#there’s like less than 100 seats

[jimgandolfini]

[isan0rt]

Last month one of my neighbors who appeared to be selling their house left a beautiful hardwood table in pieces on the curb as trash that had just. Had the MOST UGLY WHITE PAINT slapped on it in the most slapdash, hideous fashion you've ever seen in your life, which I assume is why they put a 35 year old cherry table on the fucking curb.

Anyway I rescued it and I need everybody to see my refinishing process photos because I am shameless and also extremely proud of this table (I've never refinished furniture before).

Look at my table!!!

[gingerwerk]

Making good financial decisions today but at what cost 😔 (making myself not buy $200 the national tickets)

[artheresy]

I decided to try the general public sale today instead of immediately going to the resale tickets for Miku expo and literally... within three minutes of it opening, SOLD OUT and with the way the count was going down, it was so clear that so many of the "buyers" were just bots and I'm so... I'm so tired

I hate ticketmaster so goddamn much

[gallusrostromegalus]

Might I inquire as to what, precisely, a Mustain't is? (Aside from a string of letters I hesitate to Google in that order.)

In October 2014 I went on a road-trip to the Driest Place In America.

I was having a rough year, very depressed from having dropped out of college for the third time. I decided a road trip was in order to re-set my brain and get a little distance. Being that it was October, and therefore all the campgrounds in the American Southwest were filled with people who have the good sense to camp in reasonable temperatures, I elected to take my parent's minivan so I could car-camp anywhere suitably isolated, and looked up some of the southwest's geographic extremes- the highest place I could drive to (Pikes Peak), the lowest place (Badwater Basin), and for fun, the Dryest Place in the continental US, which turned out to be the Pinacate Volcanic field just west of Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument. It gets rain maybe twice a century and has no standing water, despite being less than 100 miles from the gulf of California.

It's a startlingly beautiful and alien place. The ground is a deep chocolate brown to black volcanic sand, and in mid October, the rabbit brush is turning bright yellow as it shifts to autumn, the organ pipe cacti are a dark green and stand, partially concealed in the brush at exactly human height. The air is alive with birds and insects and bats at night. The stargazing is like looking into the eyes of God.

You get there by driving down a little dirt road called "El Camino Del Diablo", or "The Devil's Road".

I drove out about three hours from Glendale, AZ to get there, arriving at sunset, and felt a profound sense of peace. I stargazed, listening to the bats hunt and sing, and slept peacefully for the first time in months.

I stayed out there for three days, sketching and painting the landscape, taking strolls through this almost alien landscape, and enjoying the light and sound and total absence of human intrusion besides myself.

On the fourth night, it was a new moon, and I awoke in the middle of the night. Something was amiss, and it took me a while to realize it was because I could NOT hear the bats. I was sleeping inside the van with the rear windows rolled halfway down rather than trying to set up the tent, so I when I sat up, I looked out of the van's reflective windows to discover what at first appeared to be A Horse.

It was something between pale gray and bright white in the starlight, standing maybe a dozen feet from the van, sniffing curiously. It made sense- I was in the middle of mustang country and there was quite a bit of foliage in the area for it and it did look like a truly wild horse- lumpy where the bones were jutting out, dusty about the hooves and face.

I was instantly seized by the sort of paralytic fear Sleep paralysis is made of. I couldn't move. It wasn't quite looking at me because it couldn't quite see through the windshield into the shadowy into the shadowy interior, but I had the distinct impression that if I looked away, it would know, and get me.

I already had problems with horses. My beloved Aunt Helen's Prize mare tried to kill me on two separate occasions, and the year before I had to carry my sister-in-law backwards out of a slot canyon whilst reciting the Saint Crispin's Day Speech as loudly as possible to keep a mustang from trampling us to death.

This is approximately what it should have looked like:

Instead, it was... off. like trying to draw a horse from memory.

The waist tapered in.

The legs were slightly too long or the torso slightly too short, probably both.

The ears were Triangular.

The head wasn't quite right- Too narrow and the jaw wasn't heavy enough.

The tail was too long and arced unnaturally away from the body.

The neck arched.

The nostrils were too high and close

The mouth too long.

Whatever this is, a Mustang it Ain't.

I watched it from the back seat as it sniffed around the front of the van, curious with about the side mirrors. It moved around the van, nibbling experimentally on the front door handle. It came up to the side windows, sniffing like a dog, and it's breath didn't fog up the glass.

Finally, it came up to the rear window, which was rolled halfway down to let the fall night air in. Not even half a pane of glass and two feet of air between us, and I could clearly see it's bright blue eyes.

Horses have Elongated pupils to give them a wide field of vision, and eyes that rotate sideways in their sockets so the pupil remains parallel to the ground. Rather creepy to watch, especially the ones with blue eyes.

A real horse that was curious about the interior of the van would have come up to the window more or less sideways, and looked at me with something like this:

Instead, the damn thing walked up and faced the back window head on, staring back at me with this:

I'm not sure how long we watched each other like that, eyes locked. My eyes burned. I couldn't blink. My mouth was dry. I couldn't swallow. My throat began to ache. I couldn't make a sound. My skin began to twitch, like I was severely dehydrated. I couldn't move. My lungs burned. I couldn't move. I couldn't move. I couldn't move. I couldn't move.

Something was touching the side of my hand on the seat next to me. It's my water bottle.

The realization must have broken the terrible paralysis in the lower parts of my brain first, because by the time I consciously realized I could move again, I was already flinging my water bottle out the window at it.

The top was open, and splashed out the window at the Mustain't.

I've never heard such a scream out of an animal. Something halfway between the sound of unquenchable rage vibrating in someone's chest and the way rabbits cry out to God when the dogs catch them.

It jumped back, pivoting away from the van, snarling at the water bottle. I don't think you're supposed to be able to see All of a horse's teeth at once, no matter how angry it is.

I watched it run into the night for some distance, it's pale body visible against the black sand and the dark gray shadow of the ancient volcanic cone it was headed for.

When the blood stopped pounding in my ears, I could hear the bats again.

I debated leaving right then, but I didn't want to get out of the van with that thing in the area, nor litter by leaving the water bottle out there. I also had the awful idea that if I left now, it might somehow be able to follow me home. I ended up staying up three hours to watch the sunrise, shaking and trying to figure out if I'd woken up from a vivid dream, if my meds had stopped working, or if that had really happened. I didn't dare move until I actually felt the temperature rise, before stepping out of the van to grab the bottle. I had my camera ready- I was still using a DSLR back then- to take pictures of the hoofprints, to show how close it had gotten to the van.

No hoofprints.

Beetle tracks in the soft sand around the van, and the clear foot-and-wing prints of a bird that had hopped around then taken off. But no hoofprints.

I went over the entire campsite with the tent broom, to make sure I removed every scrap of evidence I had ever been there, including my footprints, grabbed my water bottle, and drove the three hours back back to Glendale, then decided to do seven more hours of driving to Moab, Utah just to put more than 500 miles, the state line and at least nine things that could be considered "running water" between me and the Mustain't.

-

I still have that water bottle. It has a dent in the bottom from hitting something, but that could have happened at any time. Strange thing though. I can't drink that bottle dry. I'll have it on me, drink whatever I've put in there- water, juice, iced coffee- and eventually feel like I've drunk the whole think and that it's empty. But I open it up and it's still at least a quarter full. I drink that. I get thirsty. I open it up again. ...and there's always a mouthful left.

Not sure what the side effects of drinking from a bottle cursed by a Mustain't to always have some left are, but it lives in the Emergency Breakdown Kit in my car now, just in case I meet another one.

---

(I'm a disabled artist and make my living telling stories, please consider supporting me on Ko-Fi or Pre-order the Family Lore book on Patreon)

[ikusayu-no-hana]

dude I can't do this anymore psych majors need to compulsorily read ambedkar and jyotiba phule among other anticaste lit bc some of the comments I've seen from general category people coping from not getting into their preferred institutions have been vile. this from the potential mental health caregivers of this country.

[wineonmytshirt]

i really wanna see maisie in philly but the only seat tickets available are too much for me and they only otherwise have general admission and i cannot stand that long does anyone know anything about like disability services for situations like this? idk if i should just call or email the venue and ask? I WANNA GO SO BAD

[aplaceforhumancorpses]

do you do headcanons? if so can I get all the batboys (all of age ones of course + Bruce) just getting the BEST head of their lives? like im talking, legs being held up by their partner as they suck the literal SOUL out of them? (Its 3 AM and I am very deranged) if not 100% okay. I just needed to get this idea out lol

𐕣 ⋮ Soul Mind And Body ⸝⸝ >ᴗ<

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Hi Anon! I plopped down at my pc to write this the SECOND it came in. This is less headcannoney then I initially wanted it to be. I love writing smut I hope you enjoy ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ SMUT ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Mentions of calling reader 'Wife" AND 'Good Girl' ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Send In Requests!

JASON TODD Head so good he's gotta marry you

'Oh god…' Jason would do anything for that pretty face. You look so goddamn sweet seated in between his bulky thighs, the warmth of your bare hands, heat pulsing through your body into his like a current. His mouth, which would've been busy licking and devouring those pretty lips, falls open with another moan as you swipe a finger over his tip, teasing him. He grips your hair tighter in a warning gesture. Your head drops forward, a satisfied sigh leaving your lips pressing wetted lips to the head of his shaft, your eyes falling shut. He knows that letting his guard down around you is his vice, his weakness, but right now he wants nothing more than to be swept up in the tide of your soft body and sweet soul. His fingers tighten in your hair, not quite holding on enough to hurt you, but firm enough to show authority. The thickness of his cock seems to take up each centimeter of your mouth and throat. "Shit… Birdie…" He mutters under his breath in relief at the sensation of your tongue at the base. Flattened beneath his length almost. He brings your head up letting out a strangled cry of pleasure. "Mmh.. Fuck. Don't look at me with those pretty fucking e-eyes…" He moans, gripping tightly at your hair again, forcing you to look at him. His hand reaches down to grip the edge of his bedding.

"N…nhg.. Shit-- " He grunts out, his whole body tense, every muscle strained, his dick throbbing. The way he's feeling it must be intense. It's a good thing your mouth was too occupied to tease about his sexed-out whines and groans when he spoke. "Fuck you're… fuck." He mumbles, bringing his hand to cover one eye, his other hand grasping your hair harder. His hips buck against you in an attempt to find release, to ease the tension. His voice is a rough rumble, his breath ragged from the exertion of thrusting upwards, the only movement he can manage for the moment, "God I gotta make you my wife.. h-huh? Hahaha.."He laughs, letting out an airy, desperate laugh. You let out a low hum, your throat vibrating against his dick.'Your husband.' You think, looking up into his eyes with lustful admiration and love, your tongue swirling around the head once before sliding back over it, sucking gently. You hear a shaky inhale come from him as he shudders. A loud gasp leaves him when he starts to climax. “Shit…” He pants. Gritting his teeth, letting out desperate little whimpers of frustration, his head falls back as he feels your nails dig deep into the flesh of his thigh as he spills out his seed, his cum hitting your tongue like a hot storm. He continues shuddering against you, panting, his hands dropping from your hair as his eyes flutter closed. He holds his breath for long moments until finally, his breathing slows to normal, the last vestiges of sexual energy seeping from him, his chest still rising and falling heavily against your lips.

DICK GRAYSON Hair puller

This was Dick's idea. The two of you pulled over on the side of the road on the outskirts of Gotham. The night is quiet. It's 2 or 3 am. The sky is clear and moonless, like a silver mirror. You can see all the stars clearly from here. You don't know what to do with yourself for a few minutes.

"Hey. Wanna try something?" He asks, grinning at you in the dim light of his car.

You smile back, unsure. "Okay."

He gently guides his hand to the back of your head, lowering yourself until you're semi-crouched above his groin. His fingers run down the sides of your neck to your shoulders before settling there, lightly pressing against your skin as he unzips his pants.

Then it starts. Your whole body relaxes instantly in response. This is not the first time this has happened between you two, but tonight seems different somehow. Your thoughts are a little fuzzy—your body tingles. You feel… safe with Dick.

"Come on pretty…" He cooes, pulling you closer into him as you pull his cock free from his pants. He moans quietly as your fingers brush his length, teasingly. He leans in so his lips touch the top of your had. "So sweet," he breathes, smiling at you through half lidded eyes as he pushes your head down to take him into your mouth. His hand runs up and down your back.

"God-! Yes.. Fuck me-- well.. y-you already got that c…covered.. huh? mng.. fuck." He moans as he jerks back harshly. He gasps loudly as his hips jolt up, black pubes tickling your nose and upper lip. His hands fist in your hair as he continues thrusting himself into your mouth. He lets out an involuntary cry as he feels your tongue swipe against his tip. A shiver runs down his spine as his orgasm builds. His entire body is rigid. "ah… good…… s' good….'" He pats at your head, awarding your actions with praise.

You let out a muffled noise, pleased. You continue to suck greedily at the base of his dick for several seconds. "Oh God…" he groans again, tugging gently on your hair, his hand tightening. "Don't stop…. I'm so close… ah…." He cries out as his hips jerk forward once more. The sound he makes is one of ecstasy as he comes, spilling into your mouth with a warm trickle. You release a small noise of satisfaction too before he pulls away. He smiles at you tiredly as his chest heaves. Your ears are ringing from the lack of sufficient air. "Good job, beautiful." He sighs.

BRUCE WAYNE Rough man mhmhm

Bruce has you, tonight. Sitting on a plushy pink velvet stool infront of his queen sized bed. A robe draped over your body like a goddess a silk sash tied loosely around your hips and secured in the back with a golden pin.

“Come here.” He drawls out your name like a promise that he means to keep. You don’t need to be told twice. Your legs feel wobbly as you walk closer to him, but they still hold firm as his hands cup your hips. “Look at me. Look at me properly,” he commands quietly. His hands slide down your sides to grip your waist. “Be a good girl and release all this stress for me hm?”

You bite your bottom lip and lean into his touch, pressing yourself against his chest. It's not hard to do. The gown is restrictive enough to make it difficult for you to move to touch yourself, but you manage. You are so focused on his every word that you don't even notice how he moves you inbetween his muscular legs, discarding his boxers.

“open your mouth.” It isn't until he speaks again that you understand what he wants you to do. “Now.” His fingers push into your mouth to force your lips apart. “Mmm, just like that.” He pulls your head down onto his cock. Your eyes sting from the sheer length and girth. He pushes you down further, using you like a toy. He’s lost in the pleasure himself.

“Mmh,, fuck—“ He groans through clenched teeth. His legs pinning you down, keeping you there while he rages in pleasure. “Fuckkk. You belong here with me- baby, keep going.. so good..” Bruce's hips thrust up, pumping into your mouth. The pain doesn’t register yet because all you can focus on is the way he’s pistoning. Hes whining, groaning, sobbing in pleasure. You’re doing this to him. He’s yours. His whole body shudders as he comes. His semen drips off of your chin, tears streaking down your cheeks.

“good… girl-..”

psst.. reblog and request for more...

[tojisth3rdwife]

BabyDaddyToji didnt react to your positive pregnancy test the way you expected him to. He was surprisingly chill about it despite all of the conversations the two of you had in the past about him not wanting anymore kids. Megumi was school-aged and wasnt nearly as bad as Toji made him out to be but you could understand his standpoint. Kids are a big deal. Theyre expensive. Theyre loud. They smell. They amplify your anxiety to the nth power. So yeah, you got it.

But for someone who didnt want any more kids, Toji wasnt that great at doing things to prevent them. He hated condoms and you understood birth control wasnt 100% effective, but there he was nutting you every night anyway.

So naturally when your period never came and your started to feel strange, your mind went straight to those conversations and how he would react if you were indeed pregnant.

He surprised you though. It was actually him who encouraged you to get a test because he’d noticed the change in you. And when you were sitting on the closed toilet seat, staring at the pee stick in shock with trembling hands, it was him kneeling in front of you with his huge hands resting on your knees.

“Tell me what it says.” he said calmly, his thumb skimming over your skin soothingly. Your jaw clenched and your eyes stung with the flow of tears threatening to coat them. Taking your silence as a response, Toji takes the pregnancy test from you and flips it to see for himself. When he sighs, a knot forms in your stomach and you brace yourself for the worst as his hard expression never changed.

“Toji..I..Im..” you begin, not even sure of what you wanted to say. Your voice shook with emotion, the sound making Toji’s cool green gaze jump from the test to your face. Before you could blubber anything else, the pregnancy test was set aside and Toji’s arms were pulling you from the toilet to join him on the floor. He stumbles back so that he’s seated with you cradled in his lap, rubbing your arm and cupping your cheek. You were crying by now, coherent words impossible as you sobbed into his chest.

“M’s-sorry..” you huffed and Toji furrowed his brow in confusion.

“For what? Im the one that did it..” he chuckled, though you didnt see what was so funny. You pull away just enough to brave a look at him, chin trembling pitifully.

“You…Youre not mad?” You blink, fat tears rolling down your face. Toji sighs at the sight of your sadness, feeling his heart was being squeezed and twisted just from looking at you. His expression remains stoic though, apart from the soft smirk on his lips.

“Nah..” he shakes his head. Your eyes flutter shut as Toji’s thumb rubbed over them to wipe the freshest tears away before continuing.

“Why would you think that, pretty girl? Hmm?”

This wasn’t part of your plan at all. Not that you were the traditional or conservative type but you at least wanted to be further along in your relationship with Toji before something like this happened. It had only been a few years of you being in a relationship, less than a year living together. Megumi was just now getting used to you being a consistent presence in his life and now here you go bringing a baby into the picture, someone else he’d have to tolerate and get used to.

And then there was Toji. He didn’t seem like the type to cut and run out on you over an unplanned pregnancy but would he resent you? Would he treat you differently now that things were about to get even more serious than they were?

Thinking of it all overwhelms you to the point of hysterics, and you hide your face in Toji’s neck to keep from facing the disappointment you just knew you’d find in his eyes.

If only you know how the only concern he had was comforting you.

“I just know this isnt what you wanted…I feel so stupid..” you find the strength to say between maintaining a steady breath, and Toji hugs you tighter. He kisses your forehead and exhales heavily, resting his cheek in your hair.

“It’s all good baby. None of that matters. Im here. Not goin anywhere, I promise.” He assures you, keeping you in his steady embrace until your breathing was no longer shuddered. You’d been quiet for a few minutes before Toji’s deep voice cut through the silence.

“Whew..hormones fucking you up already, huh? Damn…” Toji jokes half heartedly, earning him jab in the abs that he laughs off as he continued to hold and console you.

So boom. There you were. Pregnant af with Toji’s baby.

Much to your relief, Toji didnt change the way he treated you as the weeks passed. He was still sweet , in his own way, and very present. He went with you to the first appointment to confirm everything and make sure you were ok. He held your hand when your blood was drawn and watched the large monitor on the wall with interest when you were probed with the transvaginal ultrasound device.

“And there we are...” the OBGYN mutters distractedly as the probe stalled in a particular position inside of you, showing the small cavity of your womb and the little bitty bean nestled inside of it. Your eyes widen at the wiggly blip and it’s tiny heartbeat, your own starting to kick up in pace. Toji says nothing but he watches your reaction to seeing evidence of life growing inside of you. A life the two of you created.

Damn.

“What the hell...” you exhale, making Toji chuckle.

“Yep! Theres your baby. Id say youre about 9 weeks. Projecting your due date to be around...” the doctor pauses, typing something into the keyboard quickly.

“May 17th.” she finished.

She withdraws the scope and hands you a box of tissues to clean yourself, leaving for a minute to give you some privacy. Once alone with Toji in the small room, you looked to him with mixed emotions clear in your eyes. His expression is as stoic as it usually was but there was a warmth in his gaze that you found comforting.

He smirks.

“Looks like I knocked you up good, huh?” he jokes and you giggle.

“Yeah. It would appear so..”

You sigh as you sit up to get dressed and Toji sits back to watch you wiggle your booty back into your jeans. A magic trick if you asked him. You turn to him as you zipped your fly, uncertainty still clear on your face.

“What you thinking bout over there?” Toji asks, his eyes falling from your face to your trembling hands that worked over the button of your jeans. You exhaled a nervous laugh, shaking your head.

“Im honestly still in shock. Seeing the baby moving didnt bring me the feeling I expected it would..”

“What were you expecting to feel?” your man asks and you shrug solemnly.

“I dont know…Like I’m not making a huge mistake, I guess.” You chuckle humorlessly, blinking to resist that stupid urge to cry.

Toji’s head leans slightly, his eyes panning over you with concern. He sits up in his seat, offering you his hand.

“C’mere , mama..”

The irony of his usual pet name wasn’t lost on you but you were too emotional to be amused by it.

You walk towards him to stand between his legs and his hands come around to rub the backs of your thighs over the denim. He looks up at you with a softness that immediately disarms you, causing the tension in your body to melt away on contact.

“You cant worry about all of that shit right now. This is all gonna feel weird and new and scary but bright side is, you wont be going through any of it alone. Lucky for you, Ive kinda been through this before. Well..not being pregnant but..you get what Im saying..”

“I get it..” You smile at Toji stammering and lift a hand to cup his cheek, sliding it back to tug on his ear affectionately. Toji leans into the touch, grunting softly in reaction.

“Good. I also have some dad experience under my belt. Megumi survived a whole 3 and half years before you came into the picture and you see how he is. So you’re not just dead in the water here, babe. Ive got you.”

The image of Toji struggling with Megumi as an infant on his own comes to mind. You didnt know him then, only having his stories of that time to paint the picture for you. You couldn’t imagine how hard it must have been for Toji to cope with the fact that person he thought he’d be spending his life and raising his son with was gone, leaving him to take it on alone. The sleepless nights and tearful days, with very little support since she was all he had.

You never told him, but there was a soft spot in your heart for Toji’s deceased wife, since she was the one who taught him how to love in the first place. And it was her love that lived on in him and Megumi that was allowing you to step in. What a privilege that was, that you didn’t realize until this very moment.

Of course he wasnt going to tell you that he was terrified. Terrified of history repeating itself. Terrified of him not being able to save you. Terrified of fucking up royally and leaving another gaping hole in his chest that he wouldn’t allow anyone else in to fill. He’d never show you his fear when he saw the amount of it you were already battling.

With a soft smile and another squeeze, this time on your ass, Toji pulls you into a hug you wouldn’t dare refuse. His head rests against your chest and he inhales the scent of your perfume.

Youre pulled out of your moment when a few knocks at the door have you both turning to look just as the doctor is peaking her head in.

“You two ready to come back in the exam room for a consult to go over everything?”

You look to Toji and he gives you a wink and a soft pat on the butt before he’s standing.

“Yeah Doc. We’re ready.” he responds before you can, giving you a tiny smile of reassurance as he encouraged you to walk ahead of him.

Part 2

[burreauxsworld]

Ours To Keep (3) | Joe Burrow

Smut/18+, Fluff, Slight Angst

Summary: you and Joe are learning to juggle your pregnancy on top of the fast approaching football season, all while growing even closer than before, which neither of you thought was possible.

You’re bent over the toilet of the facility bathroom emptying to contents of your stomach. The nausea seemed to come in swinging. This is how you found yourself most mornings, and even throughout the day. The anti-nausea medicine prescribed to you barely ever seemed to work. Letting out a groan, you flushed the toilet and stood up.

It’d been two weeks since the confirmation of your pregnancy, and you learned from the ultra sound that you were about 3 months along. While you weren’t showing yet, the weight gain was starting to become obvious. Your jeans no longer fit you, so you opted for leggings most of the time. Your bra’s became too snug, so you had to get new ones. Most of all, you’d started wearing Joe’s bengals shirts to work to hide the weight gain. The two of you still hadn’t told anyone about the baby. You wanted to live in your own little bubble for a while. Joe agreed, knowing it would cause less stress for you if you hadn’t told anyone yet.

You washed your hands and walked out of the bathroom. You stopped by your office to grab your laptop, and made your way toward the practice field. Practice wasn’t open to the public today so you opted to work outside. You needed some fresh air anyway. You took a seat on a slightly shaded part of grass, and started to respond to emails regarding brand deals and events that Joe would need to go to. Setting up interviews and juggling everything around his football schedule. You also had to plan doctors appointments around both of your schedules, because he said he refuses to miss a single one.

You hear a whistle blow, and look up just in time to see Joe hoping on one foot, out of the way of the play and taking a seat on the ground, with his brow furrowed in pain. Your heart drops to your stomach. You set your laptop aside, and watch as Coach Taylor walks over to Joe. You don’t dare walk over there because Joe would throw a fit if someone even accidentally bumped you.

“Fuck,” you mutter as Joe gets carted off the field. You gather your things and quickly make your way back into the facility. You find Joe in one of the medical rooms sitting on the table, he’s by himself so you slip into the room. “Hey, what happened?”

“Strained my damn calf.” he spits, and you wince. “Sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come out so harsh” he apologizes. “Zac dismissed me for the day. I’m just trying to find the motivation to get up and take a shower before we head out. Hurts like a bitch,” he admits, looking over at you. “Do you need help?” You ask and he shakes his head.

“No, I should be okay. I don’t think I can drive though”

“Well it’s a good thing we came together then. You’ll just have to trust me to drive your baby” you joke, and he jokingly rolls his eyes. “If I can trust you to carry my baby then I guess I can trust you to drive my third baby” he jokes, and you grow confused. “Third?”

“Well, there’s you, our baby, and my Porsche” he explains, and your heart melts. “Let’s get outta here,” he says before you can say anything, slowly getting on his feet.

•••

“Thanks, baby” Joe says as you set a plate of food in front of him while he sits on the couch with his leg elevated. You smiled at him in return before taking a seat next to him. You look over at him while he eats, and you can’t shake the thought from your head. “Joey,” you say, catching his attention. “Can we talk…about us?”

He sets his plate aside and looks over at you, not being able to move much due to his calf. “What about us?” He asks softly. You let out a sigh. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just wondering where everything leaves us. You know, with the baby and all. I’m 100% okay if you don’t feel the same way, but I have to get this off of my chest” you tell him, taking a deep breath. He bites the inside of his cheek, stopping a smile from forming. He knows exactly where this is going.

“I’ve liked you for a really long time. Which is why I let our situation go on for such a long time. I craved that touch from you. I craved literally anything from you. I guess what I’m trying to say is, this baby made me realize that I don’t want to be without you. Ever. I love you, Joey, and you don’t have to say back. I just needed you to know-“

He cuts you off by pulling you in for a kiss. The kiss was slow, not rushed. Soft and full of love. It felt like fireworks were bursting in your chest. You pulled away and stared into his eyes, a look of adoration evident in the ocean blue irises that you loved so much.

“I love you, so so much” Joe mutters. “You and our baby”

“So what does this mean for us?” You ask quietly, with a hint of hope in your voice. “It means you’ve always been my girl, but now it’s official” he smirks, pulling you to straddle his waist. “Joey, I don’t wanna hurt you!” You shriek, trying to get off of his lap. “It’s my calf not my thighs. You’re perfectly fine, baby” he assures you, before smashing his lips onto yours.

This kiss was feverish and full of desire. The raw passion made the room around you feel warm. Joe’s hands settle on your ass, grinding you down on his growing erection inside his sweats. He groans into the kiss as he repeats his action. Your hands slide down his clothed chest, moving slowly toward the bottom of his hoodie. You slide your hands under his hoodie and his shirt, moving it up and he help you take it off. His hands grip the bottom of your shirt and pull it over your head, you weren’t wearing a bra, do your boobs sprung in his face.

His mouth attaches to one of your sensitive nipples and you let out a sharp gasp. “Please be gentle, they’re sore right now” you tell him breathlessly. “I got you baby, I’ll take care of you” Joe says, his tongue slowly circling your left nipple. You tip your head back as you let out a soft moan. He gently sucks it into his mouth before letting it go with a pop, moving to the other side.

“Fuck, Joey” you whine, grinding yourself into his lap. “You like this gorgeous? Fuck, your tits are huge now. They’re so beautiful” he groans, softly kneading them in his large hands. You lean in capturing his lips again. His hands push your cotton shorts over the curve of your ass, slapping it as he does so, causing you to gasp.

“Take these off,” he says, helping you stand to remove your shorts. He removes his sweats as well. Both of you completely bare, not like you haven’t been before. You straddle his waist again, his hard cock rubbing perfectly against your swollen bud. You whine, grinding down. “I’m gonna take care of you, baby, don’t you worry” he whispers in your ear, his voice laced with lust. His hand moves between your thighs, groaning when he feels how wet you are for him. You whine as he gathers your wetness and his fingers start to circle your clit.

Your nipples rubbing against his chest made the pleasure feel almost overwhelming. His lips are back on yours while his fingers work you. Your moans and whines are caught in his mouth. He pulls away, his lips finding your chest again, you throw your head back. “Fuck Joey!” You whine loudly. “Fuuuckk” you moan out, and he smirks against your chest. You let out a sharp gasp when his fingers move from your clit to your sopping entrance, and he inserts two fingers.

“Fuck you’re so wet for me,” Joe groans. “Baby, I’m gonna cum” you whine out and his fingers move faster. “Cum for me baby. Cum all over my hand”

Your breathless moans sound throughout the living room, your head tipped back as you fall apart from just his talented fingers. You lean forward and rest your sweaty forehead on his shoulder. “You think you can ride me, baby?” Joe mutters into your ear, nipping at your earlobe. You nod and pull back to position yourself above him. Sinking down slowly, you feel every inch. Every vein. Your eyes are shut and mouth formed into a perfect “O” shape. Joe lets out a groan as you’re fully seated. He gives you a minute to adjust to his size.

You feel so full. You haven’t felt this in almost a month due to the two of you being so busy. You start to move back and fourth, a soft moan slipping past your lips. Joe’s large hands find your waist to help guide you. You let out a laid moan as he lips your hips and slams you back down. “Oh my god!”

“Yeah, you like that baby?”

You let out a loud moan in response. His hands basically doing all of the work. The pace is merciless. His cock hitting all the right places. “Fuck, daddy, right there!” You yell out, without realizing what had slipped, but Joe fucking loved it. “Say it again.” He orders, moving you faster. “Fuck, daddy!” You gasp out. You can feel the knot tightening in your belly. Joe can feel the way you’re squeezing him, and he knows you’re close.

“You gonna cum baby? Cum all over this dick”

You let out a loud, high pitched whine. “I’m gonna fill you up. You’re gonna look so sexy all big and pregnant with my baby. Fuuckkk” Joe groans, tipping his head back. You yell out as you come apart, his hands holding you in place. Both of your chests heaving. You lean forward and lay your head on his shoulder and slowly lift yourself off of him, both of you hissing.

“That was hot,” you comment breathlessly.

“So hot.” Joe agrees. “You good?” He asks and you lift your head to make eye contact. “So good.”

“But I am a little hungry.” You comment sheepishly, and Joe lets out a loud laugh. “Alright. Let’s go shower and then get you and baby some food”

•••

The next day at work was a busy one. The first pre season game was in just 3 days. You and other players assistants were running around like chickens with their heads cut off trying to prepare everything for the guys. You more than most since you literally work for the quarterback. You felt like you hadn’t had a chance to stop and take a breath.

Finally you were able to retreat to your office for lunch. Gabby already sitting at her desk, smiled at you tiredly as you walked in. “Hey girlie” she says, and you smile at her. “Hey. Heard your load was pretty big today” you comment and she groans. “Don’t remind me—oh my gosh! Y/N, you have blood on the back of your pants” Gabby says, letting out a gasp. You heart falls into your stomach. This isn’t happening.

“Oh my god!” Your eyes begin to fill with tears. “Hey, it’s okay. I have an extra pair of pants in my bag that you can borrow-“

“Gabby, I need you to go get Joe”

“Why would you need Joe for this?” She questions confused. “Gabby please. Just get Joe”

[nightmare-niko]

F*cked My Way Up To The Top [Father Charlie Mayhew x reader]

pt.1

Prompts: 2/6/8

Word count: 1457

Warnings: oral! fem receiving, dom! Ish reader— this ones actually kinda just cute lol

A/n: this one was requested but i changed one of the prompts a tiny bit to fit the scheme better! i hope yall still like it tho hehe :3 and also lets pretend that the whip cuts on his back aren't fresh !!! for Y/ns sheets sake...

Copying or translating my writing is not allowed. If you see my work on another site it is stolen. Reblogs are appreciated and encouraged.

The last time you visited Church, you forgot to leave your number. You were too busy trying to sneak out to your car with no one seeing the priest's cum running down your bare (but marked) legs. Charlie had offered for you to stay the night, but you'd rather die than do the walk of shame out of a church in the daylight. When you found out you had a rare three-day weekend you began your planning. It would be unfair for you to show up and cause chaos on a Sunday... again, which is why you chose to dress your best and show up to church on a Monday.

When you strolled into the church, Father Charlie was deep in a conversation with someone you honestly couldn't get less of a shit about. Taking a seat near the back, you watch as Charlie's eyes rake over your form. You shamelessly stare as he gets visibly more and more nervous under your hungry gaze. What power you had over him, it was pathetic on his part. You loved it. The minutes ticked by agonizingly as you watched him. Nothing about the look in his eyes told you he gave a single shit about the person before him. It was honestly extremely amusing.

It wasn't long before he was making his way over to you. "Y/N, I'm surprised to see you back." He slips into the space beside you. Your head reels as his cologne invades your senses.

"I was just so touched by last week's service I had to pay another visit.” You gesture down to your slightly more church-appropriate outfit, "I even dressed modestly.

He hums, eyes darting right to your stocking-covered thighs and pencil skirt, “Are we sure...”

You follow his eyes and flush, “It's not my fault it's cold in here..." You defend.

He laughs quietly, "That's true.” He pauses for a moment before leaning closer. "You think I don't know why you’re here?" His breath is hot against your face.

"You think I don't know you’re itching to get your hands on me?" You’re quick with your response, it shocks him. "You started fidgeting like a schoolboy the moment I walked in.”

You watch as the blood rushes to Charlie’s face, painting the tips of his ears pink. He clears his throat, "Well then, what's your plan?"

"Well, my car is parked out back. So, either we sneak out and go to mine...” you pause in faux contemplation, “or we could risk everyone in this church, hearing us fucking in your office.”

The man before you gasps, you fight to contain your amusement. You try to get up, but he stops you. “What if someone sees?"

"We've been friends since high school, Father. This whole town knows we know each other."

The worry in his brow doesn’t budge, you sigh- “Look, maybe this was a mistake, we can just forget—“ "No- No it—“ he cuts you off, “Well maybe it is but I don’t care. I will repent later, go wait and I'll be out in a few minutes.”

oh god not again

"I won't leave you for thirty minutes again, I promise,” He reassures.

•

You’re 100% sure you blacked out because now you were pulling into your driveway with Charlie in your passenger seat. “Aren’t I just such a gentleman?” You tease.

“Yeah? In what way?” His voice matches your playful tone.

"I drove you to my house before— ya know...” you put the car in park.

“No, I don't know, before what?"

"Before fucking your brains out." You shrug nonchalantly as you pull the key out of the ignition.

“Is that what I did? Fucked your brains out?"

"Yup!" You open your car door, stepping one foot out before turning back to him. "And that's what I'm gonna do to you so— c'mon!”

You skip towards your front door with Charlie right on your trail. It's been a while since you had a man in your house, your body vibrates with anticipation as you unlock your front door.

"You know, one of these days you should let me take you to lunch or something.”

"We'll See," You shrug, shrugging off your jacket. "Behave for me today and I'll let you do whatever you want.” You turn to him, pressing your chest against him, and his hands immediately find their place on your hips.

"I think I like the sound of that~" Charlie leans down, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss. You revel in the taste of his lips on yours. You didn't know what it was— but something about Charlie was so intoxicating. He was tall, much taller than you— and as your torso pressed against his, you realized he was hard in his slacks. "That's," he groans, pressing his visible bulge into your stomach, "that, darling, is what you do to me."

You hum and take him by the hand to lead him through your house and into your bedroom. He looked good-- When did he not look good? Wasting no time you bring Charlie's face back to yours for another searing kiss.

Charlie's hands greedily pull your neatly tucked blouse out from your skirt. You help him lift it over your head, the chill of the room sending goosebumps up your arms. You quickly pull your skirt and tights down, leaving you in just your white ruffle socks and underwear. Charlie quickly mirrors your actions, ridding himself of his shirt and pants quicker than you had expected— damn he was hot.

Your padded feet patter across the hardwood as you make your way onto your bed. You beckon Charlie over to you with your finger. His strong body towers over you as your back collides with the headboard behind you. His finger trails down the side of your neck, the marks he had left last week were mostly faded— that was no good. His lips greedily work to leave more love bites, you whine.

Raking your manicured nails down his toned chest, he groans against your skin, “fuck.” he sits up to get a better look at you under him, “Let me taste you, baby, please?”

You bring your foot up to his chest, pushing gently to get him on his back, "Beg. Maybe I'll consider." You seductively crawl over to him, sitting on his clothed cock. He revels from underneath you, his hands squeezing at your thighs and ass. You kiss all over his torso as he struggles to form a coherent thought— drunk on you.

“Please— Baby please, I need to taste you.” He slurs, “Sit on my face— suffocate me I don't care. I'll die a happy man.”

You giggle against his skin, nipping at him with your teeth playfully. “How did you know flattery works on me~”

“Lucky guess,” he chuckles.

Charlie desperately paws at you wordlessly pleading for you to end his suffering. You comply— removing your underwear. The moment your dripping cunt was close enough his lips were latched onto you. Kissing licking and biting at you like a starved man, he curses against you again.

The grip on your thighs is almost painful, you are certain he would leave crescent moons on them. You loved it. You rut against his nose as his tongue prods at your hole— you moan theatrically, folding over as the pleasure shoots through your whole body. Charlie sloppily laps at your folds until your legs begin to shake.

Your orgasm takes you by complete and utter surprise. Your vision goes white as Charlie licks up everything gratefully.

“fuck!” you pant, removing yourself from above him to slump onto your mattress. Charlie lay there panting— his face and chest kissed in a deep blush. Your eyes trail down his torso and to his boxers, the grey material soiled with a dark spot. You gasp, “did you?”

“yes,” he shamefully admits, hiding his face behind his arms

“Hey hey no it's okay!” you quickly reassure him. You try to pry his arms away from his face. “C'mon lemme see you, baby.”

“I’m embarrassed,” he mumbles.

You laugh lightly, kissing his arms in an attempt to lower his guard. “That was like the hottest thing I've ever experienced.”

“Really?” he peaks out at you.

“uh— are you kidding??” you exclaim, he fully puts down his arm and you leave a peck on his lips. “stay? Just for a little?”

He smiles tiredly, “You're gonna have a hard time getting me to leave.”

Tag list (If you want to be added just comment!)

@chmpgneprblem @qoopeeya @lilybellalana

@sleepysongbirdsings @magicalcowboyarbiter

@tadpoleteef @nicholasalexanderchavezdimes

[ennabear]

loser abby.. i beg and plead

ʕ ꈍᴥꈍʔ 100% projecting here again because i am VERY experienced in being a loser lesbian… heh… i think loser!abby is more awkward instead of shy (it’s actually canon) so i’m sorry if this gives you a little bit of secondhand embarrassment…. (i swear hope it’s not too bad)

loser!abby who you first meet in the stadium library. you’ve had your eyes on her for a while, sure, but she never talked to anyone. you’ve heard through the grapevine that apparently she was single, but for someone who looks that good? you didn’t buy it.

you try striking up a conversation with her, just some small talk, but she completely dodges all of your questions about her personal life. instead, she talks your ear off for about an hour about the stadium’s dogs.

it’s almost painful, the way you nod and smile like you know what she’s talking about. like the epic time when alice ripped a chunk out of this big guys bicep, or when bear did a backflip for the first time during training. she doesn’t even notice that you’ve stopped paying attention, completely ignores every flirtatious remark with a “thanks! you’re too sweet.”

she stands up and leaves, saying “anyways, i’d better check on manny. catch ya later!” you sit and stare off into space for a few minutes. what the hell was that? she won’t answer questions about her workout routines or patrol routes, but she’ll sit and jabber about fucking dogs? and “catch ya later”? who the fuck says that anymore?

loser!abby who you see later that night sitting at a cafeteria table laughing and chatting with her friends. her hair is down for once, wet and slightly darkened from her shower. she looks like a fucking goddess like this. she could have any girl in this whole base on their knees in a second, if only she’d act like it.

you take a seat next to her, deliberately running your hands over her heavily muscled biceps. “hi!” she lights up. “i was just thinking about you.” this almost flusters you. almost. but you know she didn’t mean it in a flirtatious way.

abby’s friends are actually super sweet. they fill you in on any inside jokes you haven’t picked up on yet, gossip about stadium drama, laugh at cheesy puns, etc.

you’re having a great time until abby tells one of her own jokes. she’s laughing so hard she can barely get the words out, and what she manages to say is stupid and nonsensical. you look around at everyone in the group to see if maybe you’re the only one who doesn’t get it, but they have the same confused-but-pleasantly-humored look on their faces.

a few more months of this awful one-sided craving continues. well, technically it’s two-sided, but abby never shows it. how were you supposed to know?

she does countless more things to embarrass herself in front of you. some less embarrassing than others, like when she spilled an entire ammo box full to the brim with 1,000 bullets. and some more embarrassing, like when she got so drunk that she couldn’t walk straight, and it took 5 people to pick her up and haul her squirming body back to bed. in front of you.

but it’s all so adorable to you. the sweet pink blush that spreads over her cheeks when she realizes that she just ruined the mood for everyone. or the nervous way she twiddles her thumbs before each patrol, fearing she’ll slip up and never come home.

loser!abby who is completely taken aback when you cut the shit and admit that you like her. it goes something like this…

“o…kay? i like you too, that’s why we’re friends.”

“no, cmon, abby. you know what i meant.”

“you like me? like that? i don’t understand why.”

“because! haven’t you noticed me flirting with you for the past eight months? you think it’s normal for me to tell you that i’m in love with you? do your other friends do that?”

“well, no. but i thought you were just being friendly. and don’t you think i’m kind of an idiot? why would you wanna be with a loser like me when you could find someone cooler?”

“i don’t want someone cooler, abby, i want you.” and you smash your lips against hers before she can respond. she doesn’t really know what to do, she just leans in and let’s you take the lead.

when you pull away, she’s beet red. her eyes are huge and— is that a tear? your heart swells at this, grabbing her tightly and pulling her into a bear hug.

“i like you, too.” she says. “what does this make us?”

you smile and place a small peck on the tip of her nose. “will you be my girlfriend? or is that too friendly for you…”

[stsgluver]

tags. gojo x reader, established relationship, fluff, non-sorcerer!au, you+gojo+geto+shoko all teens, slice of life

“move.” shoko tried to shove gojo off of the small bench in the photo booth, inadvertently almost pushing you off too as you sat perched on his lap. the blue eyed male gasped, his hold on your waist tightening as he shoved shoko back.

“don’t push me!”

you giggled at their bickering, geto rolling his eyes as he remained trapped between the wall and shoko's knee that was on the bench between him and gojo.

"this wasn’t designed for four people," geto pointed out the obvious. it barely had enough room for two so when the two boys had decided to crash what was meant to be a strip of photos of just you and shoko, it had been a struggle to even fit all four of you in.

it didn't help that two of you well exceeded six foot.

shoko scoffed as she pointed her thumb towards the curtain, "yeah gojo get out."

your boyfriend shook his head, dropping his chin down onto your shoulder as he whined like the child he was behaving as, "why me? baby defend me."

you patted the top of his head condescendingly, "i'm sorry but you're just too tall." whether it be his or shoko's lap, you knew you'd be comfortably in the photos.

gojo's head shot up and he pointed accusingly at geto who looked like he longed to be out of this tiny box that was way too hot. "he’s the same height."

"yeah but he’s not as annoying so he doesn’t take up as much space," shoko argued.

gojo threw up his hands at that, hurt by your betrayal and shoko, "that doesn’t even make sense!"

geto, having given up on there ever being a peaceful resolution between the two, paid the fee for the booth. he tapped shoko's arm (who was still standing awaiting gojo to move off the bench) and pointed towards the camera her back was covering. "the photos are about to start."

begrudgingly - and muttering several choice words at gojo - shoko settled on kneeling down on the metal floor. she held up a middle finger towards gojo who copied the action back towards her. you looped your arms around your boyfriend's neck, smiling towards the camera as the familiar shutter went off several times.

"that 100% only got my forehead," shoko complained and geto gestured for her to sit on his lap as you were on gojo's.

she agreed, quickly swapping positions. you'd dropped your arms from around gojo's neck so just before the camera went off, shoko leaned across, pulling you into a side hug as you both smiled for the camera.

geto had been alright and in view, laughing on the other side of shoko as she'd moved herself to specifically be in the way of gojo as an act of revenge for not giving up his seat.

"shoko ieiri!" gojo reached for her smoothed shoulder-length hair, messing it up by ruffling his large hand through it.

to no one's surprise, she did not take kindly to the offence and the next two photos went off with geto holding back shoko and gojo hiding behind you.

laughing, you quickly slipped off of gojo's lap and stepped out into the fresh air. there had been no screen to show you how the photos would come out, just a hope that you were all in the frame.

it took another ten seconds or so but two strips of the same four photos dropped down and you grabbed them without hesitation. shoko appeared on your right, peering over your shoulder as the two of you snickered at the awful photos.

the first one was the only one where all of your faces were visible; geto looked between shoko and gojo exasperatedly as they held up their middle fingers whilst you were smiling brightly. the second one had you, geto and shoko grinning whilst only gojo's forehead was visible along with his white hair that had been pushed back by his dark sunglasses.

the next two were a display of chaos - the first of the two had managed to capture shoko's less than pleased expression and gojo with his hand still messing up her hair. the second one then had geto's arms around shoko's middle whilst gojo used you as a human shield, trying to hide his large frame behind your much smaller one extremely unsuccessfully.

you slipped one into your bag and handed the other to geto who would probably put it up in his car behind the mirror.

shoko held her hand out towards gojo expectantly, "you're paying for me and yn to have another go."

[qqueenofhades]

I am FULLY ONBOARD the Harris/Waltz train, tho before this i was leaning towards Mark Kelly (AZ is a swing state! He's an ASTRONAUT!) If you want or have time, no pressure, but any thoughts on what makes Waltz a better pick?

I like Mark Kelly too, and since he's married to Gabby Giffords (having run for public office after she got shot and could no longer do so) he would have been an amazing pick in terms of supporting the first female POTUS. But he is a less charismatic public speaker than Walz (for whatever that's worth, but politics is a mess of Aesthetics and Vibes that matter as much and/or more than actual facts) and more moderate/conservative. He's been a great senator and picking him would defuse some of the BORDER IMMIGRATION BLAH BLAH!!! scaremongering that Republicans love to run on, but it would also leave open the possibility of losing a special election and other dangers with the Democratic senate that we really need to minimize. So Walz is a better choice for that alone, but also:

He really has serious progressive credentials as governor, even if he was a fairly mainstream Democrat (who flipped a rural red House district in Minnesota that Democrats have not been able to win again after he left) during his 12 years in the House. This is an INCOMPLETE LIST of what he was able to do in two years with a one-seat Democratic majority in Minnesota:

A Climate Action Plan that included:

Investing in energy infrastructure

100% carbon-free electricity by 2040 goal

Transition off of fossil fuels and onto clean energy resources

Building more electric vehicle charging stations

Providing funding to help workers acquire new skills through apprenticeship programs in clean energy fields

Direct state funding for transit

Money for rail

Tax credit for e-bikes

Permitting form to fast-track clean energy projects

And that was in addition to:

Codified abortion access in Minnesota

Guaranteed paid sick time and paid family and medical leave

Funded replacing ALL LEAD PIPES IN THE STATE

Free school breakfasts and lunches for all

Made public college free

Stronger labor protections

Drivers’ Licenses for All

Voting Rights Act to reverse recent court rulings that make voting harder, including restored voting rights to convicted felons

Banning medical debt from credit bureaus

The "Taylor Swift Bill" requiring all ticket "junk fees" be shown up front

Banning most "junk fees"

No book bans

Protection for tipped workers

Banned non-competes

Legalized recreational cannabis

Gun control, including increased penalties for straw purchases of firearms, expanded background checks and enacted red-flag laws, passing gun safety measures that the GOP has thwarted for years

Made MN a Trans Refuge State, and required health plans to cover “medically necessary gender-affirming care.”

Pay increase for Uber and Lyft drivers

Elimination of the so-called “gay panic defense”

A ban on “doxxing” election workers

A prohibition on “swatting” elected officials

In March, during the height of the Gaza/uncommitted primary protests against Biden, Walz said that young people should be listened to and they had a right to be speaking up and the situation in Gaza was horrible and intolerable, without directly slamming Biden or getting involved in the issue in a way to draw negative headlines. Regardless of what you think about any of it, that is a very deft way to handle it and pairs well with Kamala's better responsiveness on the Gaza issue overall. That was a big part of the reason why Gen Z/younger voters were very excited about Walz despite him being an "old" (actually the same age as Kamala but he has joked that teaching high school for 20 years will do that to a guy) white guy. If half the battle in politics is making the right pick to excite your core voters and reach out to new ones, then Harris nailed it. As I have said in earlier posts, there was just too much energy with young voters FINALLY checking in when Harris became the candidate, to risk introducing a big ideological split with Shapiro.

Aside from that: the most insufferable Smart White-Bro Political Pundits (TM) are big mad about Walz, many Never Trumper Republicans thought they were entitled to a "moderate" in exchange for oh-so-generously lending us their vote against Trump and not run the risk that we might end up with someone *gasp* progressive, and the regular MAGA Republicans are hysterical, which means they're terrified. It's also incredibly hard to paint Literal Midwestern Stereotype Dad (football coach, social studies high school teacher, military veteran, etc) as THE EVIL END OF AMERICA in the way they desperately want to do, though the fact that they're trying shows that they've got literally nothing. The fact that Kamala picked Walz against the PREVAILING WISDOM!!! that she had to take Shapiro (for whatever reason that might have been) is also a good sign, because by far the most genuine and extensive enthusiasm that I have seen from Democratic voters, especially those feeling burned out or disillusioned or angry with specific policy choices of the current administration, was for Walz. Having everyone excited for the pick beforehand, effectively using the "weird" line, and rallying behind the guy, only for her to actually go for him, is inspiring. It makes people feel like they're being heard and the Democrats have decided to win by being progressive, and not just endlessly Catering To The (Imaginary) Middle as they have always been told to do (and often done). That alone is MASSIVE.

Walz is tremendously funny, personable, has Democrats from AOC to Joe Manchin praising it (again, shocking), was right out the gate supporting Kamala, has already been majorly successful on TV, was by far the most progressive-on-policy picks of the VP finalists, is incredibly, hilariously wholesome and small-town Midwestern (he's the JD Vance that they wish JD Vance was), and is already sending ActBlue gangbusters with donations again. And when you're getting this kind of response on the Cursed Bird Hellsite, just:

Just. I don't know what's happening either. But let's enjoy it, and then work hard, because we gotta fucking do this and for possibly the first time this entire year, I really think we might. Heck yeah.

[levandright]

And oh, how I'd love to go Paris again

pairing : jake x f!reader ୨ৎ content / warning(s) : non-idol au, love at first sight, fluff, strangers to friends to lovers(not stated but heavily implied), tension, they're in love your honor, fate reference/mention, can be read as either hs or uni au its up to you ୨ৎ word count : 5.9k

synopsis. you're overwhelmed with your school finals close by, while you are taking a short break from your studying, you couldn't help but reminisce about your precious memories in the city of love when a song that reminds you of your time in paris play. ୨ৎ lev notes : the class trip may not be 100% accurate but its for the plot okay... i had to make it inspired by the 1975 cause i love them too much not to do so + it fits with how i literally have them as my top artist this year :3 (i started writing this days earlier before spotify wrapped lol) also i literally had paris on loop for like 7 hours in total while writing this... anyways hope y'all like this cause it took a lot of brain power to write it, trust i will post what the heart wants as soon as i finish a surprise fic im working on rn ꒰⠀for @sugarikiz event 'ʏᴏᴜʀ ℰ𝓎ℯ𝓈 ᴏɴʟʏ ☁︎.𖥔 ' ꒱

you're at your school's library, cramming for your upcoming finals. with a little over a week to prepare for months' worth of lessons across multiple subjects, the pressure is taking quite a toll on you. two cups of coffee sit beside your laptop, one already empty. even though you've been studying for less than 40 minutes, you already feel the urge to down all the caffeine left in front of you just to keep from dozing off again.

sigh, 'just gotta finish this whole powerpoint. then, i can finally relax for a bit' you silently hype yourself out. with the reward of a break for an hour of studying, you quickly go through the entire lesson in a flash.

grabbing the not empty cup of coffee, you take a much needed sip to keep yourself awake for more hours of studying.

a while later, you're stretching in your seat after having finished with that specific powerpoint. 'finally i can take a break' you think to yourself

as you sit, and stare at your laptop's screen. contimplating on what to do to pass time, you decide to play music to relax yourself.

clicking the shuffle button on your playlist. you put your headphones on and rest your head on your arms, as the familiar tune of paris by the 1975 play.

the music pulls you into a memory, that unforgettable class trip to paris.

꒰ and oh, how i'd love to go paris again ꒱

you’re on the bus, the city outside the window slowly coming to life. everyone in your class is chatting excitedly, pointing out landmarks and planning what to do when you finally get off. the eiffel tower is getting closer, its towering frame making your heart race with excitement.

“can you believe we’re actually here?” keeho says, leaning over to nudge your shoulder. his energy is infectious, and you can’t help but smile.

hyunjin, sitting across the aisle, snaps a quick photo through the window. “this already feels unreal,” he says, grinning. “i’m going to fill my camera roll today.”

the bus comes to a stop, and your teacher announces a short break to explore the area. the three of you quickly stick together as everyone spills out onto the cobblestone street. paris feels alive—the air smells like fresh bread and coffee, and the chatter of locals blends with the hum of passing cars.

“we need food. let’s find a café!” keeho declares, already marching toward a row of cozy-looking places with outdoor seating.

you follow, laughing as hyunjin drags you by the wrist to keep up. he’s scanning every building, taking quick snapshots of anything that catches his eye. “wait, stand here,” he says suddenly, pulling out his phone to snap a candid photo of you and keeho in front of a flower shop.

“are you going to take pictures the whole trip?” you tease.

“obviously,” hyunjin replies, unbothered. “someone has to document how good we look in paris.”

eventually, the three of you settle at a small café. the waiter brings over menus, and you all take a moment to soak it all in. keeho orders a slice of cake, hyunjin gets a croissant and coffee, and you decide on a simple baguette sandwich.

“okay, this is officially the best food i’ve ever had,” keeho says after his first bite.

“it’s just cake,” hyunjin says, rolling his eyes but stealing a forkful anyway.

you laugh as they bicker, feeling a warmth settle in your chest. sitting there with your best friends, surrounded by the magic of paris, everything feels perfect.

after finishing your meals, you and your friends head back to the bus to regroup with your class. the energy is buzzing as everyone talks about their plans for the rest of the day. your teacher announces that the next stop is a famous museum nearby.

the museum is grand, with high ceilings and beautiful architecture that makes you feel small in the best way. inside, it’s quieter, with your classmates dispersing into smaller groups.

hyunjin immediately pulls out his camera again. “this lighting is perfect,” he mutters, snapping a photo of a sculpture in the corner.

keeho rolls his eyes with a smirk. “he’s gonna be like this the whole time.”

“he’s consistent, at least,” you joke, earning a laugh from keeho as the two of you start wandering through the exhibits together.

the artwork is stunning—paintings that feel alive, sculptures that seem to breathe. you and keeho take your time strolling through the halls, sharing your thoughts on each piece.

“i don’t get this one,” keeho says, staring at an abstract painting.

“it’s open to interpretation,” you reply.

“so… the artist spilled paint everywhere?”

you nudge his arm. “be serious!”

keeho grins but then glances around. “hey, i’m gonna find the bathroom real quick. don’t get lost.”

“sure, sure,” you say, waving him off.

as he walks away, you wander aimlessly, letting your feet carry you through the museum’s winding halls. you stop to admire a large painting of a serene countryside when, out of nowhere, you bump into someone.

“oh, i’m so sorry!” you blurt out, taking a step back.

the stranger turns to you, and your words catch in your throat. he’s tall, with warm eyes and a gentle smile. his presence feels calm, yet somehow magnetic.

“no worries,” he says, his voice warm and calm, with a hint of an australian accent you catch right away. “are you okay?”

you nod quickly, feeling your cheeks heat up. “y-yeah, i wasn’t looking where i was going.”

he chuckles lightly, brushing it off. “happens to the best of us.”

he pauses for a moment, as if waiting to see if you’ll say anything else. you manage a small smile. “thanks for being so nice about it. i’m—uh…” before you can finish, keeho’s voice rings out from somewhere nearby.

“hey, y/n! where’d you go?”

the spell is broken, and you glance over your shoulder to see keeho waving at you. turning back to the stranger, you offer an apologetic smile. “that’s my friend. i should go.”

“of course,” he says, still smiling. “take care.”

you hurry off toward keeho, your heart still racing. as you rejoin your friends, you glance back briefly to see the stranger walking away. something about the moment lingers, a small spark you can’t quite explain.

after regrouping with keeho and hyunjin, the three of you continue exploring the museum. hyunjin has finally tucked his camera away, much to keeho’s relief.

“didn’t think i’d ever see the day you’d stop taking pictures,” keeho teases.

“i’m just saving space for later,” hyunjin retorts, grinning. “besides, i want to actually enjoy this.��

the three of you move through the museum, pausing at different exhibits. keeho offers more of his hilarious “critiques,” while hyunjin points out details you might’ve missed. for a while, it feels like time doesn’t exist, just the three of you soaking in the beauty of parisian art.

after some time, you excuse yourself to find the restroom. as you leave, keeho calls after you, “don’t get lost again!”

“i won’t!” you call back with a laugh, shaking your head.

once you step out of the restroom, you turn a corner and nearly bump into someone again.

“oh—sorry!” you start, looking up. and there he is.

the boy from earlier.

“you again,” he says with a warm smile, his eyes lighting up with recognition.

“yeah, me again,” you reply, feeling your face heat up.

“i guess we’re just destined to keep running into each other,” he jokes, his tone light and teasing.

you laugh softly. “seems like it. i never got your name earlier.”

“jake,” he says, extending his hand. “and you?”

“y/n,” you say, shaking his hand. his grip is gentle but firm, and you feel your heart skip a beat.

“nice to officially meet you, y/n,” jake says, his smile widening.

the two of you start chatting, the conversation flowing easily. he tells you he’s here with his own group, visiting from another school all the way from australia, and you share a little about your own trip. his voice is calm and steady, and his subtle humor keeps making you giggle.

at one point, he gestures toward a nearby painting. “what do you think of this one? please don’t say the artist spilled paint everywhere.”

you burst into laughter, shaking your head. “no, no, that’s keeho’s specialty. i actually think it’s kind of beautiful, in a chaotic way.”

“good answer,” jake says, grinning.

before you know it, the sound of footsteps and familiar voices echo down the hall. “y/n! where are you?” keeho calls, his voice unmistakable.

you glance in the direction of the sound, then back at jake, your smile faltering slightly. “that’s my friends. i should go.”

jake nods, his expression soft. “of course. it was nice talking to you, y/n.”

“you too, jake,” you say, stepping away reluctantly. as you walk toward your friends, you can’t help but glance back once. jake is still standing there, giving you a small wave.

you rejoin keeho and hyunjin, who immediately start teasing you for taking so long. but as the three of you continue exploring the museum, you can’t stop thinking about jake. and though you don’t say it out loud, you quietly hope that fate will bring you together again.

it’s been a day since the museum, but your thoughts keep circling back to jake. his kind smile, the way he made you laugh, and that unmistakable australian accent—it’s all stuck in your head.

after dinner with your classmates at the hotel, the buzz of chatter feels overwhelming. you decide to step outside for some fresh air, hoping a quiet walk will help clear your mind.

the streets of paris are calmer at this hour, bathed in a soft, golden glow from the streetlights. a small park just down the road catches your eye, and you wander toward it, settling onto a bench beneath a tree.

you sit there for a while, letting your thoughts drift. the cool breeze carries the faint scent of flowers, and the distant hum of city life feels oddly soothing.

suddenly, you feel someone sit down beside you. you glance over, and your heart skips a beat.

it’s him.

jake.

the boy you couldn’t stop thinking about.

he notices your surprise and gives you that same warm smile. “hey,” he says casually. “fancy seeing you here.”

you blink, struggling to process the coincidence. “jake? what are you doing here?”

“could ask you the same thing,” he says with a light chuckle, leaning back against the bench. “i was out for a walk, saw this park, and thought i’d sit for a bit. didn’t expect to run into you again.”

you laugh softly, shaking your head. “paris must be smaller than we think.”

“or fate has a funny way of working,” he says, his tone teasing but his eyes sincere.

the conversation flows naturally from there. he asks about your class trip, and you tell him about your visit to the museum and all the places your group plans to see next. he shares stories about his own class, laughing about his friends’ antics and the moments that make the trip memorable.

“you’re telling me someone actually fell asleep in front of the mona lisa?” you ask, barely holding back laughter.

“yup. full-on snoring,” jake replies, grinning. “the security guard didn’t know whether to wake him or leave him there.”

the two of you laugh together, the sound blending into the quiet of the park.

after a while, jake stands up. “wait here,” he says, his tone playful but mysterious.

“where are you going?” you ask, watching him walk toward a nearby food stand.

“you’ll see,” he calls back over his shoulder.

a few minutes later, he returns, holding two neatly wrapped chocolate crepes. he hands one to you with a grin. “figured this would make the moment even better.”

you take it, smiling at his thoughtfulness. “thanks, jake. this is perfect.”

as you both sit there, enjoying the crepes and chatting under the parisian sky, you can’t help but feel like this moment is something straight out of a dream.

the days in paris pass like a blur, filled with sightseeing, laughter, and the magic of simply being in the city. but the most unexpected highlight of your trip that osn’t on the schedule—is jake.

you can’t quite explain it, but somehow, you keep running into him. these little moments have become the thing you secretly look forward to the most.

────୨ৎ────

you’re standing at the counter of a small café, debating between ordering a croissant or a pain au chocolat. the decision feels monumental, and you’re entirely lost in thought when a voice interrupts you.

“go for the pain au chocolat,” jake says, appearing beside you with an easy smile.

you blink, startled at first, before breaking into a grin. “jake? what are you doing here?”

“getting breakfast,” he says, holding up a cup of coffee and a bag. “didn’t think i’d see you again so soon.”

“neither did i,” you reply, chuckling. “are you always this lucky, or is paris just this small?”

“maybe both,” he teases. “need help deciding?”

“i was leaning toward the croissant, but now i feel like i have to trust your judgment.”

“always trust the chocolate,” he says, nodding sagely.

you laugh and order the pain au chocolat. as you wait, the two of you chat, his humor making the simple café feel like the best spot in paris.

────୨ৎ────

a couple of days later, you’re wandering through a mall with keeho and hyunjin, trying to find souvenirs to take back home. keeho is busy debating between two scarves for his mom, and hyunjin is glued to his phone, looking up recommendations.

you drift toward a small kiosk filled with handmade trinkets, running your fingers over delicate keychains.

“don’t tell me you’re buying one of those cheesy eiffel tower keychains,” a familiar voice says behind you.

you spin around, your heart skipping a beat. “jake!”

he’s holding a bag of his own, filled with souvenirs. “fancy meeting you here.”

“again,” you add with a laugh.

keeho spots jake and gives you a knowing look, while hyunjin just raises an eyebrow before wandering off. you try to ignore them and focus on jake instead.

“what’s in the bag?” you ask, nodding toward his purchases.

“just some stuff for my family,” he says. “and maybe a keychain or two.”

you laugh. “i thought you were against cheesy keychains.”

“only when other people buy them,” he says, his grin mischievous.

────୨ৎ────

the park has become your little escape, a quiet place to think and reflect. you’re sitting on the same bench as before, lost in thought, when you hear footsteps approach.

“do you have a permanent spot here, or are you waiting for me?” jake’s voice breaks through your daydream.

you turn, smiling as he sits down beside you. “maybe both.”

“lucky me, then,” he says, leaning back and looking up at the sky. “so, what’s on your mind today?”

you hesitate for a moment, then decide to be honest. “just… thinking about how much i’ve enjoyed this trip. and how strange it’ll feel to leave.”

jake nods, his expression softening. “yeah, i get that. it’s been a lot, hasn’t it?”

“yeah,” you say quietly, and for a moment, the two of you sit in comfortable silence.

that evening. your teacher gathers the entire class in the lobby of the hotel to deliver the news.

“you’ve got two days left to enjoy paris before we head back home,” she says. “make sure you start packing your things and grab any last-minute souvenirs.”

the room fills with murmurs of excitement and relief. most of your classmates are thrilled to return to canada, and part of you is, too. but as you head back to your room, a bittersweet feeling settles in your chest.

two more days. that’s all the time you have left before you have to say goodbye to jake.

you don’t know why the thought stings so much, but it does. and now, more than ever, you hope for one more chance to see him.

────୨ৎ────

the second-to-last day in paris feels like a blur of excitement and nostalgia. you, keeho, and hyunjin make it a mission to visit as many places as possible, squeezing every last drop out of your remaining time in the city.

as the three of you step into the vintage store, you're greeted by the faint smell of aged leather and a mix of retro music playing softly in the background. the shop is packed with everything from old records to racks of vintage clothes and shelves lined with random knick-knacks.

“okay,” keeho announces, clapping his hands together. “this is the place to find hidden gems.”

hyunjin raises an eyebrow. “hidden gems or overpriced junk?”

“you just don’t have the vision,” keeho shoots back, already digging through a rack of jackets.

you wander toward a glass display case near the counter, something catching your eye—a vintage digicam. it’s small, sleek, and looks like it’s been well cared for. you kneel to get a closer look, curiosity piqued.

“hey, what’d you find?” keeho asks, appearing beside you with a leopard-print scarf draped around his neck.

you point to the camera. “a digicam. looks pretty cool, doesn’t it?”

keeho leans in, inspecting it. “very cool. are you gonna get it?”

you hesitate. “i don’t know… do you think it still works?”

“only one way to find out,” hyunjin says, suddenly appearing on your other side. he gestures to the shop owner, a kind-looking older man, who unlocks the case and hands you the camera.

you examine it closely, turning it over in your hands. the lens looks clean, and the buttons feel intact.

“how much?” you ask the shop owner.

“twenty euros,” he replies with a smile.

keeho gasps dramatically. “a steal! you have to get it.”

“yeah, before someone else does,” hyunjin agrees, casually flipping through a rack of shirts.

you laugh at their enthusiasm and decide to go for it. “alright, fine. i’m buying it.”

as you hand over the cash, keeho strikes another pose with the scarf. “what do you think? parisian chic, or should i stick to my usual?”

“stick to your usual,” hyunjin says without looking up.

keeho sighs, draping the scarf back onto the rack. “you two have no appreciation for drama.”

you test out the digicam, snapping a quick photo of keeho mid-pout. the image pops up on the tiny screen, surprisingly crisp for something so old.

“perfect,” you say, showing him the photo.

keeho grins. “okay, maybe you do have an eye for the dramatic.”

hyunjin wanders over with an oversized sweater, holding it up against himself. “thoughts?”

keeho wrinkles his nose. “are you auditioning for a grandpa role?”

“i like it,” you say, defending hyunjin’s choice.

“thank you,” hyunjin replies, smugly tossing the sweater over his arm.

the three of you spend a bit longer in the shop, goofing around and trying on random hats, sunglasses, and jackets. you snap more photos with your new camera—keeho wearing an old captain’s hat, hyunjin attempting to look cool in aviator sunglasses, and a candid shot of the two of them laughing together.

by the time you leave, the bag with your new camera swings lightly at your side, and your heart feels full. the memory of this moment—just you and your friends being unapologetically yourselves—already feels like a keepsake all its own.

at a small crêperie, hyunjin’s crêpe is covered in whipped cream and chocolate drizzle.

“how are you even holding that without it falling apart?” you ask, staring at the overloaded treat in wonder.

hyunjin shrugs. “skill,” he says simply before taking an enormous bite.

keeho watches in horror. “that’s going to end up all over your shirt, and i am not letting you borrow mine.”

“you sound like my mom,” hyunjin says through a mouthful of crêpe.

by the seine river, you take turns with the digicam, capturing moments that feel like they belong in a movie. keeho makes exaggerated poses on the bridge, while hyunjin tries (and fails) to look mysterious.

when it’s your turn to hold the camera, you take a candid shot of the two of them mid-laugh. it’s perfect—pure and genuine, a reminder of how much these moments mean to you.

“alright, photographer extraordinaire,” keeho says, pointing dramatically at the eiffel tower in the distance. “get my good side.”

“you don’t have one,” hyunjin jokes, earning a glare from keeho.

as the day winds down, you find yourself lingering outside the hotel while keeho and hyunjin head inside.

“we’ll be in the lobby if you need us,” keeho calls over his shoulder, giving you a knowing look.

once they’re gone, you make your way to the park. the same bench, the same tree, and this time, jake is already there, waiting.

he stands when he sees you, his smile soft but bright. “hey.”

“hey,” you reply, walking up to him. “beat me here this time, huh?”

“had a feeling you’d come,” he says, shrugging.

you sit down beside him, the quiet of the park wrapping around you like a blanket.

“you’ve been busy,” jake comments. “i saw you earlier near the seine with your friends. looked like fun.”

“it was,” you say, smiling at the memory. “trying to cram everything into one day, you know? time feels so short now.”

jake’s expression shifts, just slightly, and you know he understands what you mean.

“speaking of time…” you begin, hesitating. “we’re leaving tomorrow. my class is flying back home.”

jake nods slowly, his gaze dropping to his hands. “i figured it was coming. my group leaves the day after.”

there’s a pause, the kind that feels heavy but not uncomfortable.

“do you think we’ll meet again?” you ask softly, not daring to look at him.

“i hope we do,” he replies, his voice quiet but firm.

the weight of his words lingers between you, saying everything that neither of you can.

you pull out your digicam, breaking the tension with a small smile. “can i take some pictures? you know, to remember this?”

jake’s face brightens slightly. “of course.”

you snap a few shots—some posed, some candid. jake laughing at something you said, jake looking off into the distance, and finally, one of the two of you together, taken with his help.

as the night deepens, you know it’s time to go. you stand, reluctantly. “i should get back before my friends come looking for me.”

jake nods but doesn’t move. instead, he reaches out, gently taking your wrist.

“wait.”

you turn, surprised, as he pulls something from his jacket pocket—a pair of silver rings, simple and elegant.

“for you,” he says softly, slipping the smaller one onto your right hand’s ring finger. the fit is perfect.

your heart races, words failing you as he looks at you, his gaze full of unspoken meaning. then, he leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“goodbye, y/n,” he murmurs, stepping back.

it takes you a moment to find your voice. “goodbye, jake.”

as you walk back to the hotel, your mind replays the moment over and over, the cool metal of the ring on your finger grounding you in the surrealness of it all. that night, lying in bed, you can’t help but wonder if the universe will bring you and jake together again someday.

꒰ paris again, and again, and again, and again, and again ꒱

a tap on your shoulder pulls you out of your thoughts, and you lift your head groggily. you blink, trying to focus on the person standing in front of you. it’s keeho, grinning mischievously, while hyunjin stands behind him, sipping his americano with a slightly amused expression.

“y/n, what are you doing?” keeho asks, leaning in and waving his hand in front of your face.

you yawn, rubbing your eyes. “i’m taking a break. i can’t even keep my eyes open for more than a minute.”

hyunjin raises an eyebrow. “yeah, we can tell. you’re practically sleeping at your desk.” he leans against the back of your chair, his voice cool but teasing. “how about you stop pretending to study and actually join us for once?”

keeho’s grin widens as he jumps into the conversation. “we’re heading to a café to study, and you’re coming with us. you need a change of scenery.”

you groan, feeling your body resist the idea of leaving the comforting quiet of the library, but deep down, you know you’ve been at it for too long. a change of pace might be exactly what you need.

“come on, y/n,” keeho insists, his voice full of that playful energy you can’t ignore. “we’ll make it more fun. you can’t study like this. plus, you’ll probably get more done with us around.”

you hesitate for a moment, your mind torn between the need for a proper break and the looming pressure of your exams. still, you can’t deny how much you need a little distraction. “fine,” you sigh, finally giving in. “but if we end up just talking the entire time, i’m leaving.”

hyunjin chuckles, giving you a knowing look. “i think you’ll be okay. we’ll actually study this time. promise.”

keeho grabs your arm, pulling you up from your seat with a playful tug. “good, because you need us to keep you sane. now, let’s get out of here.”

as the three of you leave the library, you let out one last sigh, knowing that even though you might not get as much studying done as you hope, you could definitely use the company.

the café is warm and inviting, the soft hum of background chatter mixing with the aroma of fresh coffee and baked goods. it’s a stark contrast to the quiet, studious atmosphere of the library, and you find yourself breathing a little easier as you step inside.

you find a small corner table and set your laptop down, letting out a contented sigh as you settle in. keeho and hyunjin head to the counter to order, leaving you to fidget with your feet, trying to shake off the weight of the past few hours spent studying.

your eyes flicker to the window, watching people pass by as you idly tap your fingers against your coffee cup. eventually, you stop, catching sight of the ring on your right hand.

you pause, fingers tracing the smooth metal, your mind drifting back to paris. “it’s been three years since that time in paris,” you think to yourself, a wave of nostalgia washing over you. the memory feels distant now, like a dream you’re not quite sure was real.

you wonder if jake still remembers you, if he thinks about you at all. you’d been so wrapped up in the magic of those moments, so caught up in the fleeting connection between the two of you, that you’d completely forgotten to exchange socials, to keep in touch.

a soft laugh escapes you, tinged with frustration. you can still picture your past self—so carefree, so caught up in the magic of the moment, never once thinking about the things you should have done. and now, years later, it stings.

the photos you took back then are all you have left—memories frozen in time, but still, you find yourself wishing you had more. a way to bridge the gap between then and now, something more than a ring on your finger that’s become a quiet reminder of what you left behind.

a soft laugh from keeho breaks you from your thoughts, and you glance up to see him and hyunjin walking toward the table, their arms full of coffee cups and pastries. keeho places your cup down in front of you, his expression softening when he notices the faraway look in your eyes.

“you okay?” he asks, settling into his chair across from you.

you smile faintly. “yeah, just… thinking about paris.”

hyunjin raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push. he simply places a croissant in front of you and nods. “we’ll make it through these finals. paris will still be there when you’re done.”

you nod, but the bittersweet smile remains on your face, the question still lingering in the back of your mind. will you ever see jake again?

you manage to get some work done, but there’s plenty of laughter and light-hearted banter between you guys. hyunjin and keeho constantly bicker over the most ridiculous things—whether iced coffee is better than hot coffee, or if studying with background music is productive.

“you’re seriously telling me you don’t like the classics?” keeho says, shaking his head dramatically. “what kind of music do you even listen to, hyunjin?”

“i listen to music that doesn’t make my brain want to shut down,” hyunjin replies with a smirk, taking a sip from his americano. “but hey, if you need classical music to study, you do you.”

you laugh at their back-and-forth, shaking your head at their silly rivalry. the sound of their bickering is strangely comforting, distracting you from the pressure building up inside your mind. you feel a little lighter, even if it’s just for a moment.

after a while, you excuse yourself and head to the bathroom inside the café, needing a quick break from the endless cycle of notes and coffee. the place is busy, but the hum of quiet conversations and the scent of freshly brewed coffee make it feel comforting.

you take your time, refreshing yourself and letting your thoughts wander for a few moments. when you finally finish and head back out, you’re not paying attention to where you’re going, still lost in your thoughts.

and then—bam.

you collide with someone, the force making you stumble slightly. your reflexes kick in, and you immediately start bowing in apology, your words rushing out in a flurry of embarrassment.

“i’m so sorry! i didn’t mean—”

but before you can finish, you hear a familiar voice, soft and warm, with that unmistakable australian accent.

“y/n?”

you freeze, and the world seems to stop for a moment. you slowly lift your head, and there, standing in front of you, is none other than jake. in the flesh.

for a split second, all your words get caught in your throat. your heart races, and your brain scrambles to process the unexpected reunion. this can’t be real. is this a dream?

jake’s brows furrow slightly as he looks at you with concern, his voice softening. “are you okay?” he asks, stepping a little closer to you, clearly worried about your sudden silence.

you blink, feeling your heart thumping louder in your chest as you try to find your words, but they’re nowhere to be found. you stand there, staring at him, completely at a loss for what to say.

he leans in slightly, just enough to make sure you’re okay, his face showing that familiar concern. “y/n?” he gently says your name, and your body snaps back to reality.

“i—uh… sorry, i just—didn’t expect to see you.” you feel the heat rush to your cheeks, embarrassment flushing your face. "i thought… i thought i was imagining things."

jake chuckles softly, his expression softening with a smile that makes your heart flutter. “i didn’t expect to run into you here either.” his tone is light, playful, but there’s something in his eyes—something that makes the air feel a little thicker.

you both stand there for a moment, awkward silence hanging between you. the familiarity of this moment feels surreal, but there’s no denying the warmth that spreads through you at the sight of him.

“so, uh,” you start, finally finding your voice, “what are you doing here? i didn’t expect to run into you… again.”

jake’s lips curl into that familiar, soft smile. he shrugs nonchalantly, but there’s a glint in his eyes, something unspoken. “guess it’s just fate.” he says, his tone playful but there’s a layer of sincerity underneath it, one you can’t quite ignore.

you chuckle lightly, but the tension between you both is palpable now, thickening the air around you. there’s an undeniable pull between you, something that neither of you have fully acknowledged, but it’s there, lingering in the space between your words. you feel the heat of his gaze, and the sudden awareness of how close you both are makes your heart beat just a little faster.

“so… how’ve you been?” you ask, needing to break the moment but also curious, wanting to know everything about him since that last time you saw him.

jake rubs the back of his neck with a small, shy smile, a gesture you remember well. “i’ve been good… just been busy, you know. but i’ve been thinking about our time in paris a lot.” his voice is casual, but his eyes hold something deeper, a hint of vulnerability that you weren’t expecting.

you nod, understanding exactly what he means. you’ve been thinking about paris too. every memory feels like a treasure, something you’ve carefully tucked away, not wanting to forget any part of it. you wish you had more time to ask him about the things he’s been up to, to know if he’s felt the same pull that you have, the connection that neither of you can explain.

you glance down at your hand absentmindedly, and that’s when you see it—the ring he gave you in the park, so simple yet so meaningful. the silver band glints in the soft café lighting, and your heart does a little flip.

jake notices too, his gaze dropping to your hand. his smile softens, almost imperceptibly, but you notice it. there’s a quiet understanding between you two that you don’t need to speak aloud.

“i see you’re still wearing it,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost tender.

you look up at him, meeting his eyes, and for a moment, everything else fades away. you feel like you’re back in paris, standing in that park, with everything still ahead of you, full of hope and possibility.

“i didn’t want to take it off,” you say quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

jake doesn’t say anything at first, his eyes locked on yours. then, without warning, he reaches out slowly, his fingers brushing lightly over your hand, and he gently presses a kiss to your right hand, right where the ring rests. the simple gesture feels like it speaks volumes, and you can’t help but feel a surge of warmth spread through you.

“i’m glad,” he says softly, his voice just above a murmur. “i’m glad you kept it.”

for a moment, neither of you speaks. the world feels like it’s holding its breath. the space between you feels charged, but neither of you is in a rush to break the silence. it’s as if this moment, this small, quiet exchange, is enough.

you blink, still a little stunned by the gesture, your heart racing, but a smile tugs at the corners of your lips. you can’t help but feel the warmth in your chest, the way his simple action makes you feel seen, valued, even though you never really said all the things you wanted to say.

when you finally speak, your voice is soft but steady. “i didn’t think i’d see you again.”

jake takes a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. “i didn’t either, but i’m glad i did.”

enha perm taglist. @dazzlingjaeyun @honeychocos @manaah02 @kozumesphone

©levandright

[moonieandi]

snapshots pt. 6 | stanley pines x f!reader 

summary: the third year of your life “married” to stanley pines, particularly concerning staying

warnings (TW): swearing, alcohol consumption, nicotine use (gross! but perhaps…sexy?), illegal activities, piercings, gore, panic attack/panic-inducing situation, slight sexual themes

tags: fluff, affection, mutual-pining, miscommunication but like with body language?

notes: the end of an era rip stan’s mullet circa 1985 (according to me and me alone). also like i 100% believe Stan plays in the pool mmk, like def rough housing when yall go swimming i just didn’t wanna write it. But in the back of your mind okay- just know deep down that yall had fun

thanks again for the notes and the comments and the reblogs omg i love reading anything yall leave fr lol- ahhh thanks again <3

word count: 6.8k (yo what howd i manage this)

| masterlist | part vii |

February, 1985 

They had decided to go out that night, making excuses about missing the new year. 

They hadn’t noticed the clock ticking by from December into January, consumed with new wiring in the basement connected to the user panel for the portal. 

She had been ranting and raving again, like he had hated in the beginning of it all, but slowly began to crave in the end of it. He had begun to slowly understand those rants in the coming months too, thanks to her hurried chalkboard drawings of random continuous circuits. He closed his eyes now and could identify different AC and DC currents in the lines of the darkness in his dreams. 

Work would consume them at random, and he had begun to find her downstairs late into the night after having dragged her to bed. She’d creep out into the hallway, lingering in his bedroom doorway. Tucking blankets around his broad shoulders, only to find her way downstairs to the last remnants of Stanford. 

He saw his brother in her at every turn as of late, found his last visage in her shaking hands and deep-seated eyes. He’d tie her to the bed if he had to, no matter how the image shook something deep in him. She’d sleep tonight, and he knew of a way to do it. 

Distract her.

So he took her out to the bar singing to her about the new year that had already come and gone, dragged her up the stairs to change into something that wasn’t covered in oil and dirt, and got her out the door within an hour. 

She looked better now, her eyes less clouded and her smile more radiant than he’d seen in days. She had felt cold for months, and he believed it his own fault because he had pushed her away. 

He had had another dream, more vivid than the previous, and it had shocked him awake so fast in the dead of the night that he actually stumbled to her open doorway, making sure she was where he had left her in his dream. The dream where he had touched her where she had never actually allowed, where he had begged her for words and for more and she permitted it. Allowed him to creep into her bed and make her his, but it had been sickening this time, the sweetness he felt for her, and he woke believing it to be an absolution. He didn’t deserve to think of her like that, because she had never allowed it. So he would never allow it. 

That sickening ache he has felt refused to let up though. And it only twisted into something deeper when he thought of her, thought of her as his wife. The only allowance he had of her, in only words. 

The shake of his hands when he reaches for her now is hard to hide, as hard to hide as his racing heart from himself. His subconscious screamed something anxious when he looked at her now, screamed something of promise and something sickeningly sweet like adoration. 

He wouldn’t use the bigger more unexplainable word. She didn’t feel the same, he reasoned, so it couldn’t be that. 

So he ignored his heart, his shaking hands, and the ache in his chest. How his stomach twisted when she laughed and how he forgot about it all when he had a drink in his hand. 

He had been cold to her recently, and she had retraced all the steps in her mind on how it consequently was all her fault. All her fault that he pulled his hand from the back of the couch now, how he twisted weirdly in his car seat when she sang on the way home. How he wouldn’t look at her anymore, peering through her when she talked to him now across the kitchen table. 

It was all her fault, she reasoned, that he was no longer warm.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, it whispered dark things sometimes. Her lack of intelligence weighed on her. She wanted to prove she could do what they had both set out to do together. Wanted to prove she could bring his brother home, in hopes his warmth would return. So she had slaved away these past months, in hopes he could look at her again. 

But she had forgotten that for now, drink in her hand and eyes already blurry. Laughing at his usual gag of making fun of people around them, creating fake stories about passerbyers, and twisting tall tales about their mundane lives. He hadn’t dragged his eyes from her all night. 

She had interrupted their usual cadence, a sudden drunk contemplative look in her eyes. 

“Ya know.” She sloshed her drink around, the ice almost being the only thing left. “I still sometimes feel as young as I did when I first left home. When I left for college.” She hums, turning her eyes to him. “Do you ever feel like that?” 

“Ah sometimes.” He answers, finishing off his drink and looking to the bar to get them both another, straying his eyes from her for the first time in hours. “But then I remember how my back feels in the morning.” She laughs. 

“No! I mean like, do you feel just as stupid as you did when you were eighteen?” Taking her eyes off of him, a blush bloomed across her face. 

He feels stupid around her, mostly. But a different weird kind of stupid. So he agrees. “Ya, doll. I get what you mean.” 

“Hey…” she’s giggling now, a smirk creeping around the corners of her mouth. “You can still have my bed, Stan.” She said, referring to his stiff back courtesy of Sixer. 

His dream flashes behind his eyes again, of creeping into her bed at her insistence. How she had peeled the covers back and waved him into her. The swell of her hips and the quirk of her brow. He flees, suddenly feeling sober in the face of her. She didn’t mean it like that anyway. 

“How about another drink, hun?” She perks at that, at the name. But nods her head, moving her glass back to his waiting hand as he makes for the bar. 

Tonight had been good, more peaceful. And the most she’s been able to talk to him in a while without the abrupt interruption of guilt that came with living above his brother's graveyard now. Three years, each one more daunting than the last. That and the usual tirade of her self-conscious mind was dimmed in the wake of her numerous mixed drinks. 

But his company was distracting, was always distracting. So she fell into it with ease tonight. The easy cadence between them, his carefree affection he gave when he was hazy, even the rhythm of the music in the bar was enchanting tonight. She was drunk, she knew that for sure. It made her lips loose and her shoes shuffle weird. 

She wanted to dance, to move across the floor. But she only wanted to if he followed in her shadow. Something she usually wouldn’t ask of him, but the drink had absolved her of her usual anxieties. It made the aching heartfelt feelings for him intensified, the thought of him so close to her. She liked that, that feeling. Craved it most days now, especially in his continued absence. 

He came back to her, bar lights lit the back of his head much like they had when she first laid eyes on him that December day more than three years ago. He had a rugged handsomeness to him, sporting new short hair. Something she had teased him about, fake crying at the loss of his long grown-out mullet. She didn’t linger on the feeling of having missed out on running her fingers through his long tousled curls. 

He was his usual charming self, achingly so. His smirk lit his face as he passed back over her drink to her, but she reached across for it in his haste to give it to her. Meeting him on the rim of the cup as her fingers curled around his big ones. 

“Staaannnnnnnn!” She said, a smile blooming across her face. “We should dance!” Perking up in her seat, twisting her fingers around his own. Tracing her thumb across his large palm. 

He flushes like he always does when she touches him. He's much like her though, buzzed off the atmosphere and her presence. It isn’t completely out of the ordinary that he would say yes to anything she suggests, especially when she looks at him like that. 

Her smile tilted, they leave their new drinks behind. Something that normally would concern him if he didn’t know almost everyone in the room at the moment, having seen almost every local come through his tour in the following years. That and he had evenly glared at every man in town in passing, specifically when he was following in her wake. 

The lights in this part of the bar were different. Dimmer in this corner in particular, only lit up by the continuously changing old jukebox in the corner. The lights reflected off her face made him stumble forward. 

The song was nothing recognizable to him, but she seemed to enjoy the rhythm anyway. Twirling her hands up and unconsciously moving her hips. She laughed at his stiff posture, reaching for his hand and pulling him into her. 

“You gotta move Stan.” She had said between them. “Like this.” Picking up his arm, and curling it around her. 

She’d admit to herself later that she isn’t the best dancer, but she had dreamed of his touch for months since he had pulled away this past October. And she was too much of a craven to do it sober. 

So she placed his hands on her waist without much thought, and she dug her hands into his broad shoulders- just because it felt right. He hadn’t hugged her for a while, the memory of their first embrace, down in the basement rang around her head. He had hummed a certain way that day, her ear in the junction of his shoulder as he tried to soothe her for the first time. 

She would be the death of him. He had swore it up and down. The way she looked in the changing jukebox light was riveting, made him stutter over words, and made his hands wander. She was warm and laughing against him, the song drowned out by the entirety of her. 

Suddenly the song shifts, and her smile gets impossibly brighter. She swings out of his embrace, still holding onto his large hand. Moving with the beat of a familiar song. 

She’s utterly hypnotizing like this, the beat of the song drowning out the sound of his racing heart. He couldn’t tell if it was the song that convinced him of this or her, but she captures a small part of his mind as she drags him around giggling on the dance floor. He doesn’t care much for what his limbs do anymore, pulling her back to his chest and letting her muffle her laughter into his shoulder again. He finds himself laughing with her, eyes drifting up and down her form in his arms now. 

She revels in the proximity. She had longed for his warmth in the past months, aching to have him look at her like he is right now. He was finally looking at her, not through her. It didn’t feel like the normal disjointed affections tonight, he felt whole against her for the first time in months. And she couldn’t help but laugh at how much she pitied her past self for having thought she had to beg for his presence. He gave his attention readily tonight, and it was a balm on her anxious mind and made her drowsy in comfort. 

The song came to an end, but his hold did not waver. His hand reaching from her back to her loose hair, moving it away from her flushed exerted face to see the crook of her smile. Her eyes drooping now, her heart steady against his own. 

“Ready to go, doll?” 

She nods, but stops, dizzy at the movement, and giggles to herself. Burrowing into the palm that rests near her face now. She points to the back of the bar, in the far corner. 

“Restroom, doll?” 

She nods pulling away from his warmth and his palm. She would be back. 

“Mmmk, I’m gonna close the tab and I’ll meet you outside alright?” 

She nods again, moving to the much-needed restroom. He wanted to go outside, she figured so he could have a smoke. Something she had chastised in the very beginning all those years ago, but he had a good habit of at least wondering outside to do it on the porch. Sometimes she would follow him out when they were holding those kind of conversations that would follow you from room to room. It had made her stop and stare that first time, finding the way the smoke curled and left his mouth to be captivating. The way he would talk around it, cigarette resting in the corner of his mouth. Something so life-altering shouldn't be alluring, but he had a habit of doing that to her. 

She makes her way back out of the bathroom, their booth empty except for his winter jacket he had left behind for her. Their drinks were long gone and cleared from the table despite them never having touched them. He didn’t even give her shit about not finishing a drink tonight. 

She slips his big red coat on, running her hands along the corner patch like she always does. The coat smells more like him in the colder months for some reason.

She turns back to the bar, an older woman waving her over and vying for her attention. She swears she has seen her before, her red hair catching in the barlight. Probably in the giftshop at some point, looking for cheap merchandise for the holidays to give to family. 

“You both are just so cute!” The older woman remarks as she gets closer to her, her smile inviting.

“Ah, why thank you.” She smiles, thinking of Stan waiting for her outside.

“How long have you been married?” 

“Just had a two-year anniversary.” She hums, thinking about their usual December diner date that had come and gone. He hadn’t drawn with her that year, though. Something that had become a bit of a tradition between them both. 

It struck her then. That they hadn’t been acting much different in regards to the revelation they had just two years ago when she spilled that she had tied herself to him indefinitely. That they had never accommodated themselves to act more “married” for the sake of illusions. That everything they did had come naturally to them both. This woman in front of her proved it, they hadn’t acted any differently than they usually would have tonight.

For a split guilty second, she wonders if it’s a lie for Stanley if he's just that good of a conman and she’s too achingly sweet on him to notice it all. She shakes the visage off like a bad dream, remembering his glassy eyes that December day all those years ago when he had leaned into her side swearing up and down that he wasn’t any good for her. Stanley never lies about anything that could hurt her. He’d never hurt her. 

She sighs, but he's been so cold. Wrapping his red jacket around her, feeling the warmth and smelling the scent he had left behind in it. They’d be okay though, with time. 

“Basically newlyweds then, dear.” The nice older woman comments. The woman looks her up and down, a contemplative smile on her face. She knew she looked weary. “Bit of advice dear?” 

“Hmmm?” 

“Having you around is enough.” She hums. “Just gotta be there for him, stay close dear. Always stay.” The woman reached forward, wrapping her hand around her shoulder. 

Contemplative she nods at the woman, thanking her. Making her way outside and taking the statement to heart. Perhaps she didn’t need to overthink what was wanted and act on what was needed. He must need her, must need her close. She had thought to work herself to the bone to bring back his warmth, but maybe all that was needed was her constant. To be a constant for him. 

She thinks about the way he used to melt into her side on the couch, how he would lean into her palm on his cheek. How he had just reached for her, moments ago. Encasing her in his arms. She didn’t need to find words to soothe him. She never did. 

He was leaning on her passenger side door. A lit cigarette lighting his face. Handsome as all hell like that, his big hand dragging through his stubbly cheek. Dark eyes followed her from the door to the car. Wouldn’t be hard to be a constant for a man like that. And he stole all her words anyway, looking like that. 

He nods, bending to open her door with a quick flourish of his hand, dramatically bowing to her as she ducks into the passenger seat, giggling at his antics. 

He follows suit, bending and folding into the drivers side. Cranking his window down so the cigarette smoke wouldn’t linger in the car. 

His legs bent and parted, his hand nursing his smoke. She moves to him almost unconsciously, still at a loss for words in his simple presence. Thinking about what the older woman had said to her in the bar, jumbled up in her mind. Stay close, right?

She settles into the middle part of the long bench, reaching for the radio and ignoring his imploring gaze. 

“Hun?” He implores. “You gonna move?” 

She shakes her head, moving her eyes back to his again before straying her gaze to the cigarette stuck between his lips now. 

“No baby.” She slurs, giggling at him as she plucks his smoke from his mouth, moving it to hers. 

She had never called him that before, and it makes him need to readjust in his seat, suddenly hot in the cool February air. She’d be the death of him, he swears. Especially with her eyes tilted like that, and the way the smoke curls up around her face and hair. It’d be burnt into his mind for a while, this image of her. It’d be enough to sate him for months he figures. 

He does not correct her, nor make her move. Just reaches past her, buckling her securely into the middle spot without leaving her tilted gaze. His heart in his throat. His hands begin to shake again. 

That damn song rings out from the radio, pulling her eyes from his as she giggles at the contraption. The song's rhythm almost seems to match his heart, stuttering at her form folded into the middle of the front seat. The cigarette balanced in her mouth.

She leans over him, hand finding his chest as she reaches out the open window. Flicking their now shared cigarette into the winter snow. Her palm is warm on his chest, and she drags it to his shoulder as she returns to her seat in the middle of the long bench. A long searing path it leaves across him, she’s warm beside him in his fucking jacket. She’s gonna kill him. 

Something deep in him can’t reason with his stupid logic anymore though, not when she’s like this. So much more carefree than she’s been in months, and something rings around the back of his mind reminding him that it is his own goddamn fault that he can’t control himself. Never hers. Nothing really was ever her fault in his eyes. So if this is what she needed tonight, to feel some semblance like herself for the first time in months, then he wouldn’t flinch away from it. Because it’s all his fault anyway, that rotten part of himselfs fault. That bad part of him, that wanted her for more than this. He wanted to use her, he reasoned. That bad part of him wanted to use her, but she needed him like this. But she had allowed it, so he would do as she needed.

So he lets her curl up into his side in the car on the way home. His hand runs through her hair as she hums the lyrics to that goddamn song into his ear. It’s hypnotizing he thinks, but not the song no, it’s all her. She was that hypnotizing thing, and he had fallen back into her with an ease that would be embarrassing if he gave a shit tonight. But he only has one thing on his mind, and that’s getting her back home. She’d sleep well tonight, he thought. 

July, 1985

“Stan, why didn’t we think of this years ago?” 

“Why didn’t I think of this years ago you mean,” he hums, one arm hung out the open window of the car. “And it’s because I am stupid.” 

She scoffs, reaching across the middle of the front seat to shove his broad shoulder. He laughs, his head thrown back as she grumbles next to him. She hates when he says that shit. She had made a note on the fridge, etched out in her scrawling handwriting that the word “stupid” was forbidden in their house. Mainly because she had found it appalling how used to calling himself sstupid he was. He had joked, reaching for the note on the fridge on occasion. Tearing it down just to say the word, and laughing as she would chase him in and out of the living room to the kitchen. It wasn't allowed, he would joke, but only because it was on the fridge. She’d fume, making a new note, and hanging it up where the old one had resided. He just did it to get a reaction really, when she was annoyed at him it was adorable.

Which was why she was huffing in the passenger seat, and it only made it better when he pulled the note he had plucked off the fridge when they left, from the back pocket of his swimming trunks. 

“Stan!” She whined, reaching across to him again, unbuckling herself to get at him. 

“Ah Ah!” He waved the sign. “It doesn’t count!” Mocking her rule, and watching her squirm over to him to reach across his chest to grab at the sheet of paper she had remade for the fourth time not even a week ago. 

“Stop it!” She said, leaning over him now, her chest to his as she begged him. Was she pouting? 

He can smell her now, so he relents. Kind of all he wanted, he reasoned in his mind, that sickeningly aching part of him that is. 

“Okay okay!” He almost hands her back the sign, but quickly swipes it from her almost-grasp just to tease her. “But only if you get us some ice cream.” 

She hums, nodding along and reaching for the paper again. “Ah ah!” He protests. “You gotta say it.” 

“Yes, I will get us some ice cream, Stan.” She rolls her eyes, hands out and waiting. 

He gives it back, and she successfully puts it back into her beach bag to later hang it back up on the fridge. 

They had both become exhausted by the summer July heat. The AC window unit they had put up to alleviate some of the swelling heat only operated on the second floor of the house. They had been lying around, miserable together, when he had remembered that this tiny town actually had public accommodations in the form of a pool. She had jumped up from the living room ground in joy and had raced upstairs to change so fast he had barely finished explaining how he’d subsequently had forgotten about said pool. 

It was a smaller pool for sure, but this was a small town to begin with. They just needed to be in the water, stat. 

They made their way inside the enclosed pool, finding a seat by the poolside to share that day as the pool was obviously busy in the heat of July. He had grumbled about the lack of shade and trees, thinking about the usual sunburn he and Ford would get when on Glass Shard beach. 

She had found a spot though, setting her bag and towel down, and beginning to take off her shorts and shirt cover. 

He didn’t look, thinking the act to be too intimate to witness anyway. He sat on the edge of the seat, slipping off his shoes and beginning to take off his own shirt, his back to her. 

Of course, she was wearing a bikini. 

The color complimented her well, and although he couldn’t name details on the suit he’d have the image forever encapsulated in his mind. Especially her bent over like that, as she reached down to remove her shoes. 

She made her way in front of him and his slack jaw, her hands on her hips and her head tilted in question. 

“Are you coming?” 

“No.” He said automatically, sounding defensive. Rethinking, he shakes his head. “I mean, yes.” 

He moves his eyes down, noticing something catching the July sun on her swimsuit. No not her swimsuit, on her. 

He squints, reaching forward to grab at her hips, bringing her closer to him so he can see what he thinks he sees in the shade she now provides. 

“Is that… is that a piercing?” 

He had never seen her belly button before. Something that may have shaken a normal husband, but considering she wasn’t actually his he tried to reel in his subconscious insistence that he should have known about this. 

“Yes?” She says, laughing down at him. 

He removes a hand from her hip, moving to touch the belly button piercing himself. It was completely healed, not in any way brand new. Ignoring how soft her skin was, he looked back up at her. 

“When you get this doll?” 

She shrugs. “When I was in college. Someone dared me $50 I wouldn’t do it.” 

Fuck. He leans his head forward, unintentionally nestling into her soft stomach. She did it for money. 

She was almost too much, too good to be true. She fit into him like a puzzle piece sometimes, and he was still continuously amazed by her for some reason. 

Trying to tame some odd part of him he looks back up at her. She’s gorgeous, the sun framing her smiling face. She’s laughing at his reaction, a flush to her cheeks at his casual affection for her. 

She leans forward, putting her hands on his shoulders and tilting his head back. She moves to put her hand under his scruffy chin, asking him again if he was coming along into the pool with her. 

He nods, following in her wake. They eat their ice cream in shared amusement all the way home after a hectic day in the pool. 

*******, ****

“I can’t believe he had it this whole time.” He says, leaning back into the rolling chair stationed in the front of the portal's control panel. 

She hums, peering over his shoulder as he moves back and forth over controls. Flipping and turning things she nudges him in indication to move. The two journals rested on the workbench, the third picture they had taken from the third journal most recently, which had rather unsurprisingly been in the young boy’s possession. 

“You know Dipper. He’s too curious for his own good.” She hums, looking back over his broad shoulder to the portal beyond the protection glass. They had successfully gotten a reaction out of it just the following night, and it had shocked to life, throwing gravity off normal equilibrium for a few moments. She had taken that into consideration, floating around potential reasons for the anomaly in gravity and the correspondence to the potential space-time hole they had punched into their basement wall. 

He leans back in the chair, turning to look at her fully now. Weathered and handsome now, gray hair curling around his ears and his glasses. Just as whole and broad and goofy as he usually was. His wedding band glints on his finger as he reaches for her, a smile growing on his face. 

“You knew didn’t ya?” He says, laughing at it all. “You knew he’d find the stupid thing?” 

“I had an inkling that he may have found it.” She sighs, leaning forward, exhausted, as he runs his large hand up and down her back in a soothing motion. 

He huffs. She’s always one step ahead of everyone. Not that she would tell anyone but him, her husband. He found it amusing when everyone was surprised by her intelligence. It wasn’t a secret to him in the slightest, that she overthought and rewrote a hundred different ways to handle situations in her head. She was weirdly graceful like that, but subsequently also filled with an edge of constant anxiety. 

She had been anxious about the little things today, he could tell. She woke up earlier than normal today but hadn’t moved from his arms. Eyes open and staring at him endearingly in the early morning sun. Usually, it was the other way around. But she had been like that since the kids, really. 

She was also worried about the party, and the townsfolk visiting so close to an active portal. But she had quickly become distracted by making snacks for the celebration tonight, and coloring posters with the girl about their “karaoke family group”. Something with a stupid name he couldn’t remember, but something he figured she helped the girl come up with. 

“You’re too soft on him.” He says, pulling her closer to him, lifting his head to rest on her chest as she stands in front of him. Her brow twists, a contemplative frown on her face. The argument they’ve been having silently for the past few weeks arising once again between them. 

“No.” She sighs, running her hand over his scruffy warm cheek. “You’re too hard on him.” 

He hums. “You know why though.” 

She nods. “I know, dear.” 

Her hands fall to his shoulders, pulling him away from his usual place along the front of her. Pulling his scruffy chin up with the tip of her finger, all the while smiling at him. Tonight had been good, she thought. The kids were happy, and the girl was excited to entertain the town and her friends. The boy had been upset at the reprimand he had received earlier, but she doubted that really deterred him from his mission to uncover the oddities in that journal he carried around religiously now. He’d be over the reprimand by tomorrow, she figured. She worried he may get himself into trouble one day though. 

But her husband had been right in his assessment. Between the two of them, they had agreed there was too much Ford in the young boy than they could manage between the two of them. She was constantly worried about him, worried his curiosity may lead him to unexplainable and more dangerous situations than they could pull him out of him. But his twin, the girl, just as easily wrangled him in. The young girl was a balm on her conscious, constantly reminding her that being so young had been a true pleasure. She just hoped the girl could also remind her brother of this too. There was a lot of her husband in the young girl, she was just as charming. 

Stan was looking at her though, his typical flirtatious smirk on his face. It had been a good night. The portal whirled behind them both, and the music upstairs spoke of the fun the kids were having. She leaned into him, wanting to meet his lips halfway. 

An alarm blared throughout the basement. The security alarm breach that they had put on the upstairs shack door in case of burglary, but more for the warning in case the government came knocking. 

Their faces turn to the giftshop's security camera, the image of the boarded-up front door settling unevenly in her stomach. The kids. 

Something was bursting, punching in and rattling the front door. The children were moving furniture and chairs in front of the entrance. Speaking and screaming between themselves as they made a barricade. 

She runs, removing herself from his warmth. They both make for the elevator, hastily hitting the button to go up a story so they could go from the sub-basement to their actual basement. He was breathing heavily next to her, his large hand folded into her own smaller one. His hair a mess from pulling at it in anxiety. 

The stairs came to view in dim light, and she raced ahead without a thought. Taking the stairs two at a time as she dragged him up to the back of the vending machine that led to the stairwell. 

She let go of his hand, making to move the vending machine out of place to enter the gift shop. To get to the scrambling, scared kids. But it wouldn’t budge under the weight of what lay in front of it. What had amassed in front of the front entrance, they hadn’t caught a glimpse of. But she could smell it, the stench of rotten flesh and the mellowing bellow of the whining undead. Fear ripped through her, but she kept shoving because the fucking kids were in there. 

She yells at him, frightened as she advances her shoulders away and back into the door. Shoving her whole body to move the entrance. “Stanley!” She yells, anxiety running through her. 

But he’s already shoving too. Already has his arms flush to the door, digging his feet into the step for traction as he pushes his whole weight against it. He’s almost caged her in, dwarfing her in his effort to put his own momentum to the door too. His eyes frantic and his breathing hasty. The kids were all alone in there. 

Desperate, she beats her hands against the door, calling for the children in hopes they would seek them out in safety. “Mabel!” She gasps, fists bloody against the wood. “Mason!” 

He drags her back, taking her fists in his hands as he begs her to stop. He takes a lunging step back, pushing her against the stairwell railing. He shoves his whole body against the door, his broad shoulder first, and his suit ripped due to the movement and the force. His own hands and fists bloody from the abrasive door and his haste to get to the twins. 

The door breaks under his weight, and he uses the leverage of the new material to work against the amount of dead bodies that had amassed in front of the vending machine. She follows him out, not thinking twice about the undead surrounding them. Her heart in her throat, her hand wrapped around his bicep as he reached for the bat they kept near the entrance to the Mystery Shack from their home. She screams their names again, clawing to get through the crowd of undead.

“Babies!” 

She gasps, spotting them in the sea of bodies. The young girl's sweater ripped and torn under the hands of all the undead. The boy’s hat missing, his usual jacket she had tucked over his shoulders that morning also torn to shreds, covered in inky black blood. Their eye’s lifeless. 

Stanley turns to her, his eyes hasty and clouded, and his breaths loud. He looks down at her, his shoulders shaking from pent-up tears. His hands meet the sides of her face, and he chokes out something that could be a question. 

“Honey?” 

“Honey!” 

He leaned over her, his hands still on the sides of her damp face.  

He had rushed from Stanford’s room to her open doorway. The cool October air leaking in from his open window, leading him to her room. She had called for him, called for Stanley, and it had shaken him awake so suddenly he had tripped in the hallway to make it to her side. 

She had been dead asleep, and sweating heavily despite the crisp air. Curled into her multiple blankets and tucked into a sweatshirt he had sworn he had misplaced, but she had laughed at in secret. Tucking away the sweatshirt that held his imprint to wear to bed and fold herself into. 

It was drenched now, and her eyes were blurry when she woke to his call. She was breathing erratically, heart stuttering in her chest and mouth dry from her calls. Her eyes searched his for what felt like hours, as he reassured her that it had all been a dream. 

“Hun? Hun, it was a dream. It was just a dream.” He reasoned, his large hands running through her tangled messy hair. Finding their way to the back of her neck so he could hold the entirety of her upper half in his palms. Breathing easy in her presence to show her how to slow her heart. 

She didn’t say anything until he moved from her, beginning to reach around to her dresser to pull out a new shirt for her to wear. 

“No.” She mumbled. “No.” 

“I ain’t leaving, just getting you something new hun.” He reassures but doesn’t let his hand leave hers as he steps towards the dresser in her small room. Pulling open the top drawer, as she sat up in bed behind him. His hand still clutched in hers. Her eyes were still far away, searching dark corners of the room for children. 

He turns back to her, handing her another one of his large shirts. She had all but stolen his wardrobe in the past three years. Sometimes he would wander to her dresser to find some of his clothes that had made a home in her dresser. Something he wishes he could have done himself, by choice. Put his clothes next to hers. 

She takes the shirt, releasing his hand to undress herself from the sweatshirt. He turns around, thinking to step back through the doorway to go back to Stanford’s bed. 

“No.” She says again, pulling at his own loose shirt, stopping him in his move. So he stops, back still turned as he listens to her change. She tugs the end of his shirt again, and he turns to look at her in the dark room. 

She pulls his forearm, her small hand grasping at his large arm as she tries to strongarm him closer. He moves to her, sitting on the edge of her bed, searching her far-away eyes for something. She brings his large palm to her face, resting her now cooling cheek in his grasp. 

“Stay.” She commands. 

He would do anything she asked. He had been so rattled by the call of his name, the rip of her voice, how scared she sounded. He doubted he’d leave her side for a while, until she asked him to go. Then he would leave again. So he crawls into bed with her, shuffling her to the other side, to the wall. He takes the side she used to reside in, her warmth leaking into him. The imprint she left behind encased him. He’s closest to the door, reasoning in his mind that the dark shadows of the hallway would just frighten her more. 

She shuffles over, still sitting up as she rearranges blankets up to his shoulders, tucking him in, in an odd way. He doesn’t say anything but chuckles at the sentiment. She then lays next to him, facing him in the middle. Her blankets shuffled up to her own shoulders. 

She sighs deeply, soothed by his presence after waking up in shock. It had been so real. Like she couldn’t tell the difference between them, between wakefulness and dream state. Like she had dipped her toes into another reality entirely. 

Her heart races again, and she reaches for his hand, bringing it back to her face. His heavy presence was a balm on her weary heart. He smiles slightly at her, humming under his breath as he scoots a little closer to her. Whispering between them as he fades back into a dream, hoping his company brings her enough peace to let her rest for a little while longer until the sun rises. 

“Goodnight hun.” Grumbling in his deep voice, she hums against his hand, burrowing deeper into his palm against her cheek. Her eyes can’t help but drift to corners in her room, again subconsciously looking for scared children in crowds of bodies.

She turns from the darkness in her room, triangles of shadows creeping in from the dark doorway into the hallway. She looks back to him, slumbering next to her now. His head dug deep into her pillow, his breaths shallow and his brow unfurred. 

The dream. In the dream, were they her’s? She can’t remember, looking at him now, it’s like it’s fading into the background. The vivid dream seeping from her mind. 

“Were they ours?” She whispers between them. Asking it out loud, just so she could remember that one part of the nightmare. The one part that made her ache, and wish for something far off that she’d never really had. Were the children ours?