly asleep.

"My dearest Y/n/n, it's time to wake up," Lewis sang and kissed her cheek.

"Hmm," Y/n hummed and turned on her back.

He started to press small kisses on her lips and on the corners of her mouth. She giggled and placed her hand on his bicep. Lewis relaxed his muscles and locked his lips with hers.

Y/n pulled back and looked Lewis in the eyes. "Hey," she whispered.

"Hey, gorgeous," he smiled. "How are you?" He brought up his hand to her face to place a piece of hair behind her ear.

She looked in his brown eyes. "Alright. You?"

"Better now I see you," he winked. She smirked. "Are you in for dinner or have you already eaten?"

"It's midnight or something." It was midnight where they were, in Singapore, but their bodies still think it's five o'clock since they were still in the Europe mindset.

"So?" Lewis spoke. "Are you in or not? Otherwise, I will call someone else." A cheeky smile was spread out on his face.

“Like?”

“Toto.”

She closed her eyes. "You will not."

"Make me."

She opened her right eye and looked at him. "You know I can knock you out easily, right?" He squeezed his eyebrows together but quickly realises she talked aboard her arm. "Well?"

"You just come to dinner with me," he breathed and sat up. "Get dressed. I heard there's a nice rooftop restaurant."

Y/n sat up and felt the heavy plaster. A sigh rolled over her lips, she was already tired of it. "Only if you will help me," she mumbled and got up. "I tried to go to the shop and get something to eat, but I can't fasten my own bra, so that part was making it stop. I can't do anything on my own," she complained and grabbed some clothes from the suitcase; a simple jeans, a white t-shirt and a bra. With a lot of struggles, yoga poses and swearwords, she managed to get on the trousers.

"I can't handle this anymore," she ranted and threw her shirt on the bed. "I can't do anything, everything hurts, I feel like I have smoked too much weed. Absobloodylutely amazing. I know I should not complain, but I still will do it.”

Lewis snorted and grabbed her bra from the ground. He held the bra in front of her chest and carefully helped taking it on.

"One, two or three?"

"One, two or three?" Y/n asked, confused.

"Tight, medium or loose?"

"Oh, medium," she answered.

His fingertips were touching her skin when he fastened the strap of her bra. She could feel his hands on her upper arms and his warm lips on her shoulder. She closed her eyes and enjoyed his touch, goosebumps spread out on her body. He pressed more kisses on her shoulder, leading up to her neck and jaw. Her breathing became heavier.

"Come," he mumbled against her skin. "We need to go."

She deeply breathed out and came back to reality. "I'm sorry I'm not the funniest or amazing person right now, and I wish I could act differently. Why did you even take me to here? It's not like I can do things," she mumbled and pulled the shirt over her head.

Lewis snorted. "You really think I would leave you behind in Monaco? Your family is on vacation, so are your friends. No one is home.”

"I can perfectly take care of myself."

"Yeah, sure," Lewis sarcastically said. "You can't even put on your own bra."

She licked her lips and pressed them into a thin line. "You got me there," Y/n said and brushed her hair. "Can you make a ponytail or something?"

Lewis gently grabbed her hair together and made a ponytail. She turned around and put on the sling for her arm.

"Thanks," she smiled. "Thanks for everything."

"Y/n, you don't have to thank me," he said and gave her a kiss. "I love you."

"I love you too."

They left the hotel room and made way up to the rooftop restaurant.

Taglist: @itsjustkhaos@crashingwavesofeuphoria@maryvibess @chocolatefartstrawberry @snzleclerc @ironmaiden1313

[crookedteethed]

18+ -mdni

ᥫ᭡. eiffel tower me, please.

pairing: rafe x kook!jj x fem! reader

warnings: smut (pinv), language, threesome, oral (m and f receiving), drug usage, a little voyurism (if you squint). porn with little plot (as per usual), dirty talk,

Rafe's fascination with you took place when he saw you fucking your boyfriend, his best friend, JJ Maybank, in the bushes during a Kook party. 

Rafe had been watching you two all night-- he watched as the both of you couldn't keep your hands off of one another--JJ's hand had squeezed your plump ass every chance it got, while your lips always found a spot on his sunkissed skin to smooch whenever the moment was right--so it wasn't a shocker that Rafe was the one to catch you two sneaking off.

For Rafe, it was disgusting seeing you two being all lovey-dovey and shit, yeah, yeah, yeah, Rafe was happy to see his friend happy and whatnot, but secretly, the boy was envious.

I mean, here Rafe was getting the worst neck by Gums McGee while JJ was getting some of the best piece of ass on Kildare Island. 

It's not like you were a slut or anything--Rafe really hadn't known if you were the best piece of ass on Kildare, but the way your boyfriend talked about your sex life when you weren't around sure made you sound like you were--and Rafe had wanted to know if the legions about you were true--like the time JJ had claimed you wrapped a fruit roll up around his dick and sucked it--or that time JJ said you simply let him cum inside of you--Rafe had wanted that, Rafe wanted that with you, because you were something Rafe couldn't have.

Rafe doesn't know why he'd followed you and JJ out to the bushes-- He'd stopped getting the worst head he'd ever received to be a peeping tom. But Rafe swears his plan wasn't to be a peeping tom; how could Rafe not be a peeping tom when he suddenly sees your bare heart-shaped ass--your mini skirt bunched around your waist--bouncing on JJ's cock, grappling in the bushes. Your slit was so little and displayed for him--it looked like it could barely take the penetration. Your pretty moans serenaded Rafe's ears--leaving him in a trance, like a mermaid's siren. You were alluring; how could Rafe not be a peeping tom?

When Rafe had found himself sprouting a boner, and quickly taking care of it in his car, he knew he was in some pretty deep fucking shit.

"I have a proposition for you." Rafe had told Jay, going nose first into a line coke--the boys had been slumming it up the next day, drinking beer and watching the box all day in Jay's new condo he'd gotten for his 20th birthday. 

Rafe then pushed the coke tray to JJ. "What is it?" he said as he followed in pursuit and did the same as Rafe. 

"I get to fuck y/n for one night, in exchange for my dirt bike." Rafe snorted, causing JJ to laugh. 

"You fucking kidding me?" Jay said, wiping the white powder underneath his nostrils. JJ continued to laugh until he realized that Rafe hadn't cracked one smile, meaning that Rafe Cameron has finally lost his damn marbles.

"You do realize that's the dumbest fucking proposition ever, man? You're supposed to propose some shit that I can't go out and buy myself." Jay said. 

"Last week, you said it yourself!" Rafe rebutted. "You said,' My dirt bike is way cooler than yours' ."

"Dude, that wasn't code for: I want your bike in exchange to fuck my girlfriend."

Rafe had been quiet momentarily, reaching over to JJ for the tray and snorting another line. Rafe had needed to hold his composer because ever since last night, he couldn't get the image of you fucking JJ, and Rafe just needed to see it again, but with his cock barely fitting in your pussy instead.

"Ok, what about this," Rafe said, bringing out his inner businessman. "What if I get to fuck y/n in exchange for my Bently?"

Now Rafe was talking, causing JJ's eyebrow to hitch and ears to perk. 

Let's be honest: JJ's father could fund him the money for a new dirt bike if Jay had wanted one. But a new car? Fuck no. Especially since he'd just gotten a new Porsche this January. 

JJ would be a fool not to take Rafe's new and improved proposition.

"Well, when you throw a Bently in the mix, you have yourself a deal, brother!" JJ had shouted, already getting revved up from the coke (and the idea of seeing his girlfriend taking another guy's cock.). 

"But one thing," JJ continued. "We have to say it's a threesome--make it seem like I'm tryin' to experiment or some shit, because she isn't going to agree to just fucking you alone."

In hindsight, Rafe made a really stupid choice by giving JJ his Bently, but as long as he was able to feel you, he didn't care.

So here you were, standing naked between the two hottest blonds on Kildare Island--supposed to be getting into doggy style to let Rafe Cameron fuck you. At the same time, you suck JJ off, all because your stupidly charming boyfriend wanted to try something new in bed, and you can't say no to him when he uses his puppy dog eyes on you. 

But it's not like you weren't totally against the idea--you'd always wanted to know what it was like fucking Kook royalty, Rafe Cameron--you weren't ashamed to admit that. 

Of course, a couple of lines of coke was snorted to get rid of all of everyone jitters, but that still didn't' help your nervousness.

JJ had done all the talking--since, to your knowledge, he was the one to set this shindig up. And because you were JJ's good girl and didn't know what else to do, you did everything JJ told you to do.

"Good girl, now let Rafe see your pussy, don't be shy, princess," JJ spoke so kindly to you, stroking your head softly as you choked on his cock. 

JJ had been very slowly--but harshly fucking his cock with your throat--ever so often, shoving his length as deep as he could go--until you started to gag--then stilling himself and letting your throat contract--while tears and saliva slid down your face. 

You found yourself obeying Jay's words--arching your back more and pushing your ass out to let Rafe view your sopping wet pussy. 

"Shit." Rafe cursed, his thump finding your fold and pushing it back to view the inside of your cunt. "Jay this all your's?" 

"Ain't she a beaut?" Your boyfriend spoke--talking as if you weren't even here--and pushing his cock further into your mouth.

Your eyes watered as you tried to focus on breathing through your nose, JJ's thick length stretching your esophagus.

You start to feel Rafe's fingers probing at your exposed pussy, spreading your folds and teasing your entrance, sending shivers through your body.

"Damn, she's dripping," Rafe marveled, running his fingers along your slick folds. "You mind if I have a taste, Jay?"

"Be my guest," JJ replied, his voice strained with pleasure. "Our good girl loves to please, don't you, princess?"

You whimpered in agreement around JJ's cock, your hips instinctively pushing back against Rafe's touch. You felt Rafe's hot breath on your sensitive flesh moments before his tongue lapped at your entrance. The new sensation made you moan, the vibrations traveling through JJ's length.

"Fuck, that feels good," JJ groaned, "Do that again to her."

Rafe obliged, swirling his tongue around your swollen clit before plunging it inside you. You cried out again, the sound muffled by JJ's cock. Your whole body was on fire, caught between the two men's ministrations.

JJ's fingers tangled in your hair, guiding your movements as you bobbed your head. "That's it, take it all," he encouraged.

Meanwhile, Rafe's skilled tongue was rapidly pushing you towards the edge. He alternated between teasing licks and deep thrusts, his strong hands gripping your thighs to hold you in place.

"Fuck, you taste good, sweetheart," Rafe lowly said to you, acknowledging you for the first time as a person, and not like your some dirt bike, and for some reason, you were about to come from this nearly. 

"I think our princess is close," Rafe murmured, his lips brushing against your sensitized flesh, his fingers pushing inside you, to feel your cunt convulse. "Should we let her come, JJ?"

"What do you think, sweetheart?" JJ asked, tilting your chin up to meet his, mascara finally beginning to crack, and run down your cheeks, JJ kissed you on the mouth, because, fuck, did you look hot like this.

Rafe had no right to kiss you ( a deal made before you all started, a deal Rafe should respect because JJ is his best friend). JJ's kiss to your mouth only made Rafe more envious of JJ, and Rafe decided to take out his anger on you, claiming you didn't deserve to come yet.

Rafe's fingers slowed their pace, teasing you mercilessly. You whimpered into JJ's mouth, hips bucking desperately against Rafe's hand.

"Not yet," Rafe growled, his voice rough with desire and a hint of jealousy. "You don't get to come until I say so."

JJ broke the kiss, looking down at you with a mixture of lust and amusement. "Looks like Rafe's feeling a bit possessive, sweetheart. Think you can hold out for us?"

You nodded weakly, trembling with need as Rafe's fingers continued their torturous dance. JJ's hands roamed your body, adding to the overwhelming sensations.

"That's our good girl," JJ purred, nipping at your earlobe. "Show us how well you can behave."

Suddenly, you were feeling Rafe's raw wet mushroom tip poking at your entrance--and fuck, did his cock already feel thicker than JJ's.

Your breath hitched as you felt Rafe's impressive length plunge deep inside your cunt—his hands gripping your hips as he slowly bottomed out inside you.

You gasped at the exquisite stretch, your walls clenching around Rafe's thick cock. He groaned, his fingers digging into your hips as he held himself still, giving you time to adjust.

"Fuck, you're tight," Rafe growled, his voice strained with the effort of restraint.

JJ's hands continued their exploration, one sliding up to cup your breast while the other trailed down your stomach. "How does she feel, Rafe? As good as you imagined?"

Rafe responded by slowly withdrawing until just the tip remained inside you, then slamming back in with a powerful thrust that had you crying out in pleasure. JJ swallowed your moans with another deep kiss as Rafe set a punishing pace, each thrust driving you closer to the edge you weren't allowed to cross.

"Please," you whimpered as you and Jay caught your breaths--your body jerking up from Rafe's hard thrust into JJ's mouth, allowing you to breath the same air as him--right when you think you've caught a break--Jay's cock is back in your mouth, while you received backshots from Rafe.

Your mind reeled from the overwhelming sensations as you were filled from both ends. JJ's thick length slid deeper into your throat with each of Rafe's powerful thrusts from behind. You struggled to focus, torn between the dual pleasures.

Rafe's grip on your hips tightened as he pounded into you relentlessly. "Fuck, you're taking us so well," he groaned, his voice husky with desire.

JJ's fingers tangled in your hair, guiding your movements as you sucked him eagerly. "That's it, baby," he encouraged. "Just like that."

The room filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and muffled moans. You felt your arousal building to a fever pitch, your body trembling on the edge of release.

When Rafe's tip found that spongy spot, you made a deep moan in your body that had affected JJ cock, and he found himself cumming in your mouth and on your face.

You were so fucked out of your brain, though, because of Rafe's thick cock; you hadn't noticed when your boyfriend had came, and then left the room, leaving you and Rafe to chase your highs together.

And because Rafe's cock had felt so good in doggy style--you didn't mind seeing how his cock felt when he switched the position to missionary.  

Rafe flipped you onto your back with surprising ease, never breaking his relentless rhythm. His dark eyes locked onto yours as he drove deeper, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist. The new angle sent sparks of pleasure coursing through you.

From this angle, Rafe could see just how small your slit was in comparison to his cock.

"God, you're incredible," Rafe panted, his muscled chest glistening with sweat. His thumb found your sensitive bundle of nerves, circling in time with his thrusts.

You arched into him, coherent thoughts scattering as the pressure built. "Rafe, I'm so close," you gasped, nails raking down his back.

He growled in response, increasing his pace. "Come for me, beautiful. Let me feel you."

With a cry of ecstasy, your release washed over you in waves. Rafe followed moments later, burying himself to the halt inside of you.

And just as Rafe was cumming, he found himself getting lost in the moment and kissing your rosy red glossy lips, and again, because you were so fucked out, you'd let him. 

As the both of you came down from your highs, Rafe lips stayed in motion with yours, his cock still stuffed inside side you--plugging his and your juices in. He shifted slightly, still buried inside you, and you gasped at the sensitivity.

Your body trembled with aftershocks as Rafe's lips moved languidly against yours. The kiss was rough, passionate, yet tender - so different from your boyfriend's soft demeanor. You found yourself melting into it, savoring the unexpected intimacy.

The kiss between you and Rafe could've lasted forever- if only your boyfriend hadn't walked in, asking his best friend why he was kissing his girlfriend, the last person Rafe should be kissing.

[kaitawrites]

Silent Whispers 

Wolverine (Logan Howlett) x Mutant!Reader 

Part Two of Silent Whispers

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of Character Death, Jealousy, Logan getting slapped

AN: I DO NOT APPROVE OF ABUSE WITHIN ROMANTIC (ANY) RELATIONSHIPS!! I also got the idea from this fic by @moonpascal

The sound of blankets ruffling and the howling wind coming through a window doesn’t stop the murmurings from Logan. His body tosses and turns. At first you couldn’t make out what he was saying. You sit up in the bed, getting ready to wake him up. “Jean” The name came out softly through his lips. If you weren’t paying attention, you would have missed it. It would’ve mixed with the flow of the wind. 

Everything in you stops as you stare at Logan’s blissful form. So many thoughts ran through your mind. After all this time, he’s still thinking about her. You can feel the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. You shake your head in hopes in getting rid of the thoughts. But it was futile. “Jean…” He whispers again. In a frenzy, he begins to repeat her name non-stop. You just couldn’t take it anymore and ran out of the room. 

The next day the energy shift was obvious between you and Logan. You had begun to avoid him. It was to the point that even Ororo pulled you to aside. “Hey, What’s wrong?” You look away from her and fold your arms. “Nothing, Nothing is wrong” Storm raises an eyebrow at your words. “So why is your forehead frowning?” You use your hands to cover your forehead. “Me and my frowning forehead are out of here!” You take quick pace to leave the room, Storm right behind you. “It’s ok, you can trust me. You can tell me what’s going on! Just tell me what’s going on.” Thats when you whip around to face her, tears beginning to stream down your face. 

“He doesn’t love me, Ororo. He doesn’t love me. I will always be second place to him.” Storm’s eyebrows knit together. Everything piecing together in her mind. She takes hold of your hands, a tight grip in fear you might run again. “It’s probably not what you think. Have you tried speaking to him? You know how extreme his nightmares are.” You scoff. “You wasn’t there. You don’t know how I feel. I was laying right next to him but his mind was on another woman. Not what I think? What else is there to think? He’s been in love with her since I met him. Even before that. I’m just a placeholder.” 

Storm furrows her eyebrows. “Don’t be like that. Just talk to him.” You rip your hands away from her. “He did enough talking last night.” You are out the door before Storm could possibly say anything else. As you storm down the hall, out of the corner of your eye you see Logan. The rage that you were already feeling amplified tenfolds. You can already hear his footsteps right behind you, calling your name. You are quick to run up the stairs to your room, locking the door behind you. 

You pick up your bag from under your bed, getting ready to fill them up with your things. That’s when you start to hear the banging. Logan calling your name repeatedly. “What’s the matter? You’ve been avoiding me all day. You know I won’t understand if you don’t tell me what’s going on.” Blood boiling within your body as you angrily throw things into the bag. “Understand me? Shouldn’t you understand yourself? Maybe understand your horrible nightmares.” It goes silent for a moment. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Bub.” 

You zip up the bag. “Try again, James.” You make a quick pace to open the door. There Logan stands before you, confusion written all over his face. “You’re full of shit.” Logan cracks a smile. “I get that often.” Your hand whips across his smug face, causing a bit of blood dripping out of his mouth. “I get that often too.” 

You grimace at his words, tears threatening to spill once again. “Why am I not good enough for you? Why is it always HER?! Jean, Jean, Jean. It’s always about her. When am I going to be your number one? When is it gonna just be me in your heart?” 

Logan grabs ahold of you. “Don’t say things like that. I love you with everything in me.” You stare into Logan’s eyes before letting out a sigh. “Let go of me, Logan.” He reluctantly let’s go of your shoulders. You turn to pick up your bag off the bed. “I really did love you with my whole being. My heart, my soul, everything. And I am not going to be second place to someone I love.” Before Logan to respond, you (dramatically) jumped out the window and disappear in the dark. 

Marvel Masterlist

(mostly logan lol)

[ponderingmoonlight]

You're in ur Sanemi/Kny brainrot era n I'm loving it. But may I entice you with JJK?? Gojo getting unsealed just to find out his wife was blinded by the higher ups who held a grudge against him

The world has been dark for a while now, a never-ending night with no dawn. You lost track of time a long time ago, of days blending into weeks, maybe even months. Ever since the love of your life was taken away from you, nothing was the same as before.

Chaos broke out, a wave of sadness, devastation but also anger crushing down on you. As his beloved wife, many cherished you. But people like the elders…

It was a well-found opportunity for them. Now that Satoru was gone without return, they were free to let their anger out on someone.

And that someone was you.

Since they took your sight in exchange for ‘the horrible things your husband has done to humanity’, the world has been a blur of sounds, scents, and the haunting memories of the last time you saw him.

Satoru.

You sit in silence, your fingers tracing the familiar patterns of the fabric draped over your lap. It's one of his, Gojo's favorite haoris he only wore to special occasions or when he tried to seduce you into bed. You hold onto it like a lifeline, the last tangible piece of him you have left. You don’t know what’s worse: the darkness that swallowed your sight or the hollow emptiness that came with his absence. The higher-ups... they told you he was gone for good, that he was never coming back.

But you never believed them. You couldn't.

The door creaks open, and you stiffen. You've grown accustomed to the way people move around you, the way they think you won’t notice their presence. But this... this is different. You feel it - a surge of cursed energy, powerful and unmistakable. It’s overwhelming, drowning out everything else in its presence. Who is this? A sorcerer you didn’t meet before?

“(y/n).”

His voice is the first thing that breaks through the fog and pondering, that familiar lilt that used to make your heart race. You don’t dare to breathe, afraid that this is just another cruel trick your mind is playing on you. But then you hear it again, closer this time, filled with a mix of relief and something darker, something simmering just beneath the surface.

“(y/n).”

Your name. Unmistakably out of his mouth.

“Satoru?”

Your voice trembles, barely a whisper. The air feels heavier, charged with his cursed energy as it presses against your skin.

You feel his hand before anything else, warm and solid as it cups your cheek. He’s here. He’s real. But the second your fingers touch his, you notice the way they twitch, the subtle tremor running through them.

“What did they do to you?”

His voice cracks, and it shatters something inside you. Of course, Satoru doesn’t know what the elders did to you. He didn’t learn about the fact that they blinded you on his behalf.

You try to smile, but it falters.

“They... they wanted to punish you, Satoru. They knew taking you from me wasn't enough. Just in chase you decide to come back…”

Silence stretches between you, heavy and suffocating. His thumb brushes over your cheek, and you can feel his hesitation, the way his breath hitches as if he’s trying to hold back the storm raging inside him.

“They took my sight,” you finally say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“They wanted me to suffer in the dark... to make sure I never see the light again, that I will never be able to see you again, even if you manage to return.”

A sharp intake of breath is his only response at first. Then, he pulls you into his arms, holding you so tightly you can feel the frantic beat of his heart against your own. The world outside is chaos, but here in his embrace, it’s just the two of you. And for a moment, you let yourself believe that everything will be okay, that his return will make everything right.

But the darkness is still there, an endless void behind your eyes, a constant reminder of what you’ve lost. And you know, deep down, you'll never be the same again. Your whole marriage will never be the same again.

What if something like this happens again? What if your husband eventually doesn’t manage to escape? Those past months, you never lost hope, always waited right here on the couch for his return. But those cruel moments of waiting, of losing that spark of hope in your heart taught you more than urgently that even Satoru Gojo can’t escape everything.

“I’ll make them pay for this,” Satoru murmurs, his voice low and dangerous, promising retribution.

“I swear on everything, (y/n). I’ll make them regret the day they ever thought they could hurt you.”

You nod, pressing your face into his chest, breathing in his scent as if trying to commit it to your memory.

“I know you will. But, Satoru... I’m just glad you’re back.”

He pulls back slightly, his hand still cradling your face as if you’re something fragile, something precious.

“I’m never leaving you again. Not now, not ever.”

You want to believe him, want to trust that things will somehow return to the way they were. But even as he holds you close, you can’t help but feel the weight of everything you’ve lost.

And as you lean into his arms, the darkness remains, an inescapable part of you now. But with Satoru here, maybe, just maybe, you can find a way to live in it. Together.

[tetzoro]

FATED REUNIONS — ༉‧₊˚.

ft. portgas d. ace !

꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : after a month apart, ace comes home to you and drowns you in his endless love.

꒰ CONTENTS ꒱ : MDNI. f!reader, unprotected sex, oral (f!receiving), fingering, use of pet names (princess, baby) multiple orgasms, multiple creampies, mentions of overstimulation, cockwarming, pussy drunk!ace, ace has a foul mouth — WC : 3.9k

꒰ NOTES ꒱ : this was supposed to be his bday fic but i’m a bit late .. sorry ;( but i packed sm love into this and tied it off with a lil bow so pls enjoy teehee dividers by @/cafekitsune ᰔ

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ᰔ*.ﾟ

ace had the kind of smile that could heal the world, bit by bit. anytime he presented it, it casted a warm glow to anyone who was lucky enough to witness it.

a part of you wanted to be selfish and hide it, keep it for yourself in hopes it would mend all the broken cracks inside of you. but a beauty like that deserves to see the light of day — so you’ve always stepped back and let the universe feel what you do when you look at him.

but what you never seem to realize is that there’s a special smile reserved for you. one that he shields from everyone else, one that’s devoted to only you. it was softer around the edges, blanketing you like a growing candlelight that illuminates the darkest rooms. a safe haven that you can put your guard down and cozy up in, melting into it like the wax that drips alongside it.

“there’s my girl.” ace says, that smile resting on his features. all you can do is return it, love and hope shining from your eyes as you gaze back at him from across the deck.

he’d been gone for what seemed so long, another mission that whisked him away from you and leaving your nights cold. the usual warmth he brought was snuffed out and all you could do was hope he’d be okay.

but he was, and he’s here.

in the blink of an eye, you’re running at full speed across the deck knowing that he’ll be there to catch you.

the wind brushes against you, almost encouraging your every step as you make your way closer to him, laughter escaping your lungs when you see his arms open up for you.

with a leap forward, strong arms encase you as he lifts you up in a hug, laughing with you, not a care in the world now that he’s with you.

“missed you.” the words settle deep into his bones as you utter them in the crook of his neck.

“missed you too.” he whispers back, keeping his voice low so only you hear it.

two hearts beating as one, a fated reunion that the universe had been waiting for. finding sanctuary in each other's arms once again, neither ready to let go just yet.

and you probably wouldn’t for the next few days, clinging onto each other — much to the crews annoyance. but they secretly find it endearing, their little ace having a love all of his own. something he doesn’t have to share, something that was meant for him and him alone.

ace sets you down for a moment, limbs still intertwined as he scans your face, looking for what — you don’t know. but you do the same, making sure that he came back to you in one piece.

“hi.” you beam up at him once you’ve decided that he’s okay, he’s not hurt and he’s back safe and sound.

“hi.” he cheeses back at you, familiar boyish grin taking up his face. the two of you held eye contact for a long while, soaking each other up before you were rudely interrupted by one of the guys.

“oh go on and kiss her already!” thatch called out, failing to hold back his laugh. ace’s attention snapped over to him for a second, almost shocked that you two weren’t the only ones in the world right now.

“mind your business, maybe!” he fired back, expression softening as soon as his attention is back on you. his voice was quieter, back to speaking to only you. “was getting to that part.”

“go on then.” you smirk at him, egging him on along with the rest of the crew. the ravenette doesn’t waste another moment, expertly whisking his hat off his head and putting it on yours, using the momentum to pull you in a searing kiss.

the crew cheered and you felt heat rise into your cheeks, but you didn’t care. it had been too long, his slightly chapped lips moved against yours as his arms move to tighten around your waist.

after another moment, he pulls away, giving a quick glance to the crew again, suddenly all too aware of where you both are.

“alright shows over.” he takes your hand, giving it a little kiss as some of the crew starts to disperse, knowing all too well they’ll have to settle for catching up with him later — much later.

“should we go to your room?” you ask innocently enough, wanting to hide from prying eyes during this tender moment. but he knew better. the way you clung to him, nails already digging in his biceps, body pressed up against him — he knew you were just being coy.

“can’t get enough of me, huh?” he laughs, the sound reverberating throughout your body so fiercely you had no choice but to join in, savoring the sound you missed so much. “but yeah, let’s go.”

ace throws his arm around your shoulders, leading you to the place you’ve called home for the last year or so. clunky boots eagerly stomp against the wooden floor as he tosses half a wave towards the rest of the crew — happily retreating back to his chambers with you firmly in place, tucked under him for safekeeping.

“seems you’ve made this place your own.” he teases as he shuts the door behind him with his boot. before you can retaliate, he lifts you up and tosses you on the bed, instantly crawling over you before you have a chance to settle on the sheets. “guess that’s not the only thing i’ll have to reclaim.”

gone is the smile from earlier, the light that shone in his eyes were now dark and full of desire. a fervent want that exuded off of him in waves, trying to lull you into him.

“reclaim?” you breathe, his lips barely brushing against yours before he buries his face into your neck, loudly inhaling your scent and placing wet kisses in his wake, nibbling against your skin.

“missed you s’much.” his voice slurs with need, already drunk on you.

“you said that.” you tease, trying not to get swept up in the tidal wave you knew was coming.

“i meant it.” his face was back in front of yours, unabashed honesty filtering his features. your fingers reach up to touch his freckled cheeks, full of purpose, each moment striking true as the pads trace over the beautiful marks that take up his face. “can’t wait anymore, it’s been too long, i gotta have you, princess.”

“you have me —“ the rest of your sentence was eaten up by his hunger for you, lips kissing you with a bruising intensity that could only be forged by the passion of longing, searing into you as he branded you with his unyielding love.

and just as you guessed, the wave came for you and dragged you into him. eagerly moving your lips against his as you taste everything you’ve been starved of for the past month.

ace couldn’t even hold back anymore, taking your clothes off so quickly the ends were seared in his haste, wanting nothing more than to feel your bare skin against his.

the very thing he craved, the intimacy he could share with you, delving into your body behind closed doors is what kept him going. coming back home to you would always be his driving force in every mission he set out on.

the pressure of his tongue prods at your mouth, easily slipping in as you let out a gasp. he smiles into the kiss, missing the saccharine sounds you’d let out whenever he’d have you like this.

he savors every crevice, the sweet taste of your own tongue coating his. it’s easy for his mind to slip into your grasp, saturating in everything you have to offer him.

“no one makes my heart beat like you do.” he pulls back for a moment, pressing heated kisses along your neck, expertly finding each spot that makes you squirm under him — his thigh pressing up against your core, nudging your clit. “swear you’re the thing that holds me together.”

strong hands slide under you, cupping your ass before giving it a soft squeeze. you swear whenever he does that he puts a little heat behind it, overexcited at what’s to come.

his hands dig into your hips, guiding you along his thigh as he leaves little marks against your skin, dark splotches blossoming in the form of love.

“ace,” you gasp, breath full of want. it captures his attention like no other, dark eyes set on you and you swear you can see the nights sky bloom in them. whatever you were about to say dies in your throat at his intensity.

“i love the way you say my name, need to hear it again.” his warm palm slides down your body and between your legs. “don’t be shy, alright?”

deft fingers pry your thighs open as his thigh gets out of the way, and a thrill of anticipation rushes through your spine, already causing you to arch under his welcome touch.

“did you touch yourself while i was gone?” two fingers gently drag along your slick slit, collecting the honeyed essence on the tips of his fingers, webbing them together as you start to stitch yourself back into him.

“ace —“ your hips jolt towards him, longing for more as his fingers retreat into his own mouth, eyes burning into yours before fluttering shut as your taste melts over his tongue. he lets out a satisfied groan, a thick sound that erupts deep from his chest. “that’s embarrassing.”

“is it? ‘m just curious.” ace smiles a little, crouching down a bit more so his freckled face lays right before your awaiting cunt. it takes everything in you not to grab him by his hair and shove his eager mouth right where you both want it. “s’ok, i can go first.”

before you can question him, his finger slips into you, slowly stretching you out. he must’ve lost his train of thought, eyes focused on the way your greedy pussy swallows his digit, soaking up the small whimper you let out as he goes deeper.

“so tight for me, i bet your little fingers couldn’t stretch you out the way i can, huh?” he slides in another, his face so close to your cunt that his nose prods against your clit. “don’t worry princess, i’m here now.”

“feels so good,” you whine, arching up into his touch, trying to gain some friction against your clit. but he wasn’t giving in yet. “missed you s’much ace.”

“missed you too.” he adds a third finger in, tilting his head thoughtfully. “you know, there was one night about a week or so after i first left where i found myself at an inn.” he started, licking his plush lips in anticipation, adam’s apple bobbing at the sight of your cunt drooling all over his fingers.

“i had every intention of laying down and getting some rest but i kept thinking about you, about your pretty pussy.” with that, he finally leans in to give your clit a kiss, swirling his tongue around it while his fingers maintained a steady pace.

“couldn’t stop touching myself.” he rasps, heavy breaths fanning over your cunt — drunk on your taste, your scent, you. “couldn’t tell you how many times i came just wishing you were there to take it all f’me like you always do, like you’re supposed to.”

“wish i — aah!” your sentence gets cut off with a moan as ace finally gives in, a man starved as he eats you out. his wet tongue lapping against you, drinking up everything you have to offer him.

it’s hard to say who gets more enjoyment when ace devours you like this. his hips start to rut against the mattress, groaning and grunting into your cunt.

ace can feel his dick twitch with interest in time with each of your moans, pleasure pooling deep into his gut as he starts to get his fill of you.

after years of experience, ace could unravel you with a few well placed thrusts but he’d draw it out, savor every moment. but when it came to times like these where the only thing he wanted to do was to shove his cock into you, he’d do what needed to be done so you could take him.

“so good, ace.” you gasp out, your own fingers digging into his bicep as it ripples with determination, driving back into you so he can bring you tumbling over the edge and into his awaiting arms. “you’re always so good to me.”

“yeah?” he increases his pace, hips humping faster against the mattress as he tries to chase the friction, drunk off your praise. it always went right to his cock, desperate to drown in it.

“yeah.” you whine, back arching slightly as he thumbs at your clit, slowly but surely drawing out your orgasm. you were right on the edge, every nerve in your body set ablaze by the man between your legs, the man that would do anything for you, be anything for you. just as hopelessly devoted to you as to him.

ace was taking you higher and higher, the pleasure fogging over your brain, your thighs starting to shake as he doesn’t relent. he knew you were almost there.

“let go for me, baby.” ace can’t seem to focus on a single place, eyes darting to your blissed out face before zeroing in on your messy cunt, drooling and slobbering around his fingers as he brings you over the edge from his simple command.

your body tightens with pleasure, curling inside of you like a coil before it snaps, sending waves of ecstasy throughout you. a mantra of his name slips past your lips and brings you back down to him, watching as he tears off his pants.

your fingers trail down the patch of rough hair that leads you to where he’s pulsing with need. ace hisses loudly as you wrap your fingers around his cock, pulling him closer to you.

“fuck me, please.” you whine and any last bit of his resolve shatters into a thousand pieces. driven by his innate instinct to satisfy you, he roughly grabs you by your hips, lining himself up before pushing into you, stretching you open and laying you bare.

“you never have to beg for me, princess.” ace rasps, voice a little whiny as he takes in how good you feel. “i’d give you whatever you want.”

and he would. you feel like heaven to him, silken walls wrapped deliciously around his cock, pulsing with need, threatening to swallow him whole. he doesn’t think he’d mind it, he’d really let you do anything to him.

as much as he wanted to pound into you relentlessly, burning off all his frustration from the last month of not having you — he had to pause otherwise he’d cum before he even had the chance to start.

ace’s hands roam over your body, squeezing every inch as if he’s making sure you’re really there, that he’s home. his thumb grazes over your nipple and you keen for him, arching up for more attention.

and who was he to ever refuse you?

“oh you like that?” he murmurs, trying to sound seductive but the crack in his voice gave him away.

“fuck me, ace. move.” you reiterate, less whine in your voice as you roll your hips against him, biting back the word ‘please’.

he all but whimpers, the sound melting into your skin and seeping into your bones and you can’t help but chase that again and again.

plunging back into you, he sets a quicker pace. each drag of his cock carved his way back into your heart, desperately rutting himself into you to prove to you how devoted he was — that his time away didn’t lessen any of the feelings he carried in his heart.

it only made it grow stronger.

you could feel him twitch and pulse deep inside of you, as if his cock was begging for more.

“missed you, missed your cute little pussy.” ace ruts into you, lost in the way your warm walls fluttering around him, coaxing him to drive further into you. “did you miss me, baby?”

“yes, yes!” your voice turns into moans as he nudges the gooey spot deep inside of you, melting your brain.

“you feel — fuck — you feel so fucking good. you’re so wet, baby, can you hear?” he couldn’t control what was coming out of his mouth, his body was in overdrive as the only thing he could comprehend was how good he was feeling.

“ace-“ you whine again, embarrassed at his honest praise, his thoughts flowing from his mouth. you cover your face only for a second before he rips your hands from it, lacing them between his own and pushing it back down into the mattress.

“no.” his voice was deep, eyes sharp on you. “don’t ever hide from me, not after i’ve been gone. please. i need to see you.”

he leans back in, hips still moving quickly against yours as he captures your lips with his, groaning at the taste of you. a part of him wanted to taste every inch, pull his cock out and eat you out until you’re screaming for all to hear.

but there’s no way he could leave the warmth of your cunt, deliciously squeezing him as he drives back into you over and over again.

“‘m gonna cum.” he moans, fingers squeezing yours as he starts to hump you, slow and shallow — his release on the cusp but he couldn’t let go until you were with him.

“me too.” you gasp out, your free hand gripping his back, nails dragging into his skin in an attempt to ground yourself.

your ankle digs into the dimples in his back, driving him closer — deeper. the need to feel close to him overpowering all your senses, the same as him.

with one last deep thrust, ace pushes into you and sends you both over the edge, crying out each others name in unison as he spills into you, giving you everything he has to offer.

before you have a chance to come down from your high, he doesn’t let up. humping into you, making sure you get every drop of his love.

“c-can’t stop yet.” he rasps out, thrusts moving faster. your legs uselessly fall limp to your sides, exhaustion already settling into your bones as he continues to drive into your overused cunt. but it feels so good you couldn’t even fathom asking him to stop — not when the only thing that filled your mind was ace, ace, ace.

his tip nudging against that spongy spot deep inside you sends your mind reeling, involuntarily clenching around his cock and sending him further into his frenzy.

at this point, his pace was unstoppable, the sounds of skin slapping against skin filled the room, ace’s eyes swirling with love and lust as he gazes down at you, absolutely drunk on the pleasure only you can bring him.

“s-sensitive!” you cry out, overstimulation coursing through your veins, setting your body ablaze in a swirl of pleasure and pain.

“i know baby, i know.” he kisses your head, his thrusts unrelenting as your body jolts under his touch. “but you feel too damn good like this. twitching all over my cock — haaah.”

“that feel good?” ace breathes in your ear, cock reaching so deep within you that stars erupt behind your eyes. all you can do is nod, not trusting your voice. but it’s not good enough for him. “c’mon talk to me, baby. missed your voice so much.”

“ace!” you yelp out as he pounds harder into you, hips snapping against yours relentlessly. you couldn’t get the words out even if you wanted to, the force of his thrusts knocking all of words right out of your pretty little head.

“mine, mine, mine.” each word was enunciated with a harsh thrust — but his voice gave himself away. the crack at the end, the desperation lacing his tone — he needed you to hear him, reassure him, tell him that you still feel the same way he does.

“m’yours!” you cry out, clinging onto him as his pace doesn’t let up. “i’m yours, ace, only yours.”

ace sinks his teeth into your shoulder, staving off his release just a little longer, until he felt your walls try to suffocate him.

it was too much — the build up, the reunion, ace’s all too familiar, sloppy kisses. your vision goes white as you violently cum around him, soaking his cock as you release.

a litany of curse words flow from his lips as you unravel around him, the force of your orgasm sending him spiraling.

the sight alone would’ve driven him over the edge but the way you whimpered his name had his hips stuttering into you, shoving himself deep inside of you before pumping you full of his cum, another load filling you up.

refusing to pull out, his cock jumps with interest yet again but he tries to push the need down for awhile. if ace had it his way he’d keep you here all night, giving you as much of his cum as he possibly can.

but the truth is, he really fucking missed you and wanted nothing more than to hold you in his arms for a little bit, nuzzling his slightly sweaty face into yours as both of your breathing starts to settle down.

“baby?” ace asks so softly you almost don’t hear it.

“yes?” you whisper back, smoothing his hair down before running your fingers through it, gently untangling any knots. you knew you’d both need to shower, especially after this. but it could wait.

“nothing.” he nudges your cheek with his freckled nose. but you weren’t having that. you gently tilt his chin upward, pressing your lips against his forehead.

“tell me, i’m here.” you barely remove your lips from his skin, letting the words breathe over him. ace’s gaze meets yours and wordlessly shares so much with you — the pain of having been away from you, the relief of being back in your arms, the depths of his love for you all swirling in those dark puppy dog eyes of his.

so instead, he opts to kiss you softly, taking all the time in the world to pour his love into you, making up for all the kisses he missed out on while he was away. he pulls apart, that beautiful smile reserved just for you resting on his face.

“i just love you s’much.” ace settles on, basking in the love you pour over him. you know there’s more he wants to say but that’s for another time. a time where both of you don’t have to worry about the perils of tomorrow or whether or not he’d come home on time.

for now, this was all you needed. his warm body tucked next to you, a tangle of limbs as you move closer into him. watching as his half-lidded eyes start to flutter shut, eyelashes fanning along his freckled cheeks you endlessly adore.

“and i love you so much.” with a final kiss on his forehead, you can hear his breathing deepen as he starts to succumb to sleep — a habit he’s formed after you two have sex no matter where you might be.

but his cock was still inside of you and you knew it was only a matter of time until he was awake again and raring to go. so you might as well try to get some rest too, clinging to the man who fiercely holds your heart.

thank you so much for reading ᰔ

[emilys-bangs]

Mom!Emily with a baby girl who’s a little older… maybe 2 or 3, and is entering that stage where she hates when mom leaves for work.

Maybe all 3 of you are at the front door seeing Emily off. Baby girl is just pouting and whining and gripping onto Emily’s pant legs ❤️‍🩹

This broke my heart...but I also loved it <3

tearful goodbyes | e.p

Tags: established relationship, hurt/comfort, fluff at the end, mom!emily, no use of yn, use of petnames

Word count: 1.8k

This used to be easier. 

When Emily wasn’t part of a whole, when she didn’t have a ring around her finger and a piece of her heart walking around on little legs and clutching her calves at the door. Leaving used to be a matter of throwing a bag over her shoulder and piling food for Sergio in his bowl. Now it’s tears at the front door, her heart splitting in two as she fights an internal battle she already knows she’s going to lose.

Having a family changed everything. Having you changed everything; Emily’s life shifted, turned on its head when you came into it, and Eloise only added to the light in both of your lives. Two became three, a lonely apartment became a lively one. She wouldn’t change it for the world, but sometimes she wishes it didn’t have to be this hard.

“Eloise,” she says softly over the sound of sobs, “Mommy has to go.”

Emily has to speak past the lump in her throat. It was quick to appear when her daughter wrapped her small hands around her knee, pressing her face into it and soaking Emily’s slacks with her tears. Now Eloise whines, looking up at her mother with tearful eyes that make Emily’s heart twist.

“Mommy stay.” Her lip wobbles.

She’s growing tired of saying I can’t, so Emily bends down and picks her up. Eloise scrambles into her arms, hugging her neck and dampening her skin with her tears. The three-year-old clings to her tightly, arms around her neck and legs around her waist, as if her mother is going off into the trenches rather than the BAU.

Help me, Emily begs you with her eyes, the taste of tears thick in the back of her throat. She rubs absent circles on Eloise’s back as you step closer to them, your hand joining hers.

“Ellie,” you say, catching your daughter’s attention. She turns to you with bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks. “Mommy has to leave for work now, you gotta let her go.” You gently wipe her damp cheek.

“No.” Eloise whines. “Want Mommy to stay.”

“I’ll stay for five minutes,” Emily says, her voice scratchy as she combs through Eloise’s messy hair with her fingers, “and then I have to go, okay? And you have to go to preschool.”

Eloise dissolves into sobs again. “No,” she hiccups, burying her face in Emily’s neck and scorching her skin with her hot tears. You chew on your lip and Emily blows out a breath, shaky as she rocks her flailing daughter.

“Honey, you’ll have fun at preschool. You always do. You’ll get to play with Lily and see Miss Emma.” She desperately tries to soothe. Her voice is on the edge of cracking, frayed and thready from being the reason for Eloise’s meltdown.

This used to be easier.

“Don’t wanna go! Wanna go with you.” Her daughter whimpers. Emily’s heart cracks. 

“Baby…”

It would be so easy. To call Hotch, tell him she’s down with the flu. There’s no case, only a mind numbing day of paperwork ahead, and she can just have JJ swing her case files by after work—

“Okay,” you announce, suddenly waving around a sheet of red heart stickers. “I’ve got an idea.”

Emily frowns. When did you get those? Probably when she’d involuntarily closed her eyes against the sound of her daughter’s tears.

“Hey, Eloise,” you gently smooth some of her hair behind her ear. “Listen to me, baby. Can you give me your hand?” You ask softly, reaching for the hand she has fisted in Emily’s collar. 

Eloise blinks at you with damp eyes. “Mommy will be right here, just give me your hand, honey,” you reassure. Emily nudges her lips against Eloise’s forehead in a kiss, and when you hold your hand out this time, she places hers in your palm.

“Thank you,” you quickly kiss the back of her tiny hand before showing her the pack of stickers you’d gotten. “See these?”

Eloise nods. You peel one of the hearts from the sheet and gently place it on the back of her hand. Both Emily and Eloise peer down at it, their foreheads pressed together as you smooth your thumb over the sticker to make sure it sticks.

You look to Emily when you’re done. “Mommy, can I have your hand, please?” A small smile pulls at your lips.

Emily matches it with a soft one of her own as she shifts Eloise to her other hip and frees her right hand. You take it and place a matching red heart on the back of her hand, right in the middle; it stands out against her pale skin. Again you rub your thumb over it to make it stick, both the action and Eloise’s quieting sniffles making her relax. 

With her hand still in yours, you take Eloise’s too. “See these hearts you and Mommy have?” You ask, holding their hands side by side. Eloise nods into Emily’s neck; your wife smiles, starting to see where this is going. “Whenever you miss her, you can just touch the heart. And when Mommy misses you, she touches her heart. Like this,” you touch your thumb to the heart on Eloise’s hand, smiling at her gently. 

Eloise sniffles. “Mommy’s in the heart?” She looks up at Emily.

“I’m in the heart,” Emily agrees softly, wiping a wayward tear from the corner of her eye. “And you’re in my heart, too, see?” She turns her hand.

Eloise presses her thumb to the sticker. Her pout gives and she smiles, one of Emily’s dimples digging into her cheek. “You’re in the heart!” She giggles, throwing her arms around Emily’s neck again.

“That’s right.” Emily kisses her forehead, the tightness in her chest loosening. Her eyes meet yours and you wink. She blows out a sigh, squeezing her daughter before preparing herself to let go. “I’ll pick you up from preschool today, okay Eloise?”

“Okay Mommy.”

“I’ll see you soon. Be a good girl, sweetheart.” She says as she leans over to you and eases her into your arms. Eloise doesn’t protest this time, settling into your chest quietly as she looks down at the heart.

Emily knows she’s late, but since she already is, she takes a moment to bend down a little, curling her finger gently under her daughter’s chin to tip it up. “I love you, baby,” she murmurs and kisses her cheek as Eloise mumbles a response.

Straightening, Emily reaches for you. “Love you, sweetheart,” she gives you a quick kiss, her hand gratefully squeezing your waist. “You’re a lifesaver.” She breathes; quietly, just for you.

“I know I am,” you wink. Taking her hand off your waist, you gently kiss her ring—your own version of a sticker heart. “Now go, you’re late.”

This time, when Emily reaches for the door, there’s no one there to hold her back. 

“Bye Mommy!” Eloise waves from your arms. You stifle a smile into her hair, your hand lifting in a small wave of your own.

“Bye Eloise.” Emily waves back, her chest squeezing again as she forces herself to step out of the comfort of her home.

She walks into work eight minutes late with a scowl on her face, a damp patch on her clothes, and a red heart on the back of her hand.

“Sorry I’m late,” she mumbles to Hotch when she walks into the round table room. His eyes fall to the heart on her hand and he nods, not giving her any usual reprimand as she takes her seat. Emily’s grateful for that, but while he gets the hint, Morgan doesn’t.

He nudges her when they’re back at their desks. “Hotch didn’t even tell you off today. I think he’s going sweet on you, princess—”

“Not today, Morgan.” She snaps, his teasing tone grating against her nerves. Her mouth sets into a firm line when she catches the picture of you and Eloise on her desk.

He leaves her alone after that.

It’s a paperwork day, and for the first time in ever, she’s glad for it as she sinks into her thoughts. Her pen taps against her file as she replays the morning, rethinks her job, reiterates to herself—or tries to—that it’s just a phase, more to do with her daughter’s clinginess than her work hours. Still, the thoughts don’t leave her. It’s a miracle she manages to get anything done by the time Eloise’s preschool lets out and she’s getting up from her desk, tossing her purse over her shoulder and catching sight of the heart in her hand.

All the tension in her loosens when Eloise skips into her arms, beaming as her pigtails bounce. 

“Mommy!”

Emily scoops her up into her chest. “Hi, baby.” She kisses her forehead, hot from the sun, and shifts her more securely on her hip. “Did you have a good day?”

“Uh-huh,” Eloise says. Her fingers hook in the chain of Emily’s necklace. “Lily got me cookies!”

“Oh, she did? That’s nice, did they taste good?” She asks. Eloise nods happily and Emily tugs gently on a pigtail, “We’ll have to make some and share with her tomorrow, what do you think?”

“With chocolate chips?” Eloise turns her wide eyes to her mother.

“Of course with chocolate chips,” Emily agrees, every muscle unwinding at the sound of her daughter’s sweet voice. “We can’t have cookies without chocolate chips.” They reach the car and she opens the door, settling Eloise into her car seat.

As she buckles her in, Emily catches sight of the heart sticker on the back of her small hand. “So, did you miss me today?” She asks playfully.

“No,” Eloise says.

“Oh.” Emily’s brows furrow. As sweet as her daughter is, she is a toddler, something Emily is reminded of every time she forgets. A chuckle slips past her lips as she shakes her head, “Well, I did—”

“You were here,” Eloise interrupts, pointing to the heart on the back of her hand. 

Emily smiles softly. “That’s right,” she laughs. “I was with you the whole time. But you know what, Ellie Bellie?” Her fingers skate over Eloise’s stomach, gently tickling her until her girl starts laughing, “I still missed you anyway. Even though you were with me.”

Eloise looks up at her as she kisses her forehead. “Missed ’gio,” she says.

“Oh you missed him did you? I can never win when it comes to him.” Emily mock tsks, but she’s smiling as she shuts the back door closed. She slides into the driver’s seat and flicks her eyes up to the rearview mirror, instinctively checking on Eloise as she buckles her seatbelt. She turns on the car and drives off, any remaining tension melting off her body when she catches sight of the ring on her finger, the reminder of you and home just a few minutes away. 

taglist: @suckerforcate @sickoherd @lextism @catssluvr @i-lovefandom @haiklya @justhereforthosefics

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Dispose Of Me

Pairing: Javier Peña x Female Reader Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: Javier Peña needs you... and you're moving away in two weeks. Warnings: Smut, unprotected p in v sex (be safe IRL), oral (f receiving), reader is picked up, Javi can't stop smoking, post S3 Laredo Peña, feelings. Words: 1,800

A/N: @ohheypedrito asked me to write Javier and this is what I came up with. This is my first time writing Javi, so I hope I did him justice. @undercoverpena posted this mood board a couple of weeks ago that matched the exact vibes of this piece, I even went in and added the last line because of it. Thank you to @pascalispretty for beta'ing.

Masterlist

___

His new life haunts him. 

Fix a fence, wire the new security light, drive to town to pick up more feed, crack a well deserved beer open at dinner, fall asleep in the bed that’s too small. 

Wake up and repeat. 

Funny how the simple life feels like it’s killing him. 

He lights a cigarette, the nicotine drowning his inner turmoil; a billow of smoke suspires out of his lungs, floating away into the night sky. He wishes he could follow it far away. 

He needs you. 

___

Three quick raps against the door shocks you out of your mindless channel surfing. Javi. You fight a smile before checking yourself in the mirror, lying to yourself that you didn’t buy all the new silky lingerie for him. 

You lie to yourself a lot. You haven’t fallen for him, you don’t think about him all the time, other men have made you feel this special, you’re not going to miss him once you leave.

A quick shake of your head and a wiggle of your shoulders helps steel yourself before opening the door. Your breath hitches at the beauty… Javier Peña, the handsomest man with the biggest brown eyes and tightest Wrangler jeans you’ve ever seen lunges at you and wraps his arms around your barely covered figure. 

“Usually you call, wha–” a searing kiss interrupts you, his plush mouth sets a hungry fire inside you. 

Your body leaves the ground as Javi lifts you up into his hold, your legs instinctively enveloping his hips, hands taking hold around his thick neck as he walks to your bedroom. His lips don’t leave yours as he effortlessly navigates around your moving boxes. 

“Need you baby,” he pants against your neck. “Need you so much.” 

You’re thrown on the bed, mouth agape, lungs panting for air still recovering from his kiss. Javi swiftly undresses, his orange shirt and blue jeans fly across the room and land on your reading chair.

He flicks the light on, flooding the room with sweet tangerine hues. He stands at the foot of your bed, broad body looming, pouty lips parted underneath his downturned mustache. He’s the picture perfect example of a man in charge, standing immobile with his hands on his hips; the only movement is his wide brown eyes roaming your body. He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobs in his toned neck. The tension radiating off of his body reaches out and grabs your heart, making it pitter patter even harder against your chest. 

“I need you,” he whispers, his frame casting a shadow over your quivering body as he slowly climbs on the bed.

A kiss is placed against your temple; he inhales the citrus scent of your conditioner and sighs. His mouth moves down your face before parting your lips with his, his sharp nose pressing into your cheek when he deepens the kiss. He tastes of coffee and cigarettes. You melt into the bed under his weight, his tongue swirling around your mouth drinking down your gasps and mews. A soft groan rumbles out of his throat when you suck his tongue into your mouth. 

He’s different tonight. His kisses feel more desperate, the weight of him presses harder, his eyes stare harder, his voice sounds gruffer. 

He bunches the pink silk of your tank top up before covering your breast with his large hand, kneading it in his hold. 

“Javi,” you moan, feeling his hardening cock press against your panties. 

“Do you just sit around your apartment dressed like this every night baby?”

He licks his way down your neck, sucking and nuzzling his mouth against the curve of your collar bone. 

“Most– ahh– nights,” you whimper. “Usually wear it in case you call or knock on my door.”

“Fuck,” he growls. His cock grows more rigid, pressing harder against your now aching core dripping wet and waiting for him. 

His lips perch against the skin stretched across your chest, leaving a gentle kiss right where your heart beats.

“I can feel your heartbeat against my lips, hermosa.”

He cups your breasts between his hands, encompassing his head in between your flesh, his inhalation of your scent sends goosebumps through your skin… as if he’s trying to memorize every part of you before time runs out. He pulls back, tongue peeking out to wet his lips, dark eyes under pleading eyebrows staring into everything you have- body, mind, heart and soul. 

”I need you,” he rasps.

You pet his hair, running your fingers through the soft waves. 

“I know,” you whisper from your heart.

Javi. 

He turns his head, laying a wet kiss against your nipple before sucking it into his mouth. A breath of a bite hits against your sensitive skin, your fingers tug at his hair. A throaty groan encourages you to pull harder. 

He licks a stripe across taking your other nipple in his mouth– another bite, another hair tug, another throaty groan. 

He rubs his hard cock against your core, his precum soaks against your drenched panties. 

“You’re already so wet for me, aren’t you baby?”

An ache rolls through your entire body.  

“Yes Javi.”

“Yes you are, baby. Want to taste you first.” 

He settles between your thighs, jet black hair shining against your skin. 

His tongue dips in your folds, swimming through the lush wetness you’ve spilled for him. 

A lap up, a lap down, his tongue striding all along your sensitive skin. 

You sink in the abyss of his touch.

“Mm close Javi,” you sob. 

He moans a reassuring sound. His head undulating a reassuring nod taps his nose against your clit. Your hands claim his hair, pulling him even closer into you, your hips grinding against his face riding the wave of pleasure. 

You fall off the horizon, diving into the depth of your orgasm. Javier Peña is not only a giver, but also a taker, taking everything your pussy will give him. You swell underneath him, your hands pulling his soft hair, your voice screaming his name. He drinks you down like he’s a shipwrecked man.

You float atop your coral sheets, Javi’s soft kisses to your thigh anchoring you from drifting farther. 

___

“I-I need you Javi,” you muster.

His head pops up from between your legs, beautiful mouth shining with your sweetness. He licks his lips savoring the heady taste of you before he covers your body with his, crushing you, firm muscles pressing into your skin. 

“You need me?” His cock ghosts against your entrance that’s begging for something to clench around.

”Yes Javi.”

”Okay hermosa, okay.”

All at once you’re filled with Javier Peña. His hips meet yours when he plunges himself fully into your heat.

Your lungs squeal as you wrap your legs around his lower back, giving him more access to all of you. He’s deliberate in his pace, slow thrusts adoring you with each push and pull. His lips take purchase of your mouth.  

You immerse one another in the sway of each other’s bodies. 

“Two weeks,” he grunts against your lips. “I don’t think I can live without your pussy, baby.”

Your fingers clutch his taut shoulders; you don’t know if he meant to let that information out.

“I’ll miss you so much,” you confess, getting lost in his divulgence.

“Shhh, don’t talk like that,” his lips mold the words on your skin. His thumb finds your clit and rubs a slow circle around it instantly replacing your sadness with a jolt of pleasure. 

You gasp at the sensation.

“Need to make you feel good,” Javi pulls away, he stares into your eyes, “in your body and heart baby.” 

“Jaaaaaviiii,” your exhale is replaced by his name. 

He drives harder into you, your legs tighten around him, your hands grip his skin harder. 

Your bed rattles against the wall, the metal headboard clangs against the plaster. 

THUMP

“I”

THUMP

“need”

THUMP

“you.”

Your knuckles turn white against his skin as he pounds into your pussy. His eyes don’t leave yours, you’re drowning in the pools of his dark brown eyes as you orgasm, squeezing his cock and pulling him down with you, flooding him with your release.

He bites your name as he pulls out, your legs thudding against the bed as he draws his orgasm out. His focus doesn’t leave your face as thick white ropes fall on your stomach. 

Your body rocks against the soft waves of the bed, lulled to a higher place of being from Javi’s care.

He flops down next to you panting for air with his forearm resting over his forehead. 

You turn and cuddle into his side, resting your head on his broad chest.

“I need you,” Javi whispers so low you swear he’s only saying it to himself. 

Your world shifts, he tells you everything in those three words he keeps repeating. Time is frozen as you both stay silent.

___

You reach for Javi in the darkness and find your bed empty. A deep timbred sigh behind you catches your attention. You roll over blinking your bleary eyes open, gulping at the sight ahead of you. 

He stands naked by the window, a puff of smoke dissipating in the warm summer air breezing in from the open window. The sunrise paints his body in glowing umber. 

“You know I don’t like it when you smoke in here Javi.” He stamps the cigarette out and walks over to the bed. His body gleams from the yellow street light buzzing outside your window. He sits on the edge of your bed and lifts your legs into his lap. 

“You know I don’t like it when you move a thousand miles away and don’t ask me to follow you.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking me to do anything if I want to do it.”

“But, your dad?”

“He tells me I can leave at any time,” his hand strokes your leg, “I just haven’t had a reason to… until you.”

“Javi, don’t be ridiculous. You can’t just pick up and move away. What are you going to do there?”

“I already called the office, there’s a job waiting for me there. I just have to tell them I want it. Baby, I need you.”

___

“Good morning, I’m Javier Peña, the new head agent here. Shall we get started?”

Javi sticks his hand in his suit jacket pocket, discovering a piece of paper.

He smiles when he sees your note: Good luck on your first day! See you at home. Xxx

He reminds himself to buy you a bouquet of flowers before heading home. 

[bbydoll18xx]

Sometimes You Can't Make It On Your Own

When Paige falls apart, you are there to pick up the pieces.

Paige Bueckers x reader

Based on this request

Masterlist

Word Count: 1k

Themes: fluff and comfort !

A/N: this request was so cute!! As an eldest daughter and a nurse, it's ingrained in me to be a caregiver, and I show my love through acts of service so this was so fun to write. Hope you lovelies enjoy!

~

Paige had always prided herself on being a tough girl. It was ingrained into her soul to be a leader, and even more so, it was ingrained into her to take care of everyone around her. So when you had started dating her, you immediately were treated to the princess treatment.

As an eldest daughter yourself, you had appreciated someone taking care of you for once, but you knew the effects of having too much on your plate. It was draining, and so you had vowed to help Paige hold up the weight of her world. 

You were always there. 

You baked her cookies when you knew she was having a rough day. You were always there to listen when she was feeling the pressure from the rest of the team. And your kisses were basically magic, bringing life back into the blonde.

~

You hum to yourself as you walk through the door of Paige’s apartment, unable to deny the bubbling giddiness in your chest at the thought of seeing your girlfriend. 

You had been dating for two years, and while the two of you had fallen into a comfortable rhythm, the overwhelming excitement of her had yet to fade. 

Slipping through the door, you creep through the apartment on light feet, trying to avoid foiling your surprise. Paige wasn’t expecting you, and with the craziness of the basketball season now in full swing and your own work and school schedule, you hadn’t seen her in several days. 

It fucking sucked, but that was life, and now you had cleverly hatched a plan to sneak into Paige’s room during her beloved afternoon nap time and surprise her with your presence. 

A sound cuts through the quiet apartment and a pang cuts through your chest. Paige was sobbing behind the closed door of her room. It shatters your heart, and you gasp, frozen in place for a second, trying to decide whether you should go comfort her or leave her be. 

Paige was a strong girl. She loved protecting her friends and teammates. And she was no doubt an exceptional leader. So when she had her moments of weakness and vulnerability, she hated others to see it. 

You were really the only exception. Your warmth and nurturing disposition coaxed her out of the protective shell she had used to shield herself from the coldness of the media and the unyielding bitterness of those who doubted her. 

Biting your lip, you quietly knock on the door, your voice gentle, as you call out to her. “Paige, baby? Can I come in?”

You hear her sniffle, quickly trying to clear the thick tearfulness out of her own voice.

“I need you,” is all she says. 

Your heart drops into your stomach, and the overwhelming need to just make everything better consumes you, and you pull open the door to quickly get to your girlfriend. 

Paige is laying in her bed, and you can clearly see the tear stains below her red-rimmed eyes, clouding the clear blueness of them. Your eyes flit to see Twitter open on her iPad, and you connect the dots. 

She had gotten sucked into the hate comments again, and it was getting to her. 

Anger and concern rushes through your veins, but you take a deep breath. Now was not the time to lose your own shit. You had a pretty girl in front of you who needed you to make her feel better. And that’s exactly what you were going to do. 

“Oh, baby. What happened?” You whisper, sitting on the bed next to her and soothingly stroking her cheek, brushing away the tears that remained. 

Paige sniffles, leaning into your touch, as if it provided all the comfort that she needed. “Had a bad practice. And then I saw a hate tweet. Just spiraled from there.” Her voice cracks, and the tears in her eyes pool again, threatening to overflow. 

With your free hand, you pull the iPad away from her, trying to make sure she can’t subject herself to the disgusting stream of vitriol spewing from it. You lay down next to her, pulling her into your chest, letting her melt into you. The tension seeps out of her, as she cuddles into your side, welcoming your presence. 

Stroking her hair, you whisper sweet words of encouragement and love into her ear, and it’s not long before her sniffles come to a grinding halt.

Paige lets out a quiet breath and sits up, facing you. She looks sheepish, as if she’s embarrassed by her emotions. 

“Sorry you had to see that,” she chuckles, trying to make a joke out of it. 

“Hey,” you say, bringing a hand to rest against the smooth skin of her face. “You don’t have to apologize for getting upset over something like that. I’m your girlfriend. I want to be able to make you feel better.” You poke her in the belly as you emphasize your point, and she grins. 

And while you were not the one who was necessarily hurting in those moments, seeing the person you loved most, break down in tears over people’s vile words, broke you, too.

But Paige’s smile was like sunshine on the grayest day. And things were going to be alright. 

Paige reaches out to entwine her fingers with yours, making a mental note of how perfectly they fit together. Her eyes move from your gentle fingers up to your eyes, seeing how bright they shined when looking back into hers. 

And when you later fall asleep, curled up in Paige’s comforting warmth, your girlfriend fights the sleep out of her own eyes, preferring to admire the innocence and goodness seeping out of your being. 

You were two girls born having to provide for everyone around you, who found a home in each other, taking on the weight together. 

Because sometimes you just can't make it on your own. 

And that's okay.

~

Woo this took forever and i kinda hate this but thank you for reading! My inbox is always open for more requests!

xoxo katy

[munsonson]

Blurb

Sunshine!Reader x Eddie Angst

She finds him eventually, leaned up against his locker with something crinkled in his hands. His hair, unkempt as it always was, drowned him in its essence, hiding his face from her. She smiles, running up to him with her familiar smile.

“Hey, Eds,” she greets, “did you want to go to that milkshake place after all?”

He doesn’t answer. In fact, he doesn’t move at all. Her eyebrows knit together in concern. She hesitantly brings up a hand to tap him on the shoulder.

“Eds? Hey, you okay?” she asks.

He looks up at her at last. He’s smiling, too, but there’s something strange about it. It was like he was forcing it. Those dimples that she always admired weren’t there. His eyes were still brown, but they didn’t crinkle at the ends. He crumples the paper in his hands even more.

“Can I ask you something, Y/N?”

It startles her when he uses her actual name instead of ‘princess’. She decides not to question it.

“Yeah?”

“Why are you trying to hard to be my friend?”

She was confused. “Huh?”

“Why are you trying so hard to be my friend?”

She was sure he was upset now, if his tone was any indication. He couldn’t possible be angry with her, could he? Did she do something wrong? Did Jonathan tip him off that she was going to ask him out tonight? Maybe she was overstepping her boundaries.

“Um, well I…I don’t really understand the question. I thought we were friends,” she says at last. That wasn’t the answer he was looking for. Now he was balling up the paper and he actually tossed it at her. It hits her forehead unceremoniously before falling to her feet. It was such a silly moment she nearly laughed. But he wasn’t. He was still forcing a smile.

“You know what I think? I think it’s time we put everything out on the table, really…examine what’s been going on here, you know?” he said. “See, I’ve made it pretty alarmingly clear that most people tend to avoid me, to the point I’m essentially Moses parting the goddam sea of jocks, cheerleaders, and even the burnouts. But for some reason…you won’t budge.”

She tilts her head. “Because I’m your friend.”

“No, it’s because I’m your charity case.” Eddie sneers. He’s not smiling anymore. “It all makes sense, I guess. Can’t find any friends outside of the pervy photographer, so you run off to take your chance with the freak, the super senior.”

“Hey,” she says, offended now. “Please don’t talk about Jonathan like that. And I don’t think you’re a freak, Eddie, what are you talking about?”

“Do you not see the people you surround yourself with?” he asks, incredulous. “Jonathan Byers, the alleged murderer turned non murderer who likes to take pictures of naked unaware chicks. And myself, who’s too stupid for graduation and too stupid to realize he’s been wasting his time on someone who wants to wipe the notion of witchy bitch off her back she’ll find two objectively worse guys just to feel better about herself.”

She had tears gathering in her eyes.

“Why are you saying all of this, Eddie? What is wrong with you?” she asks. Her voice cracks.

“Because I’m done with people using me. Alright? So do me a favor, come next year, put me in your rearview mirror. Just leave me alone,” he snaps, brushing by her.

She watches him. Her heart felt sore and heavy, her stomach nauseated and prepared to empty itself from how upset she was. Did Eddie really think she’d only befriended him to make herself look better by comparison? How could he do that? How could he throw what Jonathan did in her face? She’d told him that in confidence, not for him to weaponize it against her.

She fell into the lockers, the echoing slam not enough to deafen the sounds of her cries as she slid down onto the tiled floor. What could she do now? Should she tell Jonathan what happened, ask what she should do next?

She spots the tiny crumpled piece of paper beside her and picks it up. He’d been reading this when she approached.

Unraveling it and trying her best to smooth out the page, she reads it over. Startled, she quickly rereads it again.

It was for the parent or guardian of Eddie, explaining he’d have to repeat this term over again. He wasn’t graduating. That was why he was so upset.

Despite the words and insults he threw at her, she was still tempted to find him again and hug him. This was clearly what had him so depressed, not her. He was just letting his anger out. Even if that wasn’t right, she found it easier to forgive him now.

But she didn’t want to make him more mad. If avoiding her next year made him feel better about the whole ordeal, she’d oblige him.

[helioooss]

that one summer

synopsis: y/n recalls the summer that changed everything - the one where her and sana end up together

w/c: 2.9k

warnings: none, just cute stuff. not proofread so u can call me stupid 💀

a/n: i seriously can’t write fluff. it’s like i have to be profoundly sad all the time or else i can’t think. !!! how good is sailor song???

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

"You know, you're not bad looking," Dahyun starts and you're already rolling your eyes, knowing what's about to come out of her foul mouth. "You just give off, like, really big lesbian loser vibes."

"You haven't seen me in over two months and that's the first thing you say?" you ask her, brows furrowing. She isn't wrong, though, but there is no shame in admitting that either. "And what if I'm a loser?"

"Well, my friend, your grand plan is winning over miss Minatozaki Sana this year, aren't you?" she teasingly raises both of her eyebrows at you. “You really need to grow some balls, Y/N, like look at her at least once when she’s up close - not just from afar.”

You throw a piece of your lettuce at her and she instantly grimaces. “Shut up, you know I can’t do that.”

“Why don’t you hook up with Yunjin? I think she’s still into you,” and she introduces that idea as soon as Sana walks past your table, making you look down at your shoes just to avoid her striking gaze. “Whoops, said that too loud, didn’t I?”

You’re taken aback when Sana pulls away from her friend group and sits herself next to you. Then she unexpectedly wraps an arm around you…but you just had to move away.

"Oh?" Sana's lips curve into a frown, noticing how you're practically pushing her off of you as you let out a nervous chuckle. You want nothing but some sort of phenomenon to swallow you whole and never let you back out right now. "You're ignoring me now, baby?"

And that's it; it's the end of it all. You can feel Dahyun's sharp (and confused) glare from the corner of your eye, she's probably screaming in her head - maybe with a tinge of desire to choke you dead for not telling her why the girl you've been pining over for the past four years has her arms wrapped around you. And kissing you.

The girl in front of you chuckles, her palm tapping your cheek to pull out of whatever trance you're in. "Earth to my beautiful Y/N," she places an innocent kiss on your cracked and dry lips. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," you manage to choke out, breath hitching. No. Your cheeks are flushed, heart racing a million more beats than usual; everyone around you mirroring the same expression as your best friend. "What are you doing here?"

It must've sounded wrong to Sana cause now her face is feigned with hurt, mixed with a bit of anger. "Did you not want to see me?"

Dahyun decides that's her cue to leave. You nervously fidget with the hem of your shirt, refusing to look up at her. "No, no, it's not that!"

"You didn't even introduce me to her," Sana's attention is too focused on you that she only notices your best friend's departure when she's steps ahead of you two. "And why are you acting so cold?"

You purse your lips, trying to ignore the prying looks you're receiving from over half of the campus. "Because..." you're dragging your words out, unsure of how to tell her that to everyone else's eyes, she's a goddess.

And you're just you.

"Spit it out," she says in that firm tone that used to scare you as she crossed her arms. "Are you seeing other bitches in campus? Too embarrassed to be seen with me?"

"No, Sana!" you cry out, reaching for her arm. "That's the thing, this place has not seen me get a girl even if my life was on the line and now suddenly, you, you out of all people, are all over me."

"What?" her head is tilted and she looks so cute and you just wanna kiss that frown off her face.

Your frustration gets to the best of you. "I'm a loser who has not had a girlfriend since I stepped foot into this place - and literally, just literally, look at me."

She lets out a lopsided smile, ignoring half of what you just told her. "My gorgeous baby. You look amazing today - might need a haircut though. Your hair's looking a little too scruffy, yeah?"

"Yeah," you sheepishly say, getting distracted by how she can still look good in baggy blue denim jeans and a white baby tee. "I like my hair messy though."

She stands silent for a second, narrowing her eyes at you as she trails her fingers up and down your arm. "I bet you like that everyone swoons over it when it falls down your face."

"Yeah, bold of you to assume that people notice when my hair grows an inch longer - just like when they notice yours," you can't help but roll your eyes.

One thing you learned about Sana is that she's always jealous about the invisible girls that are crazy over you. To her, you have hoes, which comes off as a compliment but it's baffling to try and understand how she doesn't see that you have zero game. And you only pulled her by luck that summer night.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” she stares at you lovingly, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear. “Wanna walk me to my next class?“

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the summer that changed everything

The summer before your senior year was something else. It was hot, sticky and sweltering - the streets during daytime were almost empty as the city tucked themselves into the safety of their homes.

Today was no different. The sun was beginning to set and it offered no relief, remnants of the heat still hanging heavy in the air. You were walking along an empty street in your neighbourhood, skateboard in one hand and a Camus book on the other (you were trying to be mysterious, the park today had no one else but you and this guy from your active matter class).

From afar, you could see a sleek, shiny black car (a bit unusual for the place) in the middle of the road ahead of you and next to it was a girl in a white sundress as she paced around the area. She saw you approaching her and she couldn't wait any second longer - you were walking so slow and she just had to run towards you, heels clicking against the pavement.

You tightened your grip on your deck, prepared to deal with one of the many crackheads along this street. You've done it before and it wouldn't hurt to do it again.

When she was close enough to be perfectly seen by you, your knees began to melt and your head was screaming to run, but you stood frozen. It was Minatozaki Sana; head cheerleader and queen bee and she had bows in her hair and it was wavy and she looked sweaty and -

"Y/N!" she panted, seeming relieved at the sight of your familiar face. Your name rolled her tongue off like you could get used to it. "It's Y/N, right? We had the same classes last year."

Not really, you only had two lectures with her. Of course she wouldn't remember that though.

"Yeah, are you okay?" you asked in a worried tone despite the fluttering in your chest.

There was frustration etched on her face, something that you noticed she does whenever things don't go under her plans. "No, my car stalled and my phone's dead so I can't call for help. I'm supposed to be at a dinner party with my family!"

"I'd offer to help but believe it or not, I genuinely know nothing about cars. I'm like if a lesbian was useless,” you bit your tongue, regretting your existence already.

"You're gay?"

"Um, yeah," you cleared your throat, grabbing your cracked phone out of your pocket. "But here; maybe call a mechanic then an Uber?"

Her stare lingered, a tint of curiosity now plastered on her face. Her eyes travelled towards the skateboard and book on your head, then your tattoos before it finally landed on your phone. She took it without saying anything else.

You looked around, trying not to pry into her conversation with who you assumed was her mum. "Yeah, I'm bringing a friend, by the way. Just let everyone else know I'm not coming alone..."

Sana was too beautiful with her rosy cheeks and flawlessly sculpted lips. You could tell the goods took their time with her and instead of becoming the subject of art, she became the embodiment of it instead. Here you were, struck by her beauty once more and there was nothing you could do but watch as if she were something from a museum.

She could be mean at times, she had a status to protect after all, but it looked good on her. You were used to the taunting and sharp remarks from her friends despite her always telling them off - always trying to defend you for whatever reason.

"Let's go?" she tapped your shoulder, a grin on her face, and you just knew she was up to no good. "My driver's coming in ten minutes, we have to go to dinner with my family. Let's wait in my car."

"We what?" your eyes widened, smile faltering as you immediately transformed into a nervous wreck. "What? I can't, I have work in half an hour."

"You work at my cousin's record store, you'll be fine, he's going to be there."

"How do you know that?" you nearly shat yourself there, but you couldn't tell her that. Her eyes were striking and you didn't have the balls (literally) to say no so you allowed her to drag you around.

She reached out for your arm, her warm fingers wrapping around your skin to lead you into her car. “I have my sources.”

“I’m not even dressed for the occasion!”

“Just trust me, Y/N,” she replied, smiling.

And you did, because it was Sana, but her family would cook the shit out of the five dollars in your wallet as you stood in awe at the sight in front of you. You had always known that the Minatozaki's stood in a different tax bracket compared to everyone else - but you didn't expect Sana to live in an actual castle an hour away from the outskirts of the city.

Expensive black cars surrounded the sprawling gardens, they had people in front of the towering columns serving champagne glasses.

“Sana, I think I’m gonna shit myself.”

Over the next few days, Sana clung to you like you were the light of her life. Her family loved you instantly - and you were always welcomed back home. She would be at the record store while you were on shift, insisting to do a bit of manual labour because apparently, she had never lifted a box in her life.

You two spent hours sitting in the quiet corner of the shop - showing her all kinds of music that you assumed she wouldn’t be into. She would bring you lunch in her expensive heels (she eventually learned that sneakers were a must during working hours). Some days, she would sit at the skate park just watching you in your zone.

To you, she was Sana, but the feelings you harboured seemed to grow deeper and harder to keep. Like you could burst any moment.

During that night, your parents had just spent the entire night making their signature dishes for Sana. Coincidentally, their old restaurant was the one her dad had always taken her out to when she was younger.

You were unaware of the fact that it was the place she saw you for the first time in her life and just knew.

You drew the bottle of beer closer your lips, taking a big sip as you rocked back and forth on your seat. “Sorry about that - my parents are passionate about cooking.”

She chuckled. “How come they closed the restaurant?”

“Just financial issues, you know?” you answered truthfully, heart swelling with affection for her. “Dad got really sick one winter and with no one else to help mum, they decided to end that chapter.”

“Is he okay now?”

“Yeah, he is kicking life, just gets mad when he remembers that he has to look after himself.”

The air was much cooler now, leaves rustling as the wind carried a faint scent of the flowers in your mum’s garden. The sky was dotted with stars and the moonlight reflected against Sana’s hair - making her glow. You couldn’t take your eyes off her.

“So,” her voice was soft, the way she looked at you was filled with sincerity. “Last year of college, huh? What’s next for you, miss architect?”

You always knew what was ahead of you, but for some reason, sitting with Sana under the moonlight and her looking so beautiful, you felt scared to tell her. “Um, I think I’m heading overseas.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” she said, the disappointment visible in her eyes even though she tried to look excited for you. “Why?”

“My uncle said I could make better money working for his place, you know, with the currency difference and all that,” you cleared your throat, putting the bottle on the floor. “It’ll just be good for my family, and there’s really nothing in store for me here. I think if I disappeared today the city wouldn’t even notice.”

Your attempt at trying to lighten the mood just made her scowl deeper. “But I’m here and I would notice your absence.”

“If it weren’t for us getting to know each other this summer, I genuinely think you wouldn’t.”

It was true, you always lived a completely different life from Sana. Even though she was nice compared to how her friends treated you, there was still a huge wall between you. As soon as summer would be over, you know she’s retreating back to her side of the wall and away from you, and you’ll be watching her from the sidelines again.

She was quiet, eyes studying you carefully from the side. She didn’t like that you were kind to everyone but yourself. In her eyes, you were the most beautiful person to ever exist - she wanted you to see that you meant so much to her.

And without really thinking, she pulled your face and leaned in to kiss you. It was soft and tentative, and all too familiar, like coming home after a long day’s work knowing that the comfort of a kiss waits for you.

You held her closer, hands roaming down her back as her fingers danced in your hair. It was years worth of built up unspoken feelings and desire. When you finally pulled away, you were breathless as she leaned her forehead against yours. “Sana, I’m sorry -“

She kissed you again. “I’ve waited for this for so long,” her breath came in shallow. “You took your time.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It’s only midday and you feel like it’s been going on for too long. You start rambling to Sana (who’s feeding you her strawberries) about the way Professor Song spoke to you in class, making you sound like your theory is stupid. "And he goes - my question is not opinion-based Y/N, you should know better, blah blah blah," you mimic his voice, failing to notice Sana's stone-cold look.

"What does Yunjin mean to you?"

The question catches you off guard for a second, the answer running through your head at a quickened pace. "What makes you ask that?" You internally recoil because you should've just given her a straight answer.

"Why is your ex-girlfriend constantly clinging onto you in the same way I do?"

"We never even dated!" your tone is defensive, voice a pitch higher. "We kissed once at one of Miyeon's parties during our first year - you were even there...with Jungkook at the time."

"That's not the point," she clenches her jaw, eyebrows creased and you know she's angry when she doesn't even smile at the dog that just strutted past you two. "I saw her playing with your hair and hugging you, and you let her. You wouldn't even let me do that with you in public.”

"That's how she is with everyone!"

"You should not be a part of her everyone list," she said sharply, intertwining her fingers with yours. "I swear if she -"

You place a hand on her nape, gently pulling her closer so your lips could meet. "Don't worry, okay? As soon as you meet her, she'll cling to you in no time."

She licks her lips, tasting the lip balm she bought you. "You're wearing the Glossier one?"

"Yup," you say, leaning your head on her shoulder. "You caught me at a bad time when you kissed me this morning and it was embarrassing - I had dry ass lips!"

"My favourite," she giggles, making you push her to the side. "Why did you think we weren't dating?"

"You never asked me," you told her, curiosity piquing when she moves in front of you and kneels down. “I just sort of assumed you wouldn’t even acknowledge me on campus - what exactly are you doing right now?”

“Really?” she rolls her eyes at you. “I don’t sleep around. You really think you could get away with giving me forehead kisses in the morning without becoming my girlfriend?”

“Well, don’t people do that?”

“Do you wanna be my girlfriend?” she holds your hand with adoration written all over her eyes. “Let me call you mine, always.”

You bite your lip at her cheekiness, not knowing Sana could show a playful side around everyone. “Then you’re going to have to officially meet my friends when the day is over because they always said I could never get one.”

“Am I your girlfriend now?”

“Sana, you’ve always been my girlfriend in my head.”

[peachsukii]

₊✩‧₊ ⎯ after hours Another midnight stuck in the office, paperwork and tech piling up by the second. Sometimes, all it takes is a kick in the ass to take a break and remind yourself that you're only human.

content // late nights at work, just some fluff and fun behind the scenes of the hero world. reader’s support tech alias is Mechanica. wc // 0.9k

『 k.bakugo masterlist | caramel & champagne series 』

It’s been a long, exhausting month at the Dynamight Agency. Bakugo’s been on back to back emergency calls and scheduled patrols while you’ve been pulling double shifts to stay caught up with all of the repairs needed from said emergencies. It was a constant stream of issues popping up the second you’d finish fixing the last gadget of the bunch.

“Mechanica! My suit’s on the fritz. Can you check the wiring you installed?”

“Mecha, how’s it going? Sorry to bother you, but I’m out of the electro-bombs you made for me last week. Could you spare a few more?”

“Hey! You’re the top support tech here, right? Red Riot told me to come find ya. I busted my helmet last night and the visor doesn’t work anymore. Can you fix it? The infrared tech seems to have been fried."

Using your quirk for extended periods of time was draining as hell, as helpful as it was. Your fixes typically require a tool or two, or a quick recharge to a piece of gear you’ve created in the past, not three weeks of back-to-back quirk usage. A vacation sounds real nice, but alas, a heroes work is never truly done.

A familiar set of footsteps comes trudging toward the workshop as you’re inspecting a piece of circuitry - you know those boots anywhere.

“Peach, I thought ya went home?” Bakugo asks you while placing a broken gauntlet on one of the open work tables. “Like...hours ago.”

Sarcastically, you wave your hand to the piles of items next to you.

“I was when I messaged you earlier, and then everyone in the damn agency suddenly needed repairs.”

You peer around him to the bracer he placed on one of the other tables. Son of a bitch, you fixed that yesterday!

“Katsuki…you didn’t.”

You don’t mean for your tone to sound accusatory, but you’re grumpy and want to go home. Bakugo huffs under his breath and waves you off.

“Relax sweets, s’just a backup that’s busted. Villain stabbed right through it and it cracked one of the gaskets inside. Still got my good set in the office.”

“Every one is a good set, ‘Ki. I’ll get to it tomorrow, maybe I should build you a third set for when you smash the good pair.”

He knew the bite in your tone wasn’t aimed at him, it’s was just a result of your exhaustion and didn’t hold it against you.

“Why don’t we go home together? Leave all that for tomorrow. S’late,” Bakugo suggests, taking the tools out of your hands and laying them on the table. “Have your team do the dirty work. You’re gonna run yourself into the ground.”

“You have absolutely no room to talk, Mr. Running on Four Hours of Sleep.” You playfully smack him in the bicep before rearranging the tools on the table. “You didn’t even come to bed last night, you passed out on the couch in your hero gear.”

He shakes his head before grabbing you by the waist and hoisting you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Katsuki! Put me down!” You squeal, half annoyed and half giddy.

“Nah, cause if I do, you’ll be glued to this station for god knows how long." Bakugo smacks your ass to get you to sit still, a grin plastered on his face. "It’s past midnight, peaches. Takin’ you home and throwin’ us both in the shower. And we’re stayin’ home tomorrow, boss’s orders.”

There's no force in the world that could stop Katsuki Bakugo once his mind is made up - no use in fighting the inevitable.

You dramatically let your body rag doll in his hold. "Fine, but you have to carry me all the way home."

“I’d carry you to the edge of the world, sweetheart.”

How does this man one up himself every single day and steal your heart all over again?

“You’re so mushy when you’re tired,” you tease, reaching down to squeeze at his side to tickle him. “If only everyone else could see the big bad Dynamight right now, carrying his exhausted wife home. That would be a hell of a headline.”

Bakugo feigns dropping you in retaliation, catching you at the last second and shifting you back on his shoulder like you were weightless.

“Shut it or I’ll drop you in a puddle on the way home,” he cackles while pinching your thigh. “Ain’t no way in hell I’m lettin’ those paparazzi jackasses catch a glimpse of your ass.”

He makes a fair point. You were already in the spotlight recently, no need to add any more fuel to that fire.

The two of you exit the workshop, turning the lights off and heading to the rooftop to blast home. Bakugo’s version of flying never fails to fill you with adrenaline, a personalized rollercoaster ride all the way from the agency to your shared apartment. When you get home, Phoenix lovingly jumps off the couch and trots over to you two, rubbing between your legs and chirping happily.

“Can you feed Nix, babe?“ you ask as you’re stripping out of your workshop clothes and nodding toward the begging kitty at your feet. “I’ll start the shower. Leave your suit out here, too. We can toss them in the wash tomorrow.”

The domestic routine kicks in for the Bakugo household, just delayed by a few hours. After your shower, the two of you relax together in the bath, enjoying the silence of each other’s company. The alarm clock reads 2:13AM by the time you’re crawling under the sheets, tucked under Bakugo’s arm and cradled against his chest. He turns off the “work” alarm for the both of you, solidifying his decision for a much needed day off.

It’s little moments like these that remind you how human the two of you are in the midst of it all - even heroes need breaks.

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[ckret2]

Chapter 55 of human Bill Cipher finally having a little fun for the first time in over a month of captivity in the Mystery Shack:

Bill does his level best to teach Mabel everything he knows about everything as fast as possible (while Ford eavesdrops). In the process, he finally reveals something about his home dimension!

But not everything about his dimension.

"Did you have rainbows in Flatworld?" Mabel had started drawing her shapesona again at the bottom of a fresh piece of paper. The heart was holding out one hand with several strips of glue shooting in a beam out from the palm; Mabel started shaking glitter onto the glue strips to make them rainbow.

"Not natural ones."

"Awww!"

"We could make them with flashlights and prisms, though."

"That's something." Still, it wasn't as cool as a real rainbow. She started carefully drawing Bill floating above her shapesona. (She probably should have drawn him before she put down glitter. She had to push up her sleeve and lift her wrist to avoid smearing the glue.) "When's the first time you saw a real rainbow?"

Bill didn't answer.

Mabel glanced at him. He had a hard look in his eyes. "Bill?"

####

For the first time in his life, the triangle was up—up but not north—in space, in the third dimension, looking down but not south at the plane where he'd spent his entire existence. It shuddered and rippled and cracked, contracting, as the entire universe crunched together around him.

Great walls of pale blue flame half a googol light years wide erupted into third dimensional space, where stars were caught and crushed between the quickly collapsing cosmic tectonic plates. He hadn't known his flat universe had stars of its own.

His home world shattered and crumbled, shrapnel and rubble spraying out, stone instantly pulverized into dust. Distant oceans rode the waves of the convulsing universe, flinging billions of gallons of water into space in a fine thin spray, glittering in the sunlight.

As the triangle watched, a great flickering rainbow ring formed in front of the ejected ocean, like the hollow eye of a hostile god staring at him in judgment.

He stared back.

And he felt himself fill with more and more and more power.

####

"Bill?"

"Sorry, I was trying to remember!" Bill sat back, laced his hands behind his head, and shrugged, "It's not coming to me. But I'm sure it was after I took charge of Dimension Zero. From time to time planets with weather systems would fall in through a wormhole, I must've seen a rainbow on one of them!"

"Oh." The answer disappointed her, but she couldn't quite put her finger on why. She puzzled over it as she drew a fireball shape around Bill's hands in glue and shook on pale blue glitter.

Bill nodded at the page, "So what are we up to?"

"Fighting evil! With rainbow lasers and... whatever that magic fire thing you do is!"

"Hey, superheroes! Sounds fun. Who are we killing?"

"Superheroes don't kill people!"

"Fine. Who are we sending to the hospital with third degree burns?"

"I don't know, I haven't made up a villain yet." She almost asked Bill what kind of monsters existed in his world; but the question died in her throat. That might be too depressing a question. She added a heart-shaped glue outline around her shapesona and shook on a glitter rainbow, and set the picture aside to dry. She grabbed a fresh paper and tried to imagine what a two-dimensional butterfly would look like. Would it just have flat little stick wings since that was more aerodynamic? That sounded boring. She started drawing a two-dimensional squid instead.

Bill studied Mabel's latest finished work—the glitter-outlined heart, the glitter rainbow laser, the glitter fire, and the plain him. After a moment, he casually mentioned, "I used to wear body glitter."

She blinked at him. "What?"

"Earlier you asked me about glitter in my dimension," Bill said. "Body paint was makeup to us. I wore it when I went dancing."

"WHAT!"

"And I'd cut open glow sticks to paint my arms and legs!"

"What color glitter did you wear?!"

"Usually gold."

"What?! Bill!" Mabel laughed. "You're already yellow!"

"But I didn't glitter. That's important!"

"You're boring."

"Shut up! I was gorgeous and I knew it! Why mess with perfection?!" He gestured down at himself, perfection, as though he'd momentarily forgotten what body he was in. "Listen, club fashion gets repetitive. If you've seen one equilateral in cutesy primary color gradients, you've see 'em all. There's beauty in simplicity—not a lot of shapes can pull off a solid color with a little light highlighting and still look flashy!" He'd sat up straighter, chest puffed out proudly, as he talked about how pretty he thought he'd been. "Buuut sure, sometimes I highlighted my points for fun. And to keep from stabbing people—it's hard for other people to judge distances with strobe lights on."

"What colors."

"Usually red, blue, or purple. You know—nice contrasts with gold."

Mabel grabbed another paper and started drawing Bill dancing. He leaned closer, elbows on the table, watching with more interest now. Mabel asked, "You had clubs with strobe lights?"

"Of course we did, we aren't barbarians." Bill picked up yellow and black markers out of Mabel's supplies, leaned over to her drawing in progress, and started adding a decorative border around the nearest edge of the paper in dots and dashes.

"What kind of music did you listen to?"

"It was... It's closest to the music in— You've never been to that dimension. Well, it kind of sounds like... I'll never hit those notes with human vocal cords." He drummed his fingers on the table. "Hold on. Let me get Questiony's piano."

####

It turned out that Flatworld club music sounded kind of like a broken tornado siren.

"It doesn't sound very good on a human piano," Bill said, giving the electric piano balanced on his knees a disapproving look. "The intervals between notes are tuned wrong, it's about four octaves short, and it's missing that tympanic membrane shredding tremolo when the treble jumps."

Mabel regarded the piano with some dismay. "Do you know how to play anything else?"

Bill sighed.

He played "Don't Start Un-Believing" for her. He even did that cool thing where you drag a finger up half the keyboard at once.

####

By now, Bill seemed a lot happier to answer Mabel's questions about his world; but she quickly worked out which ones he'd actually give a direct answer. He was the most free with science-y questions, hit or miss on the fun cultural questions, and instantly evasive when asked about his own life or uncomfortable political issues.

When she asked if shapes and their houses just kinda floated unattached to anything because they didn't have a home planet, Bill said they did have a home planet—hundreds of miles below, marking south by its gravitational pull—and they lived in the sky in between their planet and its rings. When she asked what kind of clothing they wore, Bill said they usually didn't wear anything, unless it was for practical purposes (gloves for gardening; goggles for chemistry; elbow-, knee-, and corner-pads for spelunking), and when she asked about his top hat he said slyly, "You mean my telescope?" and gleefully refused to explain further.

But when she asked if it was true that equilateral triangles were the lowest rung you could stand on before getting knocked off the social ladder altogether, Bill said that was a pretty rude question to ask a triangle. And then he said his world didn't have ladders.

When he casually let slip that he'd been able to see the third dimension when nobody else could, she asked how that was possible. He'd paused, looked up from his seventh completely incomprehensible drawing of an animal (she'd asked him whether Flatworlders had pets), and, with an eager gleam in his eye, he asked, "How much time do you have?"

####

Ford heard Bill's voice the moment he opened the door—"All right, star girl, pop quiz, let's see how much of that you kept in your noggin."

"Oh, I'm so ready!"

Baffled, Ford leaned in the living room doorway. The room was absolutely plastered in crayon-covered papers—illustrations, lists, mathematical and scientific diagrams—stars, cells, planets, vehicles. At the moment Bill was pointing at six papers taped together with a diagram on them that Ford thought was a Punnett square that had been expanded into a four-dimensional tessaract. "A polygon's sides are determined by...?"

"Genetic inheritance!" Mabel announced, the proud student who knew all the answers. "You have however many sides your parents have genes for!"

"And the idea that polygons increase by one side each generation...?"

"Is propaganda! Because if everybody hides their kids without enough sides, and they only talk about the kids that did go up a side, it makes everyone think that's what always happens and their family is the only one that's failing!"

"Perfect! And the highest natural amount of sides a shape can have?"

"Twelve! Decadoggins!"

"Close enough, dodecagons! But this isn't Greek class, I'll give you full points. So, any shapes with more sides than that got them through—?"

"Random mutation!"

"Correctamundo! Meaning the only way to get shapes with hundreds of sides is..."

"Crazy bonkers inbreeding! Because the same rich families just keep marrying each other!"

"With consequences including—?"

"Um..." Mabel puffed out her cheeks as she thought. "Skeletons getting all crackly, having a hard time making babies, and high—uh—infant morality!"

"Mortality."

"Lots of dead babies."

"Yes! And remember: when a mutation makes a body produce so much more of something than it needs that it starts harming the body, that's called...?"

"Cancer!"

"Meaning circles are...?"

"Tumors!"

"And what do we do with tumors?"

"EXECUTE THEM!"

"YES!" Bill ripped the Punnett tesseract off the wall. Behind it was a piece of paper that read, in blood red crayon, ANTI-MONARCHIST ANARCISM. "You're ready to man the guillotines! A+, star girl! Give yourself another sticker!"

"Yes!" Mabel peeled a sparkly purple star off a sticker sheet and stuck it on her cheek. Her face had over twenty star stickers.

Ford leaned against the living room doorframe, watching the scene inside with wonder. He was more than a little iffy about the political lesson—he, personally, was incredibly opposed to the idea that it was morally imperative to execute anybody with extra body parts, nobility or not—but the presentation of it was certainly captivating. It had been a long time since Ford had seen Bill like this. (It had been a long time since Ford would have trusted any lesson out of Bill's mouth.)

"Now let's get back to biangles." Bill picked up a fake crystal ball that he'd drawn various lines and shapes on with a marker.

"Awww, again?!"

"Hey. Listen," he said firmly. "I believe in you. You'll get it this time, I know it."

Ford looked around the room, taking in the scene more fully. The floor was scattered with drawings of aliens. A few of them were various polygons—regular and irregular, with the irregularities further broken down by whether they otherwise showed radial or lateral symmetry—each with thin limbs and an eye on a corner. Most were fantastical alien animals, a few that Ford had seen or been warned about on other worlds. Some had been scribbled out and redrawn when Bill's limited artistic capabilities didn't live up to his unknown standards; a few were in Mabel's art style, meaning Bill must have described them to her while she drew.

Twenty pieces of paper had been taped together on the wall behind the TV, with a drawing of a planet surrounded by a circular ring of small blobs—a planetary ring?—and a moon further out. The empty atmosphere between the planet and the ring was filled with squares and rectangles, which were grouped together in red blobby circles that were each labeled by letter: "Country △," "Country B," "Country C," "Country D (communists)," etc. A badly-drawn sea serpent slithered along the outside of the ring with the words "Here There Be Monsters" written over it.

A tall column of taped together papers was covered in examples of alien writing systems—some of them Ford recognized from his travels through other dimensions. From the ones he understood, it looked like the words were demonstrations of Mabel's name in dozens of alien writing systems. Sometimes Bill spelled her name Maybell or Mabelle.

And there were so many papers scattered around the room with little graphs and symbols and arrows Ford couldn't make sense of. And in the center of it all, Bill, alive, energetic, his full attention enthusiastically focused on his student.

Bill had to be up to something; but Ford couldn't imagine what, based on the bizarre assemblage of information in front of him. What nefarious purpose could be behind showing Mabel how to spell her name in alien languages? Unless his goal was to so enchant her with tales of other worlds that he could persuade her to help him open a new portal...? No, even for Bill that felt like a stretch. 

He looked at the wall again. Surely, that wasn't Bill's homeworld. Ford had spent years of his life trying to find the world Bill was from; surely Bill hadn't just drawn it in the middle of Ford's living room. Had he?

"Okay, let's start with spherical geometry from the top," Bill said, polishing the crystal ball on his leggings to rub off the marker lines. "Don't tell anyone I can do this." He held up the ball, tapped it twice on the bottom, and it hovered in place when he let it go, freeing up both his hands to hold a ruler and marker. (How long had he been able to do that? Had he even noticed Ford was standing right outside?) He drew a line across the surface of the ball, "Pretend it's a planet. If you draw a line on a sphere, it's obviously curved, right?"

"Right," Mabel said.

"But now pretend you're on the planet. The surface of the world is a flat plane to you. From your perspective, you can walk in a straight line from point A to point B."

"But it's actually a curve. From space."

"Now you're catching on. That's what makes spherical geometry a little weird: when you're on the sphere you treat everything around you like it's 2D even though when you're off the sphere you can see it's 3D." Why in the world was Bill teaching Mabel about spherical geometry?

Bill drew two more lines to connect to the first. "So! You can draw a triangle on a sphere, no problem, right?"

"Right."

"And something you can only do in spherical geometry... is... pretend this is the North Pole and the South Pole..." Bill carefully rotated the ball under his marker as he drew a straight line from one "pole" to the other, and then drew a second straight line from pole to pole next to it. "Ta-da! If a tri-angle has three angles, a bi-angle has two angles. You've got yourself a two-sided polygon. Right?"

Mabel hesitated. "Right."

"You with me so far, Shooting Star?"

"So far," she said, with a tone that suggested she expected that to change very soon.

"But if you try to transfer that shape from spherical geometry to Euclidean geometry—" Bill turned to an expanse of still partially-uncovered white papers taped to the wall like a makeshift whiteboard, drew two points, and drew two straight lines, red and blue, between the points, "—it just doesn't work. You can't see a biangle in a flat world."

And now Mabel was squinting suspiciously at him.

Bill said, "I lost you."

"But where does it go!"

Bill shrugged. "You lost it when you lost the third dimension."

"But you said when you're on the sphere it's two dimensional!"

"From your perspective it's two dimensional, but there's still a third dimension enabling the sphere to exist."

"Then from my perspective when I'm on the planet shouldn't a biangle look like that?" Mabel pointed at the two straight lines on the piece of paper. "Since everything looks all 2D to me? But it doesn't! It's like flying from the North Pole to the South Pole through America and then flying back through China! China and America don't just squish together into the same place just because you're going in a straight line on a sphere!"

"I'd kill to hear you give a geography lesson to a Flat Earther convention."

Mabel gave him her best angry scowl.

"It was a compliment! I think you'd inspire some hilarious arguments, that's all!" Bill put two dots on the paper and offered Mabel the marker. "Look, try it for yourself! Draw a biangle."

Mabel took the marker and, after a moment of thought, drew two curved lines between the points, making a football shape.

"Those aren't straight lines, kid."

"Argh!" Mabel pulled the paper off the wallpaper, bent it into a curve, and shakily drew a straight line between the two points; but no matter how else she twisted or bent the paper, she couldn't find a path that would let her draw a second straight line between the points without overlapping the first line she'd drawn. She crumpled the paper, tossed it on the floor, and whispered, "It's witchcraft, Bill."

He burst out laughing. "I could name a few horror writers that felt the same way about non-Euclidean geometry."

"But whyyy does the biangle disappear when it goes from a sphere to normal flat paper."

"Because..." Bill groped for an explanation he hadn't already tried. He crossed an arm across his chest and tapped a knuckle just under the bow tied in his hoodie's draw strings the way some humans might tap a hand to their chin, his eyes narrowed in thought. How many times had Ford seen him make that exact same face in his true triangular form, whenever Ford was struggling to understand a lesson on portal physics and Bill was struggling to find a way to translate it into concepts Ford had encountered in his human education? "Let's try this another way."

The scene made Ford ache.

Look past the paper and the crayons, and the graph- and figure- and writing-covered walls looked so much like the advanced physics lessons and blueprints that Bill had coated Ford's starry blue dreamscape in during his sleep. Look past the flesh and bone, and Bill moved and gestured and spoke the way he had when he was teaching Ford how to build a bridge between worlds.

It was the first time since Bill's death that Ford had seen 100% of his personality shining—unhindered by grief, secrets, or a disdainful human audience. It was the first time in decades that Ford had seen Bill at his best.

In that moment, for a split second, Ford forgot how to hate Bill. He couldn't see Bill the traitor, Bill the invader, Bill the homicidal party animal. The only person in that room with Mabel was Bill Cipher the Teacher, Mentor, and Muse that Ford used to know so long ago. Like an ancient god who'd chosen to spend a day roleplaying as a giddy professor—Bill was holding back a tsunami's worth of vast, ancient, unintelligible alien knowledge so that he could drip out revelations at a faucet's pace, slow enough for his student to catch each drop in her hands.

Over thirty years ago, there had been moments when this Bill peeked out behind the above-it-all façade—and that had been the Bill that Ford was happiest to see, the Bill that Ford had thought of as a friend rather than a mere teacher... but each time, it hadn't been long before Bill seemly caught himself and turned off the faucet for the night.

Because he couldn't let Ford learn too much, or he would have seen through Bill's ruse.

Hatred tiredly crept back in.

"I've got it!" Mabel triumphantly flung her hands in the air. "It's like orange slices!"

"Orange slices?" Bill repeated.

"Be right back!" Mabel zoomed to the kitchen, shouting, "Hi Grunkle Ford!" as she passed.

Ford watched her go, then looked back at Bill; Bill had glanced at him for the first time. But all he did was frown and mutter, "I don't remember inviting you to audit this course."

Before Ford could decide whether to retort, Mabel charged back into the living room with an orange and a sharp knife. "Okay! If you draw a triangle on the orange," Mabel said, doing so with a marker, before cutting into it with the knife, "and then you—you cut it out all the way to the center..."

"Be careful with that," Ford said. Mabel was holding the orange in one palm and stabbing into it from the opposite side.

Bill said, "Lay off, Six Fingers. I'm keeping my eye on her, she's not gonna hurt herself."

"I'm being careful!" Mabel was struggling to get an even wedge cut all the way to the center of the orange; she eventually gave up and  dug into the orange with her fingertips to tug out a messy mangled handful of fruit, attached to a roughly equilateral patch of orange peel about two inches to each side. She shook orange juice off her fingers. "Pretend I cut that out better."

"I dunno what you're talking about," Bill said. "It looks flawless."

She pointed at each corner of the peel triangle. "Okay so, these are the three corners of the spherical triangle, right?"

"Right."

"And if you want to make a regular flat triangle, you can... try to cut a straight line between the corners, like..." She squeezed the rest of the orange between her knees, held the edges of the triangular peel with her fingertips, and sawed off the orange pulp underneath, trying to cut a flat level plane as near to the triangle's corners as she could. Ford almost warned Mabel about the knife again, but glanced at Bill's face and his expression of unworried, keen curiosity, and kept quiet. Bill reached out and caught the sawed-off chunk of orange pulp before it hit the ground.

Mabel held out the peel slice. "There! Right? Spherical triangle on top and flat triangle on the bottom!"

Bill considered that, one hand on his hip. He popped the orange chunk in his mouth. "All right. So far so good."

"But if you make a biangle..." Mabel drew two lines between the top and bottom of the remaining orange, and cut a wedge free. "There isn't anything extra to cut off to let you make a flat shape. There's just a straight line between the two points!"

"Ha! Okay, all right, that works! Brilliant! What do you need me for? You just taught yourself the whole lesson!" Bill ruffled her hair so enthusiastically that he knocked her headband askew.

She shoved him away, laughing, and straightened out her headband. "Bill!"

"What did I say! Didn't I tell you you'd get it?" Bill was beaming at her, impressed, delighted, proud. "Congratulations, you've just mastered college-level geometry."

"Wh—What? Are you serious? This is college stuff?" She shook her head. "No way, you're lying."

Bill pointed at Ford without looking at him. "Tell her."

He felt a little like a dog being commanded to bark; but he said, "He's right. I didn't start studying spherical geometry until my second semester in college." He was sure he could have studied it sooner, if his high school had offered it; and he doubted Mabel had absorbed an entire semester's worth of spherical geometry; but he didn't see any reason to point any of that out when Mabel's face lit up in excitement.

Bill said, "There you have it! Way to go, star girl! Two big stickers."

"YES!" Mabel peeled off two jumbo-sized star stickers with smiley faces and stuck them onto her earrings. "So does that make a biangle a girl or a boy?"

And Ford was immediately lost again.

"No," Bill said.

Mabel sighed loudly and tried again. "Does that make a biangle a line or a polygon?"

"Still no, but for a different reason. Externally, they look like lines to anyone who isn't psychic. Internally, their anatomy usually functions like a polygon's. But socially, you've gotta ask. Some of 'em consider themselves lines, some polygons, some claim biangularity is neither linear nor polygonal. Personally, I say they're whatever they say they are. Because," he said grandly, "I'm just that open-minded and accepting."

Ford stifled a derisive snort. But Bill's self-aggrandizing aside, Ford's mind was reeling trying to keep up—spherical geometry, the (gendered?) socialization of shapes, Flatworlder anatomy—what did psychics have to do with anything? Ford's fingers itched for a pen. He wished he had his journal with him.

Bill grabbed several papers off the floor and the floating crystal ball and climbed on top of the wooden TV cabinet. He left the ball hovering behind him seven feet up in the air, tossed aside several papers he'd already used both sides of to let them flutter back to the floor, and taped the rest to the wall with their blank backsides turned out. "Now back to remote viewing." He drew a grid in blue lines on the papers, said, "Toss me that triangle wedge," used a marker to draw an eye on the triangular orange peel, tapped it twice like he had the crystal ball, and stuck it against the grid, where it sat unmoving.

And the entire time, Ford watched with his arms crossed tightly.

Almost a month ago, Bill had given Ford his manipulative trap of a birthday gift, a miniature grimoire, five pieces of paper, margins filled, two rows of text per line, packed with as diverse an array of magical spells and occult knowledge as Bill could fit. It wasn't a gift, it was a boast and a taunt: look at everything I know that you don't; look at what I could teach you if you let me live. 

It was something Bill could have given him all along—effortlessly, with no cost to himself—but didn't, until Bill wanted something from him. 

On his birthday, Ford had wondered, furiously: when this was what Bill could have been—gift-giver, wish-granter, teacher, guide, friend—why did he choose not to be?! It was an internal scream of rage, the howl of a wounded victim at the condemned criminal as he was marched to the gallows: you monster, you monster, you monster, when it would have been so easy for you to be something better, why instead are you a liar, manipulator, torturer, murderer, life-ruiner, world-ender? Answer for yourself: why are you this instead of someone better? How dare you?

It had made Ford want him dead even more.

This was the exact opposite of the grimoire.

The question in Ford's head wasn't a scream of rage anymore. It was grief. It was a plea. It was one last desperate attempt to understand:

Instead of being who he was, why couldn't Bill have been this person? This charismatic, energetic, ecstatic muse who ruled like a king over a classroom he'd constructed himself, eager to share a trillion years of collected wisdom with a fragile mortal mind, lighting up with joy whenever she grasped something that was trivially simple to him? This guide to the vast wonders beyond Earth, competent and encouraging and funny, delighting in the weirdness of the wide wide universe? The Bill that Ford had once liked so much—the Bill that he'd called his friend?

"Okay," Bill said, all sunshine and excitement, "Back to how to view the third dimension from the second dimension—"

Mabel said, "Can you view the fourth dimension from the third?"

Bill hesitated a split second, but said, "Sure! You can view any dimension from any dimension! You've just gotta bend your eye the right way to see higher ones!"

"What does the fourth dimension look like?"

"Well—hm. Imagine the way that the third dimension looks different from the second, and that's the way the fourth dimension looks different from the third."

Mabel stared at Bill.

"Eddie wrote an entire book about a square meeting a sphere because that was the closest he could get to telling other humans what seeing the fourth dimension is like! If I could still visit dreams, I could just show you, but..."

"Isn't the fourth dimension time? Blendo showed us the time stream! Is that what it looks like?"

"Nnn—close! You're close. The fourth dimension isn't time, but time is in the fourth dimension."

"How's that different."

Bill pointed at the floor. "If the carpet's the second dimension and the lamp's shining on it, the third dimension isn't light, but light is in the third dimension."

"Ohhh." Mabel gasped. "That's why you called some weird thing flying around in a higher dimension an eclipse! Because eclipses were in a higher dimension in Flatworld!"

Bill's face lit up in surprised delight. "All right, skip three lessons ahead, why don't you! In a week's time you'll be teaching people how my dimension works." He turned back to his papers and started drawing a branching river. "So! That time stream you saw isn't time itself! It's a visual metaphor being generated so humans can see time too—sort of a hologram projecting from the fourth dimension into the third—have I explained that the universe is a hologram yet—"

Why weren't you this person, Ford wondered. Why did you choose not to be this person? When it was so easy for you to be this? When this made you happy, too?

Why couldn't you have been this person?

Why are you only like this now, when you're about to die?

####

(Hope y'all enjoyed Infodump: The Chapter. This is one of those chapters with something hidden in it that'll unravel the whole fic if you happen to find it, so have fun searching for that. Let me know what you thought of this week's chapter! And get excited—we've got Big Things coming up... soon.)