#the only thing left is to mail it to myself but I will do that Thursday

[mars-ipan]

i wanna draw so badddddd. i wanna draw so BADDDDDD. but i CAN’TTTTTT

[inkykeiji]

Thank you so much for answering my question! I'm kinda new to fanfiction (not that I didnt know it existed but I literally have never seen or engaged with any until like a month ago lol) and so I just wanted to get your perspective on something I dont really understand yet. I'm autistic so I guess sometimes it's just hard for me to see/imagine characters as anything but how they are in canon, but I understand that it would be totally boring to write fanfic that only follows canon! I kinda see fanfic as that writers version of the character, like that's your specific version of Dabi and other writers have their versions of Dabi and maybe they're completely different 🤔 and I guess in my head it made more sense to me to just make a new character to make them exactly how you want and then you wouldn't have to worry about canon at all lol (because my mind wont let me see characters differently sometimes) but I get it now that you explained :) so if you dont mind me asking in your au's what happened differently in dabi/ touyas life to make him a sexual person? In canon I dont really see Dabi as a sexual person like he couldn't be bothered with relationships or anything sexual, like I almost see him as being asexual. So what kind of changed for him in your au's to make him more sexual and willing to have relationships? And thanks again for taking the time to explain for me, I really appreciate it 😊💕

hello again!! c: oh i’m glad i could help! <3 i mean, ultimately, just like all other fiction, it’s all personal preference. some people only like to read in-canon fic and some people only like to read AUs and some people like both, etc etc etc and it’s all totally and completely fine! i think you seeing fanfic as that specific writer’s version of a character/characters makes complete sense and, in a way, is also true—we are each expressing our own interpretations of him! so i absolutely get where you’re coming from there c: and i think your reasoning for being confused makes sense, too!

oh that’s a good question! unfortunately, i don’t have an answer for you, though, because i personally have always interpreted canon dabi as someone who would use casual sex (and drugs!) to try (and fail) to fill the gaping void in his chest. it is 100% fine if you disagree with me, and i will always encourage anyone to interpret any character however they’d like to. the beauty with art and fiction is that there’s technically no wrong answer to a lot of this stuff—if you personally see dabi as someone who is asexual, then he is asexual! if i see him as a sexual being, then he is a sexual being! we can have our own conflicting views on him and who he is, because he isn’t real, and he can be whoever we want him to be. does that make sense? let me know if you have any other questions or something seems unclear and i will try my best to further explain myself! <3

[rieamena]

totally (not) beating the allegations

best friend!takuma ino headcanons

contains... best friends to lovers, mutual pining, casual confession of love, kisses (platonic), kisses (romantic), modern au, high school to university au, living together-ish, fem intended reader, pet names (baby, babe, love, sexy, handsome, beautiful, sweetie, the list goes on and on), lots of physical touch, nicknames (you call takuma, kuma.), reader has a mother and a father, y'all are basically dating just without the label...

word count: 2.3k (this wasn't supposed to be long. i told myself 0.8k maximum...)

riea's comments: all sixteen people living in takuma city RISE UP! i miss my husband of 35 years so much, come back to me loml :(( something to munch on while y'all wait for the next full throttle chapter. also not too much on me if this is a drabble and not hcs idk the difference :))

first off... i just wanna say that i KNOW I KNOW that ino is one of the funniest people in the jjk cast idc idc!!! if he had more screentime (and if the situation wasnt dire) my boy would be crackin some jokes!!!!

you've been friends with takuma for around 7 years, your first meeting happening in tenth grade, when your teacher paired you two up for an interview project. when time came to actually record the interviews, it was hard to edit out you two laughing uncontrollably every fifteen seconds or so

i mean, you two just had so much in common!!! same favorite color, same favorite franchise, same favorite tv show, same favorite video game; it was like yall were the same person. there was just one thing you both disagreed on: whether hex code #286061 was blue or green

your argument ended up being the last ten minutes of the final video you submitted...

without a doubt, after that, you two became inseparable. in school, people would take notice of your closeness. when one of you were absent, teachers would jokingly ask "where's the other one?"

there was not a single thing you didn't do together, homework, go to the gym, gossip, eavesdrop, etc etc. so of course, you ended up applying to the same universities and when it came time for college acceptance season...

takuma invited you over, forcing you to bring your mailed letters from the eight universities. sprawling out over his lap, you took in the all too familiar sight of his room. you've been in his room more times than you've been in your own (and vice versa!)

i mean ino's been over to your place so many times that he calls your parents mom and dad. and you've been over to his house so much that takuma's mom practically jumped for joy every time you burst through the front doors with a "guess who's home!!!" so it was completely normal that you guys knew the ins and outs of each other's rooms, right?

"kuma, baby," you started with a sigh, reveling in your best friend's repetitive motions. running his hand through your hair, ino looked down at you, eyes showing that he was listening. "i'm scared, what if we don't–"

"ah-ah-ah! no negativity here!" he cut you off, pushing you off his lap and grabbing the letters you left on his desk. "listen here beautiful," takuma says, bringing a hand to your cheek, his heart swelling when you subconsciously leaned into it, "we're gonna take each other's letters, and open them," he handed you a white envelope, the logo of both of yours dream university on it, "starting with, kyōmei."

taking a well needed deep breath, you nodded. "okay," you and ino began to open the envelopes at the same time, only looking at each other when you saw the status. "accepted or rejected in 3...2...1..."

"ACCEPTED"

"ACCEPTED"

cue the mandatory silence before the screaming. "holy shit. you got in." "you got in." "WE GOT IN!!! WE'RE GOING TO KYŌMEI!!!!" you two practically flew off the bed, jumping up and down in celebration. peppering his face in kisses, you nuzzled your face into takuma's neck. "i'm so proud of us! i mean, kyōmei," you pulled away from his neck, shaking his shoulders harshly, "the kyōmei?!!!"

anyways, soon enough, you both realized that you'd have to move away, resulting in a seven hour search for apartments near the university's campus. and just as takuma was about to give up, you found a listing for units 19A and 19B, right in the heart of the city and just a five minute walk from kyōmei

and with that, it was moving day, well, days is more like it considering that the whole process took like ten days... finding cute furniture is really hard! and moving all of it is even harder!! and don't even get me started on the appliances! although, you and takuma found a way around it

like what do both of you need a microwave for? and there isn't a reason to have two dishwashers, there wasn't even a reason to have one! y'all kept your fridges though... who was gonna be banging on the other's door in the middle of the night for some cold water??

with time, it came for the highly anticipated freshman formal, an welcome event hosted by kyōmei itself, and of course, you had to go. so here you were, staring at your figure in the mirror as your best friend's large hand rubbed your shoulder, the other zipping up your black dress. "all done!" he breathed, taking a step away so that you could see for yourself. "i look so cute~" you giggled, hearing the clack of your heels as you twirled. "you do!" he paused, looking you up and down, "when did you get that dress?"

"your mom gave it to me a couple days ago! where'd you get that tux? i don't think i've seen it before," you walked over and straightened takuma's suit, as he laughed in response, "your mom gave it to me..."

"this was planned."

"this was definitely planned."

"we should send a picture in the family group chat!"

"we should!!! but, hair first!"

notice how i said family group chat, singular, not plural. and that's because there's a gc for both of your families! it's name was a mix between "ino" and your last name, since, in all seriousness, your families were close

so here you were, sitting pretty on takuma's lap as you focused on straightening the front pieces of his hair, because that's what best friends do!

"okayyyy sexyyyy," you squealed, moving out of the way so that takuma could see himself in your vanity mirror, "damnn, i look hot!" he smiled as he checked himself out, his hand firmly on your waist (to make sure that you wouldn't fall, of course!). "i knew i was fine but, did i always look this fine?" he asked, looking up at you with his big dark brown eyes, a playful smirk evident on his face. "yes, takuma. you're the sexiest man ever. just a bit of eyeliner on you and we'll be on our way, okay?"

turning back to your station, you grabbed some brown and black pencils before starting to lightly draw over ino's outer eye corner, "do men as sexy as me really need eyeliner?" a look from you was all he needed to know to shut up and close his eyes

and oh, how he loved being so close to you. not just emotionally but physically as well. like, not every duo can say that they barge into the other's apartment to steal snacks! and speaking of snacks... let me just say, there's a whole cabinet in his kitchen reserved for your favorite foods and! he keeps your favorite ice cream flavor stocked in his freezer

you, on the other hand, have a little space where you hide takuma's favorite anything. chips, gummies, takeout menus, you name it, you have it. because your best friend is oh-so-optimistic, it can be harder for him when he's just not having the best of days. which is why when you go your (not so) separate ways at the end of the day, you pack up a basket for him. ribbons in his favorite color, his top 15 favorite snacks from that one time y'all bought one of everything in a nearby convenience store and ranked them, takeout on the way, horror flicks he's been wanting on dvd because he said "its cooler that way", and a handwritten letter from you, for my kuma, scribbled on the envelope

dropping off the basket at his door and retreating back to your place, you'd press your ear against the wall separating your units, physically feeling your heart break when you heard sniffles. that was all you needed to practically fly over to his, a few boxes of tissues in hand. because that's what best friends do!

and don't even get me started on how many belongings y'all have at the other's place... like that one time takuma walked into your apartment announcing his presence, only to be met with silence. let me set up the scene for you. you are taking a relaxing shower when you hear a knock on the door followed by four more and then three more. "come in!" you called out, unbeknownst to you, ino's voice was closer than you thought

"already in here..., anyways. is my shampoo in there?"

"the one with the purple cap?"

"yeah, thanks babe!"

"wait, can you get me my towel?"

or that time when you causally opened the door to his unit (because it was basically yours too) and greeted him with a simple pat on his head before skipping off to find those jeans you thrifted

slight cohabitation aside, the university life was definitely... something. it was clear and obvious that you two were close, a blind man could see it. but close is a really really really vague word, and it's surely not the word that describes the way the two of you act. in this friendship, terms of endearment drop like rain from clouds. every. other. sentence. contains a "babe" or "baby" or "sweetheart" or "darling" WE GET IT OKAY...

and it seems like if y'all go a single day without touching each other, a bomb will fall from the sky and earth would blow up. his hands are constantly on you, his favorite places (when in public) being your shoulders and arms, and when at home it was without a doubt your waist and thighs. just imagine how difficult it must be for people speak to you both on campus when his arm is slung around you and your hand is holding onto his side. the rumors practically created themselves....

and when i say people were shocked, i mean they were SHOCKED when y'all were like "haha, no, we're not dating!!! we're best friends!" everyone was thinking: yeah best friends who FUCK. best friends who are IN LOVE WITH EACH OTHER. y'all became the campus' it couple without being a couple. how does that happen??!??

however... there were a couple of people who were particularly excited to hear that you both were single. a few girls approached you one day while in the general area, asking if it was true that you and ino weren't dating. "we aren't... why?" one of the girls shifted on her feet, clearly nervous. "well... could you um... give this to him for me?!" she bowed, presenting a pretty pink envelope. you froze, staring at the item before giggling. "i see what this is about! don't worry! i'll make sure this gets to him safely!" long story short, that letter was never delivered

and on ino's side, he had some classmates pestering him about you. asking for your favorite show, candy, date style, everything under the sun. "guys, guys! she doesn't even want a boyfriend right now!" takuma shouted, even though two days prior you were complaining about how spending too much time with him was scaring all the hotties away

but let's get into the real stuff... the realization of love

for takuma, there wasn't a "wow, i'm in love with her" moment. what he does know though is that he started feeling something different for you a few months before college admission season. to him, the world was always bright with you by his side but now... it was so much brighter. it was like looking directly into the sun; it hurt but he couldn't look away, he doesn't want to look away. you're the best thing to ever happen to him, and the mere thought of ruining what you have just for some feeling—no matter how intense—isn't... right to him

and you figured it out after a dream you had one night back in high school. you dreamt of being in takuma's arms, the ones you snuck glances at when he wasn't paying attention to you. in not dream world, all you had to do was ask and he'd gladly envelop you but the vibes in this dream were different. there was tension. and it was thick. his beanie was off and thrown somewhere on the bed, your bed. looking back at him, your breath caught in your throat, "hey pretty," he slurred, drunk off tiredness. ino's called you beautiful more times than you can count; he made sure to do it at least once a week, so why... just why did this time make your stomach heat up and your heart race? you woke up with a flushed face, queasy feeling in your gut, and a deep understanding. it wasn't just platonic love anymore

"hey," you started, eyes trained on the movie in front of you, but your mind was focused on something else, "y'know how everyone thinks we're dating?" ino nodded as you reached over to grab the bowl of popcorn. "i've been thinking... maybe they're onto something..."

takuma's gulp could be heard from miles away, "wh-what are you trying to say?"

"what are we? seriously. because i can't sit here and pretend like i don't wish we were something more."

"something more like...?"

"now's not the time to be oblivious! don't you get it?! i'm—"

"i'm in love with you,"

it was like time stood still as you looked at your best friend. his face was lit by the tv screen a couple feet away, his hair was a mess, and slightly prominent dark circles were under his eyes, but... he's never looked more beautiful to you. "have been. for a long time. we've basically been dating for like four years already. four more and then we'll get married?" he flashed his signature smile

"oh, shut up," he brought your face millimeters away from his, whispering "make me." before kissing you deeply, not on your cheek, or your forehead, or your shoulders, but on your lips this time. and all the times after that too

because that's what best friends lovers do, right?

jjk taglist

@blendingcaramal @gzchaos @theamazingrain @woah-girlz @voloslobotomyservice

@kyozvy @obessionofagrl @bubybubsters @sugurusbaobei @raindropsonrwses

@c-moon20-12 @saltynanobeanie @theamazingrain @synthiiiiis @ghostlyluminarycloud

@poopyyy @supernatrualqueen @bxrbie-jadeee @laitifly @discipleofthem

@cheesecake95 @strawberry-cherrypie @makeshiftproject @magiamad0ka @ncitygreen

@stillnotherapy @oniondrip @cloudy-yyy @definitely-not-leena @kidd3ath

@atigerandabear @russianremy @ohnoitsamistakee18 @ivy-vivii @ourfinalisation

@1ndee @yourhornysister @ancientimes

[ladytalon1]

Before and After.

[unknownmads]

CANT STOP THINKING ABOUT INMATE TOJI AND CUTE LITTLE Y/N WHOS SO NAIVE TO BIG BAD TOJI

CW: Slight smut (mentions of his pp🤭)

☆☆☆

thinking about Prison toji who you met when your college has you do a little project in your criminal psychology class. The project was make a penpal get to know them ask why they are in prision, what their lives before was like, do they regret what they did etc. basic questions of course all you had to do was get the most information out of the penpal about their personal lives as you could.

Prison Toji who only signed up for the program because it was part of his latest court order saying he ‘needed more understanding’ so a penpal would give him a friend while they stay safe😭 he ofc hated the idea and thought it was the dumbest shit ever. until he got his first letter, from you (duh).

Prison toji who got mail for the first time and it was a little white envelope with a cute little sticker sealing it. He deadpanned *is my penpal an idiot these letters are for a prison not a daycare* he silently judges examining every detail as he opened the letter. i read the letter taking in every little personal detail you shared with him, your cute little name, how you loved your cat, how you’re new to the city only just moving for school, of course the boring questions for him as well. But at the very end of the letter he noticed an extra little note.

Ps. i left a few photos of myself along with some of my cat! i think it’s only fair since i got to see your photo on the website

Prison toji who grabs the envelope he previously had thrown to the side and pulls out 3 polaroids. One of you and probably your cat you’re dragging it into the photo with a big grin on your face. the second is a photo of your face a soft smile on your lips meant for whoever took the photo but Toji couldn’t help but wonder if that little smile was for him. Until he pulls out the third photo it’s a full view of you, you’re out in the city dressed all out, and Toji couldn’t help but know you chose that photo just for him.

Prison Toji who can’t wait to finally get some alone time so he can truly appreciate your pretty photos. And immediately goes to write you back answering all your cute little questions. Telling you where he lived before, how he ended up there, telling you what he did for work before (Surprise he sold drugs😍), telling you what he does to occupy his time here (he works out he just wanted an excuse to tell you how strong he is), and he asks you some questions.

Prison Toji who has been relentlessly flirting with since you started writing to him, asking if you had a boyfriend, how your school was going, why you moved to the city, how a cute lil thing like you is still single. You had been writing each other for a few weeks now which is a lot less than you think when you know how long mail takes. But your letters to each other are long. answering every little thing each other asks, learning about one another more and more. You had really connected so you finally ask him the big question he read the words as clear as day.

~Do you think i could come pay you a visit? ~

Prison Toji who had to immediately write back answering the most important question first.

~ And doll, you can come visit me anytime id love to finally meet you and see your pretty face in person~

he wanted to be nonchalant.

Prison Toji who was sitting in bed looking at your photos when he was called

“Zenin, you’ve got a visitor. away from the door.”

Prison Toji silently followed standing on the other side of the cell while the guard came in to handcuff him and bring him to the visiting area. Once he was in the room his cuffs connecting him to the table he waited. until he heard the door open again. He felt his cock twitch in his pants as he saw the guard guide you in. You were wide eyed taking in the new environment until they landed on him.

Prison Toji was large, you knew he was tall and muscular thanks to his letters and photo but nothing could have prepared you for the real deal. Eyes widening even more when you fully take him in. seated At the grey metal table his hands on the table as the guard had told him to. his hair poking at his eyes which were staring drinking you in. his lip in a smirk helping you notice the scar on it which you couldn’t really see from the grainy prison photos. His shirt stretched against his muscles showing off a few tattoos hidden along his skin. the view making you squeeze your thighs together to release some of the pressure building.

Prison Toji who took in as much of you as he could as he watched you shuffle into your seat across from him, enjoying how you squirmed slightly within his gaze, his smirk growing into an almost full smile.

“hey doll it’s good to finally meet you.”

[seat-safety-switch]

"Get in the fucking car, loser. My name is Detective Tina Clownhater, I came from Upper Precinct, and we're going to the fucking circus. One of the clowns was found dead in among about 72 others stuffed into a tiny car, and we think it's Japanese."

"The car?"

"The clown."

I'd heard of Detective Clownhater before. Read some of her reports when they came around the inter-office mail. Circus division. She also did carnivals, which people think is the same thing, but really it isn't. As we rode in silence to the Carny District, I decided I wasn't going to like her. Mostly, it was because she still clung to an outmoded, indulgent, and inefficient mode of transportation known as the 2003 detective-issue Crown Victoria. My own City II Turbo would have been a much more enjoyable ride, but I didn't want to press the issue. Chief was already getting on my case about racking up the mileage per diem anyway.

Maybe I should introduce myself, too. My name is Archibald Shitpope, and I'm a detective for the city police. Every detective here specializes in something – they figured it was more efficient than having us all fight over the same books in detective school – and for me, my passion carried me to Japanese-made economy cars. You'd be surprised how often they crop up in my cases. This was going to be a bit outside of my remit, being a Japanese-made economy clown, but I'm a professional. I'd do the job.

I regretted that promise as soon as we stepped onto the crime scene. Besides the copious amount of blood and viscera thrown about the scene ("explosive decompression," explained Todd the CSI, in between Instagram updates of the most grotesque parts,) the clowns had been stuffed into a Fiat. An Italian-made shitbox. It's amazing they weren't burned alive. From what we could tell from interviews, the clown used to be Takenobu Unchipiero, a famous clown actor in his home country. Top of the industry, I was assured. After a series of gambling scandals, he was forced to retreat to North America, where our standards for clowns are much lower.

I was about to ask Detective Clownhater to buy some business-class tickets to Tokyo so we could "chase up some leads" – I wanted to buy an S660 while the auction market was still soft – but the amount of boiling rage behind her eyes indicated to me that she had already assumed I was going to do that. Instead, I returned to my work of checking the crime scene and interviewing witnesses, only intermittently pausing to take a look at the latest wheels posted to Up Garage's terrible website.

That's when Todd cracked it for us. While mopping up what was left of poor Takenobu, an artificial heart fell out. I couldn't help but notice its unique design: a triangular pump that spun eccentrically in a housing. A rotary engine, in other words. No normal person would have such a heart. Mr. Unchipiero was up to his neck in debt with the Wankel Mafia.

[wilwheaton]

One very simple question :)

(Tv/comics)

Marvel. Or DC?

I have liked them both and disliked them both, at different points in my life, for a variety of reasons. At the moment, I'm not paying attention to them at all.

When I was a kid, I was all about Xmen and Fantastic Four from Marvel and, Batman and Justice League (Marv Wolfman's run in the late 80s) from DC. Never really cared for Superman. The 1967 Spider-Man was awesome as a cartoon, but I rarely read the comic book.

In the 70s, I was only allowed one comic per week, usually picked out from whatever was left on that spinning rack at the drugstore. So more often than not, I ended up with something like House of Secrets or House of Mystery or one of those horror anthologies that didn't need me to read the issues before or after, like the serialized superhero comics did. I got a lot of replay value from those books.

In the 80s, I had my own money and the ability to drive myself to comic conventions, and that's when I fell in love with Sandman, Watchmen, pretty much the entire Prestige Format that became Vertigo. I recall feeling like Marvel was for kids, then, and DC was serious. I was only 16, so take that for what it's worth.

But speaking of being 16, I'm gonna focus on Batman for a sec. I loved Batman 89, and I think all the efforts to make a Batman movie ever since have fallen short in ways I couldn't predict back then. It's gotten better with age and by comparison, for me. Michael Keaton is my favorite Batman, the way Christian Bale is my favorite modern Bruce Wayne (they both pale next to Pure. West. if anyone asks me).

The OG Batman series is maybe my favorite series of all time not called Star Trek or The Prisoner, and the 1966 movie is my favorite of all the Batman movies. Of course I love the animated series, and I get to be Blue Beetle in Brave and the Bold, so that's pretty awesome and its whole own thing.

Turning to the current moment, with rare exception, all the MCU and DCU movies do nothing for me. I thought I must have been missing something, so tried really hard to give them a chance to knock me out. I watched as many of the MCU movies as I could stand, and I just felt exhausted and bored by all of it, by the time I got to ... I can't even remember. Something with maybe Thanos and Ant-Man? I felt like it was a big, complicated mess of fan service and meetings that could have been e-mails, resulting in in a stew full of interesting ingredients that have all blended together into a flavorless paste. I do enjoy all the James Gunn movies, though, even if Chris Pratt is the worst Chris, because James always centers the characters and their conflicts, then uses the action and stunts to support the story.

I feel like a lot of this sounds harsh, but even Star Wars, my favorite movie when I was a kid, has grown into something I don't recognize or care about. I'm old. I know what I like and what I don't like. I'm not patient like I once was, and it's clear I'm not the person those studios want in the theatre, anyway. I could make that joke about how it's the children who are wrong, but I accept that I am not in the demo, and I am genuinely happy for everyone who loves the spectacle and the experience of seeing those films with an enthusiastic audience. I just won't be there with you, but you can find me in the parking lot, yelling at a cloud.

...wow that's a very big answer to a very simple question.

[hollywoodroses]

Sincerely Yours, Nikki

Y/N has a secret admirer who sends you letters explaining all the dirty things he wants to do with you

loosely based on the dr. phil celebrity cat-fish episode originally aired in january 2021

Warnings: description of detailed smut, smut including daddy kink. corruption kink & language (minors do not interact, please)

It started happening after you saw motley crue in concert. You were in the front row looking like an innocent school girl that needed to be corrupted. You began to receive letters in the mail from a secret admirer. The letter had the following words that gave you a shiver down your spine:

my dearest lolita, it has been weeks since the first time I saw you. I can’t get you out of my mind. everytime I think of you, I can’t help but to touch myself. I want to ruin you. watch you look so needy for my love. I can’t wait to fuck the brat out of you and taste your sweetness on my tongue. It’s only a matter of time until I own you. sincerely yours daddy.

You were lying in bed touching yourself as the letter fell on the floor. What you didn’t know was there was a figure of a man watching you get off on his words. He has mutual friends with you and was able to sneak into your room when you were in your own little world. When you climaxed you are so turned on like you are on a drug. You suddenly found yourself in his lap dry humping his thigh as he whispered praises in your ear.

You hear a bell ring in the distance when you wake up from a dream. You shut off the alarm and see that Nikki’s letter is on the floor left where you dropped it the night before. When you moved to turn on your desk light, you saw a note with a collar necklace. The note read:

lolita, did you have fun last night? love, daddy

you gasped as you realized last night really happened. It wasn’t a dream.

end

[cmdrfupa]

XXXV

Satoru "I'm just a man" Gojo. Happy Birthday to our sweet loser :*

Satoru stood in the middle of his living room, arms crossed, a pout creeping onto his usually smug face. His blindfold rested lazily around his neck, revealing eyes that were far too beautiful for someone sulking. He glanced at his phone again. No messages. No sly emojis. No secretive texts from neither his friends nor students.  

“I’m gonna head to the grocery store here in a bit. Did you add what you wanted to the list?” You dug through your bag fishing out your wallet before taking a glance over at Satoru. “Toru? You good?”

Satoru turned to you, huffing and dragging his feet until he laid his head on your shoulder.

“No birthday brunch, no room full of my favorite people, no Nanamin telling me I can sit on his lap. Baby, I'm 35 today and my friends don't care!”

“Honey.”

“Yes my darling wife.”

“Remember when I asked you 7 months ago what you wanted to do for your birthday?” You gently rubbed his back as he draped his large frame onto you.

“Mhm.”

“And every other time every month til yesterday even?”

Satoru turned to you, his lashes lightly brushing against your neck. “Yes.” he pouted.

“And remember when you said that the only thing you needed to celebrate was a full day of peace and some sweets with your sweet?”

“And you took me seriously! Of all the times to take me seriously baby, seriously.” He lifted himself and gently took you by the shoulders.

“So you don’t want to spend the day with me and eat homemade bon-bons and ice cream cake?”

“Any day with you is heaven my sweet goji berry,” Satoru planted a warm kiss on your temple and fished out his card to slide it into your bag.

“Tread lightly baby girl. I hear that ‘but’ coming.” you glared.

“No buts. Just how much I love yours.” He pursed his lips, almost duck lip like, for a kiss and you couldn’t help but oblige. You did the same, pursing your lips and met his before he embraced you.

“It won't take me long to get the things we need to make our bon-bons. I’m also going to stop by the mail station. I’ll be back soon.

“I can manage an hour by myself on my 35th birthday. I’m brave.”

You softly grabbed his chin. “The bravest. I’ll see you in a bit.” You kissed his cheek and left out the door.

“Not even a surprise from my boys,” he muttered, flopping dramatically onto the couch. “Unbelievable. I am maxing their Christmas list items to 15. They’ll see how it feels then.”  

As he wallowed, his eye caught something on the coffee table: a colorful flyer with bold letters.  

~~~"Citywide Scavenger Hunt! Follow the clues for an adventure to remember."~~~

A crooked smile broke across his face. “Well, well, well, what’s this?”  

Clue One was printed at the bottom:  

*"Where the storm passed and sweetness brewed, love first whispered, quiet but true."*  

Gojo tilted his head, pondering. It sounded oddly familiar. Shrugging, he grabbed his coat and headed out, intrigued despite himself.  

---------

The cafe was as quaint as ever, tucked between a bookstore and a flower shop. It was the kind of place you could walk by a hundred times without noticing unless you were looking for it. Led by his own hunch, Gojo stopped in front of the window, his sharp gaze scanning the hand-written menus and neatly arranged pastries.  

At first, it didn’t click. He was about to walk away when the memory hit him like a stray curse punch.  “Storm, brew, whispers.”

“Ohhh, thiiiis place!” he exclaimed, startling a couple passing by. “This is where we hid from that rainstorm!”  

Satoru had put together a last minute picnic that got rained out within 5 minutes that day. He found the nearest cafe, where you’d spent 4 hours giggling and establishing the relationship you now had.

He stepped closer to the window, remembering how you’d insisted on ordering for him. You’d teased that he was “sweet enough” for a matcha latte—a line he hadn’t let you live down for weeks. And that day...  

“That’s right,” he whispered to himself. “That was the first time I wanted to say ‘I love you.’”  

On the window, taped neatly near the corner, was the next clue:  

*"Where koi dance and words lingered long, love spoke bold, with hope it belonged."*  

Gojo’s lips quirked upward. “Koi pond, huh? You’re making me work for this, aren’t you?”  

He reached for his phone to text you but stopped himself. If this was your doing, he didn’t want to ruin it by cheating. Instead, he turned on his heel and made his way to the park.  “City wide scavenger hunt my ass. My baby loves me!”

________ 

The koi pond glistened under the afternoon sun, tiny ripples reflecting light like scattered diamonds. Gojo meandered along the path, hands in his pockets, until he spotted someone sitting on a familiar park bench.  

“Nanamin!” Gojo shouted, startling a flock of pigeons nearby.  

Nanami barely flinched, his attention fixed on a book he held in one hand.  

“What are you doing here? Don’t tell me you’ve finally realized I was right on how much sun you need? You’re welcome!” Gojo plopped down beside him, grinning ear to ear.  

Nanami sighed audibly, closing his book with deliberate slowness. “I’m going to let you talk because it’s your birthday. But please, be quieter.”

Gojo seemed surprised at  Nanami remembering the best day of everyone’s life. Though the appreciative look stopped once he recalled his own complaints from this morning.

“So you DO remember my birthday, Nanami.”

“Hard to forget the day that changed the course of history, Gojo.”

“And yet,” Gojo pulled out his phone, pulled up his call logs and shoved the phone in Nanami’s face. “I receive not even a quick call to celebrate my great entry into this world.”

Nanami closed his book as he turned to Gojo. “I have been busy this morning. And you’re 35. The fruit basket I’m sending will be enough.”

“The only thing that will be enough is if you let me sit in your lap.” Gojo batted his eyes as if he were flirting to save his life.

“No.”

“Pleeeeease. It’s just 5 seconds of lap time.”

“No.” Nanami deadpanned.

After 18 years of knowing one another, Nanami was fully aware that this wasn’t going to be the last time he’d be asked this. Mostly because this was the 56th time being asked and Gojo seemed desperate.

The blonde sighed and patted his leg. “You have eight seconds. Then immediately get up or i’m pushing you off.”

Gojo’s face lit up like a kids and jumped into Nanami’s lap. He sat still then after only 4 seconds, Gojo stood up. “Eh. That was underwhelming.  A bit of a waste.”

 Before Nanami forgot why he was there, he reached into his inside suit pocket and pulled out an envelope. “Take this before I forget my promise of being kind to you.”  

He handed Gojo the envelope, his expression as unreadable as ever.  

Gojo opened it, pulling out another neatly written clue:  

*"Where koi dance and words lingered long, love spoke bold, with hope it belonged."*  

“Wait a second.” Gojo stared at the pond. Memories flooded back—You and him sitting here late one evening, legs brushing as he rambled about some silly story. You laughed and he looked over at you, his heart unexpectedly full, and blurted it out.  

“Hey, this is the place I told them I loved them,” he said, grinning. “This time I said it and they said it back! Pretty sure they cried. Tears of joy, of course..”  

Nanami gave him a flat look. “You’re unbelievable.”  

“Thank you!” Gojo chirped, standing up. “So, is this whole thing their idea?”  

Nanami didn’t answer, simply picking up his book again.  

Gojo wagged a finger at him. “You know something, don’t you? But fine. I’ll play along.”�� 

As he walked away, Nanami muttered under his breath, “They deserve a medal for dealing with him.”  

-——————-

The rooftop was quiet except for the faint hum of the city below. Gojo stood by the edge, gazing out at the skyline. It wasn’t the most impressive view in Tokyo, but it was meaningful. He remembered this spot vividly: the night you both had huddled under a single blanket, sipping canned coffee as the stars struggled to shine through the city lights only a few days after his fight with Sukuna.  He smiled at the passing birds and the sound of the bustling city below.

“Hey, are you just going to stand there looking like a complete dumbass?” a voice called out.  

Gojo turned to see Utahime leaning against the rooftop door frame, arms crossed.  

“Utahime! Long time no see. Are you here to confess your love for me too?”  Gojo joked as he took a step away from the edge.

She rolled her eyes, walking over to him. “No. I’m here because I was asked to hand you this.” She held out another envelope.  

Gojo took it, but not before giving her a cheeky grin. “So, you do care about me. I knew it.”  

“Just open the damn envelope,” she snapped.  

The note inside read:  

*"Where stars met our gaze and silence spoke, love stood firm, unbroke. Now make your way to the place that holds the memories old and untold."*  

Utahime smirked at the way his expression softened. “It’s cute, honestly. How whipped you are.”  

“Excuse me,” Gojo said, straightening up, “I am not whipped. I am simply... deeply adored. By many.”  

“You look like a lovesick puppy reading that note. Whipped.”

“I don't have it in me to be whipped. I’m a little too masculine for that.”

“Whatever you say, you lovestruck idiot.” She shook her head, waving him off. “Try not to trip over yourself getting to your next destination.”  

Gojo pinched her cheek  before heading out, his heart racing now.  

---

Gojo unlocked the door to your shared apartment, and his jaw dropped.  

The living room was transformed. Balloons hung from the ceiling in shades of blue and white, streamers looped along the walls, and a table was set with delicate china, tiered trays of sandwiches, macarons, and cakes. In the center of it all stood you, holding a teapot, your face glowing with excitement as his friends and former students stood around singing happy birthday.

“Happy Birthday, my sweet Satoru,” you said warmly.  

For a moment, he didn’t move. He took it all in—the decorations, the scavenger hunt, the care and thought behind every detail. Then, with a burst of energy, he swept you into his arms, spinning you around.  

“You’re incredible!” he said, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “All this for me?”  

You laughed, holding onto his shoulders. “Of course. I wanted to surprise you with something fun. Those places weren’t random, you know.”  

“I know.” He set you down, brushing a strand of hair from your face before he held your face gently. “Those were the places I told you had moments I fell for you all over again. Every single time.”  

Your smile widened. “I hoped you’d remember.”  

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “How could I forget anything about you?”  

-—————

The tea party was everything Gojo didn’t know he needed. Nanami sat stiffly in one corner, grudgingly eating cake telling Yaga of the koi pond. Utahime sipped tea with Shoko, who had brought a bottle of sake "just in case." Even Megumi had been coerced into attending, sitting quietly as Gojo tried to shove a macaron into his mouth.  

Throughout it all, Gojo’s eyes kept drifting back to you. You, who had orchestrated this entire day. You, who had filled his life with meaning he hadn’t known he needed.  

As the guests left and the apartment quieted, he pulled you into his arms once more.  

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice low and sincere.  

“For what?”  

“For loving me,” he said simply. “And for reminding me why I love the life I have with you.”  

You smiled, resting your head on his chest. “Happy Birthday, Satoru.”  

For once, Gojo didn’t have a witty comeback. He just held you, feeling like the luckiest man in the world.  “Happy Birthday to me.”

[daisyful-gvf]

roommates // by daisyful

18+

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pairings: jake x reader

word count: 5k

tags: sex toys, roommates!au, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex, pwp basically, pet names because i can’t help myself, dirty talking

notes: i never thought i’d write this many fics with a vibrator involved, but here we are lmao. This happened bc of this post . minimally edited.

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“You’re fucking kidding me”

Of course, today of all days, the batteries would die. You huff out a few more curses and remove the lifeless vibrator from between your legs, throwing it on the bed beside you.

For a moment you lay there and frown, wondering if this is a sign you should just go to bed. Today had tested you far too frequently, and you couldn’t deal with much more. The thought of trying to get off any other way after you’d been so close with the toy seemed not worth the hassle.

Then, your brain throws you a hail mary: there’s batteries in the kitchen drawer. Perfect.

You tug on a pair of cotton underwear and smooth out your oversized t-shirt. It settles at the tops of your thighs, and you figure that’s decent enough for a run to the kitchen at 2:00 in the morning.

Your body carries you to the kitchen through the darkness, only broken by the light of the TV your roommate must have left on.

It causes you to roll your eyes—an old western is playing. You never had the pallet for them, even in an ironic sense. But Jake—your roommate of about a year now—loved them, for some reasons he had droned on about before when you expressed your disinterest.

You go straight for the drawer by the fridge, full of scissors and charging cords and pennies and mail, fishing around for the AA batteries.

“Whatcha need?”

“Fuck!” Your chest pounds as you clutch dramatically at your shirt, whirling around to see the source of the voice.

Jake blinks at you, eyebrows raised in amusement. He lays on the couch, in his plaid pajama pants and t shirt, feet covered by a throw blanket.

“You up to something sneaky? Why so jumpy?” He grins.

“Fuck off,” you roll your eyes, “It’s dark, I didn’t see you,” you grumble.

“Jesus,” he laughs, “Bad day?”

You just nod, rummaging again through the drawer for the batteries.

“You need help?” He asks, his voice getting closer as he walks into the kitchen.

“Where are our batteries?” You murmur, closing that drawer and trying the next.

He ‘hmm’s for a second, and then answers, “Why the hell do you need batteries at 2am? You building something?”

“Yes, a robot,” you deadpan, “Mind your business. Do you know where they are?”

“Damn, what’s wrong?” you can hear the smile in his voice and you finally look up at him, growing impatient.

“Do you know where they are or not?”

He looks you over, seemingly trying to understand the situation, and then, you realize that you’re in only your shirt and underwear. You can see him swallow and avert his eyes to the cabinet as he seems to realize the same.

“I think so,” he says softly, “Hang on.”

He fetches a shoe box from the hallway closet and brings it back to the kitchen, plopping it on the counter. There’s various tools and nails and command hooks, and then, alas, he pulls out a small container of AA batteries. Gently, he puts them in your hand.

“There,” he says softly, “You good?”

You nod and mutter a soft thank you before making a quick escape, looking forward to no longer being in front of him in your underwear.

You know it’s no big deal, and that you two have gotten comfortable. But there’s this tension, sometimes. Mostly like this, at night, sometimes intoxicated. Where the stares between you two linger a bit too long, and your mind begins to wonder. You always push it down, because it’s not a good idea, and you know that. And when the light of day comes around, you’re always relieved that things feel normal again.

So that’s what you do; push it aside. Back to the matter at hand: you latch your bedroom door behind you and head straight for the vibrator, popping it’s plastic plate off and fishing out the old batteries. And then you realize. They’re the wrong size.

You take a shaking breath, irritated and tired. Without thinking, you throw it back on the bed and walk back out into the living room, where Jake has cozied up on the couch.

“Do we have triple A?” You ask flatly.

“Hmm?” He looks up at you. His eyes land on your bare thighs again, then flick back up quickly to your gaze.

“Triple A? Batteries?”

“Honey, what is this for?” He mumbles, getting off the couch again to help.

“It’s nothing,” you huff out, beginning to go through the shoebox again.

“Gotta tell me if you want help,” he smirks. You look up and he’s got a cocky hand on his hip, standing a couple of feet away. His hair is messy in the dim blue light, and he looks amused with himself.

No longer in possession of any patience to make up a story or fight off his questioning, you answer.

“My vibrator.”

His lips part in gentle shock, and the cocky expression leaves his face at once.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, “You just had to know, huh?”

You laugh, because he looks so shy and unlike himself all the sudden. Possibly delirious from the late hour, he laughs too.

“Sorry,” he murmurs. You can see him blushing even in the low light.

“It’s fine,” you rush out, “I’ve just had a bad day, I’m just—” you give up looking through the box, rubbing a hand over your face, “I’m just frustrated. And I just needed—nevermind,” you shake your head, “It’s dead, I just need the batteries.”

He nods and pulls the shoebox closer to him on the counter, picking through the nails and thumbtacks and tape.

“Well I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Honey,” he says quietly, “But I don’t think we have any.”

“It’s fine,” you sigh, “I’m gonna go to bed,” you pad a few steps away from him, “Goodnight. This didn’t happen,” you point a finger at him.

He salutes you and grins, headed back to the couch. Shoving your embarrassment down, you head to your room again and prepare for sleep. You can’t be bothered to mess with it again.

You’re just picking up the vibrator and putting the back piece back on when there’s a soft knock at the door.

Tucking the toy behind your back, you crack it open to reveal none other than Jake.

“Um,” he holds up the TV remote, “This has triple A batteries,” he says softly.

You look between the remote and him, a furious blush making its way across your face that he would care so much as to come tell you.

“Oh,” you say, eloquence evading you.

He passes it towards you and you open the door further, taking it from him in your open hand. You other stays tucked behind your back, hiding the toy in a way that feels very scandalous.

“Don’t you need this?” You ask, “You’re watching TV.”

He shrugs, “Not as bad as you do, apparently,” he grins and you can’t help but chuckle. “No, but, seriously, I’m probably gonna go to bed.”

You nod slowly, “Okay. Um,” you swallow. You should feel more nervous than you do. More embarrassed. There’s a bit of it, sure, but not much. It feels oddly comfortable. “Thank you.” You murmur.

He nods, and then licks his lip. You stare, because it seems to be almost in slow motion, and his bottom lip is left glossy. Here it is again: the tension. So easy to form in the late hours of the night.

“Mmhm,” he acknowledges your gratitude and he takes a breath, like he’s about to speak, but then his lips shut. He does it again, like he’s working up to saying it.

“Do you wanna make sure they work?” He asks, “Cause I can—if not, I can check my room, or something, um,” his hand grips the doorway and his fingers fidget with the wood. He’s doing a terrible job of acting casual about it, but you find it endearing.

“Sure,” you murmur, “Um,” you fumble with the toy behind your back, “Here, hang on.”

You turn around, just enough that he might not be able to plainly see it in your hand as you mess with it. But you can’t pop open the remote and the toy with both things in your hand, you realize quickly.

“Here,” he says gently, pushing your door open and touching you on the shoulder. He comes around to your side and takes the remote from your hand.

You watch him as he does, and while he looks a little bashful, you appreciate him not acknowledging what’s in your other hand.

With daft fingers, he removes the batteries from the remote as you take them out of the vibrator. You toss the old ones on your bed, and let him place the new ones in your palm. When you click them into place, the toy immediately buzzes to life.

“Oh—shit—“ you breathe, fumbling quickly to turn off the toy. You look at him in a panic, and mutter a soft, “Sorry. Thank you.”

He nods, but doesn’t say anything. He’s got an odd expression, and you think twice before asking, but then you can’t help it.

“What?” you ask.

“Uh,” he chuckles, “I don’t—um,” he runs his hand through his hair and looks back and forth between you and the vibrator, “Nothing.”

He doesn’t move, though. Doesn’t walk to the door, even a little bit.

“Jake,” you sigh, “What is it?”

“I just—“ he starts, and then he nibbles on his bottom lip again, “I probably…shouldn’t…”

You raise your brows at him, wondering what the hell he’s talking about.

“I just—“ he clears his throat, “If—if you had a hard day and you need…I mean, if you need to get off and—and if you just need, y’know, if you don’t wanna have to do a lot of work, I mean, if you’ve had a hard day—“

“Jake,” you giggle at his nonsense, “What?”

He collects himself with a breath, “I can help,” he says finally, “If you’d want that.”

“Help?” Your mouth goes dry at the thought that he’s saying what you think he is.

He nods, “Help. Just this once. Forget about it tomorrow, act like it never happened, all that good stuff, y’know.”

You know you’re standing there with a ridiculous expression on your face, but you can’t help it. You’re stunned.

“Oh,” you finally manage.

He just looks at you, perhaps scared to say anything else.

“You can say no,” he gives you the out, “Or you can say yes. It’s up to you.”

You note how quickly your thighs clench together at the thought, and how your cheeks heat. It’s undeniable that the offer sounds nice. Your day did suck, it would be nice to not have to think about it, just have someone else do the work. Especially someone as attractive as him, who you feel safe with, who you know would take care of you.

“Hm, Honey?” He reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, “I don’t even have to touch you, I can just use the toy, but maybe—“

“Sure,” you surprise yourself with the answer.

“Yeah?” He trails the back of his knuckles over your jaw, “Sound nice?”

A shaky breath leaves you as his fingers graze softly.

“Okay,” he murmurs, “And really,” he licks his lips, “We’ll forget all about it tomorrow. S’just a favor.”

“Okay,” you agree.

“Wanna lay down?” His voice is lower, gentle still, but almost gravelly.

You nod and sit near the top of your bed, watching him intently as he pushes the remote aside and touches your ankle softly. There’s nothing but the soft whir of the fan for a moment as he looks up at you. Suddenly, he looks so much like himself. So familiar. It puts you at ease, and he must see it.

He traces his palm up from your ankle to the inside of your thigh, where he touches softly.

“That okay?” He murmurs. When you nod, he settles more, laying on his stomach between your ankles.

His palms are large and warm over your thighs, where they work to help you relax through broad sweeps over your skin. The only light is from the salt lamp on your dresser, so he glows soft orange.

You can feel the tension unwind as he sweeps his palm again and presses a kiss to the inside of your knee.

“Can I have that?” he smiles as he nods toward your hand, still clutched around the vibrator.

Quietly, you pass the slender silicone wand to him. He takes it in his large hand and flips it, the side with the button in his palm. He skims it down the inside of your thigh, warming you up to the touch. It steals your breath.

“Relax,” he soothes, kissing your thigh again, “Just me.”

You nod, inhaling and exhaling slowly.

“Help slide these off for me?” He nudges the hem of your shirt up on your hip and tugs at one side of your underwear.

Doing as he asks, you slip fingers under the other side and with him, you drag them down and off your ankles.

He tosses them to the floor and comes back to you, skirting the toy up your thigh again, closer and closer. He’s looking up at you for a moment, and you hold the eye contact and your breath, but then finally he spares a glance to your center.

His breath shudders from him and his eyes close momentarily. When they open, for the first time you see him turned on. You can’t pinpoint what it is in his demeanor, but it’s undeniable. It lights a fire in your belly so quickly you wonder why you didn’t do this ages ago.

“Honey…” he sighs, then a groan sounds from the back of his throat, “I don’t wanna keep you waiting, is that okay? Or you wanna go slow?”

“No,” you answer quickly, “Don’t have to go slow.”

He nods and hits the button on the toy, sending it buzzing to life. You can just barely hear the sharp intake of breath from him.

A bit too slow, even, for your liking, he drags the toy up your thigh again, before finally letting the it rest over your clit. You try not to cry out, instead biting down on your lip hard, and pushing your hips up into the touch.

“You don’t have to do that,” he says calmly, “You don’t need to be quiet. Helps me know better what to do if you’re not quiet.”

“Oka—” it’s cut off with a groan as he nestles it more firmly against you.

“Feel good?” He asks, voice still low. You nod frantically, “You can—“ you sigh, a bit scared to say it. Too turned on to think much more, you just do, “You can touch me, if you want.”

He looks up at you quickly, and oh, his eyelids are heavy with lust.

“Yeah?” he says, as if he’s not sure he’s heard you right.

“Mmhm,” you nod, “Please.”

“Fuck,” it rushes out of him, “Yeah, Honey.”

He moves the vibrator aside for a moment, letting it rest just to the side of you. He removes the hand that was holding your thigh and licks the pad of his thumb before he brings it to you, greeting your clit with slow circles. The touch burns a trail through your body, immediately heating your face and chest.

“Jake,” the way you say his name is nearing pathetic.

“Yeah?” He sounds almost in pain, his voice is tight.

“More,” you shudder.

“How—Jesus Christ“ he clears his throat, “Do you wanna tell me how you like it, or you just want me to—“

“Just—,” you feel frantic, like your skin is too hot, and you don’t know what you need. You reach for him, and your hand lands in the crown of his hair, “Please, something—I—”

“Okay,” he soothes, “Okay.”

Slowly still, he moves the toy down and eases against the slick of your entrance, and when you push your hips into it, he takes it as permission to ease it into you.

“Fuck,” you bite out.

“Good?” he checks in, kissing your leg.

“Yeah,” you gasp.

“Good,” he murmurs, and then he’s settling down, pressing kisses further and further along your inner thigh, until finally, he meets your clit in a gentle kiss.

“Jake,” you groan, loud, “Ohmygod.”

He hums against you, and then before you can even catch your breath, he licks a full stripe, stealing whatever sanity you could have possibly had left.

“Don’t stop,” you know you’re whining but you can’t help it, not even a bit. He licks and sucks slowly, letting the buzz from the toy and the warmth from his mouth carry you to your end. Your hand stays buried in his hair at the roots, where you try not to squeeze it too hard.

It’s almost humorous, that earlier you were trying so desperately to get off, and now that it's a hair’s width away, you wish you weren’t so close. You don’t want the sweet warmth of his tongue to leave. Sadly, you don’t have a choice.

“Gonna cum,” you warn him, so he can back off if he wants, but he just groans into you, and keeps his motions steady.

You can’t breathe when it hits you, nor can you help the way your thighs tense around him. You’re pretty sure you almost pass out for a moment, as your vision goes all white when your eyes roll back. After it passes, and you can take a deep gasp of air again, he’s coming up for air.

“Fuck me,” he groans, “Fuck.”

You blink a few times so you can finally see him in the dim light again. He slides the vibrator from you and clicks it off, then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Almost like he can’t help it, he gets up on his knees and grips the length of himself through the pajamas, his eyes rolling back and his lips falling open.

His eyes snap open to meet yours, and his hand falls away.

“Sorry,” he sighs quickly, “Sorry, I—“ he shakes his head, at a loss.

“It’s okay,” your chest heaves as you recover still from the orgasm.

You try to read him, to know where to go with this. Do you thank him? Do you offer to return the favor? That wasn’t part of this, though, maybe—

“Can I do it again?”

Your eyes meet his in some fiery standoff.

“What?”

He licks his lips, “Can I make you cum again?”

When you’re still silent for a moment, he adds, “Please?”

The groan that comes from you is much too loud and enthusiastic, and before you know it you’re reaching for him.

“Come here,” you plead, and he obliges, slotting with you and hovering over you, meeting you in a warm kiss.

“Fuck,” he says against your mouth, “I promise we can still forget about this tomorrow, if you want—“

“Shut up,” you smile, kissing him harder. He groans back and snakes a hand between your legs, where suddenly he’s nudging two fingers against you.

“Is—“

“Yes,” You answer before he can ask.

You gasp when they sink in, warm and full, so much better than the stupid vibrator.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he says against your cheek, as he’s nipping and licking a trail down your face, “I would—“ he swallows, you can hear it close to your ear, “I would fucking love to be inside you.”

“Oh my god,” it rushes out of you without thought, “Please.”

He groans, but pulls back.

“Are you sure—“

“Yes, Jake,”

“No, Honey, listen to me,” he holds your jaw in his hand, “We can still just pretend this didn’t happen tomorrow if you want, but please think about it for a second. I’m alright with it. Are you?”

You take a deep breath, and yeah, even when you think about it, even when it’s him, you want it. And you know he’d never hold it against you.

“Yeah,” you nod, “Yes.”

His lips curl into a wide grin, and then he’s back against your mouth, matching your fervor with his warm tongue. His fingers work still inside you, curling perfectly over and over.

You want him so badly all at once you can barely stand it, and without a second thought, it comes out of you:

“Can I ride you?”

His fingers halt and he groans so loud you almost wonder if he’s hurt, his head falls to your shoulder. Quickly, he collects himself, pulling his head up to look at you. He’s disheveled, and it’s hot. His hair is everywhere, his lips are swollen.

“As hot as that is, no, babe, this is still about you. Don’t want you to have to do any of the work.”

You’re trying to respond, but the way he said babe rings around in your head deafeningly loud.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” he kisses your cheek, “I promise.”

Numb from the pleasure, you nod as he withdraws his fingers. He smiles as he slips off the bed and tugs his shirt over his head. You follow his form, tugging your shirt over yours. His eyes slow for a moment over your chest, and you both take each other in.

You’ve seen him shirtless, as he cooks breakfast, or when he comes home from a jog. You know he has soft sides, a defined chest, and wonderfully strong shoulders. It still makes you speechless.

Even more, when he tugs the string of his pajama pants loose and eases them gently down his hips, letting them fall to the floor, you can’t find words. The curve from his hips to his waist makes your mouth open in an intrigued shock. And god, the thick length of himself that he takes quickly into his hand is enough to stun you forever. You’re shocked you can find words to answer him when he asks,

“You want this?”

It’s low and sultry as he palms himself. His head is cocked just to the side, making dazed eye contact with you.

“Yeah,” you sigh, “I—can I touch you?”

He bites on his bottom lip and nods, stepping closer to the side of the bed so that he’s within reach. Timidly, you reach up to take him into your hand. His hand moves, allowing it, and as your fingers wrap around him, your thighs clench. He releases a slow, shaky breath when you stroke him.

He’s warm, and thicker than at first glance. You can’t resist a peek up at his face as you move your hand slowly over him. His eyes are locked onto your hand, his lips parted in a sigh.

“Feels nice,” he thrusts experimentally into your grip, and his eyes roll back, “Your hand is so soft.”

You can’t help but giggle at that, and his eyes flit to your face. He chuckles too, pushing into your hand again.

“Fuck,” he hisses, “You ready?”

Nodding quickly, you greet him on the bed by sliding your legs back open, letting him kneel between them.

“Slide down a bit, babe,” he says quietly, touching your hip with delicate fingers.

You lay flat on the bed, letting him lean over you and prop himself up with his forearm by your head.

“Hi,” he grins.

“Hey there,” you giggle.

“Gonna kiss you again,” he murmurs as he leans in, his plush lips meeting yours in a lovely embrace. As you’re busy licking at his tongue, he rolls his hips against you, and you’re gasping at the warmth of him sliding against your clit.

“Shit,” he gasps into your mouth, “You’re gonna soak me, Honey. You always this wet, or am I doing that good a job?”

“I refuse to inflate your ego even more this evening,” you smile into the kiss.

“Understandable,” he’s smiling too, “I hope you can tell by how fucking hard I am that you’re doing something to me, too,” he grinds fully into you again and you’re whimpering as he licks at your lower lip.

“Jake,” you whine.

“Tell me, Honey, what is it?”

“Just fuck me, please.”

“Mmm,” he hums as his lips press to your cheek, “Gonna fuck you until you can’t remember the bad day you had, or anything else.”

If you say anything coherent, you can’t recall. It’s mostly a desperate groan, begging without words.

He reaches down and eases himself in, and you force your eyes open to watch his expression as he does. His mouth gapes, his eyes roll back. You wish you could watch it a million times.

And god, he’s warm as he stretches you, as his hips roll flush to you. He’s just big enough that it approaches a mild sting, but it’s welcomed. He props his other forearm on the other side of your head, and his hair falls around you, blanketing you in his body heat.

Just when you’re sure his hips are flush to you, he rolls them hard, sending your eyes back into your head.

“You like that, hm?” He shudders, “You feel so damn good.”

You just nod, struggling to keep your eyes open to look at him.

“Baby,” he says, sugar sweet, “Just take it, Honey, you don’t have to do anything else.”

He pulls his hips back and then rolls back into you, and suddenly that sneaking warmth is building in you again.

With his nose, he nuzzles your head to the side. As he begins to work at a slow, deep pace, he sucks gently on your pulse point. Your head is all blurry stars, your eyes rolling back far too often to see anything, and all you can smell is his shampoo and sweat.

You’re not sure if you’re making noise; you don’t think so, it feels like you can barely breathe. But then, Jake says,

“I know, babe, I know, let go.”

And you’re guessing you’ve said something to clue him into the fact that you’re on the precipice of a second orgasm.

With a sturdy roll of his hips, you’re scratching at the soft skin of his sides and drawing a whimper from as you clench around him like a vice, slamming into a somehow even more visceral orgasm than the first.

As it washes over you, you can hear yourself saying his name like a mantra.

“So good,” he’s still fucking slowly into you.

“Don’t fucking stop,” you whine, “Please, Jake, don’t stop.”

“Not gonna stop,” he kisses your cheek, “Gonna give it to you til you’re a cock-drunk mess, Honey, don’t worry.”

You shudder off a string of curses at his vulgar response, and you draw him even closer, one hand on his side, and the other wrapping into his hair. He resumes sucking on the side of your neck, something that makes your stomach flutter. He bottoms out over and over at a wonderous pace, somehow each thrust just as good as the last.

“You like this? Slow and deep?” He murmurs the question against your skin and punctuates the question with a lick.

“Yes,” you whimper.

“You wanna cum around me again?”

“Yeah,” you gasp, “Yeah, fucking—please,”

“Take your time, Honey,” he breathes, “I’m not going anywhere. Just gonna fuck and fuck you.”

“Kiss me,” you plead. He answers you quickly, his warm mouth on yours in an instant, warm and fervent. It’s embarrassingly quick, how soon you feel like you can cum again. But you can’t find the shame; he’s working himself perfectly against you.

“Close,” you confess against his lips.

“Good,” his voice is distant, “Let me have it.”

It hits you slow and unhurried, creeping hot vines up your torso and neck, gripping at your cheeks and burning a bolt of pleasure through you. You’re a floating, dizzy version of yourself when you come down.

“Fucking beautiful,” he’s sighing, “Gonna cum, Honey, you feel too good.”

He pulls out and balances on one of his arms as he shoves a hand down around himself. He looks the most beautiful that he ever has, in your opinion, as he cums.

His cheeks are flushed and his brow furrows, and his bitten lips curse softly when he loses it. For a moment he glances down between you, watching as he makes a mess.

You could watch it on repeat forever, and almost lament the moment before it passes.

Finally, he looks up at you. It’s quiet for a second before he grins.

“Hi, Honey,” he smiled wide.

“Hi,” you giggle. He unsticks a piece of his hair from your face as he catches his breath.

“Gonna kiss you again if that’s alright,” he sighs. You nod quickly, and he’s kissing you soft and slow. It’s so tender, you know you probably shouldn’t want it as bad as you do.

He must be on the same page, though, because he just kisses and kisses, licking slowly at your tongue and your teeth.

Some long while later, he comes up for air.

“Let me get my shirt for you,” he says, easing himself off the bed.

He fetches his discarded tee and cleans you with it gently, then wipes himself quickly before he climbs back beside you.

“So,” he breathes, reaching out to skim a finger over your chest, “Why was your day so bad, hm?”

“Jake,” you laugh. You can’t fathom why he’s asking you this right now, and you can’t recall a single thing that happened before the moment he was in your bed.

“What?”

“Tell me about your day. What was it, hm? That got you so frustrated you had to make yourself cum so bad,” he smirks.

“Jake, Jesus Christ,” you blush, “I have no idea anymore, it was just—“

“So it worked?”

You blink at him.

“I fucked you ‘til you forgot?”

If he was trying to make you laugh, it works, as the giggle that escapes you is borderline maniacal. He joins though, laughing lightheartedly beside you.

“Sorry,” he laughs, “Dumb joke.”

As the giggling winds down, the room is quiet. The thought pops into your head with conviction, and it feels only right to say it aloud:

“You know… I wouldn’t be mad if we didn’t forget this tomorrow,” you offer quietly.

He sighs and smiles at you, his eyes sparkly. He looks like himself; like the Jake you know, but closer, and warmer than before.

“I was kinda hoping you would say that.”

fin.

*tag list in progress of being updated*

[martyfive]

i didn’t know what the legend of zelda was when breath of the wild came out. i was probably in a middle of something very important at the moment, alright? something like sitting on a subway train on my way home. or like being in a middle of another family scandal. or failing another attempt of becoming someone i never wanted to be. busy stuff. i never even heard of the name zelda unless we were talking about zelda fitzgerald. i was nineteen and i wasn’t fucking around.

moreover, i didn’t know what zelda was about even when i bought breath of the wild itself.

what i always knew for sure is that i had never been and never would be a princess. every time i was told during our family dinners that those like me were never meant to be married to a handsome rich prince to live happily ever after, i was trying to find comfort in the vocally unannounced title of a friendly local knight in the shining armour bestowed upon me. the one who was there to shine and save and protect those in need. the one who wasn’t supposed to care about their appearances, being securely hidden behind a chain mail and metal shell that still never saved from bruises. a knight with a bear trap instead of a helmet. born to be the best and somehow failing every day. almost like a dream come true. not my own dream, but a dream nonetheless.

the life in our kingdom was a total disaster and i was a wreck of a knight.

by the time i escaped i had been depressed for approximately twelve years. i left everything i knew behind and moved to another country. i actually married my prince to make the paperwork easier for both of us. i found myself roaming in the wilderness i knew nothing about. i tried to take the bear trap off but every time i attempted to free myself from it it was hard to breathe through the neck that was losing its familiar balance. i didn’t know how to be an adult. i didn’t even know how to be a child. i wanted to learn, but i didn’t know where to start.

“what do you want for your birthday?” my prince asked me.

i didn’t feel like i deserved gifts. i did not achieve anything to receive them. the knight was technically laid off duty and the salary once paid in clothes and food was still haunting me. and i needed something else. we also needed something else to bond over except for our childhood bruises.

so i received nintendo switch for my birthday in a year i almost broke my neck trying to forcefully remove my fancy helmet as soon as i realised i couldn’t walk around like this anymore.

“games could be a part of a therapy,” the lady that was helping me with my breathing exercises said while i was pouring my blood trauma on the carpet in her office, “but they’re not gonna remove this bear trap of yours, you know?”

i knew that. i also knew i didn’t really want to live, trapped or not. so it made sense to me to start living my new life from the very beginning — to start from trying to be a child i barely ever was — and to try and learn how to be an adult like most healthy children did. meaning, to give myself time. to make choices i was robbed of. mistakes too, if necessary. to take a breath before heading off to run a marathon i never foresaw.

so yeah, i didn’t really know what the legend of zelda was when i bought breath of the wild. i only knew zelda was a princess i had never been and never would be. what i knew for sure is that the main character named link was supposed to save her.

and that he was her knight.

the whole thing sounded like a sick joke, but i was determined to know what the fuss was all about. looking back a couple years later, i’ve been wondering how it was even possible for me to stumble upon this exact game when i needed it that much.

while on my journey across the kingdom i wasn’t familiar with, with my own land shaded by the war and destruction, with no recollection of who i was and who i was to become, with a trapped in a castle tired princess named zelda, with the only light shining on the horizon gloomed by the darkness, i felt bad for link. what did he ever do to deserve all of this? i thought. why is this his burden to carry? is this normal for a character to stay silent before the impossible challenge he was supposedly destined to face and just… move forward no matter what?

i didn’t even know at the time how the zelda universe worked. that the event of link saving the world was something that threaded through the kingdom’s history like a football cup everyone was expecting to inconsistently happen once in a while. there was only this link and his own crazy challenges for me, and his destiny felt like a weight on the neck i, personally, being a broken knight i was at the time, wouldn’t be able to drag to the end.

but i had to.

i ran through the green fields from one destroyed town to the other and thought of link’s footsteps echoing in me as if every abandoned ruin was a part of my own depression i was supposed to face. every location had a name and each felt like it was important for someone who lived here a hundred years ago before the war took everything from them. the names meant nothing neither for me, nor for link and his amnesia, but for someone who wasn’t there anymore it was everything. and i had to accept it. there still was something to save. i had to look the destruction and what was left of the kingdom in the eyes and find a way to save what i can so the future would have a solid foundation they could build upon.

zelda couldn’t have saved the kingdom by herself. she had been trapped in that castle for a hundred years and she needed help of her knight. the task no single person deserved to condemn their soul with. i had no particular feelings about zelda herself, but it was a kingdom worth saving and there was only one knight that could do that. somehow, it had to be me.

so i visited every corner of the land and found everything there was to uncover, talked to everyone i could, solved everything there was to think of and turned up all the stones to find all the koroks. i just had to.

a couple months later i defeated the calamity and finally saved zelda. i took a breath and i let it out. and after that i felt better and empty once again. but it was something else this time.

it was the foundation. it was bare, but at least it was there.

i came a long way since finishing breath of the wild. i learned a new language. i grew up. i gave up my antidepressants to try and live without them. we moved from one city to the other. i got a dog that made me go outside and laugh every day. i started to make money. i started eating healthier. i started talking to people more. i took the responsibility. one by one, i pried the screws of the bear trap on my neck. it was still there, but it became easier for me to breathe. i realised that the kingdom i was raised in was never meant to be the only thing to define me. i was building my own on the ruins of what withstood. there was no other way to survive. and i just had to.

waking up as link once again years later and looking out to see the skies of tears of the kingdom, i cried. i felt like i met an old friend that was once everything to me and who i lost contact with for years, and then finally hugged them again. it was like finding myself a couple years later from where i was left dealing with my own shit and realising that my journey was worth it.

the ruins were still there, you see? but now we had so much else! there was another civilisation hidden in the clouds in the sky! and the whole another biome underground! giant temples to get confused about while looking at the map! there were new people to meet! new cataclysms to endure! new puzzles to solve! new koroks to find! damn, what a mess. i couldn’t wait to be a part of it!

and, of course, there was zelda to be saved.

zelda, who spent thousands of years in a form of a dragon waiting for her knight to take the previously shattered master sword she healed and to kill ganondorf. zelda, who was supposed to forget everything that made her human, but still was fighting for the light in the end. zelda, who was robbed of her life by the choice she made to protect those she loved, and who was blessed with another chance in the end. even a thousand years curse was finite. somehow, i found myself in love a princess i was never meant to become.

and it felt right.

and when link caught zelda falling from the sky over hyrule, i realised that the kingdom i was building with my own hands would always be there. and it was only my destiny to get to the rotten roots hidden underground in the darkness where no life was meant to exist but was flourishing in it’s own way instead, and to remove the sickness from it. to heal and to be healed.

and then i took my bear trap helmet off and smouldered it into a crown.

maybe i was never meant to be a princess. but in the kingdom that i built on my own, with all of its countless layers and clouds in the sky, with its ruins and old stones, with its depths and lurking horrors, with its riddles and joy, traps and secrets, songs and laughter, disasters and questions, dragons and princesses, with all the troubles and their resolutions…

there, i was only meant to be the king.

20/6/2024

[the-fiction-witch]

The Tourney

Media - House Of The Dragon

Character - Daemon Targaryen

Couple - Daemon X Reader

Reader - Y/n (Lady Non-Specific House)

Rating - Sweet + Flirty

Word Count - 877

I smiled as I held my dress as I walked through the gravel stones, passed tents, carts and people busy with the preparations for the tourney in celebration of the birth king's son. The birth had yet to happen, but many said it wouldn't be long. I held the skirt of my black dress up from the dirty gravel stones. Blood and mud coated the stones as people came and went from the main tourney arena. I snuck my way through the mess of tents until I found the one I had been looking for and I quickly went inside before I was spotted. Pulling back the red tent flap to slip myself inside, I saw the various fine objects littered about the dark Valyrian steel armour with details of scales, dragons and red lining half laid out and the other half being added to him.

Daemon stood in his tent wearing his underclothes, as well as black leather to protect his skin, already in boots, greaves, poleyn, a young squire boy trying to assist him with his black steel cuirass and dragon scale faulds that reached his mid-thigh but causing more trouble than he was assistance. The look on Daemon's face read of frustration with the boy.

"Enough." he demanded before his attention turned to me, "You may go, boy."

The boy didn't say a word he just nodded and quickly left without even looking up from his own feet, 

"Must you worry me," I told him,

"How am I worrying you?" He scoffed, 

I went over and began to help adjust it and actually get it on correctly, "You know how these things frighten me,"

"Everything I do frightens you," he chuckled looking into my eyes but I focused only on his amour,

"Yes. Perhaps you should do something about that?" I teased him,

"If I stopped doing everything that frightened you, I'd be stuck in the castle watching you knit for the rest of my life,"

"That such a bad thing?"

"it excites you as well as frightens you. Admit it."

"You should wear mail," I remind him ignoring his comment, 

"Not in a tourney, I need to be fast, and agile." He answered, 

"Others in the tourney wear mail."

"And others lose."

"Doesn't mean you shouldn't," I told him as I picked up the breastplate and buckled him into it, he watched me often as my hands slid over his body, buckling it at each side and ensuring each the three panels covered in dragon scales where still flexible enough to move with the two dragons on his pecks and back. 

"Would it please you if I did?"

"Not if you lost," I admitted as I took the tassets with the same three layers and the dragon worked into the metal, from the side and moved to my knees to attach them to his breastplate straps, as I did he stroked my jaw and picked my head up to meet his eyes, 

"You look very perfect down there,"

"Do I?" I raised an eyebrow, 

"Is my sweet lady going to kiss me for luck?"

"Perhaps,"

"Can she kiss me now?"

"I'm busy," I remind him tugging on his amour, "I need to be down here,"

"I don't recall mentioning you standing." he smirked, I just rolled my eyes and returned my focus, "Do not worry for me," he said more seriously, 

"I cannot." I admit, "No matter what I will be fearful,"

"Even if I tell you not to,"

"Even so my prince," I nodded as I got to my feet, I helped him into the more simple things, vambrace, rerebrace, couter, gauntlets and his very dramatically sculpted pauldron. All of which the same dark steel with scales, and red lining all dramatically sculpted as a dragon prince would need to live up to such a title. As I attached the gorget around his neck he smiled at me, he took my hand in his and brought it to his lips pressing a small kiss, 

"You know you are on my mind, always. I do not act without first thought of you. I will not be reckless I promise."

"Thank you," I smiled

I took his belt from the side and wrapped it tightly,

"So dramatic." He glared slightly at my tightening, 

"I am not the one needing to be called out. for dramatics." I glared as I passed his dramatic dragon helmet with metal wings and a long red and black plume, 

He took it in hand and gave me an unamused look, "Do I not get a good luck kiss?"

I rolled my eyes playfully and gave his lips a soft and tender kiss, he happily kissed back and set his hands on my waist before he pulled back with a smile, "Good luck,"

"Thank you, my lady," He cooed, "I will perform. With your trust, your belief and your luck behind me. Always." He says kissing my head, "I would take your favour if I could, and have it with me as I go,"

"I know you would," I nodded, 

"I'll save a flower for you," he chuckled before he headed to the door to grab his Targaryen shield and his lance,

"Daemon?" I turned,

"Yes Y/n?" he stopped at the tent flaps,

"Be careful my love," I pleaded,

"I will be. I promise my darling," he nodded before he headed out to fetch his horse and begin the tourney. 

[grapejuicestyless]

Linger Like A Tattoo Kiss

JJ Maybank x fem!reader

Summery: After running away from a long term relationship to chase after a summer fling, JJ is left with the pieces of what once was. He can try to get it back, but at the end of the day JJ always fucks up.(Inspired by the folklore love triangle and Normal People.)

“I really hated you for a while.”

Crickets fill the void of silence, a puff of smoke dancing from the old pot beside her, a cigarette squished out in her wilting daffodils. Her hands fist at the hems of her sweater, pulling it impossibly closer to her body, stretching out the stitching and crossing her arms to keep it in place.

“I saw a girl walk by hand in hand with this boy. He had lipstick all over his face, and I felt bad for the girl, I really did, and I had no reason to. They seemed happy enough to have each other, no wandering eyes or anything like that. I guess they just reminded me of us y’know? With the kissing and all that. Figured if we were once like that, who’s to say he won’t go and hurt her too? It’s a real cruel thing to assume, I suppose. To think love is damned just because it was for us.”

“Don’t say that.” She says it so casually that I almost miss the tears in her eyes she blinks at rapidly.

“Well we were.” She laughs bitterly.

“You always did have a wandering eye. Thought it was just people watching because I thought I knew you. It’s probably for the best that I don’t, you and your reckless thinking but you know, strangers don’t kiss like that. Almost makes me feel bad for you that in our entire life together I knew nothing about you, but then I remember what you did and I feel better for it.”

She looks up from her feet which have been crossed underneath her this whole time, shoulders pressed against the old doorframe of her even older house.

“So why are you here, JJ?” She finally asks, cardigan falling from under her arms and her fists pulling down her jean pockets.

“Why’d you answer?”

Nodding slowly, she thinks about it, smiling to herself before scooting over the threshold and swinging the door by its rusting handle.

My hand spreads flat against the chipped yellow paint, an old mark left behind from where the mail box used to be before people stopped sending letters and the metal rusted right off of the wood.

“P-please! Please, Y/n/n.”

Looking at her watching me, I see that she doesn’t hate me like she said she did, not anymore. But she doesn’t love me and I can see that too. It’s like I’m nonexistent to her, neither good nor bad.

“I know I hurt you, believe me I do. I just need you to hear me now so I can explain myself.”

“I’ll never love you again, if that’s what you want.”

“I don’t expect you to. I just hope you’ll hear me and understand that I still do.” The screen door that separated the wooden one and the humid outdoors shook the whole frame of the house when it slammed shut again, her bare feet padding across the splintering wood to lead me away from her front steps.

“I haven’t seen you in months, JJ. You had all summer to make me see you and you wait until August is over? Did you enjoy spending July a bachelor too much or did you forget about me when you were six shots deep at the boneyard?” She tries to spin her anger like it’s a joke, but when she turns her head I can still see the twitching of her bottom lip. She pulls the soft flesh between her teeth to keep it still.

“I didn’t think you’d want to see me.” She laughs.

“You were right.” I smile back at her, but it’s strained.

“Would it be wrong of me to blame it on my father?” I ask only half serious, hands stuffed in my front pockets and feet dragging in the dirt next to hers.

“I don’t think it would be wrong. Manipulative, maybe, but not wrong.”

“Well it’s true.” She scoffs, rolling her eyes away from me.

“You don’t believe me?” I ask, eyebrows furrowed.

“I think it can be half true. Maybe, if what you claim is the reason, your father did influence you to do what you did, but he did not make you do it. You did.”

Looking at her, though she sounded like she was smiling, I find that she was not. She even looked distant, detached from the conversation and uninterested at best.

“I don’t need to tell you how he gets, but I owe it to you to explain it to you now.” She stops just short of the old hammock strung from a big oak tree and a weaker dead one. It reminds me of the one back at the chateau, only more well loved and faded than John B’s.

“You don’t owe me shit.” She acts tough but she doesn’t move either and it tells me that she really does want to listen. At least part of her, anyway.

“Usually I don’t believe the shit he says. He’s a bitter drunk, he won’t even remember what he was thinking in an hour. But when he brought up your name, I don’t know, I couldn’t not buy it a little bit.” I scratch my arm and she says nothing.

“I mean, what would he know about young love? Abusive fuck with an absent wife, no love in his bitter old heart for his only blood but damn it beats when he’s beating on me. Guess I saw myself in him, to be honest. I’m always angry, and I’ve gotten better at hiding it but I’m furious just the same. I’m afraid I’ll inherit more than his temper, I’m already halfway to being knee deep in my own shit.”

She rolls her lips between her teeth, breathing out calmly.

“I don’t feel bad for you, JJ. I wish I did, I really do, but I just can’t. You’re a nice boy, you have decent morals and a good group of friends. It’s evident in you, no matter where you get it from. You are a bad person, I won’t lie to you and tell you, you aren’t because you are. Maybe I do feel bad for you then, but not because of what you’ve done but because you’re just now realizing it.”

“Y/n/n.”

“Look, you told me to listen and I have. You told me your half but I don’t owe you any of mine. You broke it, you don’t get the privilege of fixing it.”

When she turns on her heals I can see the dirt caked onto the bottom of her feet and I can feel it too. The same feeling of running wild when you’re still so young and naive to the real world and all its issues. I can feel the dirt between my own toes even if it’s not there.

“I won’t stop trying, you know.” I call out flatly.

“I already told you, I’ll never love you again JJ. I meant it.” She sighs heavily, spinning to walk backwards.

“I don’t need you to love me, I just need you to like me again. And I won’t stop it until we laugh like we used to.”

She doesn’t talk, but I catch her smile. It looks like shes not with the way her face scrunches in the fading sunlight but her lips are too upturned for her to not be.

“You came back.”

“I told you I would.” I smile with half my teeth, a toothpick dangling from my bottom lip and a new cut caked in dried blood evening it out on the top half.

“You were never one to keep your promises.” She talks from the windowsill by the kitchen. I can see her knees just under her chest and her socks scrunched up. She’s got her bottom on the counter and some baby carrots between her fingers drenched in ranch. Crunching away at them and double dipping.

“Maybe all this heartbreak has you losing your mind. I never broke any promises, I can promise you that Y/n/n.”

“You promised to always love me.” My confidence falters, she’s got a winning smirk and her knees beneath her now. Her elbows sit on the wooden frame and her head leans over the window to talk to me more clearly.

“Who said I stopped?”

I had her, I could see it in her eyes that I had her.

Y/n was never the strongest willed person I knew, but she had dignity and lots of loyalty that made her tough to crack. Even then, years of friendship built as a foundation for a long term relationship and a steady heartbeat in her chest made it hard to stop contact all together, even if she knew it was for the best. Which is why I knew I could crack her eventually, just not this quickly.

“Well,” she sighs, throwing her legs off of the counter to rinse her dishes in the sink. Her shorts are wet on the hems from the pooling water she sat on and her shirt is faded from the sun and the quick dry cycle on her dryer, “I guess I’m the one who couldn’t keep that promise then.”

“You don’t love me?”

“J,” she breathes heavy through her nose, “I loved you for so long, even before you knew. God, I think if you weren’t so blind you could have seen it too. You might as well have hung the stars and the moon for me. I loved so hard for so long. What we had, JJ, what we have done. We’ve done so much good for one another.” She sighs, hopping back up into her previous spot and leaning in just a little closer so she can rest her head on the windows frame. Her leg dangles outside of the house and her arms wrap around the knee of the other tightly. She looks smaller like this and I can see the darkness in her eyes clearer now.

“What if I never move on?”

The question lingers in the air like the cigarette smoke that danced in the sky last night.

“I can’t make you feel something you don’t. I guess that’s the scary part. I can keep reminding you of what you did and you’ll never quit, will you?”

I shake my head.

“You know I love you.” My elbows rest against the wooden plank underneath the bend of her knee. If I lean too close my thumb would brush against her skin and she’d surely run.

“And I know it’s hypocritical for me to say when all is done is done, but there is no girl, no person that will ever make me feel the same way as I do for you.”

It falls silent between us and I can see now that her sad smile has turned into a frown, like some guilt has started to eat at her when she has nothing to feel sorry for.

“I’ll stay.” I hum softly, a quiet promise just between us, “And I’ll never leave again. You don’t have to love me like you once did, but I do think you make me a better person.”

“And if I go?” She mumbles back, eyebrows relaxing into her sunken face and slouched posture. She looks tired, a whirlwind of a spring leading into the fall taking all her old charm from her aching bones.

“Then I’ll follow you. Wherever you go, I’ll be there and we’ll be okay.”

She looks at me unsure, unbelieving and she’s smart for it. There’s not a thing I’ve proven to her that shows her I’m reliable, not a bone in my body has the ability to be that for her all the time. But I’d like to be if she’d let me again. And I would fuck it up this time.

“It’s over now, anyway. I guess it’s a stupid question to have asked when there no point to it. Guess I just wanted to know the answer. Make me feel better.”

That was the thing about Y/n, she always spoke her mind full and true no matter what. She doesn’t need to tell me why she’s said something but she always does. Even if she hasn’t done anything like she’s done now. When we were dating I thought it was because she could never stop talking, but looking back on it I guess she was never really loud. Only at parties and when she was scared. She rambles when she’s nervous I’ve realized, and I think it’s funny because it also means she can’t lie because either way the truth will come out.

“Sorry.”

“No, don’t be.”

Silence fills the space between us again, her body fidgeting at how close we’ve gotten, breaking her unwritten rule of keeping me at an arms length.

I can see her fingertips searching for her old lighter and her pack of cigarettes. She was never really a smoker, only doing what everyone else had done but I assumed she had picked up the habit while I was away. It made me sad in a sense, not because they were being used, but because she had always been that girl in middle school who would keep them away from all of us. Weed? Sure! But she was smarter than me and most of the other kids who were broke and just wanted some relief, so I guess my heart just hurts seeing how she doesn’t really care anymore.

“Do you want one?” I shake my head no.

“Since when do you smoke?”

“Since when do you care?” The paper is between her lips, balancing on the sticky pink lipgloss she’s coated on her lips.

I shrug, looking at her manicured hands, delicate and smooth cupping around the end where the flame lights just below the end of the cigarette to keep the wind from blowing it out.

“Just didn’t read you as someone who would.” She laughs.

“Yeah, I was kind of stuck up when we were younger, huh?”

“I don’t think thats the right word.” She looks at me, taking the stick away from her mouth and tipping her head back to blow the smoke out.

“What word would you use then?” She smiles down at her hand, rubbing her wrists down her legs and her cheek against her knees.

“Careful, probably.”

She sticks out her tongue, groaning and sitting back against the window frame.

“Might as well call me boring then, right? Can see why you would want to run away with someone so much more…exciting.” She rolls her eyes playfully, lifting the cigarette back to her lips.

“How many more times are you going to say it?” My fingers wrap around the stick, lifting it to my own lips and covering the mark her own had made before putting it out against the back of my hand.

“Me saying it less won’t make it any less true.”

Maybe a smart ass would be the right word to call her. Heartbreak be damned, she was always quick on her tongue only now she had motivation to shoot for the kill.

“Have a nice night, JJ.” Her legs swing over to the cool counter tops where she scoots herself down and back onto the floor. I can see she’s wearing a baby blue bra when she bends over to shut the window, not that I was looking, and she smiles unenthusiastically until she’s turned the corner out of my sight.

“You’d think after a month of this you’d be bored.” She laughs, mittens covering her fingers and a soft cardigan over her heavy sweatshirt. Her nose is numbing from the cold and the grass is crunching underneath the winter frost.

“I could never be bored of you, Y/n/n.”

She opens her mouth to speak, but bites her tongue with a gentle smile. Her cheeks glow and her eyes avoid looking into mine. The plants by her feet are long gone, only weeds that have frozen left behind among the cigarette stubs from all of our small talk by her windows and on her porch. Even with the constant sweeping, we’ve both picked up on the habit and we burn through them each meeting.

“Well, I’m not so sure about that.” She laughs more to herself than to me, hands crossed under her arms and shoulder pressed against the door.

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t know, I suppose I’m just not all that interesting of a person. Not much about me that makes me special.”

Theres a bitter windchill that weaves its way between us and a relentless shiver that travels up my spine and down to my fingertips.

“Well I think you’re plenty interesting.” I smile proudly, almost foolishly at her and wait for her reaction.

She only hums with a puff through her nose and nods, and when her eyes flicker back up to mine they seem a little bit more focused in on me than before.

“I think you’re very pretty too, by the way.”

She laughs again, holding her index under her nose and crinkling her eyes.

“Don’t.” She braces herself further into the doorway and lulls her head back for a moment before coming back.

“Well it’s true!”

“I would hope so, I mean we were together for, how long?”

I fake offense that she doesn’t have the days counted down like I do. Years to months to days to hours to seconds, I have it all calculated in my head.

“You’re relentless, do you know that JJ?”

“I’ve been told a few times, yes.” It’s my turn to laugh, shifting from the heals of my feet to the balls of my toes. I shove my hands deep into my pockets and pray she doesn’t see the blue of my lips and send me home.

It goes quiet for a brief moment, our breathing pausing in our throats and the cold air releasing foggy puffs through the parts of our lips. It doesn’t get as cold as it would up in New England here, but the frost still nips away at the thin skin I’ve grown and bites at the tips of my fingers and the bottoms of my toes.

“How’s Pope doing?” Her breathing has gone heavy again.

I know she’s specifically asked for Pope because he’s the only one who truly saw my faults. John B and Sarah far too woven into their own web of unfaithfulness and Kiara too unbothered to care. Pope was always the most sensible out of us, so when I came home after nearly half a decade unfazed and claiming to have ended things without solid grounds to stand on, he let me have it. In his dad’s truck, specifically.

Driving downtown to the rich side of the island with bags of groceries slung over each shoulder and the bumps in the road shaking the plastic outrageously loud. I told him first, and part of me knew he would see my mistakes and call them out, but I hadn’t and I didn’t want to. I’d never seen him so mad, threatening to pull over if I didn’t make things right.

You can’t force a person to love someone forever, and you can’t force a person to change their behavior if they can’t see it’s broken. Pope couldn’t have done anything to make me go back. If I had, I would have faced her teary eyes and sad smile telling me that she was alright as long as I was well. She believed me when I said we were better for it, and sometimes I wished that I had picked a girl who could fight.

“He’s well. His dad too, actually. Started making deliveries to the far side of the island to make more money. By this time next year hopefully he’ll be on his way to college.”

“Well, he always was the smart one.”

She smiles underneath her mitten clad hand, looking at her feet.

“We all got lucky, you know? Having someone like him around. It’ll be weird without him around so often anymore.” My thumbs press harder into the bottoms of my pockets to savor the warmth radiating from my thighs.

“I like Pope, he always was my favorite.”

I nod, smiling into the silence again.

“Is he still your best friend, then?” She asks plainly, not really looking for much of an answer.

“No.”

She cocks her head, leaning all of her weight into the wooden door frame.

“Why’s that then? Has John B finally made you lose your mind?”

She never really did like John B. He was loyal and she respected him for it, but he was just like me. He was good but he wasn’t a good person.

“No.” I answer again, trying to hide my growing smile, “You are.”

“That’s funny.”

“It wasn’t a joke.”

She laughs through her nose.

“Yeah well, we barely talk so, I don’t think I can be your best friend.”

“Well you are.”

“Well then thats sad.” She looks at me sympathetically, sticking out her bottom lip in a pout.

“I don’t get to do this with anyone else.”

“Do what?”

“This.” I motion with my hands. “Just sit and talk, even if it’s only for a moment. I guess I just feel better around you, I can’t explain it.”

She’s nodding her head thoughtfully at my words, pulling her mittens off and holding them in one hand carefully.

“JJ.”

I hum, looking up from where I’ve began to stare a hole into my boots.

“You should come in.”

“Okay.”

It’s been too long since I’ve smelled the warmth of the inside of her home. Soft vanilla mixed with the citrus and salt that can only be found in places surrounded by ocean. Yet, I can’t find this smell in any other place. Her perfume lingers beneath the surface of the smell but I can’t quite recall the name of it anymore. It drives me crazy when everything smells like her and I go mad wondering why I would have chased after another girl when I already had her.

“Sorry for the mess.” Her house is small, maybe just a bit smaller than mine but it’s nicer than mine.

She kicks a blanket that has fallen off of the arm of her plush couch into the corner, and I pick it up.

“No, it’s perfect.”

She laughs, opening the door to her room and situating herself underneath her worn in white bed sheets. I hesitate, unsure if she’s welcoming me in with her, though I wouldn’t mind just laying on the floor. She has this soft carpet by the side of her bed that would be comfortable enough for a short time. But to my surprise she does open the bedsheets, scooting over and letting me sit underneath the thick layers.

“I still don’t forgive you, by the way.” She mumbles as I climb in beside her, crossing her arms to prove something.

“I don’t expect you to.” I smile at her, and I catch her vaguely smiling back.

Sitting waist pressed to waist, the heavy comforter weighed down by her stack of blankets piled on top shifts into a tent as she crosses her legs. She pulls it up to her chest so she can hold it under her arms and I wonder how she’s not hot even in the winter chill. I can feel my own sweat sticking to my skin underneath my clothes. Her lighter flickers beside me, a ball of smoke tumbling past her lips before she passes it to me. She lights another for herself.

I laugh at a thought I have, but it comes out stiffed with the paper caught in my mouth.

“I bet you’d pretend not to know me if we bumped into each other.”

The smoke from the blunt I dangled between my fingers disperses into the air leaving a faint smell of weed behind in its wake. I can feel it on my teeth too when I smile.

She doesn’t say anything, staring at me with a gentle smile and serious eyes. Her watchful expression makes me realize how depressing my words were and how true they could be. I swallow, looking down at where the blankets have pooled in my lap.

“Sorry.”

“I would never pretend to not know you, JJ.” She looks at me honest.

“I don’t deserve that.” I confess to no one in particular. I just say it out loud as it comes to my mind and let the reality behind it sink in like a knife to the heart.

“You did bad things.” She swallows, “But you still stuck around after. You promised to make it right and you are. I guess what you’ve done doesn’t seem so bad to me now, even if it is, is what I’m trying to say. Compared to most people, you were actually pretty nice to me.” She smiles sadly and all I want to do is to wrap her in my arms and press soft kisses along the top of her head, but it’s no longer my place to do that and I’ve made it so.

“I wish it were different.”

“How?” She looks at me pitifully, water collecting on her lower lashes. I’m not sure where she’s put the burning paper, if it died between her manicured fingers or if she rubbed it out on one of the books beside her bed, but it’s no longer in her hands when her arms fall heavy against her duvet in defeat.

“I wish we never dated, at least not so soon.” It’s my turn to swallow now. “We would have been better for it. If we had grown up a little first.”

She shakes her head, looking back down at her covered lap.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Why?”

“I think we’d grow, but not by much. Growth doesn’t fully change a person and by facing adulthood I don’t think it would have made us end any differently. At the end of the day I’ll still turn to my cigarettes and you’ll still be drunk in the boneyard talking to some pretty tourist.”

“Well I like to think so.”

“And I think you’re naive for it.”

By now the smoke has dwindled down to fog around the room and the old blunt has died out between my index and my thumb.

“I would have done it differently.”

She hums, tell me more, it says.

“I would have bought you flowers. Not only on the special days but just because I love you. Wouldn’t need a reason to show it to you and I wouldn’t be stupid enough to run away from you either.”

I could list everything I could have done better for her endlessly but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s been done.

“We’re still so young, it’s hard to know where things start to go wrong.” She tries to reason, and our eyes avoid the others wearily.

Neither of us talk, listening to the whistling wind banging on the large windows and feeling the faint chill seeping through the walls.

“I don’t drink anymore.” She looks at me.

“Good for you.”

“I do stupid things when I get drunk, I get sloppy I suppose. Talk to people I shouldn’t, hate the wrong people and make everyone feel bad. I don’t really like that feeling. I don’t like being a bad person.” I confess, looking at her and remembering how she’s confirmed my deepest fears without knowing.

“You can be intense but eventually you mellow out and you’re okay again.” She shrugs.

“I know, and I know everybody knows I don’t mean it but if I can prevent it I will.”

She nods again, eyebrows furrowing and her teeth catching her bottom lip. She looks to me with a serious expression.

“What about you. Would you love me if you met me now?” She asks.

“I’ll always love you.”

“But if you didn’t know me, if you didn’t love me. If I was just some girl you’d seen on the beach or in town. Would you be able to love me then?”

“Eventually, yes.” I admit. “I like to think that in some fucked up way you were made for me.”

She smiles at that, picking at her nails shyly.

“Yeah?” She looks up at me with shy eyes.

“Yeah.”

The grass under my feet is soggy, but the warm sun beating down on our shoulders slowly dries it and the dripping leaves above us too. It wasn’t a long winter, but it never really is here. Spring had rolled around just a few months ago with endless showers and relentless sunshine following behind it. Pollen dances in the air in a heavy dusting and the bees have begun picking out the prettiest flowers and the early summer air hangs humid around us.

“You disappeared for a while.” Her hands fold underneath her elbows. She’s swapped out her heavy cardigans for graphic baby tees and faded jeans. Her hair is lighter now than it was in the winter, and she has more freckles on her face.

“It’s only been a few weeks.” She looks at me and I swear I can’t read her so I clear my throat.

“I picked up some shifts with Pope. Trying to save up some money so I can finally do something with myself I guess. You know, I was never really the smartest with my money.” She laughs.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to be annoying. Just…missed you is all.” She smiles up at me with a look I haven’t seen in some time.

“You could never be annoying.”

“It’s funny because I was over here thinking that you probably hate me. It’s kind of pathetic because you weren’t really gone for long, but you’re really the only person who still talks to me.”

She leans back against the old wood of her house, her face finding shade underneath the small overhang of her porch.

“I never hated you. I could never hate you. I think you’re really awesome.” I confess and it makes me feel a rush when I say it.

Y/n swallows hard and I can see her smile falter when she looks back up.

“Well…I like you.”

“I like you too.”

She smiles at me and I can’t tell if it’s the birth of exclusivity or friendship blossoming between us.

“I wish I could read your mind.” She mumbles out, stepping closer.

“Why?”

“You’re confusing.”

“Well, I don’t think I am. Maybe you’re confusing yourself.”

“No, it’s definitely you.” She smiles.

“I saw Kiara last week, while you were away. I thought about asking about you but then I figured it might have been weird because it wasn’t really my business. But then I noticed she was wearing my old shirt. I knew it was mine because I used to leave it at your house when we would fall asleep before I could crawl out the window. I never took it back and she was wearing it.” She breathed through her nose, “I guess I was just confused why you kept it. I mean, we agreed that we were better for it, you were so convinced that if we saw other people we would be so much happier. You saw another girl all summer, so I guess it just confused me why you wouldn’t have tossed it.”

“Maybe I wanted an excuse to see you again.”

“See, you’re confusing.”

“I don’t get your point.”

She huffs, hanging her shoulders and rolling her eyes.

“Someone who falls in love with someone else doesn’t keep their ex girlfriend’s shirt, they don’t worry about the next time they’ll run into each other.”

“Maybe I was just being a good friend.” I shrug, smiling as I stuff my hands into my pockets.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what!” I throw my arms up playfully and I can see how hard she’s fighting against a smile.

“Well were you? Being a good friend, that is?”

I shrug.

“Maybe, I’m not sure. I mean, I guess I never really thought about throwing it out because I was so used to you being there. You never said you wanted it back so, I never asked you. It’s funny too because when Kiara found it, she told me the same thing. She said it was stupid of me to keep something that wasn’t mine and took it. But I guess she didn’t have the heart to give it back to you either.” I find myself rambling.

“What if I wanted it back now?”

“Well do you?”

She shakes her head and all of our words seem to die on our tongues.

“She never stayed the night, by the way.”

“What?”

“The girl, the one I saw this summer.”

“Oh.” I see her cringing at the mere mention of the girl, Amanda, I think was her name but the whole summer was a drunken blur and the only times I ever saw her was after I was six shots deep and in need of a distraction.

After a five day bender and the hard reality of sobriety I came to my senses, she was nothing more than sex. Still, explaining that to Y/n wouldn’t have helped my case. It would have only made both of us feel bad. I left her for another girl who I didn’t even really like and nobody knew why.

“I don’t think it’s important, but I thought you’d want to know.”

“I’m not mad anymore, about her.”

“Well are you still hurt?” She looks at me through her lashes, index fingers picking at the skin around her thumbs.

“Sorry, stupid question.”

“It doesn’t hurt as much anymore.”

“But I still hurt you?”

“JJ.” She sighs, hands finding their way around her stomach.

“I still feel like kicking myself every time I think about it. You were always so good to me, you are. You let me into your house and you give me all these chances even after I fucked it all up. I don’t know why I did it, and I hate myself for it everyday.”

It goes silent for what feels like the millionth time today.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” She looks at me carefully, fingers pulling at the fabric around her waist like it’s suffocating her.

“I don’t expect you to say anything.”

She nods, “Okay.”

“Do you think you’ll ever forgive me?”

Theres a pause, and her eyes move back like she’s thinking really hard for her answer.

“I already have.”

Her words don’t give me the clarity I hoped they would. In fact, they make me feel worse. Even after I hurt her, left her alone for something not even half as good. I played two girls in the span of three months and I paid little to no consequences. She let me show her how sorry I was when she shouldn’t have and now all I can picture is her sorry face when I told her it was over for the first time.

“Do you think I’m naive for it?” She asks quietly.

“For forgiving me?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “For falling in love with you again.” I don’t know how to answer her when she consistently leaves me speechless.

“I don’t know.” I look her, hoping to find an answer. “How do you feel about it?”

“I don’t know, thats my issue. I can look back on something and think I know what I felt at the time but, I don’t know. When it’s actually happening, I guess I have no idea how I feel or how to think.”

“Then how do you know you love me?”

“I don’t know. I never have a clue. I guess I just feel different around you than most people. But it’s not as obvious as other people make it sound, it’s the little things.” She confesses.

“I can tell you how I feel, if that would help.”

“Okay.” She nods.

I take a second to gather what I have to say in an effort to avoid some sort of word vomit from spewing out, but it’s to no avail.

“I thought you were shy when I first met you. Normally for me, I wouldn’t stick around for long because even with talkative people I find myself annoying. I hate the sound of my voice after some time. I figured I’d grow tired of my own voice quickly with you.”

Y/n looks at me, trying to figure me out.

“But you’re really not all that shy, you’re just careful. You think before you speak and maybe that’s why you don’t do a lot of it. Because you know what and when to say things and what sounds bad before you say it. You never know how you feel, but you know what you think and I think thats twice as important. Our conversations were different because of that. I could talk for hours and because I was talking to you I never focused on the sound of my voice or how tired I was of hearing it, I only thought of you. I guess that’s the scary part of it all, falling in love, that is. You don’t know you’ve done it until you try to think of something else and you realize you haven’t even tried to think of anything else without everything leading back to that one person.”

“That’s kind of scary to think about.” She laughs half heartedly.

“Because it is. That’s the fucked up thing about it all, nobody tells you that falling in love is more of developing an obsession to another person. It’s wanting to be around them all the time and praying every second you’re away from them that they’ll come around again soon. It’s the inability to let go after you swore to yourself you were done and it’s why I keep coming back to you.”

Theres a pause. I don’t realize how red my face has gotten until I stop talking.

“I think we’re probably just sick.” She smiles with her teeth, pushing my shoulder back to walk past me. We’ve left her front lawn so many times before. I’ve chased her across her lawn and rolled with her in the weeds, but I’ve grown so used to the faint glowing of her front porch lights and the flickering of the fairy lights strung across the door that it always catches me off guard when she moves away from the doorway.

“I think you’re probably right.”

“Then maybe we shouldn’t be together, then. Maybe you were right. We were better for it.”

“Well, I don’t think that’s true.”

“How could you not? You said it so you must believe in it.”

Shes playing with me and she knows it. Even though Y/n claims she’s hurting less and less the more we open up, I can tell theres still a wound bleeding somewhere deep, someplace within her that likes to see me frantic.

“Maybe I did then, but I don’t now.”

“Why?”

“Well, then you were just my girlfriend.”

“And I’m your ex now, so I guess it’s probably worse.”

It’s my turn to laugh now.

“No. I think it’s different now because I’m not only in love with you, but I love you.” I feel like I’m seven again, running around the blacktop and chasing around Y/n and tugging her by her pigtails. I feel like I’ve just confessed my school crush to her and it’s thrilling but horrifying all at once.

“Do you love me enough to be honest with me?” She smiles wider.

“I love you enough to do just about anything for you.”

“Did you ever see me in her?”

Somehow every time it gets good I am reminded of my past. It’s my karma. I’ve hurt her so it only makes sense for her to want to know everything before I earn her heart again.

“All the time.”

For the first time in forever, she steps closer, her hands resting on my waist gently and her breathing shallow against my neck.

“How?” Our noses practically touch when I look down at her.

“She was quiet, careful. She was never as smart as you but if I was drunk enough I could have made up anything. You guys would have been best friends, I’m convinced, if it were a different lifetime. Same jokes, same hobbies. The only difference was her heart.”

I find my hands threading themselves between the stray hairs by her neck, and I can see how her eyes relax the closer I inch towards her.

“You were much softer than she was, and I realized then that I only really ever wanted her because she reminded me so much of you. And it’s weird because I already had you.”

For a second I think she’s going to kiss me, and for a second I know she thinks so too. But her hands slip away from mine and her head ducks beneath my hands to unthread them from her hair to get away. She’s clearing her throat and mumbling soft apologies as she makes her way back up to the porch.

I feel angry, and I know it’s not my right to. I had her and I lost her through my own actions. I have no one else to blame. Yet, I find myself feeling vulnerable in a way I’ve never felt it before. It makes me feel sick knowing how close we got to fixing things and how quickly it was stripped away. I feel useless, and I figure it must be how Y/n felt when I left her and told her it was for the best.

“So that’s it then? What, we just tell each other we love each other and we pretend it never happened?”

“JJ, please.”

I can tell shes tired, conflicted over her own actions, but I can’t wait any longer to figure it out.

“I know it’s my fault but I’m trying to fix it, fix us! I miss you, more than anything and I can’t talk to anyone like I talk to you. I don’t know what else to say, Y/n. I love you, I love you so much it drives me crazy and I fucking miss what we had.”

She doesn’t say anything.

“JJ, I told you when you first came around. You knew this. I won’t fight for us, I can’t do that again.”

“So then why do you let me stick around?”

“Someone ought to hold you to your words. If you’re going to stay, then stay but I won’t fight for you if you leave.”

“Well I wish you would.” I can feel myself growing angry. I wish I didn’t get that from my father, his temper. I wish I was more like Y/n, more level headed and calm. But I was born angry and I am because I remember the way I ended things and I remember how quickly she accepted it.

“You lost that privilege when you left me for her.”

“Don’t throw that at me, we both know you couldn’t even argue with me then!”

“How could I, JJ? You’d made up your mind, why should I stick around if you’ve gotten eyes for someone else?” Her throat is scratchy, she doesn’t even have to look at me for me to know she’s trying not to cry. I want to beg her not to, because I know I won’t be able to withstand her wet doe eyes, but I’ve done it to myself.

“You know that’s not what happened, I told you what happened!” I feel the way we’re both growing tired. We get good and we fall apart.

“If you want to talk, we can talk but I can’t give you what you want. I can’t fight for someone who’s not even mine.”

“So then you want to see other people?”

“I never said that.”

“Well you implied it.”

She doesn’t say anything, shoulders shaking over the old railings of her porch. Her breathing is heavy but she doesn’t speak.

“So I guess if you want to see other people, then we should see other people.”

“Do what you want JJ, but just don’t come back here.”

She doesn’t mean it, we both know she doesn’t. She told me months ago she would never love me again, and though she has grown to find room in her heart for me, she’ll never let me see her vulnerable again.

I can feel the dirt coating my socks as it kicks up behind me. I’m not walking fast, but it feels like it with how dizzy I’m getting. Her door shuts with a slam and I swear I can hear a faint cry echo through her kitchen. But I’ll never know because I was too careless to try and knock.

It’s a different girl every time, but they’re all the same. John B gave me shit for it last summer when it first ended. I claimed to be chasing something better but they were all just different versions of the same girl.

There was always something off, the hair, the smile, the laugh. But if I drank enough and squinted hard enough I could almost see Y/n again and it would help convince myself that I was fine with her absence.

I find the fog of the early summer bonfires to be suffocating now, even with the solo cup in my hand and consistent pats on my back from classmates and old friends. I’ve flirted with half the island by now, I’m sure of it, and I probably look a mess but the tourist in front of me doesn’t seem to mind.

She looks like my Y/n too, they both like the same music. I wonder if I’ll accidentally call her the wrong name later tonight.

I told Y/n I stopped drinking, but I never promised it to her. So I suppose that’s how I ended up back where I started, trying to drown out my own issues with a warm beverage and a random girl.

I haven’t really been listening to what she has to say, I can only wonder what Y/n would think about her and if she would approve. It makes me feel sick knowing how many people I hurt in the process of healing, and I wonder if you can even consider it healing at this point.

“JJ!” A soft voice breaks through a loud crowd, dashing through the center of a bonfire to find me hanging back along the outskirts.

The girl in front of me shoots both of us a dirty look and walks away without saying a word.

“Y/n?” My vision is blurry and I wonder if it’s really her or if I’ve drank far too much.

“You’re drunk.”

“What?” The cup in my hand finds its way into the hot sand and over the intense stench of alcohol I can smell the welcoming scent of her perfume.

“Do you take me as a joke?” Her eyes are watering, shaky fingers wrapped around my wrists. I can see the faint flickering of the bonfire illuminating the side of her face. She looks so pretty like this, so tired.

“What the fuck are you on about, Y/n?”

“I let you into my home, into my bed; my bed!” She restlessly pokes her finger into her chest, clammy hands gripping onto my skin harder than ever.

“Well I didn’t make you!”

“You didn’t make it easy either!” She shoots daggers in my direction, stray looks from passersby’s tell us to quiet down.

“Yeah whatever.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She all but begs.

“You could have any boyfriend you want, you know. Boy’s are consistently falling in love with you, from what I’ve heard.” I slur, my right foot falling in front of my left and still Y/n holds me in place.

“Stop that, stop it now JJ I don’t like it.” She pleads through her gritted teeth.

“Right.” I roll my eyes.

“You don’t hate me. You told me so when I asked you, you even told me you liked me so stop being mean.”

“Maybe I’m just immune to you.” I try and joke through foggy memories and a sloppy smile, “Because I knew you before, in school when you still wore pigtails.”

“Right, when I was ugly and pathetic? You obviously don’t know me now JJ if you’re acting this way.” I ignore her insults, I couldn’t even process them if I tried.

“No, you were never ugly or pathetic.”

She looked at me, confused, not sure where this fight is leading us and unsure if we’d ever bounce back from it. Even sober our conversation is unclear, weaving between different topics and creating sore spots that’ll surely kill us soon.

“I know I’d be a shit boyfriend if I were yours. I’d rather anyone else, even the guys on figure eight who spit on me when I walk by.”

“JJ, you’re drunk, let me take you home, we can figure it all out soon.” My hands rip themselves from her grip, stumbling back into the sand.

“Why do you care so much JJ? Let me take you home, we can talk in the morning.”

“Because I’m selfish and even though I know you’d be happier without me I can’t even stand the thought of you being happy with anyone else but me.” Looking at my feet, I feel the tears falling from my eyes onto my feet buried in the sand. “Y/n I need to know if you love me or not.”

Neither of us can speak, and it feels like everyone around us can’t seem to find the words to explain out situation either.

“JJ.” She pleads softly.

“I probably should have mentioned this before, but I was seeing someone.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t.”

Y/n doesn’t say anything, she doesn’t even breathe, and the quiet is so loud that I can’t help the drunken rambling that leaves my mouth. “That girl, I can’t remember her name now, but the one I had last summer, I saw her up until the fall. I asked her out too. Should have mentioned that before but then again, I feel like you hardly ever let me in anymore so.” I shrug, and because of the way my eyes so heavily avoided her’s I almost missed the way she looked at me like I was poison.

“I called her by your name, that’s why she said no.”

The world seems to fall quiet around us, stray smoke from the nearby fire weaving between us and sticking in our hair and on our clothes.

“Why are you telling me this? Is it because you’re trying to be such a good friend, is that it, JJ?”

“No—yes, I don’t know, I just needed to tell you.”

Her sniffles are deafening, I feel sicker than before hearing her fighting her tears.

“Oh god, oh my god!” Her hands cover her face, pulling down until her hands clasp tightly over her quivering mouth.

“I’m sorry, I want to fix things, I thought if I told you, you would like me better!” I try to rationalize but she only shakes her head.

“I thought it would be different, you know? I really did believe you when you said we were better for it, having taken a break to grow and learn. But I’m just as naive as I was when I was yours and I’m just as stupid for taking you back!” She spits it like venom, still backing away.

“You said it yourself, I’m not a good person.”

“That doesn’t mean I didn’t believe you could be one.”

It’s quiet again between us, and her touch on my skin lingers like a tattooed kiss, her words replaying in my mind.

Y/n believed we could work it out, but she was smarter than I was and more careful too. She knew better than to chase after something that was never meant to work out.

“I do love you, I really do. What we had, what we have done. We’ve done so much good for one another.”

“No, no.” I try to follow her, but my feet fail me. I fan barely walk straight, let alone chase her.

“You know I love you, Y/n, you have to. I’m never going to feel the same way I feel for you for anybody else.”

She looks at me and it tells me everything I need to know.

I can promise her all my love and all my heart but it’ll never make us right, not ever again.

When she leaves, it’s quietly, the frame of her body losing its color in the darkness of the early summer night. It reminds me a lot of how this all started, and I feel sick.

I could stay as long as I wanted, but the truth was my devotion did not matter anymore, because she was always destined to go.

[lovelytsunoda]

proud mary // han lue

summary: now living a quiet life with their daughter, han and y/n reflect on how they got there, and all the good moments that are still yet to come.

pairing: han lue x wife! reader

warnings: this is a big one so listen up: mentions of post pregnancy mental illness, mentions of pregnancy and starting a a family, weddings, ignoring tokyo drift canon because I fucking can, (actually I ignored a lot of canon) han is about to activate a shit ton of daddy issues

I left a good job in the city, working for the man every night and day and I never lost one minute of sleeping, I was worrying 'bout the way the things might've been.

big wheel keeps on turning, proud mary keeps on burning. and we’re rolling, rolling, rolling down the river

2009, tokyo, japan.

the garage was dark, lit only by the moonlight and the small lamps atop the workstations. han lue had closed up hours ago, and everyone was gone save for him and his lover.

“han, what are you doing?” y/n laughed, sitting at a table scattered with nail polish bottles and a shellac brisa light. “it looks like a smudge.”

“it’s a drifting car!” han laughed, staring through the large magnifying glass that was allowing him to see the design he was attempting to paint on his lovers thumbnail. “see, there’s the spoiler and those are the headlights!”

friday night manicures had become somewhat of a tradition. y/n hated painting her nails with her non dominant hand, but she also didn’t speak enough japanese to venture out and get her nails professionally done. when she and han started dating, he offered to do it for her, easing the aggravation that sometimes came with doing mail designs yourself.

“well, now that you’ve pointed it out.” she laughed, kissing him on the cheek. “I love you.”

they had been together coming up on two years. two long, wonderful years. she was a mechanic and he was drifter, it was almost meant to be. she stopped him from getting himself killed, and in return, he loved her unconditionally.

they were sympatico like that. she loved his sense of humour, his protectiveness. he loved her smarts and the excited way she talked, animatedly and with hand gestures.

“what do you say we get out of japan for a bit?”

han should have known this question was coming. y/n was a restless spirit, never meant to stay in one place for too long. in a way, han was as well. he could tell that his lover had been more restless than usual, either from missing home or needing a change of scenery.

“a friend of mine, his name is dominic torretto, he’s got this place down in the dominican republic.” han started slowly, unsure of how much he wanted to involved her in. y/n was his whole world, and what dom and mia would be running was far bigger than street racing in shibuya.“he called me the other day wondering if I would run a job with him. but it’s not entirely legal and I don’t blame you if you don’t want any part in it.”

“baby,” she frowned, placing her hand inside the blue light machine. “of course I’ll go with you. I never pass up a chance to go somewhere sunny, and you know that I’d go anywhere with you. what we’re running here with twinkie and sean isn’t exactly legal either, you know. I’m a big girl, seoul-oh. I can handle myself.”

“I know. I just want you to know what you’re getting into. you’re important to me, y/n.”

“I know.” she said softly, running her hand up his arm as she rested her head on his shoulder, gently kissing his neck. “so when does our flight leave?”

“whenever you want it to. I haven’t even bought the tickets yet. are you ready for an adventure?”

“fuck yeah.” y/n smiled, pressing her lips to his. “but you have to paint my other nails first.”

han laughed, the kind of laugh that would always set loose the butterflies in y/n’s chest, the kind that reminded her why she fell in love with him in the first place.

“I don’t think I have it in me to paint another drifting car.”

“then what are you going to paint on my thumbnail?” y/n laughed back, looking down at her nails and realizing that her lover had actually done a very good job painting a drifting car manicure.

“I don’t know,” han shrugged. he would deny it if asked, but he actually loved painting y/n’s nails. he thought it brought them closer together, built up intimacy in their relationship.

they were moments he wouldn’t trade for the world.

“I’ll just do like a checkered flag or something.”

“but you did that on my index finger!”

laughing, y/n turned her head to kiss him. “come on, you big dork. the sooner we get my nails done, she sooner I can model that new lingerie set I bought last weekend.”

“sold!” han laughed, knocking over bottles of gel polish as he searched for the bright pink he had used to paint the car on his girlfriends other hand. “drifting car? f1 car? whatever my gorgeous gorgeous girl wants.”

“I love you, han lue.”

“love you more, pretty girl.”

2010, monte carlo, monaco.

it was set up to be another sleepless night without her lover by her side, and y/n was having none of that as she wandered the deck of the comfortable yacht, looking around at the decorations that the crew had spent the day putting up.

she was just praying that it wasn’t going to rain.

nothing was about to spoil her big day.

she scurried below deck, past a half open door through which she could hear roman pearce’s guttural snores. fingers curled around the door knob, she tried not to make any noise as she eased the door open, slipping into the cabin.

“you couldn’t sleep either?” she laughed, looking at the king size bed where her fiancé lay, phone in his hands as he texted his mother, who the crew was picking up in the harbour in the morning before the ceremony began.

“got a lot on my mind.” han shrugged. “fucking tej won’t shut up about the reception and the playlist and I’ve told him a million times that it’s not going to be some crazy rave kinda thing.” the man sat up, gesturing for his soon-to-be wife to come closer. "it's doing my head in. seriously, he wants to do a club mix of 'i would do anything for love'."

y/n snorted. han thought she looked like an angel in the low cabin light, a halo glowing around her head and shining off her white silk pajamas, the ones with the tiny shorts and 'bride' embroidered on the butt. "how the fuck do you turn the best meat loaf song in existence into a club rave song?"

"the fuck if i know." han shook his head, hands sliding up her thighs as she came to stand in between his legs. "jagi, sarang-hae."

honey, i love you.

"mhm." she hummed, a smile on her lips as she leaned down to kiss him sweetly. "i love it when you speak korean. it's so fucking sexy."

the last year had been stressful. the dominican job had been way more complex than y/n had expected, and it took a while for han's old crew to warm up to her. it took a while, but eventually she managed to crack dom toretto, and two weeks later, han got down on one knee and asked y/n to marry him.

hence why they were on a yacht off the coast of monaco, the entire thing decked out in fairly lights and tulle.

"if you think tej is bad, you try getting in between letty and those large plastic ribbons on the back of the deck chairs." y/n laughed. "who knew letty ortiz was so serious about weddings?"

she was practically sitting on his lap now, head resting comfortably on his shoulder as the boat rocked back and forth.

han seoul-oh was her home. her safe harbour. she always felt safe in his arms, at his side, even when they were plunging into almost certain danger like they had in the dominican.

"i brought you something." y/n hummed, reaching into the pockets of her shorts and withdrawing the small cardboard packet.

"fake nails?"

"help me put them on? for old time's sake." she passed him the glittery white french tips, no doubt chosen to match her dress for the ceremony tomorrow.

"i can't wait to spend my life with you. and believe me, there will be plenty more manicure mondays."

2014, monterrey, california.

"daddy, where's mommy?"

"i don't think she's feeling well, poppy." han lue frowned, looking over at his daughter, who was perched in her little kiddie chair at the kitchen table. "i'm going to go check on her, okay? stay right here."

how do you explain depression to an infant? poppy jae-i han had been one of the best things to have ever happened to han seoul-oh. but in the almost twenty-four months since their bundle of joy had been born, something had felt off about his wife.

everyone hears about the mental health complications that can come with childbirth, but no mother ever thinks it would be her.

every husband fears it, too.

"y/n, jagi?" han tried to keep his voice level as he eased open the bedroom door. the couple had bought a ranch house in monterrey when they learned they were expecting. it was one of the few things they used their ill-gotten gains as a part of dom's crew for. "poppy's asking for you."

it broke his heart to see his wife like this, hair messed and greasy, red splotches under her eyes from where she had been crying.

"am i a bad mother, seoul-oh?" she asked, voice small. she seemed so tiny and fragile underneath the layers of blankets on the queen bed. "she always seems to cry when i'm around, but never with you. poppy loves you more than she loves me."

"what?" it was all han could do to stop himself from crying as he sat on the bed, gently running his fingers through y/n's hair. "sweetheart, what's brought this on? poppy loves you. you're her mom. she needs you."

"mia makes it look so easy." y/n sniffled, pulling herself up to a sitting position. she's lost weight. not a noticeable amount, or even an unhealthy one, but enough that her husband knows. there are many things that you can hide from the man you share your bed with, but han knows. he knows she's not doing well. "and i'm fucking shit at it, han."

"look at me, pretty girl." han encouraged, reaching for her hands. "you are such a good mother. i know you're struggling right now, and i know you're hurting but you need to know that poppy loves you so much. she was asking about you over breakfast, you know."

"i don't know who i am any more. i've lost my sense of self."

han frowned, brushing a few strands of greasy hair away from her forehead before leaning down and gently kissing her hairline.

"listen, i was talking to brian last night-"

"of course you were fucking talking to brian."

"-and he thinks you should talk to mia. they're passing through town today on their way back from dom and letty's, brian and i are going to take the kids out to the zoo or whatever, and you and mia should do something." he suggested, running his hand comfortingly up and down his lover's back. "go to the mall, get a coffee. i think she could really help you. she's been through this before."

y/n inhaled shakily, pulling away from han. "what if something happens to poppy and i'm not there?"

"y/n, everything is going to be okay. i promise. brian will be there, the kids will be in great hands. go do something with mia, darling. find yourself again, yeah?"

"okay." y/n nodded, still clutching his hand like it was her lifeline. "i can do that."

"mommy?" a small voice called. poppy had managed to get herself all the way from the kitchen to the master bedroom, where han had left the door ajar just in case poppy needed them. "are you okay?"

"oh, sweetheart, come here." y/n said, tears beginning to fall.

because how could she ever think that her little bundle of joy didn't love her as much as she did? poppy waddled over to the bed, and han hefted the toddler onto the mattress so that y/n could pull her close.

"you know that mummy loves you, right?"

"yes. i love you too, mommy."

"see." han smiled. "you're going to be okay. we're going to get through this."

2017, monterrey, california.

"i genuinely can't comprehend that roman pearce is getting married."

the family of three was walking down the nail care aisle at walmart, a welcome addition to their weekly shopping trip as y/n scanned the packages on the rack for a set of acrylic nails.

han laughed, one hand around his wife's waist and his chin on her shoulder as he leaned against the shopping cart. "it's not going to last. they may be getting married on saturday but i bet that by christmas roman is going to call and tell us she asked for a divorce."

"don't be so cynical." y/n laughed, kissing her husband softly before holding up a small white box. "do these go with my dress?"

"they'll go with anything, babe." han said, moving to whisper in her ear “they'd look even better wrapped around my c-"

"i want nails like mom's!" poppy han's shout cut him off, the little girl looking at the array of disney princess nails on the lower shelves.

laughing, han knelt down next his daughter, one hand on her shoulder. "which one do you want, princess? do you want frozen, tinker bell? mulan?"

"i want the ariel ones." poppy smiled, reaching for the pack of little mermaid nails. han helped her get them off the hook before lifting her up, carrying the six year old securely against his chest.

"seoul-oh, she's like six, you're spoiling her by carrying her all the time." y/n laughed, dropping both packs of nails in the cart.

"what, she's not heavy, sweetheart." han grins. "besides, i have to stay in shape somehow."

y/n rolls her eyes. "sweetie, it's bold of you to assume that you were ever in shape. but i loved you anyways, didn't i?"

back at home, they settled in the living room, near the large bay window. y/n watched contentedly from the kitchen as han sat at the coffee table across from poppy, delicately brushing nail glue across his daughter's tiny nails, dropping the glittery little mermaid nails on top.

it had taken a while to get to this peaceful, quiet part of their life, but y/n han was so glad that they had made it. that she had seoul-oh and that she had little poppy.

"be careful with your nails, they might come off. now, go get your homework done before we make the pizza, okay?"

poppy scurried off down the hall to her room, and y/n padded across the shag carpet, looping her arms around her husbands neck as she gave him a kiss.

"i'm so lucky, you know that. i'm happy and healthy again, and i have you and poppy. that's everything i could ever ask for." she said softly, resting her head against han's chest as the man tilted his head down, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

of course they both missed the good old days. the days of adrenaline and adventure. but brian and mia had left, and then y/n and han, and soon after was letty and dom. they were moving on with their lives, a chapter of glitz and glamour coming to a close.

"i want another one."

y/n froze, pulling back from her husband. "what?"

"i want another baby. and i know what we went through last time, and i fully understand if you're not willing to take that chance again, but god, y/n, i want a big family with you." han explained, holding his wife's hands. "poppy is growing up. soon she's going to be too cool for dear old dad. and then there will be boys-"

"or she'll be like you," y/n cuts him off with a laugh. "in which case there will be lots and lots of girls."

"god help us all. my little girl is going to break a lot of hearts one day."

"and you want another one?"

"honestly? yeah, i do."

"then i guess we'd better start trying. multiplication isn't that hard, so poppy's gonna be looking for us within the next hour." y/n hummed, kissing her lover softly.

han smiled against her lips, hands slipping into her jeans pockets to cop a feel of his wife's ass. "i only need half that."

TAGS:

@libraryofloveletters @magnummagnussen @mignonricciardo @sidcrosbyspuck @cartierre @monzabee @scuderiamh @daydreamingleclerc @diorleclerc @oconso @cl16version

[cripplecharacters]

Hi, I want to write a blind character (with only a residual central vision left) and I would like any input on how I write his son's relation with him, and how someone that's close to the character may act around him/to help him.

Hi! So it’s a good sign that you have an idea of what his vision capabilities looks like, and of course if you can get more specific with a condition that is very helpful, but that is only tangentially related to your question, just a side note!

As for specific ways of acting:

He likely will rely more on auditory cues. Announcing things that other people may not think to say aloud can be very common in domestic settings (ıe: “I’m in the kitchen” “Xyz is at the door”, etc) In my own home just verbally describing things is so commonplace that it barely even feels like something ‘extra’ — its a natural part of how my husband acts around me. Reading mail, cooking instructions, or other domestic “papers” aloud is also a way the son could help his father around the house.

Tactile cues can be equally as important, especially if your character is DeafBlind in any capacity. Touching shoulders, tapping the table, or otherwise signifying a presence can be helpful. You can get creative with these — what specific tactile rituals might the father and son develop together that reveal things about their culture, personality, etc?

If the father is older/has shaky hands, or otherwise might struggle with any personal grooming, would he want his son to help with that? For instance, I am not fully comfortable shaving by myself because I don’t want to cut myself. Note that this is not a given — plenty of blind people are capable of doing these things, it's just something to consider in character development and can provide a background for some emotional / bonding scenes.

Beyond what the son in specific does, there are considerations for the house itself that the son lives in and interacts with. I’m not sure if your work is from the son’s, father’s or both POVs but blind households may differ in a few ways.

Does the father have lights in the house or his room?

Bump dots! If he does use lights, or microwaves, machines, etc how might he mark them up to make them accessible to him?

Cooking tools like liquid level detectors, etc. There are plenty of these but looking around at shops like the Braille Superstore can give an idea of the types of tools that may be attractive to people who need them

Does he use braille or whatever equivalent a fantasy story may have if that’s your genre? If so, consider reading and writing materials, whether they are old school slate and stylus or a more advanced brailler machine.

Note that unless the family has recently moved to a new house or they have recently made interior changes or he is recently blinded, the father should be very comfortable navigating the space since it is his home he spends lots of time in. He likely would not use a cane in his own home, he would not frequently bump into major things like furniture, etc. However if the house is messy and there are hazards on the floor, or they got a new appliance, his vision got suddenly worse, or otherwise made an adjustment, then there is a greater chance of difficulties. Maybe he is more strict about cleanliness with his son so that’s another opportunity for developing their relationship.

This is barely just scratching the surface though. Feel free to follow up with more questions if desired. :)

Mod Zohar

[ladykailitha]

Sweet Home Indiana Part 8

I have finished the story (at long last! sheesh I can't believe how long this took me to get it done) and it has 10 chapters. And it has the happiest of endings. I couldn't stop smiling the whole time I was writing it.

Things appear hopeless, but Eddie and Chrissy start to find allies in their plight.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

****

Eddie woke up the next morning to a pounding head, an aching heart and signed divorce papers.

Of the three things the divorce papers were the worst.

So he did the only thing he could do in that moment, call Chrissy.

“Eddie!” she greeted. “I kinda expected a call before today. You know, being your fianceé and all.”

“Shit, Chris!” he murmured. “Is there someone there?”

She hummed her response.

“It been so hectic around here,” Eddie admitted. “And there was the fact that Steve wouldn’t give me a divorce.”

She sighed and he suddenly realized who was with her. “Come out here, tell them that we decided to have the wedding out here in Hawkins because that’s where all my family is. See if you can’t get an extension to plan the wedding.”

“Hold on, cher,” she murmured and put her hand over the speaker. He could hear her clearly but anything he said would be muffled.

Eddie stared down at the papers in his hand with a shattered heart. He could grieve once Chrissy’s dragon was slain.

A minute or so later she came back on.

“Okay, they’ve given me to the end of the month,” she said with a sigh of relief. “Just say the word and I’ll be down there in a flash.”

Eddie waited another moment or two before he said, “Are you alone now?”

Chrissy muttered, “One moment.�� He heard the ding of the elevator door open and the sounds of a busy reception hall, then the sounds of a busy street.

She called for a taxi and once the door was closed behind her, she said, “All right, babe, what’s the problem.”

He opened his mouth to tell her but he just broke down.

“I–I thought I was happy in Seattle, but I’ve never felt more alive since coming back here. Seeing old friends, cruising familiar streets. It feels like home. When I first left I didn’t think there was anything in that town that would make me happy.” He let out a shuddering breath and ran his fingers through his hair. “I–I knew that the kids would all leave and they have. But Wayne is still here. Steve and Robin, too. The town has gotten softer. Something I never thought possible. I saw three same sex couples just vibing.”

He choked back a sob. “I thought everything I ever wanted was in Seattle and this trip was just about closing the doors that I left hanging open. Bu–but, oh god!” He threw his head back and covered his eyes. His lips quivered as the pain in his heart spread out through his chest. “Steve is still the one. I know, I know. I talk a lot of shit about love and there not being one person out there who’s your soulmate. but God, Chrissy. He’s it. I felt more myself the last three days then have the last five years.”

He let out another choking sob. “I don’t know what to do. He is like that first ray of sunlight after weeks of storms.”

“Oh, Eddie...” she cried.

“He signed the papers,” Eddie murmured. “And now I wish he hadn’t. I want to just tear up the papers and set fire to them. But I can’t do that to you. I won’t.”

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. Tell me what I can do and I’ll do it.”

He just sobbed and sobbed, forcing through the words that would tell her what he needed.

“Let me make a couple of phone calls, okay?” Chrissy said before hanging up.

Eddie murmured his thanks and then let her go. His brain went on autopilot and found himself on the pavement in front of the post office.

He stared at the mailbox in front of him in abject horror.

He had put the divorce papers in the mail and didn’t sign them himself.

****

Chrissy sighed. It was hard on Eddie she knew. He had spent the last decade running from himself and now he was face to face with the best parts of his past, not understanding why it felt so good.

She opened the file on Eddie’s divorce, the annulments had gone through just fine. It was just that one marriage.

She found what she was looking for and dialed the number.

“Sweetie’s Treats,” the female voice said in a faux cheerful customer service voice. “This is Robin what I can I get for you today?”

Chrissy took a deep breath and let out slow. “Hey, I’m Chrissy Cunningham, Eddie’s fianceé. I sorry, but I really need to talk to Steve.”

“Yeah...” Robin said. “No can do.”

Chrissy rubbed her her temple in frustration. “Eddie called me this morning in a hell of state and I just want to talk to Steve. It’s not anything bad, I guess I want to meet the person who has Eddie’s heart.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Robin said, “you can’t talk to him right now because he is working with the large stand mixer.”

Chrissy immediately pictured a KitchenAid mixer and huffed out her frustration. “Can’t he step away from it for a moment?”

“Sorry, no can do,” Robin said tersely. “He’s pouring in the sugar and has to put it in at specific intervals.”

Her temper was fraying with every passing moment with this woman. “Can I call his cellphone and you can hold it up to his ear?”

There was a bark of laughter. “That would also be a no. That thing has eaten three cellphones already and I’m not about to feed the beast another thanks.”

Chrissy blinked for a moment. “Just how big is this mixer anyway?”

This time the laughter was less bitter and more genuine.

“The size of a fifty gallon drum.”

“Oh!”

Robin cackled. “Yeah, when you have to make two hundred cookies, you aren’t going to be using a little electric hand mixer.”

“What kind of cookies?” she asked before she realized what was coming out of her mouth.

“Snickerdoodles,” she said, her grin evident even through the phone.

Chrissy shook her head. She was on a mission, damn it. She wouldn’t let let herself be distracted by baked goods!

“Okay,” she said, shoring herself up for a battle. “How about I talk to you and tell him what I said?”

“Sure,” Robin said. “I wouldn’t mind getting to know the girl who was the cause of Eddie’s bi awakening.”

Chrissy licked her lips slowly. “So about that...”

There was silence on the line long enough that she pulled the phone away to make sure the call was still connected.

“Are you his beard?” came the quiet reply. “Is this a lavender wedding?”

A little bell went off above Chrissy head. Oh. Maybe this wasn’t as hopeless as she thought.

“Yes,” she said, biting the bullet. “But not in the way you think.”

She could almost picture the head tilt of the bird on the other end of the line when Robin said, “Oh? Do tell.”

“Give me a second,” Chrissy said. “My taxi just pulled up to my apartment and I need to pay the driver.”

“Sure.”

Chrissy paid the man and hurried up to the stairs to her apartment, she fitted her keys into the lock and tossed her purse and keys on the table next to the door.

“So here’s the sitch,” she said flopping on her sofa with a heavy sigh.

****

Eddie opened the little door on the front with wide eyes. The door prevented people from sticking his hand in and grabbing it. He grabbed his hair.

“Fuck, fuck!” he cried. This day kept getting worse and worse. He opened the door again, hoping he could see a way to disable it.

He probably could, given the right tool. But as he was looking a little too closely another person walked by and eyed him suspiciously.

“Shit!” He looked down at himself and let loose a string of more colorful curse words.

Eddie looked like he was about to knock off the mailbox and make off with several felonies worth of someone else’s mail.

He was going to start crying again. He gripped his hair tightly as he paced back and forth.

He felt a hand on his elbow and he wasn’t be ashamed to say that the shriek that came out of him was the most emasculating sound in existence.

“Eddie,” Jonathan said. “Shit! I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Once Eddie had landed back on his feet like the scaredy-cat he was, he whirled around to see the oldest Byers boy looking at him with such concern.

“Hey, Johnny,” he breathed. “I’m sorry. God, today is the worst.”

Jonathan huffed a laugh. “You know, you are the only one I’ve ever met who doesn’t call me Jonathan.”

Eddie blushed. “I call everyone nicknames. I can stop if you want.”

Jonathan shook his head. “It was an observation, not a criticism.”

“Someone’s been hanging out with Nancy Wheeler a little too much,” Eddie huffed, already feeling better in the quiet presence of this man.

Jonathan threw his head back and laughed. “I hope so, we’re getting married next year.”

Eddie snapped his fingers. “That’s right. You did tell me that. Shit, man it feels like a life time ago.”

“You still love Steve, don’t you?” he said gently.

Eddie opened his mouth to deny it, but snapped it shut. He waved his hand at the mailbox. “It doesn’t matter. He signed the divorce papers, but my dumbass forgot to sign them too. So I need to get them back, but I don’t how.”

Jonathan smiled and then held up one finger. He went into the post office and five minutes later came out with his mom who carried the biggest key chain he’d ever seen.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Joyce greeted softly. “Let’s get this back for you.”

Eddie told her what it looked like and who it was addressed to.

After a little bit of searching, she turned around with the manilla envelope and handed it back to him.

“Next time,” she said with a smile. “Just come in and ask and we’ll be happy to grab it for you.”

Eddie nodded, clutching it to his chest and thanking her profusely. He took Jonathan out to lunch for the rescue.

They took it and sat on a park bench away from everyone else.

“Thanks for the gallant rescue, man,” Eddie said around his bite of his sandwich. “I was going to have a full blown breakdown right there on Hawkins Main and it wouldn’t have been pretty.”

“It’s no problem,” Jonathan said. “I’m glad it worked out.” He nodded to the papers on the table between them. “You going to sign them?”

Eddie let out a long sigh. “I have to.”

“You keep saying that,” he huffed. “But I don’t think you do. Shit, Eddie. I saw you and him at the carnival and it was like time travel. Like I was transported back a decade when you were both happy and free. He had his face buried in those stuff animals you’d won for him and you looked at him like he’d hung the moon.”

Eddie shook his head. “Look, you can’t tell anyone about this. It’s technically a crime. But it’s the only choice we have. Chrissy was here on a school visa from Barbados and she usually gets a work visa for the summer. Only there was a mix up and she didn’t get her work visa and her school visa is for while she’s at school. Which considering it was only for three months, I figured as long as she didn’t say anything to anyone, she could skate on through.”

“I’m guessing that’s not what happened?” Jonathan pressed. He took a bite of sandwich and nudged Eddie to eat.

Eddie took another bite, but really didn’t taste it. He choked it down around the bile in his throat. He shook his head.

“She works at a law firm,” he said mournfully. “Their HR department found out pretty much immediately. They, of course, alerted Immigration and was told to find another way to get a visa or be sent back to Barbados.”

“Hence getting the married?” Jonathan suggested.

He nodded. “We can’t let anyone know, because then we could get into trouble for fraud or whatever. I do love her, but not like that. Not like Steve.”

Jonathan huffed a laugh. He was silent for a moment and then shook his head sadly. “He went up to Seattle, you know.”

Eddie’s head snapped up. “What? When?”

“Right after you settled up there and started tattooing,” Jonathan said, scratching his chin thoughtfully. “He was there for a week. I think he went up there to ask you to come home. But when he found you, he also found a large city and a friendly LGBTQ community and he just couldn’t bare to ask you to return to homophobic Hawkins.”

Eddie’s lip quivered. He hadn’t known. His head spun as his world tilted off its axis.

“When he came back, he couldn’t really tell Robin the truth,” Jonathan continued. “That he couldn’t get up the courage to even see you closer than through the windows of the shop. So he told her he couldn’t find you and then vowed to make something of himself. Something you could be proud of.”

Tears slipped down Eddie’s cheeks and he pressed his hand to his mouth to keep the whimper that tried to escape between his teeth.

“The bakery...” he murmured.

Jonathan nodded. “Him and Robin starting working there together like they always do, to help save up for her to go to college.”

Eddie smiled, a weak, wet, little thing, but it was there. Steve and Robin, two peas in a pod. They always worked together since the summer after Steve graduated and Robin was about to start her senior year. They had worked at an ice cream parlor in the mall. When it burned down just a couple of months later due to shoddy workmanship, they had forged a friendship in literal fire.

“They weren’t intending to make it a permanent thing,” Jonathan continued, breaking into his thoughts. “But Steve’s good. He took a shop that only barely keeping itself in the black and made it into the thriving thing you see today.”

Eddie nodded. He was proud of Steve. And Robin. And all the things they managed to succeed in doing.

Jonathan hugged him tightly. “I won’t say to stay here with Steve and leave your financée to her fate, because that would be cruel and for all your faults, man, you aren’t cruel. And neither am I.”

Eddie let out a shuddering breath. And then another.

“You’ll do the right thing,” Jonathan said. “You might not figure it out right away, but somehow you always manage to get to the right thing in the end.”

Eddie finished his sandwich and thanked him for everything. Just being there when he needed someone.

And as he drove away from the park he felt lighter than he had in years.

****

I realize that that's probably not how visas work, but I'm just gonna hand wave that away for the drama.

Tag List: SIX SLOTS OPEN

Part 9 Part 10

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