#think the last chapter got a little buried and trying to post it around my weekend night-shifts didn't help but c'est la vie 😅

[glorious-blackout]

Chapter Three is posted 🥰 @shadowmonkeysbigbang

Might need to backtrack on my promise and switch to weekly uploads soon seeing as my work schedule is becoming hectic, but I'm committed to my plan to release the next chapter on Friday. Partly because that's the chapter where this fic finally earns its M rating and I am simultaneously very nervous and excited about it 😅🥰

[ladykailitha]

A Love Connection Part 1

In a very special engagement (as in a don't normally post 5 days a week), I introduce "A Love Connection"!

If the premise looks familiar the original idea is from here, where a couple of people in the notes or tags said they'd love to try it. And after a year, I figured I'd try my own hand at the idea.

This will update on Tuesdays at 10am and 10pm EST. With hopefully eight chapters.

Summary: Steve has tried everything under the sun to find someone to truly connect with, so he gives up after a particularly horrible date. Then Chrissy introduces him to her favorite game show "Love Connection". When Chrissy and Robin apply for him, they don't think they'll except him, but he does. His suitors are Billy Hargrove, Tommy Hagan, and Eddie Munson. Will Steve crash and burn again or will his connection be there waiting for him?

~

Look, to say Steve’s love life was a disaster would be unfair. That would be underselling it. It was a fucking catastrophe. He had gone to bars, joined hobby groups, used all the apps, even Grindr; though that was mostly for hookups, which sucked. But that was the nature of the beast if he was honest.

And the beast had completely devoured him. All his dates were either only interested the casual, cheated on him, or wanted one-night stands. Which Steve absolutely did not want. He wanted connection. Intimacy.

“I absolutely give up,” he whined to Robin, after the last date tried to slip out in the middle of the night, knocked over their lamp into their goldfish bowl, killing the goldfish, then he tried to hide the evidence by dumping it down the garbage disposal and turning it on! Lied about it, then stole their last beer as “compensation for his trauma’ and told Steve to never call him again.

“Look, Ryan wasn’t the best guy,” Robin replied with a grimace. “He liked Oasis and Tool unironically. Always a red flag.”

Steve snorted. Robin was a music snob most days, but she wasn’t wrong about that. Ryan and he had been dancing around and with each other for weeks before they finally got so hot and heavy that they went back to Steve’s for sex.

“It’s not fair,” he huffed. “You went to that bar and you a hottie girlfriend and I went to that bar and fucked a fish killer! I loved Garfield! He lived for five years before that bastard mercilessly murdered him. That’s long than my last ten relationships combined!”

Robin winced. “Ooh... I’m going to have to call Chrissy and let her know we can’t go back to that gay bar again.”

“Oh he’s so dead now!” Steve ranted. “Not only is he fish killer, he has driven us from our favorite bar!”

“Let me order us some take out,” Robin said standing up, “then I’ll call Chrissy over and we’ll all cry over Ciarán Hinds and Amanda Root falling in love.”

Steve sniffed away a couple of tears and nodded. “Then can we have a funeral for Garfield?”

Robin tilted her head and smiled sadly. “Of course we can. It’s a Sunday so none of us have work. We can watch as many weepy romance movies as you want, okay?”

“Okay,” Steve croaked. She gave him a big hug and kissed his cheek. He watched her wander into the kitchen to see what leftovers they had in the fridge so they could order from somewhere else. He loved her so much.

~

Sometime in the afternoon when they were more than a little tipsy, Chrissy commandeered the remote and turned on her favorite game show.

“Love Connection”

“Noooo...” Steve whined, burying his head into a throw pillow. It was Garfield shaped. It was what inspired the naming of the valiant fish. “This is the last thing I want to see. It’s so fake. No one gets together on these things. It’s so cheesy.”

“Exactly!” Chrissy crowed. “That’s why it’s perfect, we get to make fun of them!”

Steve thought that the only good part of the show was the second half. The first half was split into three different rounds. The first round was each suitor answer the one question, for a total of fifteen and then the catch would rank them, best got three points, second two, and third only one.

Then in the second round there were a set of rapid fire either or questions that the catch would yell out and the suitors would write down their answers. If their answer matched the catch’s they would get a tally. Whoever had the most tallies would win five points. Then three points to second place and one to the last place.

Then in the final round, each suitor would be asked separate questions and the catch would rate their answer one through three and that’s how many points they would get. Then at the end of the round all the points would be tallied up and the two highest would move on to the next round.

To the part that Steve actually liked. The first question always asked was “what would you do for a first date?” And the suitors got to take the catch out for the date and then afterward for drinks, the two dates would ask the catch some of the questions he asked them. Then the catch would pick the one they connected to the best.

It was all the stupid questions that bothered Steve. That was the fun part of dating, having these conversations and learning about them as you go. But then maybe that’s what Steve’s problem was, is that the people he dated didn’t care about these types of conversations.

“Why would you say you hate sports,” Steve huffed, waving his hand at the screen, “when the guy is a major soccer fan? Like did she think that she was going to put a stop to him enjoying it after starting dating?”

“Ooh yeah,” Chrissy agreed. “Just pick a different catch.”

Robin turned to her and tilted her head. “Do they get to chose their catch? I thought it was all random.”

Chrissy paused the show and pulled out her phone and the Wikipedia article. “Okay, it says here that people can apply to be suitors,” she waved at the row of women in the three booths. “Or catches.” She indicated the guy with her hand. “If they’re chosen to be a suitor then they are given a list of catches, headshot included. Then they rank vote them, so if four people pick Henry, then one will be on their second rank vote. And that part is randomized. According to them, anyway.”

Steve snorted. He highly doubted anything was randomized or voted on. They went for the biggest drama and everyone knew it.

“How long has this show been going on?” he huffed. “Like please tell it’s new and shiny and that’s why people like it.”

Robin snorted and shook her head. “Sorry, babe. But this is season twelve.”

“Oohh...” Chrissy said. “We need to show him the season six finale. That was hella juicy!”

So despite Steve’s protests, Chrissy pulled it up on her streaming services even though they hadn’t even finished the episode they were on.

When the credits rolled, Steve stared at the screen in utter shock. “What the honest fuck was that?”

Two of the three guys got into an all out brawl when the one guy had scored the lowest and felt that the second place suitor cheated. Not first place, second. Both guys were arrested and hauled off the set.

“It came out later Sven was right,” Robin said. “Elliot cheated. His cousin was an ex of the catch so he went in knowing a lot about Stella. The things he got wrong were things that had changed since she was dating his cousin.”

Chrissy nodded. “That’s why the have partitions up between the suitors now and why they have vigorous screening now. The show was almost canceled.”

“So why wasn’t it?” Steve asked honestly. “That was a shit show, if I was Stella I would have sued them into oblivion.”

Robin squirmed uncomfortably in her seat. “She did, but they settled out of court.”

“Basically,” Chrissy said, pouring them more wine and handing the first glass to Steve, “she wanted them to completely overhaul the system. She didn’t want it off the air, she wanted it safer for future participants.”

“The more the fool them,” Steve huffed. He took a long sip of his wine. “All right, fine. Let’s start at the beginning.”

Robin and Chrissy cheered and they all huddled up together on the sofa to watch this absolute train wreck of a show.

They were about half way through the third season and twice as drunk when Steve slurred, “Why are there no gay peemles in this? It’s a trav–trad–tramajesty.”

“Travesty!” Robin slurred back, her language skills always being the last to go when she’s three sheets to the wind. “And you are absolutely right! This is homophobic!”

Chrissy nodded solemnly and pulled out her phone. “I’mma show them...” she muttered with her tongue sticking out. “At loveconnectionUSA Need more gays, hashtag loveconnection hashtag need more gays.”

It wasn’t long after that that the three of them passed out on the sofa, empty bottles all around them and a message on the screen asking if they’re still watching.

~

There was a loud beeping noise and it absolutely was hurting his head. He reached over to where his phone was usually plugged in on his nightstand, but his hand went straight through it. He waved his arm all over the place but still his nightstand eluded him.

He peaked open one eye but his vision was obscured by a mass of blonde hair. He tried to push it out of the way but it kept falling back into his face. Finally he pushed Robin off him and onto the floor with a thud.

“Hey!” she yelped.

Steve peered over the edge of the sofa with a look of confusion. “Why are you on the floor?” he muttered over the still beeping of his alarm.

“Stop!” he mumbled and somehow, blissfully it did.

“I’m on the floor because you pushed me there,” Robin huffed, getting to her feet. She did a sniff test and grimaced when she completely failed. “God... how much did we drink yesterday?”

Chrissy struggled to sit up and blinked at her girlfriend groggily. “Not enough if I feel like this.”

Steve rolled over and looked at them both in confusion, then the events of Saturday and all day Sunday came flooding back in.

“Oh fuck...” he muttered, sitting up himself and rubbing his face. One eye was blurry from where his contact had shifted in the night. He wasn’t even sure why he had them on. Probably from sheer force of habit.

He got up and stumbled toward the bathroom where he emptied his stomach of all its boozy contents. He really didn’t remember them eating after breakfast, only a steady stream of harder and harder liquor.

While his was puking his guts out, Chrissy and Robin stole the shower. Thankfully only taking the time they needed to get the gross feeling of being hungover off their skin.

Then Steve closed his eyes as they exited the shower and snuck into Robin’s room to get ready for work. They all worked at Hawkins Middle School, where Steve was a history teacher who coached swimming and basketball. Chrissy was a health teacher and advisor for cheerleading. And Robin was the language teacher. The principal snatched her up because she could teach French, Spanish, and Italian, with her only needing to hire a German teacher.

Steve got his shower and then opted for glasses instead of his contacts, not trusting his shaky hands not poke out his eye or some shit.

They all were mostly human once they got coffee, painkillers, and cereal in them, the three of them, no doubt looking like escaped extras from a zombie flick. They moved as one, gathering up their stuff and shuffling out to Steve’s car. Chrissy sat in the back, Robin riding shotgun.

Chrissy opened her phone to check to see if she had any messages. “Holy shit!”

~

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Look I'd be sorry about the cliffhanger, but you're only waiting 12 hours for it, soooo...

Have fun!

Tag List: TEN SLOTS OPEN

1-@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

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

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

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

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

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

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

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

[satorusugurugurl]

Pairing: Geto Sugurux FAB!Reader

Warning: dirty talk, a little knife play, no blood, squirting, degradation, kitchen sex!

Word Count: 4,740

A/N: A modern college AU!! I just kept thinking of two things. Suguru Geto and a Ghost-Face mask! This is my first post!!

Summary: When you fall asleep waiting for your boyfriend Geto Suguru to get home, you pass out holding your book. The dark romance smut book. The same book your boyfriend picks up and reads. A masked stalker? Geto can give you exactly what you want!

MINOR DNI!!!

The second Geto walked into your shared apartment, the tension in his shoulders seemingly vanished. The stress of his night classes and future exams didn't matter. He took his shoes off. All that mattered was being here at home with you.

Treading into the kitchen, Geto blinked, stunned not to find you sitting at the counter—the spot you had claimed for the last three nights. You sipped on a cup of tea while reading the pages of your newest book, where you asked about his day and seemed hesitant when he asked you about yours. But that had to be because you were lost in your book.

Heading into the bedroom, Geto grinned, finding you curled on your side. Upon hearing your soft breathing, Geto treaded carefully toward your side of the bed. From the book barely in your grasp to the entire cup of tea on the nightstand, Geto could piece together what had happened.

You tried staying up late for the fourth night to welcome him home. It came as no surprise that you had fallen asleep. You were so selfless and caring; those were a couple of the many things Suguru loved about you. You deserved a good night's rest. Grabbing the book, Geto glanced around for your bookmark. He reached over your body, mindlessly searching for it under the blankets.

The second he pulled it out from the blankets, he opened the book to place it securely where you'd left off. But just before he closed the book, a particular line caught his attention. ‘My masked stalker bent me over the counter, tossing his knife to the side before he buried his cock inside of me.’ Suguru read the line over and over again before peering down at you.

What kind of book were you reading? You were his sweet, high fantasy fairy romance-loving girlfriend? The same girl that gets flustered over the couple having to share a bed at an inn?

Well, this was a pleasant surprise.

With his interest peeked, Suguru sat in the living room reading the first few chapters of your dirty, dark romance. Calling it that was an understatement. This book was filthy. The stalker wore a Ghostface mask, fucked the heroine with the handle of a knife, and killed anyone that touched her. The sex scenes were so dark, gruesome, and arousing. He could see why you hadn't been able to put it down.

And why you were always flushed when he came home.

He wasn't an idiot; he knew why you liked it. The author described the stalker character as tall, long dark hair, and incredibly strong. You saw him in this character. Was that why you were so hesitant every night he had come home? Did you want something from him? Perhaps some role-playing?

The more he read, the harder his cock throbbed. This book was what you had been squirming and fantasizing about. And if his assumptions were correct, these were things you might want to try out. How cruel would it be to allow you to continue to suffer in silence? What kind of boyfriend would he be?

With a few taps on his phone, Suguru smirked as he got the notification that his package would arrive tomorrow. There was no going back now. All he could do was wait.

(~)(~)(~) (~)(~)(~) (~)(~)(~)

“Did you finish it?” Shoko asked through your phone as you stepped off the elevator on the third floor.

“No, I passed out reading last night. I'll finish it tonight, though.”

“Are you going to ask Suguru to buy a Ghost-Face mask?”

The teasing tone in your friend's voice made you blush. Not because it was embarrassing, but because you fucking wanted to. Reading Leo’s Throne had awakened things you didn't know you were into. Like choking, biting, rough sex, and being chased by a sexy masked man.

Sighing heavily, you stopped, “Shoko, please,” she giggled at your pain, “it's embarrassing! I don't want him to think I'm some fucked up delinquent.” The line grew silent as hushed whispers bickered on the other line.

“Uhm, I hate to break it to you.” Gojo chimed in, “But beating your meat to a girl getting fucked with the handle of a kni-”

“Shut up!”

More laughter erupted from the other line. “Look, we're not kink-shaming you. We're just encouraging you to talk to Suguru.” Shoko continued as Gojo cackled.

“That doesn't make me feel any better.” A whine worked its way up your throat.

It wasn't like sex with Geto was dull! Not in the slightest. You had never squirted until you met your fantastic boyfriend. The man left your legs trembling and tears running down your face whenever you were intimate. But you just wanted something different. Different as in your boyfriend acting as if he was your masked stalker. Doing that meant you would be asking him to be rougher than he ever had been before.

Oh yeah, how could that ever be mortifyingly embarrassing?

“Just go at your own pace, Y/N. Don't force yourself if you're not comfortable.”

“Yeah, yeah, I just got home. I'll see you two later.”

With a final goodbye, you shoved your phone into your pocket as you unlocked the door to your and Suguru’s shared apartment. It was Friday, so he would be home tonight, seeing as he had no night classes. Now would be the ideal time to discuss the kinky things you wanted to try. For Suguru to be rougher, possibly wear a mask. . .and to chase you around the apartment before he fucked the air out of your lungs.

No holding back! Shoko and Gojo were right. There was no harm in asking!

As you stepped into the apartment, you knew something was different. The sun had just begun to set, and the living room light was off. Which was strange, seeing as it was on a timer. Did the apartment lose power or something?

“Suguru?” No answer. “Suguru, I'm home!” you announced as you slipped your tennis shoes off.

“Welcome home.” Hearing your boyfriend's voice from within eased your nerves.

“Hey, what's going on with the lights? Did we lose power or something?” Without Suguru’s response, you found your answer, noticing the stove clock and refrigerator buzzing hum. “Babe?”

Silence passes by before his chuckle resonates from down the hall. “I turned them off.” That was the only response you got back.

“Why?”

“I thought I would set the mood.”

“I'm sorry. What mood are you trying to set?”

“I'm thinking we could play a little, angel~.”

Your body stiffened, not from his tone or the way he was acting, but because he called you Angel. Never once in your two-year relationship or your five-year friendship has Geto Suguru called you Angel. But Leo Rainsworth, the stalker from Leo’s Throne, called the heroine Angel all the damn time. Because she was so pure, he saw himself as a dark demon.

You were fucked.

“Ohh fuck.”

Another dark chuckle echoes from down the hall. “Oh, fuck is right. You fell asleep with your book in your hand last night. I just happened to read a couple of chapters.” Floorboards creaked from the dark hall. “I just have to say, I didn't know you were into kinky shit like that.” Another creak had your heart thundering against your ribcage.

“I-I well, it was—” you stuttered, trying to find the right words. There was no denying Suguru had found your smut. So you might as well tell him the truth. “It was so fucking hot.”

“Was it now?” You hummed in response. “Were you wanting to try some of that stuff? Is that why you stayed up late waiting for me this week? You were hesitant to ask, weren't you? Didn’t want me to know how fucking kinky you are?”

“Y-Yeah, I wanted to ask, but I was nervous. I didn’t know if it would be a turn-off?”

Suguru sighed heavily. “Well, seeing as someone doesn't know how to communicate their wants.” The sound of something, hard, being dragged over the wall made your pussy clench. “I’ve decided to take matters into my own hands.”

A whimper passed through your lips. Holy fuck, the anticipation of what was to come was almost too much to handle. Shifting your legs, you felt just how wet you were. Your panties were utterly soaked with your arousal. Fuck this hot.

“Fuck.”

“Do you want this?” There was no trace of teasing in Suguru’s voice. He was serious, wanting to know if you were okay with this continuing. “Are you comfortable?”

“God, yes. I-I want this Sugu.”

The response was so sudden it took both of you off guard. No hesitation, no questions asked. Just a simple answer. One that was about to rock your world.

“What’s our safeword?”

“Pineapple.”

“And our safety colors?”

“Green for good, yellow means I need you to slow down, or I need to take a break, and red means stop.” You recited, stepping out of the kitchen to look down the dark hallway for your boyfriend. The eagerness was moving you a step closer to his voice.

“You use them if things get too intense. It doesn't matter how far we get. I could be inside you, but if you say red, we stop.”

“Right, I understand.”

A tall silhouette strutted forward as your eyes finally adjusted to the dark hallway. “Good girl,” he says, taking another step forward. “Now, do me a favor.” Suguru stepped out into the living room, and you swear your heart dropped into your stomach. “Run.”

Your boyfriend is shirtless, black jeans clinging to his hips. Dragging your eyes up, you bite down on your bottom lip. Every fantasy you had in the last four days comes true in seconds. Suguru’s handsome face was hidden behind a Ghostface mask. Making it impossible to read his expressions, which made this ten times hotter. The uncertainty of what was going on through his head had you clenching your thighs together.

“I said run,” he repeated, holding up a large plastic prop knife, “Angel.”

You turned, running towards the kitchen, your socks sliding against the hardwood floor. Just as you slid, a rush of air grazed your back. Looking over your shoulder, you inhaled, seeing your boyfriend on your trail. He didn’t even give you a head start. Goddamn, he was playing the part well. Ducking slightly, you pushed forward, stumbling, only to hear Suguru curse as he missed you again.

“Holy shit, what happened to a ten-second head start?” You gasped out, standing at the far side of the kitchen island.

“Tsk,” he ran his thumb over the knife's hilt, “and give you a chance to get away? I don’t think so.”

Suguru moved, walking towards you as you stepped back. He was like a great white shark, circling the kitchen island, stalking his prey. Which just so happened to be you. Knowing that at any moment he could charge you, it had your pussy throbbing in need.

“Oh shit.” You looked around, thinking of what to do. Heading to the living room would result in a short-lived chase. If you took it to the bedroom, you might just end up begging for him to fuck you. “Fuck, fuck me.”

“Oh, I intend to. I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll have to cancel all of your plans tomorrow.” He smirked. “Not only will you not be able to walk, but I will mark you up. Make you even prettier than you already are.”

“T-That can only happen if you catch me.”

Hearing those words made Suguu’s body stiffen. His ab’s were rising and falling with labored breathing. Your eyes darted towards the prop knife, watching his fist clenched harder around it.

“If?” He asked, placing his free hand over the marble counter. “Baby, it’s not a question of if.” He leaned towards you. “It’s a question of when.”

Mouth dry, you gulped before slowly smirking. “Yeah, I’d like to see you try.”

“Ooh,” Suguru scoffed, “remember those words when my cock is slamming into your cervix.”

It happened so fast that it made your head spin. Like a predator, Suguru gracefully leaped, sliding over the marble countertop. Your jaw dropped as you stumbled back, staring at Suguru as he towered over you. He didn’t even give you a chance to process what was happening. His large hand grabbed you by the back of your neck. Suddenly, Suguru had you turned around and bent over the counter.

“What was that about seeing me try?” His voice was thick with need. “Well, look at you now, bent over the counter just like the heroine in your nasty. . .little. . .book.”

You knew that your inner thighs were slick with your arousal. “Oh my god.” You squirmed under Geto’s grasp, which made him push down on your neck harder.

“It was hard to imagine my sweet vanilla girlfriend getting off on something so dark and demented.” You jolted as he kicked at your ankles, spreading your legs further apart. “But seeing you like this, squirming, breathing heavily, I can see you aren’t as vanilla as I assumed.” His knee slid between your legs, pressing his knee firmly against your clothed cunt. “Tell me~ are you soaked, you nasty slut?”

“S-Sugu~!” You cried out, rocking your hips back against his knee.

“As pretty as my name sounded coming out of your mouth, it wasn’t an answer to my question.” His left hand slowly grazed under your shirt. “Perhaps I need to be rougher~?”

Before you could fathom that, cool steel grazed over the small of your back. The metal barely touched you, but it was still a sharp contrast against your rapidly heating skin that grounded you. Being grounded made things clearer as you realized that the prop knife Suguru was holding was, in fact, not a prop.

It was real.

“S-Suguru, is that real?”

Upon hearing your words, Suguru pulled the cool blade away. “Yeah, it is.” Suguru stared down at your bent form, waiting for you to respond. Your body had tensed up when he confirmed the steel was, in fact, real. “Are you okay? What color are you feeling? Talk to me, baby.” He wasn’t going to assume just because you hadn’t used your designated safe word or a color that, you were okay. “Babe, I need an answer.”

For just a moment, he assumed that maybe he had crossed a line. Before the doubt could settle in his gut, he watched as your stiff body melted against the kitchen island. Your hips rocked harder against his knee as your cunt throbbed through your leggings. A breath caught in his throat, seeing how you desperately humped his knee. Gritting his teeth, he fought against the urge to rock his hips against you. Despite your body’s actions and the desperation in your movements, he still needed an answer.

“Princess,” he groaned, “color.”

“Green!” You cried out, rocking harder. “Fucking green!”

“Good girl,” he fisted you t-shirt. “I’ll buy you another.”

You cocked an eyebrow, trying to look behind. “Another who—“You were cut off when Suguru stabbed the knife through your shirt. “Holy shit!” You slowed your movements as you listened to Suguru rip our shirt up the middle of your back.

“Oooh~ look at how pretty you are.” The knife slid under the hem of your leggings. “Bent over the counter.” With the jerk of his hand, you listened as your pants became his next victim. “Surrounded by the clothes I ripped off of you.”

He repeated the process, your thong and bra following your leggings, and that littered the floor. The whole situation was erotic; you felt your slick seep out of you, dripping shamelessly to the ground. You’d never been so fucking aroused. You needed Suguru so bad.

“S-Sugu, please!”

“Please, what?” His right hand left your neck, fingers trailing down your back. “Use your words.”

“Please, touch me!”

He hummed, training his fingers lower and lower before for inched over your ass. “Please!” a loud smack flooded the kitchen, followed by a sharp stinging pain over your ass.

“I told you to use your words, angel!” He snarled, pressing his body against yours. The knife pressed firmly against your cheek. “Tell me what you want slut.”

“F-Finger me! Fuck m, please! I need you!!” You cried out in desperation. Pleased with your begging, Suguru slapped your ass again before he wrapped his right arm around your waist, dipping between your legs. His fingers quickly began rubbing quick circles around your throbbing clit. “Fuck!!”

“Fuck, you’re soaking wet.” he increased the speed of his fingers, “it wouldn't take much to make you cum would it?”

He was right; it wouldn't take much to make you cum. “M-More!” You begged as he removed his knee. “Please don't te-AH!” Two thick fingers plunged inside your tight cunt.

“Heh,” he chuckled, “fuck your pussy is clamping down on me!” Suguru immediately set a brutal pace, curling his fingers up, reaching a little further as he rubbed your g-spot. “My dirty princess,” he fucked into your sweet spot over and over and over again. Not once letting up. “Does that feel good? I can feel your cunt twitching.”

“S-So good~! S-Sugu! Ah fuck, fuck!” his thumb reached up, rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts. “I-I’m gonna~!”

The cool steel of the knife pressed harder against your face. “Yeah?” Weakly, you opened your eyes, coming face to face with the Ghostface mask. “You look at me when you cum on my fingers.” His words made the coil in your abdomen tighten. “Eyes on me, angel~ you be a good girl and cum for me.” How could you deny him?

“C-cumming! I'm c-cumm—” A scream left your lips as you came. Your pussy clamped down on Suguru’s fingers as a stream of clear liquid squirted out of you. Feeling your juices hit the ground, spreading under his bare feet, ignited a need in Suguru.

“That's it!” He all but yelled. “Fuckin’ good girl~ so good.” Seeing you squirt always riled him up. Good god, he needed to see it again.

You had thought that he was going to work you slowly through your orgasm like he usually did. But not once did he slow down. Instead, he curled his fingers deeper, his pace not flattering, moving in and out faster and harder. All you could do was lay there, legs shaking as he finger fucked you.

“S-Suguru, w-what?!” you cried out as he growled in your ear.

“Again, I need you to fucking squirt again.”

“B-But Sugu, I want you!” Tears flooded your eyes, the pleasure becoming more intense with each thrust of his fingers.

“I know, I know, baby, give me one more and I fuck you.”

Seeing the tears spilling over your cheeks made Suguru throb harder. “Sugu~! I—” Suguru pressed the knife harder against your cheek.

“I don't remember asking. I’m telling you, you're going to squirt again.”

The chill of his words and the knife had your eyes rolling back. It was so overwhelming, so much pleasure. Your thighs were shaking, knees buckling in as he slammed directly into each g-spot. The coil tightened harder and harder until it snapped.

“That’s it!” Suguru praised, growling as your pussy fluttered around his fingers. “Come on, cum for me, cum on my fingers. Make a mess!” Your screams were music to his ears as he felt you cum. You squirted hard, coating your thighs, his jeans, and the floor.

He pulled his fingers out, glancing at your cum, that was dripping off his fingers. The two of you were breathing heavily, not saying a word. Suguru’s cock was so hard, the tip leaking pre-cum, painting the inside of his boxers. He knew you were enjoying this, but holy shit, he was enjoying it just as much, if not more.

“S-Sugu-”

Hearing your shaking voice brought him back to reality. His right hand gently rubbed up and down your back. “You okay? Need a break?” He watched as you shook your head. Your Y/E/C eyes were glazed over with lust as you pressed your ass back against his hips rubbing slowly against his cock.

“No fuck me, please fuck me. I-I need your cock.”

You listened to him growl deep in his chest. Suddenly, you heard his belt being undone, followed by his zipper. You didn't know what to expect. He seemed so calm and collected. But any average, calm person would not have tossed a knife to the ground. He most definitely would not have grabbed your hips so tight before suddenly slamming his cock deep inside your tight cunt.

The sudden fullness of his cock caused the air to escape your lungs. Your mouth formed an ‘O’ shape as Suguru pulled nearly out before slamming back inside you. Feeling your tight twitching walls hug his cock so snuggly had Suguru feral. He had no control over himself as he pounded your pussy, harder and harder with each thrust. He was so deep his tip gently pressed into your cervix.

“Oh, my fuckin fuck!” You cried out, his left hand gently pressing your head against the counter. “S-Su—gu—-ru!!” each syllable of his name was fucked out of you by his thrusts.

“Yeah~?” His hand left your head. Instead, his long fingers wrapped around your throat, gently squeezing. “Feels good? You like it like this?”

“Y-Yeah!! Deep so fucking deep!!”

“Fuck yeah, I am~ I feel your pussy clamping down. Did you imagine this~? Imagine me fucking you just as rough?” all you could manage to do was nod. “You like your stalker fucking your tight cunt?”

That sweet, smokey tone of his voice, your boyfriend's voice, had you clamping down harder on him. He was right; you did want this, and you fantasized about asking him to do precisely this. And he had fulfilled your fantasy, going above and beyond to make it perfect. He was perfect, so fucking good to you.

“Sugu~ Suguru~”

“Yeah? Tell me what you want~? Faster? Harder?” When you shook your head, he slowed his thrusts just a tad bit. “No~? What do you need.” His hand squeezed harder around your throat, cutting some of your air off.

You almost told him to keep going when he choked you like that. With a shaky moan, you turned, staring into the eyes of the Ghostface mask. “I-I want a kiss.” Out of all the things he had expected you to say, that wasn't one of them. But Get Suguru wasn't the kind of man to deny Y/L/N Y/N.

A whimper sounded from deep in your throat as Suguru gently pulled out. His hand slid down your curves, turning you around to face him. In the dying twilight light, you stared at the sweat beading against his skin, slowly running down his ab’s. Trailing your eyes up, his skin was illuminated by the soft pink and lilac tones from outside. After taking in his body, your Y/E/C landed on the mask.

His hand left your hip, tugging the mask off his head. Suguru’s dark eyes were glazed over with love and desire. His dark bun was messy; his bangs were sticking to his face by the sheen of sweat beading on his forehead. He was such a stunning man. And he was yours.

Tossing the mask to the side, Suguru’s hands grabbed your hips, placing you on the counter. As soon as you were settled, his lips slammed against yours in a heated kiss. One that made your toes curl as you matched his pace, kissing back with the same enthusiasm and force. It was the kind of kiss that made you moan into his mouth as he gently pulled you towards the edge, his free hand easing his hot cock back inside your pussy.

“Suguru.” You moaned against his mouth, allowing his tongue to slip inside. “Mhmm.”

Your tongues massaged each other in a slow sensual kiss as he fucked you deeply. It was so good. He tasted good, felt good, god, he smelt so good. Everything about this night was good.

“Fuck, Y/N-“ he growled, pulling away, “I love you. You feel so good, so perfect. You’re such a good girl.” His words made your heart race as you kissed him again.

“Love you too~ so much, thank you for this~” Your praises had him groaning deeply into your mouth. His thrusts increased in speed and power as he kissed you like you were the only thing keeping him alive.

Suguru slid his hand down between your conjoined bodies, rubbing your clit in fast circles. “Cum for me, Y/N, milk my cock, baby~ I wanna cum inside you.” Arching your back, a string of moans erupted from your mouth as you wrapped your legs around his waist. “Y/N fuck, yes, just like that~”

“I'm gonna cum!” you cried out against his mouth. “Sugu, I'm cumming baby~ c-cu—” Your warning was cut off by a scream as your walls clamped down on his cock, milking him.

“Fuck~! Fuck! You're so tight~ tighter than ever.” Suguru grunted, kissing and nipping at your neck as he bit down on your skin. “Focus on my cock~ feel me~ feel it~ Fuck! I'm cumming!” Pulling you tighter against him, Suguru’s thrusts became messy before you felt his cock throb hard. Ropes of hot cum filled your pussy, and he kept thrusting, fucking it deep inside you as he rode the waves of both your orgasms.

By the time he stopped, the sun was long gone, and the entire apartment was enveloped in darkness. Not that either of you cared. Nothing mattered as you two basked in the afterglow. Your heart rates and breathing went from ragged and fast-paced to shallow and calm. The entire time you came down, Suguru had you firmly pressed against his bare chest. He was holding you as close as he could as you both recovered.

Hours seemed to pass before Suguru slowly lifted you off the counter. You rested your head against his shoulder as he carried you to the bedroom, gently laying you on the bed. Without a word, Suguru left the room and returned with a bottle of water and a warm rag. He cleaned you up, his eyes occasionally meeting yours as he smiled fondly.

Your cheeks burned as you returned his loving smile. “Drink some water. I'll be right back,” he said, handing the bottle to you before heading back to the kitchen.

He was gone for several minutes before he returned. “Where did you go?” You asked, watching as he came back in just in his boxers.

“I wanted to clean up real quick,” he responded, crawling into bed and wrapping his toned arms around you. “Tossed my stuff in the washer, yours in the trash.”

“Damn,” you giggle, “I loved that shirt.” Suguru chuckled, pulling you tighter against him.

“Sorry, I'll buy you another.”

“Nah, it's okay.” you hummed, “it was a sacrifice I was willing to make.” You turned to face him. “Thank you again, that was so much fun.”

“Yeah, it was.” Suguru gently cupped your face in his hand. “I love you very much.”

“I love you too.”

He gently pressed a kiss against your lips. He was holding you firmly again at him. This evening was the perfect way to end a week. Fantastic sex snuggling your boyfriend, you couldn't ask for a more ideal night—a night where your fantasy had come true.

“So,” Suguru started, “I bought you the rest of the series of Leo’s Throne. We need to reenact some more scenes, I think.”

Pulling back, you couldn't stop the laughter rising in your chest. “Baby, seriously? Did you buy them for me or yourself?” you cocked an eyebrow as your boyfriend's cheeks flushed.

“What a silly question,” he pulled you on top of him, “I bought them for us!”

“You read the whole book, didn't you?”

“. . .”

“Oh my god, you did.”

“. . .I will say the ending had me running to the bookstore this morning. To have the hero—” You clamped your hand over his mouth.

“No spoilers!”

[hellishjoel]

delicate - chapter one: someone new

3.4k / pairing: joel miller x f!reader

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

summary: Sarah decides it’s time for her dad to start dating again. Joel isn’t sure he needs to, but decides if it’s for Sarah, he’s willing to give it a go. After a few failed attempts, he finally stumbles across someone new. 

A/N: This is the first chapter of a new fic co-written with @thetriumphantpanda - we’re both so excited for you all to finally read what we’ve been working on. You’ll be able to find the masterlist on both of our Tumblrs, and we’ll be taking turns in posting chapters, so if you want to keep up to date with posting, please make sure you’re following us both! 

warnings: Joel being terrible at dating apps, mentions of being a single parent, flirting, rom-com vibes, allusions to more mature themes but nothing explicit as of now, foul language, mentions of food & alcohol, Sarah & Tommy being menaces. 

“Dad, have you thought about settling down soon?”

Joel had nearly just sat down at the dining table, a warm bowl of chili stinging his hands as he set down a glass of water with a quiet huff. 

“Am settled down.” He grumbled, diving straight into the warm bowl with ferocity. 

Sarah sighed quietly and circled her fingertip over the rim of her water glass. 

“I mean,” she tries again, “settled down with someone.”

Sarah knows this is a weird topic to bring up over dinner. She can see it in the way her father stops chewing on his food, his water glass halfway to his lips now frozen midair.

Since she was a small girl, her father’s world revolved around her. She put the sun in the sky and the smiles on his face. He put her through years of soccer practice and clarinet lessons, drove her across the state for tournaments, and made her favorite dinner when it was her birthday. She was his little girl. 

Sarah knew she had a very loving father, always lucky in that regard, but that love felt a little lost when she started attending university. All she could think about was leaving her dad in an empty house with no one to cook for, no one to bug about cleaning their room. He didn’t have anyone besides Uncle Tommy. And Sarah was sure that was the last person he wanted to spend his free time with.  

Fresh from graduating with a bachelor’s degree in biology from Texas State University, Sarah opted to live at home for a year in the hopes of saving up money for med school. And perhaps she could complete the side quest of finding a potential date for her dad. 

Joel clears his throat and wipes his hand on a paper towel, smearing it a reddish-orange from the chili.

“Don’t need anyone else when I’ve got you, peanut.” He gave a lopsided smile and continued eating. 

Why would she ask something like that? Why was she thinking about finding someone for him? 

Joel thought of himself as an independent man. Never went looking for love, going on about his business, so why start now? 

Sarah looked unsure of what to say next, wanting to push the conversation and letting that uncertainty fill the air between them. 

Joel sighs, his spoon sputtering in the bowl and listening to it clang around the rim. 

“You don’t gotta worry about me, kid. I’m fine on my own.” He insisted, shrugging casually.

“Uncle Tommy and I were talking about you, more specifically about you dating-”

Joel buried his face in his hands, letting out a loud, exasperated sigh as he ran his hands down his face, calloused palms scraping against beard stubble. 

“Sarah, what did I tell you about talkin’ to Uncle Tommy? Take nothin’a substance from those conversations.” 

“Dad, please.” His little girl was frowning now, desperate puppy dog eyes searching his own. “How bad would it be if Uncle Tommy and I put you on a few dating apps, y’know? You could meet a nice woman, take her out for dinner, do whatever you want, but you can’t not try anymore.” 

Joel snuffed out a scoff, quickly dialing it down once he was receiving daggers. 

“Peanut, ya just… you get to a certain age where you give up on that type of stuff. Love n’all. M’an old dog, been outta the game for too long.” Joel returned to his dinner, thinking the conversation was done and over with. 

Sarah let out a heavy breath through her nostrils and crossed her arms. “Dad, we’re finding you someone,  or at least we’re going to try. You can’t just-just shrug off your feelings!” 

Sarah’s chair scraped backward, standing up suddenly and commandeering the room. 

“It’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. What happened with Mom was a long time ago. You can’t shut off trying to find love. I saw you go on two dates when I was growing up. Two! You can’t say you’ve tried, you can’t say you don’t want it, everyone wants to find their special someone. And you,” she said with wide, frantic eyes. “You are not done trying. Not if I have anything to say about it.” 

Joel sat in silence as Sarah retrieved her bowl of chili and glass of water, fleeing up the stairs to her room. He sat back in his chair, shifting his jaw from side to side in thought. 

Guilt festered in his chest. Seeing Sarah so adamant about something like his love life was telling it was something she thought a fair amount about. She worried about his happiness, his life alone. 

Though he thought a life of solitude worked well for him, he couldn’t deny that small part of him that wished he had someone to share the little moments with. Sarah wouldn’t be living at home forever, and she would never be replaced in Joel’s heart, but maybe she was right that it was time for him to start trying again. 

“Okay, so I downloaded Tinder, Hinge, Bumble, eHarmony, and Farmer’s Only.” 

Sarah paraded around Joel’s smartphone, downloading different online dating apps left and right while he watched helplessly beside her on the couch. He could feel a headache spark in his temple already. 

“M’not a farmer.” 

Sarah simply shrugged and opened up the first app, Tinder. “True, but we’re trying to keep our options open.” 

Joel sighed and leaned back into the couch cushions, hearing the front door open without a knock. His brother, Tommy, paraded inside, a six-pack of beer in his hand and a jean jacket in the other. 

“The hell are you doin’ here?” Joel asked as he saddled his hands on his knees and pushed himself off the couch, eyes narrowed on his younger brother. 

“What? You think I would miss Sarah putting you up for auction?” 

“Hey,” Sarah said defensively, disliking that her Uncle Tommy was making fun of her genuine attempt to find Joel a woman. “Don’t make him feel bad. It took several hours of convincing just to get him to hand me his phone.” 

Tommy sneered and plopped down into Joel’s recliner, cracking open a beer despite it only being late afternoon. Hell, he might need one too. 

“Okay, Dad, focus. We need to fill out some of the Tinder prompts.” Sarah patted the section of the couch beside hers, Joel joining her after a few grumbles of resistance. 

“Prompts? What sorta prompts?” He asked, craning his neck to look at the phone screen she held up in her hands. 

“Prompts to get to know you better. You know, like, what are your likes and dislikes, what are you looking for in a relationship, where would you want to take someone for a first date,” Sarah continued the list until Tommy’s chuckle broke her concentration. 

“Ain’t Tinder for hookin’ up with chicks?” Tommy asked, making Joel’s head snap to Sarah. 

“Sarah, the hell are you doin’ to me?” 

“It’s not just for hookups, dad-”

“Yes, it is.” Tommy snicked, making Sarah glare at him. 

“C’mon, we’re trying everything to see what sticks.”

Joel felt rather hopeless about the whole ordeal. They added pictures, and Sarah crafted answers for his prompts. He didn’t really know what the hell he was doing with the whole left, right, swiping action. At one point, he expanded the age search by accident and didn’t realize it the next morning until he got a very forward message from a young woman. 

Hey, good looking ;) you look like a big man in more ways than one, if you catch what I mean… how about you come over to mine and show me a good time, I bet we can make it fit if we try hard enough. 

Joel storms into the kitchen, shoving his phone at Sarah’s face, “Take that damn app off,” He demands, “It ain’t for me.” 

“What did she say to you?” Sarah snorts, taking the phone from him, Joel watching as she holds her finger on the icon until it wobbles. 

“That ain’t for you to know,” Joel shakes his head, “Just delete the damn thing off my phone.” 

He watches as Sarah presses the cross in the corner of the icon, making a mental note of how he can delete the rest of them later when she’s not watching, she hands his phone back to him, taking a sip of orange juice, whilst he pockets the phone. 

Despite his first attempt at dating apps failing horribly, he was intrigued. A lot of the women out there were beautiful, some with children of their own from past relationships just like him. 

Joel was trying to watch the first Dallas Cowboys pre-season game with Sarah when his phone buzzed with a notification. It was just one of those that stated he had potential matches out there on Bumble. 

He chewed at the inside of his cheek, flicked his eyes up to the television screen, and clocked he wasn’t missing anything before he opened his phone. 

A few profiles later, he landed on a woman he found with a nice smile. He read through her profile, even letting out a quiet chuckle. 

Sarah’s eyebrows were drawn together with curiosity, watching her father smile goofily at his phone. 

“What’s goin’ on with you? You’re scaring me.” She teased as she pushed herself off the couch and leaned over his shoulder to see he was actually on one of the dating apps. A small sense of pride filled her. 

“I like ‘er. Got a nice smile, funny too.” Joel affirmed with a nod. He swiped like he was directed to, but then there was nothing. 

His face fell, smile and happiness swirling down the drain as he grew frustrated. 

“How the hell do I message ‘er?” He asked, neck craning as he held up his phone to Sarah, his silent way of asking for support. 

“You can’t message women first on Bumble. They have to like you back and message you first.” Sarah said with a shrug, snagging her dad’s beer from his hand and taking a quick swig. 

Joel was only scowling in disappointment and frustration. “Y’mean, I can’t even talk to ‘er? I can’t be a proper gentleman and make the first goddamn move?” 

He grunted in annoyance, swiped back his beer, and threw up the glass bottle to drain the last of its contents as he deleted the app. “Sick of these damn datin’ apps already. None of them are worth a damn.” 

Sarah sighed quietly and found her way back to the couch, nervousness settling inside of her. He wasn’t a very disagreeable person, in fact, her dad was neutral about a lot of things. What did he want to have for dinner tonight? Anything was fine. Which movie did he want to watch? He didn’t care, said she could pick. So why was he finding so many excuses with the apps? Not even the women, but the apps. 

Part of her thought about him trying to find a woman the old-school way, but he was maybe too out of the game to brush up a conversation with a random stranger. He might fail miserably, but maybe it would help with his confidence. He only had a few apps left, ticking off one by one. 

Joel stared at the ceiling, encapsulated by the slow-circling fan overhead. Darkness laid a dark veil over his bedroom, a sliver of moonlight being cast through the window. His head laid back into the pillows, jaw ticking from side to side as he lay wide awake. He lightly scratched his chest, feeling the dark hair that clustered at his sternum as his head rolled to the side and read the digital numbers on his clock. 

Another sigh left his parted lips. It was late, far too late for someone who worked the early mornings to be awake. At least tomorrow as Friday. 

His phone vibrated gently on his nightstand, a little chime he wasn’t accustomed to. He plucked his phone from the charger and squinted at its brightness, sitting up on his forearm to read the text. It was a message from a woman on Hinge. They had matched. 

Joel grunted and stared blankly at his lock screen until it went black with inactivity. No. Just go to sleep, Joel. Forget about it. He set his phone on the bed and laid on his side, digging his cheek into a pillow and forcing his eyes closed. Well, what was she doing awake at this hour? 

He opens his phone, clicking on the ‘H’ icon with its tiny red notification dot. He pays no mind to reading the message yet, instead clicking onto the mystery womans profile. The first picture is one of her wrapped up in a big coat, plaid scarf wrapped around her neck with a bobble hat and something warm clasped in her hands - it looks like she’s in a big city from what he can tell from the blurry background behind her, but he notices how happy she looks - big grin plastered on her face that reaches all the way to her eyes. 

Scrolling further down her profile, he finds the first prompt ‘Best Travel Story’ - her answer reading about a time she’d been hiking with her family. She likes the outdoors Joel thinks - something he and Sarah also enjoy, but he shakes his head before he thinks too much about a third person he can take hiking. There’s another photo then, clearly taken in the summer - she’s in a lovely dress, sitting at a table with a young boy on her lap, perhaps a nephew? He tries not to imagine that he’s stumbled across another single parent, what good luck that would be. 

Joel doesn’t make it much further down her profile - just to the section with all of her basic information. She’s around his age, shorter than him but not by much, she’s got a yes next to drinking, but a no to smoking and drugs, and she works in marketing. A steady job, he thinks. He’s praying, silently, that when he clicks back to her message, she’s sane. 

Good evening Joel! Sorry for such a late message, I’m a slight insomniac. I love your profile, you seem lovely! How are you doing this evening? (Or this morning depending on when you read this!) 

The corner of his mouth twitches into a small smile. A slight insomniac who thought he was quite lovely. Her words, not his. Maybe asking Sarah for help on his profile wasn’t such a bad idea. His fingers twitched above the keyboard, but he was unsure of what to say next. 

Joel sat up in bed, about to shove the covers off his lap and ask Sarah for help, when he took another look at his digital clock. It’s too late to wake her, he thinks. He’ll have to craft a response on his own. He dreads it, words never really being his strong suit. Would he look creepy if he replied this late back? 

Looks like we’re both slight insomniacs. Besides being unable to fall asleep, my evening was fine. How are you doing tonight, ma’am? 

Joel sighed and stared at his response, picking it apart and cursing under his breath. Now, he was wide awake. 

Ma’am? Way to make me feel 101… charming though, I like it ;) I’m doing okay, thank you. Just enjoying the only peace and quiet I get before I go to sleep. What’s keeping you up then, Joel? 

Joel’s face crumpled, pushing a hand through his hair after reading his response over and over again. He meant it in a gentlemanly way, not to make her feel old. He really screwed the pooch on that one. Nipping at his lower lip, he tried again. 

No offense intended ma’am, I’m just a Southern man is all.  Don’t mind about what’s keeping me up, I want to know about you. You don’t get much peace and quiet until midnight? How’s that?

None taken, just not used to someone being a gentleman on these things - normally at this point someone would be asking for a picture of my tits so you’re doing well so far. It’s usually my son that keeps me up, he’s been asleep a while but I only get so much time to clear up after him, so midnight is me time once that’s all done. You sure you don’t wanna tell me what’s keeping you awake? 

Joel’s smile only grew larger as she responded, and rather quickly, too. He imagined they looked quite similar right now. Different towns, different houses, both curled up in bed and staring at their phones, waiting for the other to reply. He wondered if she was smiling like he was, trying to push away an undeniable flutter in his stomach. Making him feel like a damn teenager. 

His face softened at her response. My son, she said. That boy on her profile, with chubby cheeks and a toothy smile, a head full of hair, and glee all over his face, was her son. She was a mother, just like he was a father. He wondered if she saw the young woman in his pictures and knew that was his daughter, Sarah. How could he subtly drop the hint? 

Those aren’t gentlemen, just boys. Sorry to hear they were wasting your time. I understand your limited personal time. When my daughter Sarah was young, my alone time consisted of sitting in the truck during her soccer practices and after she went to bed. It’s not easy. What’s keeping me up is partially Sarah’s fault. She’s the one who urged me onto Hinge. I don’t really know what I’m doing, to be honest. Just know a pretty flower when I see one. 

Is Sarah the young girl on your profile? She’s beautiful if so, you must be so proud of how she’s grown up. Well Joel, you don’t seem clueless, you’re keeping my attention pretty well, especially calling me pretty, I might be blushing. What made her decide now was the time for you to start dating? 

He’d never admit it if anyone asked. But it looked like he still had that Southern charm, you never really grow out of it. He reached over and plucked the string to his lamp, sitting up against his bedframe and sipping on a glass of water as he read over her reply again and again. He had a fondness for the way she complimented his baby girl. She got extra points for that. 

Yep, that’s my Sarah. She’s going to med school next year, couldn’t be prouder. I suppose she graduated from college and thinks she knows everything now. Thinks I need a love life. I think she’s felt this way for a while, but she knows I’m stubborn. What’s your son’s name? Looks like a good kid. 

Smart and beautiful, you must have very good genes Joel. That’s incredible though, I can imagine how proud you are of her. Well, I for one am pleased she’s pushed you here, you seem a really nice guy Joel. My son is Noah, he’s seven so full of beans, I’ve never known anyone have so much damn energy! 

And you seem like a real nice woman, ma’am. Sarah had so much energy at seven, that’s when I put her in soccer to run all that damn energy out of her. 

His fingers hesitated, typing out the message but not quite pressing send. He liked her. He liked how sweet and funny she was. Plus, she understood what it was like to have a kid, someone who would always be put first. 

Since it’s technically 12:57, are you doing anything tonight? Is having a drink okay for a slight insomniac? 

Well, thank you very much Joel. I have a feeling Noah and Sarah would have gotten along well if they were the same age, he’s just started soccer practice for that very reason. And, lucky for you, Noah has an evening with his grandparents tonight, so a drink sounds lovely. Just let me know a time and a place.

His heart was thumping in his chest, a tired little grin on his face as he offered to take her to The Aristocrat Lounge on the North side of Austin. They settled on seven, enough time for Joel to get home, shower, and convince Sarah to help clean him up a bit. A daunting feeling pressed into his chest, making his breath snag tight in his lungs. He was nervous, those strange butterflies still fussing around. He shoved them down, persistent on ignoring the feeling. 

It’s a date. Try to get some sleep, I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight, ma’am. 

[farfromsugafanfic]

Rebound | Chapter Five: Switch

Genre: College AU, Basketball Captain!Yoongi, Basketball Captain!Reader, Idiots to Lovers, slight Rivals to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort

Pairing: Yoongi/Reader

Rating: M

Chapter Warnings: smut, oral (f rev), mentions of police, "princess" pet name, alcohol consumption, mentions of drunk driving (but none occurs), references to underage drinking (Yoongi and OC are not underage)

Synopsis: You and Yoongi always catch each other on the rebound.

A/N: I'm so sorry this has taken so long to post. I initially intended to get it posted over the course of a few weeks, but life happened and the last semester of grad school has been crazy for me (I also studied abroad over the summer where I had little time for my personal writing). I'm going to get chapters queued up over the next few weeks and I am going to try my best to have it lined up before I return to classes.

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Yoongi reached up and grabbed your hand with his forcing it down against the bed.

"No," he said. "Keep it on. The door doesn't lock and if someone walks in..."

You smiled and responded by pushing your hands up Yoongi's T-shirt. His skin was warm and soft and utterly intoxicating.

His lips continued to move downward, placing sloppy, opened mouthed kisses down the fabric of your dress. Damp spots began to appear as he moved his way down, but you didn't care.

Yoongi was on his knees as he came to the hem of your dress and pushed it up catching sight of your black lace panties. You heard him hum quietly in satisfaction.

"You didn't wear these to the game did you?" he asked. "I imagine that would be uncomfortable."

You laughed. "No, I wore them just for this."

"You planned on getting laid tonight?"

"They match the dress." You smirked

Yoongi began to kiss your thighs, his hands working to keep them parted. He hadn't even reached your core yet, and you were already writhing and wanting to close your legs around his neck.

"Yoongi, we can just fuck if you want, you don't have to—"

He began to slide down your panties then at an agonizingly slow pace. His fingertips brushing against your leg with every inch. When he reached your feet, he tossed them onto the bed beside you.

"No," he said. "I want to show you how much I like you. Let me treat you, Princess."

The nickname nearly sent you into an orgasm by itself. You didn't have much time before Yoongi threw your legs over his shoulders and began eating you out.

His mouth focused mainly on your clit, but that alone was enough to feel the build up in your stomach. If his skill wasn't already enough, the small grunts and moans he let out whenever he came up for air sent you reeling.

You buried your fingers in his hair and pulled lightly, relieving some of the tension.

"I've been—I've been thinking about this since last time," you said, not completely cognisant of the words falling from your lips. "I couldn't stop thinking about you."

Yoongi never responded as he was too busy trying to satisfy you. He looked amazing on his knees in front of you. If it weren't for the way his hands held you down, it would almost seem like you were the one in control. As if he—the high and mighty captain of the boy's basketball team—was bending to your will.

The thought only got you off more and you were so near your release.

You weren't sure exactly how Yoongi managed to get you off with just his mouth, having kept his hands firmly planted against your thighs the entire time.

"Yoongi, I'm gonna—"

You expected the boy to move his mouth at the warning, but instead as you orgasmed your release covered his lips and chin. He looked beyond irresistible as he emerged and brought the hem of his shirt to his mouth and wiped off your cum, exposing his toned stomach. His white fabric now stained and you were getting wet just looking at it.

"Yoongi, can I—?" You were cut off by the sound of sirens and the flash of lights coming through the window.

"Shit," Yoongi said under his breath. He reached above your head and retrieved his jacket and helped you pull down your skirt. He reached down and picked up one of your heels, searching for its mate.

You could already hear the rest of the partygoers running and various indistinguishable shouts. You sat up and while having just a moment ago been ready for another round, the situation killed your vibe.

"Forget them," you said. "I'll run faster without them."

You took Yoongi's hand and rushed towards the back door. You were sure the police were just there about a noise complaint, so they most likely weren't going to rush into the party, at least until they realized that at least half of the partygoers were underage.

Your first time at the semi-finals party had ended in you spending a night in jail, although you never ended up being charged. It was a college town after all, and drunk college students weren't always the most pressing matter.

"Did you drive?" Yoongi asked, still slightly behind you, but his fingers wrapped tightly around yours.

"Nah, I planned on getting a ride back with one of the girls in the morning. Did you?"

Yoongi nodded. "But, I had a drink. We can't go anywhere."

You were relieved Yoongi didn't plan on driving drunk, but with the majority of the cars parked on the grass in the back were gone.

You immediately spotted Yoongi's dark colored sedan and headed towards it.

"I mean, we aren't underage. They can't possibly care if we just hang out back here? We aren't breaking the law?"

Yoongi shrugged as he took his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the car. You climbed into the back wanting to lay down.

"I guess, we'll find out," Yoongi said, climbing in behind you and closing and locking the door. Despite the action still unfolding around you, the tires squealing away and the frantic screams of freshman attempting to run into the woods before they were discovered, the car felt quiet and you closed your eyes, already feeling a little sleepy.

Yoongi had somehow shuffled his way under you. Your back against the back of the seat and your side resting on his. His arm was loosely around your waist and his breath warm against your neck.

"We could just sleep here," he said. "I can take you home in the morning."

You nodded in agreement. You cuddled against his warmth and brought your legs up to rest in his stomach. With the movement, you brushed against his crouch, feeling that Yoongi was still hard and a sudden wave of guilt rushed over you.

"Oh, Yoongi," you said. "I'm sorry..."

"What?"

"You got me off, but you didn't—"

"Don't worry about me," he said, placing a kiss in your hair. His breath soon came to your ear and you could feel the heat radiating off of him. "I'm just happy I got to see you cum."

You knew Yoongi was just teasing, just wanting to rile you up a bit, but it made heat flood into your core and the guilt explode in your chest.

"I-I could suck you off," you said, trying to sound confident. You'd never given a blow job before, but if anyone was going to be your first, you were glad it was Yoongi. You trusted him to go easy on you the first time.

"No Y/N," he said. "Go to sleep."

"But, it's not fair," you said. "You were so amazing and I want to pay you back."

Yoongi's hands grazed over the fabric of your dress in soothing lines you were convinced was the outline to a beautiful work of art.

"Y/N, I didn't do it because I expected anything in return. I don't want you to do anything you don't want to."

"Yoongi, I want to!"

"Y/N," he said.

"Is it me? Do you just not like blowjobs?"

Yoongi chuckled slightly, probably cause it was obvious that you were a little tipsy. He smoothed down your hair.

"No, Y/N, the thought of you sucking my dick is possibly the hottest thing I can think of. But, I don't want you to do it because you feel obligated to."

You quieted and rested your head on his chest, not caring that your dress slipped up slightly or that your feet were now impossibly tangled with his.

Your mind raced at Yoongi's words. Part of you was touched and felt tears stinging and threatening to spill over. But, another part of you was worried. Did Yoongi care about you? More than in a friends who occasionally have sex way? Why else would he care if you felt obligated? Yoongi was a good guy—he always had been—but he has never been the type to turn down a woman freely giving her consent.

But, exhaustion soon overtook your worries. Your sleep was interrupted only momentarily by the bright shine of a light and the sound of Yoongi's deep, raspy voice. The one that emerged whenever he had just woken up or had been quiet for a while.

You couldn't catch what he said, but you felt his hands come to your body as he felt you shift on top of him.

"Yoongi? What was that?"

"Nothing, go back to sleep, Princess."

Taglist: @sarcasticsweetlara @vickvx @baechugff @wobblewobble822 @wmyoons @limiworld

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[fangirlwriting-stories]

Atychiphobia

Summary:

Atychiphobia is an intense fear of failure. Fear of failure is self-limiting and causes severe stress and anxiety. It can impair your present relationships, goals to succeed, and productivity.

Ford Pines gets paid a visit one night from a certain dream demon.

Author's Note: I’ll have you all know I started with the intent of like, a 6k one shot. It’s now eight chapters and 28,000 words with an inspiration playlist and it took me two months to finish. It is done already though, so I'm gonna post one chapter every Saturday morning until it's all out. I hope you enjoy it!

...

It’s during a dream that Ford first meets Bill.

It starts off as a really good dream, too.  He and Stan have finished fixing the Stan-O-War and are casting off to the open sea.  Ford can see scientific anomalies and monsters in the distance for him, and treasure and cute girls for Stan.  Stan’s talking excitedly about all of the adventures they’re about to have, and Ford has mapped it out so they’ll still be home in time for dinner.

But just as they’re about to sail out of sight of Glass Shard Beach, Ford hears a cackle of laughter from beside him, and not like Stan’s normal-sounding laughter.

“Stanley?” Ford asks, turning in confusion.

Stan turns to face him too, but his smile is way too wide, and his eyes are yellow with slitted pupils.

Ford yelps and leaps backwards, only for definitely-not-Stanley to reach out and grab him by the shirt.

“Careful there, Sixer,” says a voice that also doesn’t belong to Stanley.  “You might fall!”

Ford looks behind him and finds that the edge of the boat is a lot closer than he remembers it being.

Not-Stanley yanks him forward, and Ford yelps again, landing on his hands and knees on the deck.  He looks up and sees Stan grinning unnaturally down at him.

“Stan?” he asks weakly.  Not-Stan laughs.

“Nope!” he calls, and then from Stan’s eye emerges a top hat, and then a bright yellow shape, and then Stan vanishes completely.  In his place is a floating yellow triangle with a top hat and bow tie.

“Wow, have I been waiting to meet you, Sixer!” the triangle says.  Ford stands up.  He wants to take a step back, even though that didn’t work out so well last time.

“Only Stanley gets to call me that,” Ford says.

The triangle laughs, like that’s funny.

“Who are you?” Ford demands, clenching his hands into fists and trying to be brave.  “Give Stanley back!”

The triangle laughs again.  “Wow, you’re the first Sixer I’ve met who’s ever said that,” he says.

“What?”

The triangle looks at him, and despite the fact that he doesn’t have a mouth, Ford gets the distinct impression that he’s smiling.

“Aww, you’re just a little shrimp, aren’t ya?” he says.  “No wonder you want your other half around.”

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” Ford says weakly.

“Oh, my bad,” the triangle says.  He holds out a hand.  “I’m Bill!  I don’t think we’ve met in this dimension yet!”

“In this what?” Ford asks, ignoring the hand.  He’s still trying to figure out how the triangle is talking without a mouth.

“This dimension, Sixer!  This is a fun one!  You’re a tad young, but no way that can stop you for long!”

“I— huh?”

“I’ve met you in too many dimensions, you never let anything stop you!” Bill continues, as if Ford’s confusion doesn’t exist.  “You’re too smart for that!”

Ford blinks.  “Thanks?”

“Don’t thank me, I’m just pointing out facts!  You’ve got a lot of potential, kid!  I’ll be keeping an eye on you!  Wouldn’t want to let it go to waste!”

Ford doesn’t know what to say to that, but it doesn’t end up mattering, because that’s about the time he hears “Hey, Sixer,” and feels a poke on his cheek.

Ford groans and rolls over in bed, burying his head back in his pillow.

“Sixer,” says the much more familiar voice of his brother.  “Wake up, Grauntie Mabel’s making pancakes, we’ve gotta get down there and stop her from adding glitter.”

And well, that is a real concern, so Ford manages to pull his head up with another groan and a grumble, and rubs at his eyes.

“I’ll hold her off as long as I can,” Stan says, from his spot right next to Ford’s bed.  “Just get downstairs quick!”

He runs out before Ford can say anything else.

Ford yawns, stretches, and forces himself into a sitting position.

“What a weird dream,” he mumbles to himself as he slips his feet out of bed.

…

He doesn’t put together that the triangle demon Fiddleford and Stan say they saw talking to Bud Gleeful is Bill until they’re inside Grauntie Mabel’s head.  But strangely enough, Bill doesn’t act like he knows him at all, and things are a little too urgent at the time for him to think much about it.

And after they’re done stopping Bill, well, things hardly get less urgent.  Ford doesn’t have any time to think about the fact that he had a weird dream about Bill being nice to him until after they’ve stopped Bud and have headed back home to the craft store to relax.  Grauntie Mabel promises to make a breakfast for dinner of pancakes with edible glitter, which Ford and Stan consent to as a fair compromise, and they all end up in the kitchen, laughing and reminiscing on all the crazy things that have happened the past couple of days.

But it’s only after Grauntie Mabel has gone to feed Waddles dinner that Stan says, “Man, I should have known the evil demon trying to take over Grauntie Mabel’s head was a distraction.  Classic bait-and-switch.”

And Ford’s eyes widen as he realizes he’d completely forgotten about Bill in the events of the last couple days.

“Uh, hey,” he says, turning to face Stanley.  “Stan—”

“Alright, share those, I’m not making any more tonight,” comes Grauntie Mabel’s voice, and she yanks away the last two pancakes that Stan had been about to reach for.  “You each get one, and head up to bed, it’s way too late as it is.”

“But Grauntie Mabel,” Stan whines.  “We defeated an evil fake psychic today!  Can’t we stay up a little later as a reward?”

“You can stay up later at the karaoke party we’re having on Saturday to celebrate,” Grauntie Mabel says, waving her hand towards the steps.  “Come on, we’ve all had a very long couple days.  I’m an old lady, I need my beauty rest.  And so does Waddles.”  She reaches down and rubs the pig on the head, who gives a satisfied oink as if to confirm.

“Does it have to be a karaoke party?” Stan mutters, but he shovels another couple bites of pancake in his mouth and then pushes his chair back.

“Goodnight Grauntie Mabel,” Ford calls quickly, pushing his chair back to follow Stan.  “Uh, hey,” he calls to Stan as they start up the steps.  “Can I ask you something?”

“What’s up?” Stan asks, glancing over at him.

“Had you ever, like, seen Bill before?  Like, before you and Fiddleford found him talking to Bud?”

“No, why?” Stan asks.  “You see him in the journal or somethin’?”

Well, that too.  And the author’s paranoid scribblings about never trusting or summoning Bill at any costs just made Ford more confused about the dream he’d had before.  But if Stan doesn’t know anything about him, then he must not have gotten a similar dream.  Which is weird.  Bill mentioned Stan in the dream, so he clearly knows about him.  Why would he only talk to Ford?  Did it have something to do with Bill calling him smart and talking about his potential?  Did he not view Stan the same way?  But then, the Bill from his dream had acted very different from the Bill who invaded Grauntie Mabel’s head.  Then again, if he’d been working for Bud, maybe he was just doing what Bud told him to?  Stan said they’d made a deal of some kind.  But if the author clearly thinks he’s not trustworthy, that’s probably not something Ford should just write off.

“Ford?”

Ford blinks, and Stan’s staring curiously at him.

“You good?” he asks.  “You just kinda… stopped talking, there.”

“I’m good,” Ford says, mostly on instinct.  “Just… thinking.”

“‘Bout what?”

Ford bites his lip.  “Nothing,” he decides on.  He doesn’t know what he thinks about anything yet, and Grauntie Mabel’s right, it’s been a long couple days.  He doesn’t want to bother Stan with questions about Bill right at the tail end of their victory.  “I’ll tell you in the morning, okay?”

Stan looks at him for another moment, and then shrugs.  “Okay,” he says, and then starts back up the stairs again towards the attic.  Ford follows him, trying to put Bill out of his mind for the night.  Besides, they’ll have plenty of time to figure things out now that Grauntie Mabel’s not sending them home.

Ford’s planning on heading straight to bed as soon as they get there, but as they walk into the attic, Stan says, “Hey,” and when Ford turns around he sees him holding up a hand.

“You were awesome today, Sixer,” Stan says with a bright smile.  “I’m never gonna forget the look on Bud’s stupid face.  High six?”

Ford grins at him, and slaps Stan’s hand with his own.  “High six,” he says.

Stan grins wider as he starts back over to his bed, and as he climbs under his covers, adds, “See?  You don’t need the journal to be awesome.  You can do amazing things all on your own.”

Ford looks away as he climbs into bed to hide his smile at that one.  “You were pretty awesome too, you know,” he says after a second, turning to face Stan again.  “With that grappling hook.”

“Yeah, I know,” Stan says, in a falsely cocky voice, putting his hands on his hips.  But the smile on his face as they start over to their beds shows that he appreciates it.

Ford laughs a little.  “Goodnight, knucklehead,” he says, laying down and pulling the covers up to his chin.

“Night, dumb-dumb!” Stan calls back cheerfully.

Both of them fall asleep smiling.

…

Ford’s not sure how much time has passed when he opens his eyes again, but it’s still dark in the attic.  Ford glances up towards the window for any sign of a coming morning, but oddly enough, he can’t even see the stars that are usually visible through the window.

Ford pushes the covers back and sits up, turning to face the window.  Is this more Gravity Falls weirdness?

He walks quietly over to the window and peeks out, but nothing’s outside of it, just a long black expanse.

“Um,” he says, starting to get a little nervous.  He turns to the bed on the other side of the room and whispers, “Stanley.”

A grumble comes from the bed.  Ford walks over and pokes Stan in the shoulder.  “Stanley, wake up—”

Stan spins over in bed, sudden and visceral, his bones cracking audibly.  Ford screams and leaps back a step, before Stan’s eyes snap open to reveal bright yellow irises.

“Heya again, Sixer!” yells a now-familiar voice.  Stanley’s body peels back in a way that’s not much better than the bones cracking, and Ford looks away, feeling nauseous.  Out of the corner of his eye he sees Bill float up from what was Stanley a second ago.

Bill turns around and laughs, poking the mush left on the bed.  “Man, he’d look good as a corpse!”

“Stop it!” Ford screams, turning around completely and shoving his hands over his ears.

“Aw, come on, Sixer, I’m just having a little fun!  Tons of other versions of you thought that was funny!”

Ford just shoves his hands over his ears tighter, though it doesn’t seem to do anything to block Bill’s voice.

“Not your style yet, huh Sixer?”

“Stop calling me that!” Ford says, turning around and keeping his gaze firmly away from the other bed.  “Only Stanley gets to call me that!”

Bill laughs again.  “Man, I always forget how tight you two are at first.  Just weird to see, lemme tell ya.”

“What are you talking about?” Ford asks, clenching his hands into fists.  “And why did you invade Grauntie Mabel’s head?  And why did you act like we’d never talked before when we found you?”

“Woah, slow down, Sixer, one question at a time,” Bill says, amusement bleeding into his eye.  “Look, Shooting Star was nothing personal.  Just the terms of the deal, you know?  Besides, you and your useless brother beat me in the end.  No harm no foul.”

Ford grits his teeth.  “Okay, I’ve decided, I don’t like you,” he says.  “Leave me alone.”

“Oh, calm down, Sixer,” Bill says.  “I’m just trying to help.”

“I don’t like your version of help,” Ford says coolly.  “You almost hurt my Grauntie, and you’re mean to my brother.”

“Hey, sorry bud,” Bill says, holding up his hands.  “Old habits die hard.  I learned it from you, you know.”

“Why do you keep saying stuff like that?  Stanley’s not useless, you’re just being mean!”

Bill laughs again, sounding harsher and meaner than before.  “I always forget how little you humans know about the multiverse.  Come here, I’ll show you!”

“What do you—” Ford starts.  But before he can finish, Bill grabs him by the arm and yanks him upwards, through the air and towards the attic window.

Ford yelps and tries to shield his face from the glass, but they pass right through, and when he opens his eyes he sees a car driving away from their house.  He doesn’t recognize the car, but Bill points at it like it means something.

“I’d imagine you’ve got about six years left before that brother of yours realizes what you really are and kicks you to the curb,” Bill says.  “That’s him in the car, getting far away from you.  Can’t blame him, really.”

Ford scowls and yanks his arm away.  “You’re a liar,” he says.  “Stanley wouldn’t do that.”

“I’ve got a couple dozen dimensions that prove you wrong, Sixer,” Bill says, grabbing his arm again.  “You want to take a tour?”

Ford tries to yank his arm away, but Bill just tightens his grip, and the world around them shifts again.  The type of car changes, but it’s still driving away from their house, and when Bill yanks them down next to the car, the person inside really does look a lot like an older version of Stan.  He looks angry, and he’s glaring out the window ahead of him, not seeming too interested in what’s back at the house.

“That doesn’t mean he’s leaving,” Ford snaps, glaring at Bill, since he can’t seem to pull his arm out of his grasp.  “That’s what Stan does when he’s upset, he needs space.”

Bill laughs again.  “Sure seems like a lot of space, then,” he says.  He snaps his fingers, and time seems to rewind around them, until the car stops with the older-looking-Stan outside of it.  Ford watches as he shouts up at the house: “I can make it on my own!  I don’t need you!  I don’t need anyone!”

Then, without another word, he climbs in the car and drives away.

“Stop it!” Ford snaps at Bill, trying to ignore the squirming nervous feeling that’s taken root in his stomach.  “You’re a liar, Stanley wouldn’t just leave me!”

“Oh, he wouldn’t now?” Bill asks, and he pulls them both away from the scene again, quickly through a bunch of other ones— other dimensions, Ford supposes?  They’re moving too quickly for Ford to really look at what’s happening, but he gets a couple of clear images— Stanley punching him in the face, shoving him away from him, shoving him towards some kind of futuristic looking glowing triangle, yelling something in his face and then storming off and not coming back, and not coming back, and not coming back, and—

“Stop it!” Ford screams, squeezing his eyes shut.  “Stop it, stop it, I don’t wanna see!”

“Well, that’s not a good attitude to have, kid!” Bill says, still sounding incredibly amused by everything.  “I’m just trying to prepare you!  It’s gonna happen eventually, you should be ready for it!”

“It’s not, it’s not!” Ford protests, trying to pull his arm away from Bill’s again.  “Stanley’s not going to leave me, you’re a liar!”

Bill laughs again, but there’s something darker about it, and that something almost forces Ford to open his eyes.  Bill’s eye is glowing bright red now, and Ford doesn’t like the manic energy in it.  He tries harder to pull his arm away, but his wrist starts to strain in a way he doesn’t like.

“‘Course he is, Sixer!” Bill calls brightly.  “And you know why?”

He lets go of Ford’s hand, and Ford screams as he starts to fall into the air, but before he can get very far, Bill grows ten times larger and catches Ford in his left hand.  Ford tries to run and leap off the edge of the hand, but Bill just casually dumps him into his other one, and then back into his first, until Ford lands in his right hand dizzy and stumbling.  Bill shifts his grip until he’s grasping Ford tightly, and then brings him right up to his bright red eye.

“It’s because your brother realizes what you really are,” Bill says, his voice suddenly deeper and angrier.  “A washed up miserable failure who squanders all your potential.  A lonely freak whose most unique trait is something he didn’t even earn.”  Bill shifts his grip and pushes Ford’s arm up into the air, presenting his six fingers on full display.  It’s probably Ford’s imagination, but he can swear for a second he hears Stanley’s laughter.

“You’re nothing special, kid,” Bill says, leaning his enormous eye right into Ford’s face.  “And sooner or later, your brother’s going to realize it too.  I’m just making sure you’re ready for when everyone finally knows what a failure you are.”

“I—” Ford manages, trying to lean away.  “I’m not!  You’re wrong!”

Bill cackles.  “I got a couple dozen dimensions that prove me right, Sixer,” he says.  “But don’t worry, we can continue our tour another time.  Besides, you’ve got stuff to do.”

And with that, he tilts his head back, turns his one eye into a large, gaping mouth, and then tosses Ford up towards it.  The mouth snaps shut around him, and Ford screams.

…

He wakes up gasping and panicking, grasping for anything around him, some kind of way to pry Bill’s mouth open.  But his hands only meet empty air.  It takes him a second to realize he’s not being eaten by a dream demon, and is instead back in the attic.

He leans forward and drops his head into his knees, his breathing still way too short and shallow and panicked.

“St-Stanley?” he calls, trying to make it loud enough to get his brother’s attention.  There isn’t any response, and that increases Ford’s panic enough that he yanks his head up.

The sun is shining in through the window, and the attic is empty.

Ford scrambles from the bed and towards the steps, making his way down them as quickly as he can with how badly his legs are shaking.

He hears Stanley’s voice as he reaches the bottom of the steps, sounding like it’s coming from the kitchen.

“I’m just saying, reheated they’re never as good,” he says.  “Just how it is.”

“Oh, I see,” comes Grauntie Mabel’s rather amused voice.  “Well, if you want to make fresh pancakes every time you want to eat them, you go for it, but in the meantime, you’re asking an awful lot of me, buddy.”

“Excuse me, I’m the child?  That’s my job.”

Grauntie Mabel snorts with laughter.  Ford doesn’t want to interrupt them, and instead he leans back against the wall at the bottom step, trying to take a deep breath in.

“Just a nightmare,” he whispers to himself.  “Calm down, it’s just Bill trying to mess with you.  You’re okay.”

He stays there for a little longer, until his legs stop feeling quite so shaky, and then he pushes himself up.  He takes one more deep breath, and starts slowly towards the kitchen.

Stan is sitting with his back to him when he walks into the entryway, but Grauntie Mabel smiles at him from the place across from the door.

“Good morning, sleepyhead!” she calls.  “You’re up later than usual.  Want some pancakes?”

“Don’t bother, they’re reheated,” Stan calls, while shoveling another bite in his mouth, which makes for a bit of a confusing message.

Ford just nods in response to Grauntie Mabel, and when she climbs up to get a new plate and get the pancakes from the fridge, he walks forward and sits down in the open chair next to Stan.

“Hey, Sixer, great news!” Stan calls, grinning up at him.  “Now that we have an actual house back, Fiddleford’s dad is letting him come over and play again!  He called a little bit ago, he says he’ll be here after lunch!”

Ford gives the best smile he can manage.  “That’s awesome,” he says, hoping Stan can’t see right through him.

Stan has always been able to see right through him.

His smile dips into a concerned frown.  “Hey, you good?”

“Just a bad dream,” Ford admits.  “I… can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Stan says, turning to face him a little more directly as he gives him his attention.

“Would you… I mean, if I…” he trails off, the same desperate panic from his nightmare starting to crawl its way up his throat again.

“Would I, if you…” Stan prompts.

Ford looks up at him, takes in Stan’s earnest concerned face, and realizes he can’t get the words out.

“Would you mind if we skip the monster hunting today?” he asks.  “I think I’m a little beat after all the stuff with Bud.”

Stan looks at him a moment longer.  “Sure, no problem,” he says after a second.  “But are you sure that’s what you wanted to ask?”

Ford clenches his hands into fists under the table.  “I’m sure.”

“Fresh reheated pancakes, at your service,” comes Grauntie Mabel’s voice, and Ford takes the distraction, turning with a smile and taking the plate from her.

“Thanks, Grauntie Mabel,” he says, and cuts up and shovels a bite in his mouth as quickly as he can.

Stan doesn’t say anything else, which is fine, because he doesn’t need to.  Ford can manage this all by himself, because Bill’s wrong.  He’s not a failure.

He’s gonna prove it, too.

[burrowbaddie]

Me & You

Joe Burrow x Female Reader

Series Summary: Childhood friends to lovers to nothing. You and Joe had history, you were each others first and then you were nothing. Years later, you guys rekindle the flame but with more obstacles in the way this time.

Chapter 1 Summary: You try to figure out how you and Joe got yourselves into this current state.

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: Afab!reader, smut, swearing. Oral (female & male receiving), vaginal fingering, penetrative sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cheating! (You are the side girl, sorry.)

Series Master

A/N: Hello! Omg I don’t know anything about football or the NFL! I saw Joe last season and I just had to join in this x reader tags! So be nice to me! I’ve been sitting on this fic forever! I was so nervous to post. This is all fictitious so pls be nice to me! 😭

You're standing listening to the crowd cheering on the Bengals. Your best friend, Mya, is drunk and screaming at the top of her lungs. You grab her arm to calm her down.

"Listen, I don't know how you scored these tickets, but I am going to soak up everything in this moment. Joe, let's get it done!" Mya screams near your ear. The name causes your head to snap in his direction. Joe's attention is on something the coach is saying to him. You sit down in your seat, feeling smaller than usual.

"So, who are you fucking for these seats?" Mya asks, sitting down next to you as a timeout is called.

"No one. My dad got lucky." You reply, laying your head on her shoulder. That was obviously a total lie. It was a lie you would have to keep because you knew precisely where you would end up after this game. In the same hotel, you've been meeting the Bengals QB for the last few months.

After dropping Mya home, you made your way to the hotel, walking straight to the room without checking in. A little after midnight, the front door opens, and the blue-eyed man makes his way over to you. You hand him a glass of water, but he opts for a kiss. You have to stand on your tippy toes to get more access to his mouth. Joe drops his bag on the floor and scoops you up. Your legs wrap around his waist as he carries you toward the bedroom. Joe tosses you down on the bed, and you giggle, watching him strip. The only thing you have on is a t-shirt, so it's easy for Joe to rip it off and leave you bare. Joe kisses from your ankle, slowly making his way up to your thigh, where he stops to suck on it. With your legs perched on his shoulders, Joe hovers his mouth over your drooling cunt. A starved moan erupts from his mouth as your juices hit his tongue. His rough hands tighten around your thigh as he buries his face into his meal, sucking and slurping on your clit.

Joe is a messy eater when it comes to you; your juices trickle down his chin as he devours your pussy. He can't even think straight because his mind has only one goal; making you cum. You clench around his fingers as he slides in two. Your eyes are barely open, but you prop yourself up on your elbows to get a look at the man between your legs. Joe's blue eyes were now dark and staring directly at you. It sends shivers down your body, and you plop down with an exaggerated moan. Joe flattens his tongue against your clit while thrusting two fingers into you. You close your eyes, feeling your orgasm come crashing down. Joe slurps obnoxiously loud and can't help but add to the sounds with his whines. He drinks every drop you release into his mouth. Joe sits back on his knees, face soaked, grinning down at your shaking body.

Joe moves back between your legs, this time slapping the head of his cock on your clit. He slowly pushes the tip into your sensitive pussy. Joe lets out a long groan as he slowly pushes in. But he doesn't get entirely into you because his phone rings. He rolls his eyes and pulls out, going to look for his phone. You pull the blankets over your body because you know the ringtone. It was Nicole, his long-time girlfriend. You bite your lip, watching him take the call to the bathroom. Joe returns with a look of sadness.

"I have to go."

You only nod your head. He kisses your lips, and then you head after getting dressed. And with a heavy heart, you watch him leave. You don't cry anymore, but that doesn't mean it hurts any less. Dragging yourself out of bed, you decided to run a bath and drink some wine. This expensive room won't go to complete waste. Once the tub is filled with bubbles, you slide your body in and lean back, closing your eyes. How did you get here with Joe?

"Joey!" You scream as the blonde spins you around in his arms. He has just finished practice, and you promised him a burger from Steak N Shake.

"I'm starving!" Joe wipes his sweaty forehead on your dry one. You scrunch up your face and push him away. Joe laughs and takes your hand as you lead him to your car. He threw his things in the backseat while you hopped in the front and started the vehicle. Taylor Swift's We Are Never Getting Back Together started blasting on the radio. You can't help but giggle while listening to Joe sing along. When you guys arrive at the restaurant, you take your usual spot. Two burgers and a shared milkshake later, you guys make your way to Joe's house. You lay down on the bed, waiting for Joe to finish showering. Laying there, you let your mind drift to thoughts about your upcoming AP Chemistry test. Joe interrupts your thoughts as he throws his wet towel on you after drying his hair.

"Your blonde hair is insane. You look so funny."

"Funny meaning hot!" He shouts, jumping on the bed next to you. You roll your eyes and smack him with a pillow. Joe lays back and pulls you down to his chest.

"We're going to be seniors next year. Time flies. We're getting old, Cheeks." Joe mumbled while rubbing your back. You smile at the childhood nickname. He's been calling you "Cheeks" since 6th grade because your cheeks were swollen from an allergic reaction the first time you met.

"I can't wait for college. Freedom!" You rub his chest and bite your lip.

"Do you want to have sex?" Joe whispers, causing you to crack a sly smile. You roll over and on his lap. Since losing your virginity to your best friend over the summer, the both of you have become a little more attached at the hip. It's not like you guys were dating. It's never been brought up between you two. Everyone in school assumes that you guys are dating, and it's not like either of you has denied or confirmed it; it's just assumed. That is how you guys kept things until senior year rolled around, and your feelings for your best friend weren't just laughs and giggles; it was butterflies in your tummy at every smile he gave you. It was the jealous feeling bubbling in Joe's stomach every time a guy got a laugh out of you. But both of you were too wrapped up in school and Joe with Football to move on from friendship status. So when freshman year rolled around, you had your first boyfriend; it lasted six weeks. It was a complete jerk-off and constantly pressured you to do things you didn't want to do. Joe stepped in and got you out of that situation.

Joe tucked his hands into his sweatpants as he walked you back to your dorm. Both of you had things you wanted to say but kept silent.

"The guys are playing well."

"Yeah, but I'm not starting. Shit is wack. I'm busting my ass just as much."

"I'm sure the coach sees that too." You stop in front of your dorm door and look up at your best friend.

"Umm, thank you for helping me end things with Matt. I was so wrapped up with having a boyfriend I just completely lost myself for a second."

"It's all good. I'm glad you're okay. I could've killed that guy, honestly." Joe rocks back on his heels, looking at you. You quickly become hypnotized by those baby blue eyes.

"I'm in love with you," Joe whispers. You swallow and hold your breath all at once. It's the confession that blows you away. You never thought Joe would utter it first.

"I'm in love with you too." You smile, nodding your head. Joe leans in to kiss you, and you wrap your arms around his neck.

"Fucking finally!" Quinn, your best friend, screams, swinging the door open. You hide your face in Joe's chest as your friends laugh. Quinn and Francis clap and pull you guys into the dorm.

"It took fucking forever for you guys to say it. Like everyone knew! Everyone knew!" Fran shouts, hugging you. You giggle and look over at Joe, who is wearing the same smile. He holds out his hand, and you two disappear to your bedroom. It takes a while for your heart to calm down from the confession. Even after kissing and laying in bed, your heart skipped a beat thinking about being official with Joe.

"How long have you been in love with me?" You ask shyly, listening to his heartbeat.

"Since 6th grade."

"Joe." You slap his chest playfully and sit up. Joe sits up on his elbow, staring at you with a puzzled look.

"Cheeks. I'm serious. It took me a long time to examine my feelings, but looking back now, I've been in love with you since I first laid my eyes on your blown-up allergy face."

"Burrow, you're something else." You move onto his lap and kiss his face.

Your relationship surprised no one, not even his parents. His mother knew her son was head over heels for his best friend. So, nothing made a drastic change between the two of you. Sure, you spent more time together, went out on actual dates, and had mind-blowing sex whenever you wanted. By the second year, your families were sure it was time to get married. But things between you and Joe weren't always picture-perfect. Joe was busy with football and studies, and you had your head way in the books to graduate earlier and attend med school. The time you used to spend together soon reached a point where it would be a week before you saw each other in person.

"I really need you to be at the capstone presentation. You know I don't do well with public speaking. I've researched all for the last three years. All my hard comes down to this. If I do well on this presentation, I will have the chance to complete a summer internship at-"

"Cheeks. I will be there. I promise." Joe kisses your head to reassure you. You hug him tight and believe his words. But for the first time, Joe breaks his promise. He not only misses your presentation completely, but he doesn't call you that night either. The next day he shows up at your apartment wearing his 1 million dollar grin.

"I have the best news-"

"Where were you last night?"

"That's what I'm going to tell you! I have the chance to play down at LSU. Last night I had dinner with-"

"I had my capstone." You whisper, cutting him off. Joe wipes the smile off his face.

"Fuck. I'm so sorry. I am. You did great, right?"

"I fainted. I stepped on stage and saw how many people were present and fainted."

"Baby, I'm sorry. I really am, but this is a big opportunity for me too. I-"

"You couldn't reschedule? This was the chance of a lifetime for me! This whole relationship, I have been behind you no matter what! And the one time I needed you, you flaked!"

"I'm always there for you! Are you kidding me right now!" Joe shouts, following you toward your bedroom. You decided that if this was going to be a screaming match, you guys should at least take it to the bedroom in case your roommates came.

"When? Name a time we've done anything I want. Your fucking selfish!" You scream, trying to close the door in his face. Joe closes the door behind him and begins pacing the floor. You feel like you're giving more in this relationship than him. This wasn't your first argument, but things started to build up over time, and this was bound to happen.

"I do whatever you want. I practically follow you around like a lost puppy! You have my whole heart. What else do you want?"

"I don't, Joe. You and I both know that. When it comes down to it…. football will always come before me. The countless dates you missed because practice ran late. The time you stood me up for some stupid football social."

"You- you said you didn't go."

"I went to the restaurant. I sat there for two hours. I didn't tell you that because I didn't want to hurt your feelings. I didn't want to make you feel bad."

Joe closes his mouth because you're right. Football was his main focus. He had dreams just like you had dreams. When it came to you or football, Joe was chasing his dream.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize I was hurting you."

"Joseph, don't do that. You working hard towards your goals shouldn't be a bad thing. But maybe it's not the right time for us."

"Cheeks, I want you. I want you, and I want to make the first string. I want to be in the NFL."

"I know. I'm sure your coach-"

"I'm going to use the rest of my eligibility at LSU. That's where I was last night."

"You're moving to Louisiana? Joe, you didn't even ask me. What about me? We had plans once we graduated. The apartments we looked at."

"I'm sorry. I have to take this opportunity. Baby, I feel that this is the right decision. We can move down to Louisiana and-"

You shake your head, sitting down on the bed. Your heart and mind can't wrap your head around any of this. There was no way you could win. Joe made his decision and included you without your input. Before you can speak again, Joe's phone starts ringing. He answers it without hesitation, and you take a deep breath letting the conversation sink in. When Joe is finished, he kisses your head, letting you know he has to go. The argument isn't resolved, but neither of you brings it up again.

The week before Joe is set to leave is the day you make your decision.

"What do you mean?" The hurt in Joe's voice breaks your heart.

"Joseph, I can't pick up my life and follow you to another state. My life is up here. My family is up here."

"I'm your family too. We made plans and-"

"Plans you disregarded when you chose to play for LSU." You cut him off, sitting next to him on the bed. Joe rubs his eyes and places his head in his hands.

"I want you to follow your dreams. I know you can make it to the NFL. I know you will do amazing at LSU. I don't want to make you choose between me or your dream. So, I'm taking myself out of the equation." You whisper, grabbing his hand. There are tears in your eyes that match his eyes.

"I'm sorry. I should've talked to you about all of this, but I saw my chance and took it."

"There's nothing to be sorry about. I want this for you too."

The room remains silent as you guys ponder the next steps. Joe leans in and kisses your lips. Without another word, he leaves. And your friendship with Joe continued, but as his time at LSU began and your internship began, you guys fell out of touch. You got busy with medical school and him with football. And before you know it, Joe is a thing of the past.

That is until you guys meet again by chance. Joe showed up at the Cincinnati Children's Hospital one day for a charity meeting and ran into you. You freeze as the director continues his conversation with Joe and his parents. Robin, Joe's mother, waved you over. She pulls you into a big hug.

"How long has it been? Joe! Doesn't she look amazing?"

Joe can't even find words to speak. His tongue feels like it's stuck in peanut butter. His heart is skipping through loops.

"Ahh. She is one of our brilliant residents. We are happy to have her on staff. Bright future for this one." He says, hugging you. But your eyes can't leave Joe's, not until his mother pulls you into a warm embrace again. His parents leave you two to catch up while they finish something with the director.

"How have you been?" Those words leave both of your mouths. Joe chuckles and waits for you to answer.

"I've been okay. You?"

"Umm, great."

"I see that QB." You smile, slapping his arm playfully. Joe scratches the back of his neck. He's nervous. You can read him like a book, just like he can read you.

"Are you free tonight? My family is throwing this thing for some of my teammates and-"

"I don't want to intrude."

"Stop. We haven't seen each other in years, and I want to catch up."

"I get off at 9. Is that too late?"

He shakes his head, and you exchange numbers before returning to your rounds. The rest of the shift, the anticipation of seeing your first love again drives you insane. You can hardly keep your head clear. And when you finally clock out shower, and dress, your heart is damn near beating out of your chest. With a knock on the door, your heart is ready to leap out of your chest.

"I'm happy you came!" Robin pulls you inside, and you follow her toward Joe. Joe introduces you to some teammates.

"I can see why you called her Cheeks." Ja'Marr laughs, looking at you up and down. You can't help but shyly look away. Joe playfully pushes him away.

"That's not why I call her that. In 6th grade-"

"Joey, stop!" You whine. Joe pulls you into a hug. And the two of you stay there in your world. The cologne he is wearings sends your head into a dizzy spell. You missed him.

"Babe! Who's this?" A girl interrupts your reunion. You pull away, waiting for the introduction, but you know her already. She is on TV every day as the local News anchor. You blank out.

"And this is my girlfriend, Nicole." Joe finishes the introduction when you finally come back to life.

"Nice meeting you. So, you're the heartbreaker?"

"Nicki, we should see if your sister needs help." Joe pulls her away. You stand there wondering what Joe has told people about you. Ja'Marr throws his arm around your shoulder.

"Like glue. She sticks to him like glue."

You are saved by Robin pulling you into the backyard near the firepit. Your eyes stare into the dancing flame as around one around you mingles. When Joe plops down next to you, you turn toward him with a smile. Joe swears a similar smile; you guys get lost in your world just like before. It takes everything in Joe not to lean over, kiss, hold, or touch you. But your picture-perfect world is shattered once his girlfriend returns to his side. You look away back at the flames. When the guest starts leaving, you decide to make your exit, but Joe persuades you to stay later and catch up. And here you two are, awkwardly standing in his childhood bedroom, waiting for the other to speak up.

"I didn't think we would see each other again," Joe speaks first. You only respond with a head nod. You thought the same thing would happen as well. It was your fault for losing communication, but it's not like Joe made an effort after the fallout.

"Are you seeing anyone?" Joe asks. You shake your head. You can't find the words to speak. Joe reaches out and cups your face; you don't pull away. Instead, you lean into his touch.

"Have you missed me as much as I've missed you?"

"Yes." You reply, finally finding your voice. And Joe kisses you, tender and sweetly. Just like he did the first and last time you two shared a kiss. You don't pull away or flinch. You kiss Joe back with all the same amount of love.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He whispers in between kisses. You finally come to and pull away.

"Joe, you have a girlfriend now. We can't do this. I should go." You say, grabbing your bag and turning to leave, but Joe grabs your arm.

"I shouldn't have done that; you're right. But can we talk, please? There's so much I want to say to you."

"I think it would be better if we didn't do this."

"Why? When would be the right time to do this? You stopped contacting me. You went on and left me behind like I meant nothing."

"Joey, communication is a two-way street. In the last year of our relationship, I held things together! Hold us together! You made your choice to go to LSU."

"You said it was okay! And now you're going to throw it back in my face. It broke my heart that you didn't support me-"

"I always supported you! I have been your supporter since day one, which is why I had to let you go. Because I knew how much you loved me, and if I made you stay, you would have resented me." Your voice breaks as the tears start to flow. Joe shakes his head. No. There is no way he would ever resent you.

"Why didn't you come to Louisiana?"

"That wasn't the right path for me. You made that choice for yourself, not with my intention. I had an internship lined up, which helped rocket me into my residency. What did I have in Louisiana besides you?"

"We don't know because you didn't choose me."

"Joe," You chuckle and roll your eyes.

"I chose you the moment I let you go. Why can't you see things from my point of view?"

"And when you started blowing me off?"

"I blew you off? Oh God, Joey, do you hear yourself?"

"You stopped taking my calls and my texts. That wasn't you blowing me off? Did you meet someone else? Is that what it was? Was there someone else the whole time? Quinn told me you met someone else."

"I was depressed. I struggled after you left. I couldn't fathom the fact that we were done. I blamed myself, and I just-I had a hard time, and I was embarrassed that it was all my fault." You cry, letting the tears fall. Joe wraps his arms around you and holds you close.

"It's not your fault. It's no one's fault, Cheeks."

You sniffle and rub your nose on his shirt, causing him to chuckle.

"I want my best friend back." You whisper, staring up at him.

"Your best friend wants you back as well."

"As friends." You say the last part extremely low. Joe slowly nods his head. After that night, you slowly start working on your friendship again. But your feelings for each other couldn't die out. That's how you ended up in his hotel room in NY after a losing game to the Jets.

"Joey," You moan as he holds your legs on his shoulders. Joe continues to make out with your cunt as your vision blurs, and you cum all over his face. He slurps and drips every last bit. You lay there breathing heavily, trying to come down from your high. Joe sits up and licks his lips. he leans down and kisses you allowing you to taste yourself while he slides into you. Joe grunts feeling your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in closer. Each thrust you feel sends you into space. You are hot and sweaty, and your head is clouded with reaching another orgasm. Joe's cock pounds away at your softness, sending you and him spiraling.

"Feels so good." You cry out, biting down on his shoulder. Joe frantically starts snapping his hips as he closes in on his second orgasm of the night. You release your legs from his waist so that he can move more, but you slowly start inching away, which only drives Joe to pull you back down and hold your hips pressed down to the bed. Your legs began to shake because Joe found your sweet spot and made you see starts again; the spot would have you creaming on his dick in a few more strokes.

"Don't run away, Cheeks. You wanted this remember? Let me have it. All of it." Joe stares down, watching his cock go in and out of you.

"Joey," You're crying. Crying tears of pure bliss.

"Yeah? Let me feel it, baby. Go ahead and cum." Joe's eyes light up as you reach another orgasm, and he follows after groaning and throwing his head back. You lay there again, trying to come down while Joe lets out a long sigh. You aren't sure what time it is, but you two have been at it since after dinner. A nice hot bath would be amazing right now for both of you. But of course, Joe and his superman stamina pull you up on his lap.

"Joe, break, please. Water." You try to get out the words, but Joe is already bouncing you up and down on his cock. You can't believe he is hard again. You wrap your arms around his neck and let him use you like a fleshlight.

"If you want water, you have to earn it, Cheeks." Joe moans, biting on your earlobe. You pout, giving him puppy eyes. Joe chuckles, burying his face in your neck.

"Just a little rest." You whisper. Joe pulls you up and off, laying your love-bitten body down. He stares down at you, stroking his dick. You can't help but bite your lip. Joe cums all over your stomach with a long sigh. You lay there watching the white liquid melt all over your midsection.

"Bath?" He asks you with a cheeky grin. You can only nod your head. When Joe came back with water, you were drifting to sleep. He kisses your head and tells you the bath is ready. You guys get in the massive tub, your back against his chest. Joe holds your hand, kissing the back of it.

"When are you breaking up with her?"

"I plan to end things next week. Her mother was pretty sick from covid so-"

"I get it." You stay quiet, staring at the bubbles. Joe can tell that you're mind is racing. He kisses your neck and promises things will work out. But things never work out for the two of you. Which is how you find yourself in the present day, only in a Cincinnati hotel room full of cum and regret while Joe is off to console his girlfriend.

Joe calls you the next day to apologize. You forgive him because what else can you do? The boy isn't yours; you're a sidepiece, his fun on the side. And it's weeks before you can see him again.

"Okay, so I narrowed it down to who is single on the Bengals and how you scored those tickets!" Mya shouts, pushing your office door open. You lean back in your chair, waiting for her to go on. She starts listing players, and to be completely honest, you don't know that many people from the Bengals besides the few Joe introduced you to a few times.

"Yeah, I'm not dating any of those guys."

"Coaches, maybe?"

"No. Let it go. I am completely single."

"Omg! Are you a side piece?"

You're stunned but quickly recover and shake your head.

"I'm talking to someone. I could never be someone's side piece." You laugh and watch your phone light up. It's a text from Joe asking to see you tonight. You turn your phone over and sigh. Mya turns on the tv just as the morning news starts.

"Joe's girlfriend is so fucking beautiful. I literally watch the news to watch her. How lucky are they? He's so fucking hot! She's so fucking hot! Think about their babies! Gorgeous." Mya lays on the couch watching tv. You take the remote and turn off the TV.

"I have to do rounds, so let's get going." You stand up, and she follows you out the door. Your shift ends at 11, and Joe asks to see you before practice. You guys meet up at your house for the first time. Joe scoops you up and kisses you all over your face.

"Joseph! Put me down." You squeal. He laughs and sets you on your feet. Joe bends down and smiles at the orange cat purring at his feet.

"Peaches is still hanging in there, huh?" He asks, picking up the cat. Joe brought you a kitten for Valentine's Day during freshman year of high school.

"What are you doing for Thanksgiving? My dad has been asking to have you over, and you know how obsessed he is with you-"

"I'll come. Of course." He kisses your forehead and makes his way to the living room. YOu guys lay around watching old movies, stealing kisses, and enjoying the company and comfort. Joe leaves a little after 3. You decide to check your mail. Bills. Bills. Bills. A manila envelope with no address stops you in your tracks. You open it, and inside, you find photos of you and Joe. Photos of you two leaving the same hotel. Your hotel. Pictures of you kissings in his car. You look around, trying to spot anyone who looks suspicious. Someone was watching you and Joe.

[bellebridgerton]

Best Buddies Chapter 5 (Modern Benedict Bridgerton x plus size!fem!reader)

✨Masterlist✨

✨Last Chapter✨

Y/n woke up on Sunday, the last day of their visit into the country, the sun shining through the curtains of Benedict's bedroom. She felt his hand resting on her arse, not the she minded in the slightest. She gently stroked his cheek with her thumb, "Benedict, wake up, it's our last day here for the weekend."

Benedict didn't want to wake up, he groaned and curled into Y/n, resulting in Y/n on her back, his head resting on her chest and his body slotted between her legs. Y/n rubbed his back and kissed his head until she saw his eyes open, "Good morning, sleepyhead."

Benedict buried his face in her breasts, still half asleep, "I want to sleep, please. Family can wait." He didn't want to leave her arms and go see his family.

Y/n giggled, "Why is that?"

Benedict cuddled her closer, if that were possible, "You're comfy and warm, and you smell good."

Y/n blushed, "Thank you, Benny, but we can cuddle when we get home, I promise."

Benedict huffed, "Fine, I'll get up." He sat up on his knees, admiring the picture before him; Y/n in her pajamas, hair a mess, sleep in the corners of her eyes. She was perfect. He gently squeezed her thigh lovingly as he got up, like it was something he'd always done. Little did he know it started a fire inside Y/n, a fire that she knew she'd have to try to deal with on her own.

Y/n got up and fished a sundress out of her weekend bag, "What do you think?"

Benedict looked at her dress, it was beautiful and like most other men, he loved when women wore sundresses. Benedict nodded, "I like it, it looks good on you, love." He'd seen her in it before and it was the culprit of many a boner for him.

Y/n grinned and kissed his cheek, "I'm going to go freshen up and change."

Benedict nodded, sitting down on the edge of his bed. He felt his length stiffening again, "Fucking perfect." Benedict getting hard from being around Y/n wasn't new, but the frequency with which it was happening was. He stood up and gripped one of his bed posts, taking his cock in his other hand, thrusting into his hand, "Fuck, that's my girl, so tight! Mmm, Y/n, so good for me, baby girl."

Y/n couldn't believe her ears, Benedict was masturbating, to the thought of her, no less. She felt excited and nervous, but she certainly didn't want to interrupt him, that could make things very awkward.

As soon as she heard him stutter out her name, she hoped he'd finished. She gave it another couple moments, before she opened the door, "I'm ready, do you want me to wait here for you, Benny?"

Benedict had removed his shirt and was stretching, pretending as if nothing happened. He smiled, "Either one is fine with me, I don't want you to miss anything downstairs, but you can wait for me, if you wish, love."

Y/n approached Benedict and rested her hand on his chest, "Don't take too long, okay." She leaned up a bit, "I don't smell cigarettes!"

Benedict chuckled, "I told you I'd kick the habit. It'll take some time, but I feel good." He gently squeezed her waist with both hands, one resting on her lower back and one resting right above her arse. The second hand slid down and lightly touched her arse as he leaned in to kiss her cheek. Benedict felt her body curve with his as his lips touched her cheek. Y/n's arms draped around his shoulders and she kissed his cheek back, kissing his cheek a few times, each one longer than the last. With the last kiss, her hand cupped his opposite cheek, as if he might pull away.

Benedict had no intention of pulling away from all the wonderful attention she was giving him. He kissed her cheek again, his hands rubbing her lower back. He gently pulled back and kissed her temple, then her cheek again.

Y/n giggled softly, "Feeling affectionate this morning, are we?" She didn't mind at all, just surprised.

Benedict gave her a devilish grin, "You said I couldn't give you any kisses until I stopped smoking, and I've stopped, so I'm making up for the ones I missed yesterday." He kissed her jaw like she had done to him the night before.

Y/n blushed like mad, "Go get dressed, your family is waiting on us, I'm sure." She gave him one last kiss on the cheek before gently shoving him into the bathroom.

Benedict laughed but took his clothes into the bathroom with him, cleaning up and changing into jeans and a t-shirt. He exited the bathroom and put his tennis shoes on, "I'll take our bags to the car, you go socialize, I'll be right behind you."

Y/n fastened her sandals on, "Okay, don't be too long."

They both walked out of his bedroom, taking all of their possessions with them. Benedict kissed her cheek and parted paths with her at the bottom of the stairs, "I'll only be a minute, love."

One of Benedict's aunts on his father's side approached Y/n, "You must be Benedict's girlfriend, Violet has told me so much about you, it's lovely to meet you, deary."

Y/n felt her face turn to a crimson blush, "Oh, I'm Y/n, I'm not-."

Benedict appeared behind Y/n with a smile on his face, "Hello love, I see you've met my Aunt Margary. Aunt Margary, this is Y/n."

Aunt Margary smiled, "You two make a lovely couple."

Benedict just smiled and thanked her before she walked away, causing Y/n to look up at him. He could sense what she was going to ask, "It's okay, even if we tried to explain to her that we're just best friends, she'd act like she didn't hear it and continue on like we were a couple anyway."

After a few more introductions to extended family, all of them mistakenly believing that Benedict and Y/n were a couple, they decided to say their goodbyes to their immediate family.

Y/n gave each Bridgerton, a hug and a kiss on the cheek, along with Kate, Penelope, and baby Edmund. She embraced Violet last, Violet said, "Oh my darling girl, do keep an eye on Benedict for me."

Y/n giggled, "I always do, Violet."

Violet nodded, looking down at Y/n lovingly, "Dearest, as I've said before, you are my daughter, blood or not, you can call me Mum, or Mother, if you like."

Y/n teared up a bit, "I will keep an eye on Benedict, Mum."

Violet placed a kiss on Y/n's forehead, "Safe travels, dearest." She turned to Benedict, "And you, don't give her a hard time."

Benedict laughed and smiled, "Yes, Mother." He hugged her close, kissing her cheek.

Violet whispered to her son, "Tell her how you feel, dearest, you two would be so happy together. Don't lose her to someone else." She knew how special Y/n was to Benedict, but she also knew that he wouldn't have his window of opportunity forever.

Benedict nodded, "I won't let that happen, I promise."

~

The ride home felt much quicker than the ride to Benedict's country home.

As Y/n and Benedict walked into their shared flat, Y/n went straight to her bedroom to put away her clothes from the weekend.

Benedict did the same, then laid on his bed, thinking. He couldn't stop replaying their fervent displays of affection just that morning, how her body reacted to his. He needed to be close to her again, if only to hold her.

Benedict walked to her bedroom and noticed the door had been left slightly open, he heard her calling for him. No. She was moaning. Benedict strained his ear a bit more, he could hear a low, faint buzzing. Oh god, she was masturbating and thinking about him! He quietly sped to his bedroom, hoping she didn't notice he was there. About 10 minutes later, he heard shuffling from the kitchen.

Benedict exited his room and saw Y/n cooking a late lunch. He leaned against the island, smirking, "Can you make some for me too?"

Y/n looked over her shoulder at him and smiled, "Of course."

Benedict walked up behind her, his hands low on her hips and his lips grazing her ear, "Thank you, love." He kisses her cheek lazily several times, not bothering to pull away, just resting his lips against her cheek until pressing another kiss to her skin. He was slightly surprised she allowed him such brazen behavior. They remained there while she cooked their lunch, him wrapped around her while he gave her cheek kisses whenever he felt like it.

Y/n plated up their lunch on two plates and turned around in his arms, kissing his cheek long and lovingly. When her lips separated from his cheek, there was a soft sound, "It's so nice to be back home. I love your family, I truly do, but the only time I got you to myself was in your bedroom."

Benedict rubbed her lower back and kissed her temple, "You have my undivided attention, love."

Y/n smiled, rubbing his chest gently, "Good, let's eat."

They ate in a comfortable silence while the tv played in the background.

After lunch, Benedict cleaned up their dishes and took Y/n to his room for an evening of cuddling and watching movies.

Taglist: @coolepowersthings @khaylin27 @m-rae23 @iluvmenwhodontexist

✨Next Chapter✨

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

North To The Future [Chapter 10: Scar Tissue]

The year is 1999. You are just beginning your veterinary practice in Juneau, Alaska. Aegon is a mysterious, troubled newcomer to town. You kind of hate him. You are also kind of obsessed with him. Falling for him might legitimately ruin your life…but can you help it? Oh, and there’s a serial killer on the loose known only as the Ice Fisher.

Chapter warnings: Language, alcoholism, addiction, murder, discussions of sex, and you don’t get any plot hints this time you just have to read and suffer and yes there will be ANGSTTTTT!!!!

Word count: 6.2k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

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You’ve counted the scars on his chest until you know them by heart. There are twelve exactly, which feels significant; it’s the last week of the twelfth month of 1999, it’s the end, it’s the beginning. You read them with your eyes and your fingertips and your lips, these knots of corporal memory that form a constellation, not the shape of a hero—Hercules, Orion, Perseus, Achilles—but the footprints of ghosts.

The Juneau magnet has joined the rest of his collection, places he blew into like a storm and then abandoned, wreckage in his wake, downed trees and snapped powerlines and shingles ripped from roofs, finally at peace in his absence and yet somehow less. There is a jar on top of the refrigerator that already has your half of the money for the San Diego trip squirreled away in it. Aegon puts in a little at a time—a quarter here, a five-dollar bill there—and yet there’s never any doubt that he’s committed to it. It’s the same way he is with you. There are no grand gestures, no expensive gifts or intoxicating declarations. There are only small, feather-light moments as faint as the lines in your palm. You could stack up a million of them and they would never feel heavy. They would never feel like a cage.

Aegon is an open door, and together you are a dream: whispers and guitar strings, tangled sheets and refracted light, snow falling soundlessly beyond frosted windows, fog so thick it erases the stars.

~~~~~~~~~~

“How dare you,” Heather says when you enter Caribou Crossings. It’s Wednesday, December 29th. She’s sitting cross-legged on the floor and surrounded by boxes, an island in a sea of Juneau-themed souvenirs. “You float in here on a cloud while I’m sad, single, all alone in the world except for these hideous snow globes.” She holds one aloft for emphasis. “Why would anyone want a snow globe with a salmon in it? A salmon?”

You smile. You smile a lot these days. “Tragic.”

“No pets in need of your medical expertise?”

“Not really. Ms. Larson’s box turtle had a shell fracture, but now I’m free until 2:30.”

“How’s the making Cobainbies going?”

“No babies,” you insist. “Not of any variety.” Aegon as a father, as a husband? The prospect is horrifying. When you’re reminded of this—of the impossibility of a future beyond the next three months—you try to bury it like…well, like a body in a lake; each time it surfaces, you tie another stone around its ankle and sink it back down into the darkness.

“Is that what cracked Trent’s already less-than-impressive brain? You and Aegon?”

“Trent doesn’t know about Aegon. He just thinks we’re taking things slow. Honestly, I tried to break up with him about a week ago and…he got scary.”

Heather puts down the salmon snow globe and looks at you. “What did he do?”

“The same thing he did at the bar the other night. He was like…aggressive. Intimidating. But also apologetic and oblivious. It’s really disorienting. It’s hard for me to figure out if he’s…” What’s the right word? Dangerous. But you’re not sure if you can say that to Heather. “Seriously angry. I don’t want him to go all Stone Cold Steve Austin on Aegon.” Or me.

“That moron,” Heather sighs. “I’m so sorry. I’ll talk to him.”

“Uh, don’t do that.”

“No, it’s fine, I know how to put it in a way he’ll understand.” She stands, hands on her hips. “It’s just…you know…when Trent played football, if he was bored or pissed off he could run around and tackle people and knock them unconscious, and that’s how he learned to deal with things. And now he doesn’t have that anymore. He’s got friends and hobbies and a job, but I don’t think he knows what comes next. That happens to everyone, right? We all wake up one day and realize we’re adults and we’re supposed to have life figured out but we just…don’t. Trent’s a dumbass, and he needs to leave you alone if that’s what you want, and I’ll make it happen. But I don’t think he would ever intentionally hurt somebody.”

“I hope not,” you say softly.

Heather smirks. “So, are you enjoying all the super kinky sex with that Greek boy? Has he bent you into a pretzel fifty different ways? Has he dislocated your hips yet?”

“It’s not really like that,” you tell her. “It’s intense, but it’s…I don’t know. Different.”

The truth dawns on her, sunlight sparkling on waves. “When he leaves, you want to go with him.”

“Yes, but I can’t.”

“Why not? They need vets everywhere.”

“There’s more to it than that.”

“Look, obviously I don’t want you to leave. I’d be freaking heartbroken. Those four years of vet school were bad enough, and I always knew you were coming back. But if you feel like there’s something else out there that you need to experience…” She gestures vaguely, meaning the world beyond Juneau. “I would want you to have that chance. And then maybe you could end up back here one day knowing that this is really what you need after all.”

You shake your head, watching flurries wheel through the frigid wind outside. “My parents would be devastated. I don’t have any siblings, there’s nobody else, there’s just me. And Aegon…” He’s been running for six years and he’ll never stop. “He’s not the type to settle down.”

“Maybe he’ll get the whole alcoholic homeless rockstar thing out of his system and be totally normal by the time he hits thirty,” Heather says hopefully.

You can see it in a flash too sudden to hide from yourself: a house by the beach, white-blond children chasing Sunfyre around the backyard, golden-sun days and hot chocolate at night, cooking in the kitchen together like your parents always do. Aegon wouldn’t even have to work. I could still be a vet and he could take care of the kids and perform in some local rock band once or twice a week...and we could all be happy. You can’t believe that—not for more than a few reckless seconds, anyway—but you need to kill this conversation before it kills you. “Sure, maybe.”

“We should do something fun,” Heather pivots cheerfully. “While Aegon’s still here. While you both are. It’s the start of a new millennium, bitch! If we were characters on Friends or Buffy or whatever, we would be doing something fun and glamorous. We wouldn’t be sitting here in grandma sweaters surrounded by boxes of salmon snow globes.”

You laugh, although you are admittedly partial to grandma sweaters. “What do you want, a New Year’s Eve party? Flutes of champagne, glitter and fireworks? People making out at midnight?”

She grins. “That’s exactly what I want.”

“I could probably make that happen, actually,” you realize. “My parents keep bringing up the idea of having people over. They love any excuse to ply guests with food and rock music. I said I just wanted to watch ABC 2000 Today with them and Aegon.”

“Great! You can still watch ABC 2000 Today, just with thirty of your closest friends.”

“You are well aware that I possess, at the absolute maximum, like four friends.”

“Everyone is friends with everyone on New Year’s Eve. And guess what?”

“What?”

Heather’s face is determined, insolent, fierce. “We’re not going to invite Trent.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“New Year’s Eve?” Aegon echoes doubtfully. You’re curled up on the couch together watching the X-Files, Sunfyre sprawled across your lap, your head on Aegon’s bare chest; he has one hand in your hair, the other holding a rum and Coke. He doses himself with it like morphine, but he is far from drunk. He’s seemed better since he almost drowned. You wonder if it reminded him that alive is something he enjoys being.

“Yeah. My parents are so excited about it. They’re trying to plan a menu, but my dad has literally fifteen different appetizers he wants to make.”

“Sounds like he’s handling retirement well.”

“He likes to stay busy.” You sit up to look at Aegon. The light of the television flickers on his face, but his eyes are glassy and far away. As far as Miami? As far as six years ago? “So? What do you think?”

“About what?”

“The New Year’s Eve party, obviously.”

He shrugs, sips his rum and Coke, licks his lips slowly. Then he comes back to you, a moon growing full again after starving away. “Totally, Appletini. Let’s do it.”

“Yay!” You are shocked by your own enthusiasm; it’s very unlike you. Sunfyre’s tail thumps against the couch in approval. You turn Aegon’s face and kiss him, feeling the strange barely-there smile of his lips on yours. “And Trent won’t even be there, so we don’t have to be subtle about anything. We can hang out together, dance, cuddle, feed each other Swedish meatballs on cute little toothpicks…”

“Sneak up to your bedroom while everyone else is busy watching the countdown in Times Square…”

You giggle, settling against Aegon’s chest again, nestling into him. He’s warm and pliable and fits with you like the interwoven opalescent threads of the Northern Lights. His free hand pulls you closer; the ice cubes in his glass clink. The jar on top of the refrigerator gets fuller each day. “Everything is falling into place. Everything is going to be perfect.”

“Perfect,” Aegon agrees; but you can hear that he’s far away again.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Bitch,” Heather gasps when she sees you, awed and incredulous. She’s carrying a massive tray of miniature quiches: smoked salmon, ham and cheddar, crab and tomato. “Bitchhhhh!”

You’re wearing a red dress you bought for a winter formal during vet school and haven’t touched since. You went with a sweet soulful boy from Iowa who you felt absolutely nothing for. He would have made a good husband, you realize now; he would have come home every night and helped the kids with their math homework and spent his weekends fixing fences and grilling steaks. You wonder if people like that are born without any darkness in them, or if they just learn to drain it from their veins like poisoned blood. You wonder if there is some reservoir of malignant self-destruction in everyone just waiting to breach the levees. “I look okay?”

“You look delicious. You look sinfully slutty. I wish I was into women, that’s how good you look.”

“Thanks, Heather.” You have lingerie on to match. You’re red all the way down: satin, lace, blood. You’re even wearing strappy crimson heels. It’s something you can’t stop thinking about: Aegon slipping every layer off of you later. You take the tray of quiches and beckon Heather inside.

The house is decorated—to a truly excessive degree—with balloons, banners, and confetti. Welcome, 2000! one banner reads. We hope the Y2K bug doesn’t destroy civilization! Your mom and dad are frenetically readying appetizers in the kitchen. When they finish each dish, you bring it out to the dining room table: deviled eggs, crab dip and toast points, ham salad sandwiches, stuffed jalapeno peppers, chicken liver mousse crostini, reindeer sausages, bacon-wrapped scallops, Swedish meatballs, homemade Rice Krispies Treats, Tongass Forest Cookies, a towering Baked Alaska. There are chilled bottles of wine, beer, and champagne, beads of condensation snaking down the glass. The ABC 2000 Today special is on tv, but guests are only half-watching. Your dad’s newest Red Hot Chili Peppers album is spinning on the record player; to you, their songs sound like California, or at least what you imagine California to be. The plucky guitar notes of Scar Tissue tiptoe through the house like footsteps in sand.

There are people in the dining room, people in the living room, people huddled in their parkas and smoking cigarettes around the crackling firepit in the backyard. They’re talking about 2000, of course, and the presidential election next year, and the Olympics, and the internet, and their own mundane tribulations: knee replacements, gallbladder removals, hyperactive grandchildren, marriages and divorces. But they’re talking about the Ice Fisher too.

“Who do you think it could be?” you hear Dale asking some of his bowling league buddies on the other side of the living room. They’re all broad, bearded men in flannel and jeans, guzzling beers and weather-beaten by their work as fishermen, loggers, oil riggers. “Ex-military? Some drifter? Someone just not right in the head? You know, I saw this 60 Minutes episode about a brain disease—what was it called, Earl? CTZ? CTE?—and athletes can get it from having concussions all the time. Boxers and football players and such. You think something like that could make someone violent…?”

Heather is working her way through a gargantuan portion of crab dip. Kimmie and Brad are practically mounting each other on your parents’ couch. Beside them, Joyce is grimacing as she tries to lose herself in a fantast novel with a mostly-naked cowboy on the front cover. She only smiles when Rob brings her a plate of appetizers. You’re on your third glass of bubbly, festive champagne. You keep glancing at the front door.

“They have to catch him soon, right?” Kimmie says in between sloppy kisses: loud smacking noises, lots of tongue. “I mean, he’s killed five people. Five! That’s so many!”

Joyce flips a page. “The police called in the FBI. That’s got to lead to a breakthrough soon.”

“I hope so.” Kimmie shudders. “It’s constant now…I worry when I go out to check the mail, when I put gas in my Land Cruiser, when I’m carrying groceries into the house…I feel like he could be anywhere. Like he’s lurking in every shadowy corner just waiting to grab me.”

“I think you’re safe,” Rob says with a smirk, amused but grim. “No one who goes to Ursa Minor gets killed. Have you guys noticed that? None of the victims had ever been to the bar as far as I know. The Ice Fisher must do his stalking in a different part of town.”

“Weird coincidence,” Joyce mutters.

“Guess I need to start going to Ursa Minor,” Brad says, grinning. “I could use some good luck.” Kimmie squeals with laughter as he paws at her, greedy and frivolous. You think: Please don’t leave body fluids on the couch, please don’t leave body fluids on the couch, please don’t leave body fluids on the couch…

“Why are the Bee Gees on tv?” Heather complains. “Who wanted that?”

Kimmie asks you: “Can Brad and I borrow your bedroom?”

“No, Kimmie.”

“Not the bed. Just the room. We’ll put a towel down on the floor.”

“Boundaries, Kimmie,” you plead.

“Fine,” she relents, sulking. Kimmie is wearing a glittery white dress and looks very, very young; her eyes are large and blameless, and her hair is secured in two voluminous pigtails. There’s a rhinestone crown on her head that reads Happy New Year! “Is Aegon on his way?”

“Oh yeah, he’ll be here any minute.” You steal another glimpse of the front door, but there are no consequent knocks. You check the clock on the wall. 10:30 p.m.

“He’s driving?” Heather says around a mouthful of crab dip, thin eyebrows raised. “He never drives.” Because he’s always drinking, she kindly leaves out.

“He told me he wanted to this morning. He’s been picking up extra shifts at work on whatever boats need another man. Holiday pay is double and we’re saving up for a trip to San Diego, you know.” There are polite—skeptical? pitying?—murmurs of agreement. “He didn’t know when he would get off, so he said I should focus on preparing for the party here and he would head over as soon as he had time to shower and walk Sunfyre. Anyway, he was on a boat all day and I was here helping to make deviled eggs until my hands felt like they were going to fall off.”

“Huh. I hope he’s not passed out in a ditch somewhere.”

“He’s not,” you say, a little more harshly than you mean to. He’s been getting better.

There is a knock at the door, and the closest person—Mark Morehouse from the pawn shop—opens it. It’s not Aegon. It’s Trent. He’s carrying a cheesecake the size of a Pekingese.

“Oh no,” Heather breathes. Kimmie, Joyce, and Rob frown down at their drinks.

“Hey, Trent!” Brad says, blithely unaware of the shift in mood.

Trent, wearing a very stately black button-up shirt, matching blazer, and khaki pants, looks around the room. He sees you, mouths wow, and then gives a tentative wave. He doesn’t come anywhere close to you. He puts his cheesecake on the dining room table and then goes to join Gary and Matt by the record player. Your mom and dad soon appear to greet him, resting their hands on his massive shoulders, asking about how his parents are doing and whether he’s had any luck with the Forest Service. Trent tells them that he finally got an interview that’s scheduled for next week. They reply with congratulations, casting you furtive, appraising glances. Did you invite him? Their eyes say. Do you want him here?

“Do you want me to get rid of him?” Heather asks you. “I didn’t tell him about the party, I swear. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Of course she wouldn’t; but Juneau is too small for secrets, that feels more true every day. Heather didn’t need to tell Trent, and neither did your parents. Maybe he heard about it through Matt or Gary, or he eavesdropped on a conversation in the Foodland, or someone mentioned it to his parents and they suggested he go without knowing he wasn’t supposed to be in attendance. However it happened doesn’t matter. The damage is done.

Heather’s question reverberates in your skull. Do you want me to get rid of him? “No,” you say. “Not yet, anyway. I don’t want to cause a scene in front of everyone.” Everyone but Aegon, you think, and you wouldn’t call yourself concerned yet but you are growing annoyed, little by little like how a clock ticks towards a new hour.

Joyce sniffs. “Hopefully he stays over there.”

And Trent does keep his distance. Now Dale is congratulating him about his interview. “That’s a great sign, Trent, a really great sign! Getting your foot in the door is the hardest part. I’ll call over and put in a good word for you. I still have a bunch of stuff from when I worked as a park ranger…boots, compasses, trekking poles, snowshoes…I’ll bring a box over for you.”

“Aw, Dale!” Trent appears to be genuinely touched. “Thanks, bro! You’re the best!”

“Sorry, what’s wrong with Trent?” Brad asks, brow crinkled, one arm slung around Kimmie. “Did I miss something?”

“He’s just a little obsessed with our gorgeous crimson hostess,” Heather explains, gesturing to you. “Obsessed in a pushy, idiotic, not-flattering way.”

Rob adds: “And he occasionally turns into the Hulk.”

“Maybe Trent’s the Ice Fisher,” Brad whispers conspiratorially, and then bursts out laughing. Everyone joins him except you. You can’t really blame them. Trent is a local hero: a football star, a reliable employee, the son of a normal and respected family, the wearer of his mane of lustrous hair, the object of countless women’s affection, the man who dragged Aegon out of the channel when he nearly drowned. A few mutilated Taco Bell tables aren’t going to change that. An occasional verbal outburst—and from a former athlete no less, fiery and forceful by necessity and thus swiftly forgiven, like a champion thoroughbred prone to biting—isn’t going to change that.

But they haven’t seen everything I have. They haven’t felt it.

You stand. “I’m going to go call Aegon.”

Upstairs in your bedroom, you assess your reflection in the mirror lined with photographs: the past and the future, friends and family and that magazine cutout of the Ford Mustang convertible barreling down the Pacific Coast Highway. You touch up your hair and makeup, then admire your dress. It occurs to you that almost everyone downstairs is wearing black or white or silver, cold wintery colors, New Year’s colors. You are the only one in red. When you got ready hours ago, you had felt powerful and sensual and elegant. You had imagined disappearing with Aegon into this room just after midnight, his hands skating up your thighs as cheers and toasts rumble through the floor. Now, when you imagine your exclamation-point red dress in a sea of cool, sleek shades of darkness and light, it strikes you as perhaps trying too hard. Desperate, even.

You pick up the phone on your nightstand and dial Aegon’s number. The line is busy.

Who would he be talking to? you wonder, perplexed. Everyone he knows is here.

You can’t drive over to pick him up; not until some of the champagne leaves your system, anyway. And you could never ask someone else to take you. You have no idea what you’ll find when you get there. You hang up the phone and stare down at it for a while.

So this is what it felt like. All those nights when Mom was waiting for Jesse to come home and he never did, all those times they had plans that he forgot. She’d be sitting on the couch or at the dining room table trying not to lose her mind as the hours crept by, and the whole time he’d be off getting wasted somewhere.

You physically shake your head to chase the vision away.

Aegon is going to be here. He has to be here. He’s been getting better.

“No luck?” Heather asks when you reappear downstairs, trying to sound neutral. You know she’s not actually neutral. You know exactly what she’s thinking.

“I’m sure he’ll be on his way soon.” You plop down on the couch next to Joyce and gaze at the television without really seeing it. You are vaguely aware of the entertainers flitting in and out of the little black box: Neil Diamond, Faith Hill, Enrique Iglesias, Billy Joel, Barry Manilow, NSYNC, Christina Aguilera, Aerosmith. Around you, the party rolls on. You chat less and less and consume only water. You’re losing your appetite, and you want to be able to drive by the time midnight strikes. It’s 11:00, and then 11:15, and then 11:30, and eventually 11:45. More Juneau residents filter in, but none of them are Aegon.

“You okay, ladybug?” your dad asks as he moseys by the couch, and you send him away with a peppy affirmation and a too-wide smile. Your mom tries next, with similar results. They know you aren’t okay, but they can’t say anything about it. Neither can Heather or Kimmie or Joyce. You become a blip on a hectic radar, an island in the South Pacific so small the rest of the world flies over it without even looking down. The house is hot and teeming with bodies: friends and lovers laughing together, touching each other, chatting, kissing lips and throats and cheeks. The living room suddenly feels like it’s on fire, like there’s searing smoke pouring into your lungs. You tell your friends you’re going to the bathroom so they’ll leave you alone, and then you squeeze through the crowd and flee out into the backyard, which is blessedly empty. Everyone else has crammed inside to watch the tv as the clock nears midnight. No one wants to miss the ball drop. You couldn’t care less.

You plod through the snow in your ridiculous red heels until you reach the firepit, and you stand there glaring into the blaze with your bare arms wrapped around you. There is light snow falling, but you don’t even feel cold. You feel like you’re burning from the inside out, like you’ve swallowed the same flames that are dancing across your face.

He’s not going to show up, you are certain now. He’s really not going to. And he knew that all along, which is why he didn’t want me to drive him.

You feel furious, you feel ruined, but most of all you just feel stupid. You’ve heard this story before. You were a part of it, you were built by it. And yet somehow you thought you could change the ending.

Wind howls through the evergreen trees, and now you are cold. You clutch yourself tighter, shivering viciously and covered in goosebumps. You’re stuck out here; there are tears spilling down your cheeks, black trails of mascara that will scream to anyone who sees you that you’ve been crying. Crying over Aegon. Crying over some fucking alcoholic loser who stood me up.

Of course, you don’t actually think he’s a loser. That’s the problem. Everyone seems to understand exactly who he is but you.

You hear the back door of the house swing open, and there are heavy footsteps crunching through the snow. You sniffle, trying to wipe the tears from your face with your fingers. You imagine that you’re only making it worse: stained foundation, smudged eyeliner, lip gloss worn away. You expect to see your dad when you turn around, but you don’t. You see Trent.

“Don’t freak out,” he says, and holds out your parka to you from several feet away. “I’m not trying to annoy you. I just saw you run outside and figured you might need this.”

“Did anyone else see me?”

“I don’t think so.”

You grab the parka from him, yank it on, and zip it shut. You sniffle some more, mopping tears from your face. The stars and moon are almost fully obscured by clouds; the only light in the world is fire. After a while, you ask Trent: “What did Heather tell you?”

“She said that you are a mature, responsible, logical person, and that if I want to have any shot with you at all then I have to be the same way. And she was totally right. Losing my temper is immature, being jealous is immature. So now I’m giving you the space that you asked for. I get it now. I’m not going to try to tell you what you want. You’re too smart for that. You have to decide what you want for yourself.”

I’ve already decided, and I chose wrong. I chose so, so, disastrously wrong. “I appreciate that, Trent,” you say in a hoarse whisper.

He turns around to go back inside, then hesitates. “Look, I’m glad that you and Aegon are friends now. He’s not a bad guy. But he’s…I mean, he’s a mess, you know? And he’s always going to be a mess. And you can’t expect him to not be a mess. I’m sorry if he ruined something for you tonight. I know your family has sort of temporarily adopted him, and I know you like to fix things. But sometimes there are no bolts to tighten or nails to hammer in. Sometimes people just are who they are.”

You consider Trent, a mirage of bitter cold and firelight. He shrugs, offers a sheepish half-smile, flips his hair, and then retreats inside the house. Minutes later, as you try to choke back sobs under blind stars, you hear cheers and applause when the new millennium arrives.

As car doors slam and guests rummage through piles of coats, you slip mostly unnoticed into the kitchen. You pour yourself a full glass of water, drink all of it, and then make for your purse where your Jeep keys are stashed. You are intercepted in the dining room by your parents and Heather. You try to hide your face, but there’s no point. You are as clear as glass under the yellowish artificial light.

“Oh, ladybug, are you okay?” Your mom engulfs you in a warm, comforting hug that is also constraining. I have to try to find Aegon. I have to confront him. Not who I want him to be, but who he really is.

“I’m fine, Mom. I’m fine. I’ll be back in like a half hour, and then I’ll help you clean up the house.”

“The house!” your dad bellows, barking out a laugh of disbelief. “We aren’t worried about the house! What can we do, ladybug? Is there anything we can do?”

“No, really, I can handle it.”

“You can’t go anywhere alone,” Heather says. “It’s dark, it’s super late.” The other fact hangs in the air like snowflakes. The Ice Fisher might be out there somewhere, just waiting to snatch you off the sidewalk and sink you into a lake.

“It’s just across town, it’s a ten-minute drive, it’s not a big deal.”

“You can’t go out alone,” your dad insists, looking gratefully at Heather. Your mom nods along. “I’m sorry, but if something happened to you, we’d never be able to forgive ourselves.”

“I’ll go,” Heather says. “I think I’ve had too much champaign to drive, but I can ride along and walk you inside.”

“That’s completely unnecessary. I have my bear mace.”

“Then I’ll wait in the Jeep!” Heather throws up her hands, exasperated. “Look, bitch, one way or another someone is going with you. I’ll make sure you get up to his apartment—that’s where you’re going, right? I think we all know that’s where you’re going—and then I’ll wait for you. I’ll wait five minutes, I’ll wait five hours, I really don’t care how long it takes but there is no fucking way you’re driving off into the night alone.”

You aren’t leaving this house without a chaperone. That’s pretty obvious. Aegon doesn’t care where I am or who I’m with. He didn’t even care enough to call and say he wouldn’t be here. “Fine. Okay. But we’re leaving right now.”

You grab your purse and Heather follows you out to the Jeep, struggling to keep up. “I would not have guessed you could move so efficiently in heels,” she puffs, climbing into the passenger’s seat. You tear out of the driveway, tires chomping on salt and ice and snow. Heather tries to make conversation. You don’t quite ignore her; it’s more like you don’t hear her at all. You hear the wind and the snow and the blood rushing in your ears. You hear the shrieking hollowness left by what could have been.

You park under the streetlight outside Aegon’s apartment building, murky luminescence flooding the cabin of your Jeep. Heather sees the inky tears on your face…and she sees the rage too: raw, brutal, razor-sharp rage. “Well, Jesus Christ, don’t kill him or anything.”

You don’t reply. You venture out into the savage cold, your heels leaving deep punctures in the ice-coated snow like stab wounds.

Upstairs, Aegon’s apartment door is locked. You can’t hear anything on the other side. And as you rattle the key he gave you into the jagged slit of the knob, you feel a dark premonition sinking in: a pebble through waves, a body into the depths. There is an instinctual warning that hums from your skin all the way down to your bone marrow.

There is no coming back from this moment. It’s like balancing on a ledge. There is something terrible here that I will never be able to unsee, to undiscover.

What is it? What the hell is it? That Aegon’s drunk? Would that really be so out of character, so inconceivable?

Maybe he’s with another woman. Maybe he’s already left Juneau. Maybe he’s dead.

You open the door; and in the silent florescent light of the kitchen, the first thing you notice is that the jar on top of the refrigerator is gone. Then you spot it: it’s open and sideways on the countertop, and it’s empty. Sunfyre lies on the kitchen’s tile floor with his scarred muzzle resting on his paws. He whimpers, large dark eyes troubled.

“Aegon?” you say. You step inside, your red heels clicking on the scuffed wood. You close the door behind you. Your eyes scan the dimly-lit room—guitar, bed, lifeless television, phone he left off the hook, couch—until you find him. He is a pale, crumpled figure on the floor. “Aegon?!”

You rush to him, dropping to your knees so hard you bruise them. He groans when you roll him over onto his back, so he’s not dead. He’s half-dressed: red leather pants, combat boots, gold chain necklace, no shirt. When you lift your hand from him, blood stains your palm.

“What—?”

And then you see the stripe of maroon dripping down from the crook of his left elbow. There’s a bloodied needle on the floor beside him, a lighter, a spoon. There’s a small transparent baggie half-filled with white powder.

Aegon blinks at you through his tangled hair, pulling himself upright with great effort. Everything about him is heavy, hazy, like trying to run through water. He doesn’t seem aware of the blood. It’s in his hair, you realize; and there’s a smear on his neck, a splattering on his bare chest. “What are you so dressed up for?”

You can’t answer him. You’re so full of horror and rage that if you open your mouth you might start screaming and never stop.

“Oh,” Aegon remembers listlessly. “Party.”

“I watched the door all night like an idiot, like some desperate little kid”—waiting for their father to come home—“and the whole time you were here shooting up.”

He gazes at you, but from a distance, like he’s looking up from the bottom of the ocean and you’re the shadow of a ship. His voice is slow and muddled. “Yeah.”

“And I guess that’s where all the money went. The money for the San Diego trip.”

“Yeah.”

“How fucking dare you,” you hiss. You grab the baggie off the floor.

Aegon’s hand darts out and closes around your wrist. “No—!”

You rip your arm away from him. “This is heroin, right?” You catch a fistful of his hair and yank his head back so you can check his eyes. Aegon flinches and yelps, but he doesn’t struggle. His eyes are bloodshot, his pupils pinpricks in an ocean of deep blue. “How fucking dare you,” you say again. “How fucking dare you.”

You take the baggie to the kitchen sink, shove it down into the drain, turn on the garbage disposal. You run water down the drain until any trace of it is gone. When you return to Aegon, he’s watching you with those dazed, other-world eyes. He’s still slumped over on the floor; he doesn’t seem to be able to stand. He keeps trying to and flopping over.

“If you’re so mad then hit me,” he says. “Just hit me. Just fucking hit me.”

“Why did you have to come here?” you ask, wrenching the question out of you like extracting a molar or a bullet. Fresh tears brim in your eyes; embers kindle in your throat. You think of how hundreds of years ago doctors believed that you could bleed a patient to rid them of poison or disease, and you wonder how much of yourself you would have to spill into a bowl to forget Aegon. You wonder if your mom has ever forgotten a single thing about Jesse: his voice, his fingertips, the way his hair fell across his face. “If you were just going to make me want something that was never possible, if you were just going to show me what it felt like to be real and then take it away, what was the point? What was the goddamn point? Why did you have to come here and ruin my life?”

“You didn’t like your life before I showed up and you won’t like it when I’m gone.”

“I hate you,” you choke out.

Aegon’s jaw falls open. He can’t believe you said it. Neither can you.

“I want you to leave,” you tell him. “Tomorrow when you sober up I want you to pack your things and get on a plane and leave Juneau like you left everywhere else. I don’t want to know where you go next. I don’t want to know anything about you. I never want to see you again.”

“No.” You can’t tell if it’s defiance or denial or confusion. You don’t stay to argue with him.

You go to the apartment door, open it, and call to Sunfyre: “Come on, buddy.” He rockets off the tiles and trots over, tail wagging cautiously.

“Hey, hey, you can’t take my dog!” Aegon shouts, dragging himself towards you. His hands and knees thump against the wooden floor.

“Yes I can. You can’t be trusted with him. You don’t deserve him.”

“Please don’t,” Aegon whispers huskily. “Don’t take him away. Please.”

You twist his apartment key off your keyring and pitch it at him. It strikes his shoulder and ricochets off, clattering across the floor. He looks at it, not understanding. It’s a dead language, it’s an ancient rune he can’t read. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to. “Goodbye, Aegon.”

You slam the door, fly down the building staircase, break into the cold all-consuming darkness with Sunfyre on your heels like a shadow made of gold.

[magicalmadrigals]

Paving A New Way - Chapter 2

Chapter two of my multi-chapter is here! This chapter is a lot more family based than the previous one, but I kind of love that because I live for the fluff so much. They make me so happy. The response to chapter one was so lovely, so I hope you guys like this chapter just as much! As usual, you can read over on AO3 and I'll also post the chapter under the cut. Happy reading!

...

“We should get up soon.”

“Mmph. Ten more minutes.”

Julieta smiled to herself when Gus kissed the back of her bare shoulder with a chuckle, feeling him run his hand down her arm before it found hers and he laced their fingers while putting his arm back around her. She settled again then and let her eyes fall shut, allowing herself a couple more minutes of peace with him before they really did have to get up and start getting ready to go to church. Her being awake so early on a Sunday morning was something of a rarity these days – she much appreciated the lie in she was granted with Mass starting at 9:30 – but she woke naturally at 7:00 this morning. She fully intended on going back to sleep for another hour, but her marido had had other ideas and when he started kissing her neck that was it. 30 years of marriage meant he knew all of her weak spots. For the past hour, the two of them had been wrapped up in one another, but it was slowly becoming time for them to leave the comfort of their bed and get up and greet the day and she was trying her damnedest to delay the inevitable for as long as she could.

Ay, she hadn’t realized it until now, but she feared she was beginning to turn into her hijas.

The three of them had been nightmares to get out of bed when they were teenagers – Isabela more than the other two if she remembered rightly – and now she could see why.

She was so comfortable, lying there next to her husband, and the last thing she wanted to was get up, but at the same time she was looking forward to going to Mass this morning. She knew Catalina was going to be there and it would give her a chance to check in with her. It had been three days since their talk following her appointment and although she had kept an eye out for her each time she had gone into town, not once had she seen her out and about. It worried her. She knew she got out little – unless Eduardo said she could, like she told her, she was practically confined to their home – but she normally saw her getting some shopping or something and there had just been no sign of her at all lately. There was no doubt in her mind that she was going to see both of them at church though. For all his faults, she knew Eduardo was deeply religious and there was no chance of him allowing her to miss Mass no matter the state she was in. He would drag her there kicking and screaming if he had to. She hoped Catalina would come and speak to her at some point. Really, she hoped she would come and tell her that she had changed her mind and wanted to confide in Señor Flores about what was going on, but she had very little faith in that happening. She was still scared. Not only of what her marido would do to her if she talked, but what those in town would think about her. She had to get past that fear first.

Until she did, nothing was going to change.

Agustín tightening the arm around her pulled her from her thoughts and she smirked when she felt him bury his lips in her neck, his moustache scratching gently against her skin. She indulged him for a minute or so before eventually rolling onto her back in his arms and letting her head fall against his shoulder, her hand coming up to stroke his cheek as she looked up at him. “I should talk to Isa about the clinic at some point today,” She said quietly. “I keep meaning to sit down with her, but then something comes up and I forget.”

“She might finally stop talking about it if you do,” He smirked, causing her to chuckle under her breath. It had genuinely been all their girl had gone on about since she told her she would have a think about it. “I do think the new arrangement will be a good thing though if it goes well. I know you have more time now than you did back when you still had your gift, but you still go to the clinic straight after breakfast and you rarely make it home before it gets dark. At least with Isa carrying some of the load you’ll have a bit more balance.”

She nodded. “Mmm. I just worry she’ll do too much and tire herself out.”

“You mean you’re worried she’s going to end up turning into you.” He gave her a look.

“Maybe…” She shrugged.

He smiled and placed a kiss on her forehead before tucking a grey curl back behind her ear. “She is going to be fine. I know you’ll make sure she doesn’t go too far.”

Deciding not to respond with words, she reached up and laid a hand on the back of his neck before pulling him down to her and kissing him tenderly. Her thumb grazed his skin as he laid a hand on her hip while the kiss lingered, but she realised they were short on time now and so she broke away from him before they had chance to get too caught up in it. She failed to keep from laughing at his little pout when she looked at him again. “We really do need to get up now. Much longer and people will catch on to what we’ve been up to.”

“And by ‘people’ you mean your hermana.” He sat himself up next to her, raking a hand through his tousled hair.

She shook her head. “I don���t know why she gives me such a hard time about it when I know for a fact she and Félix are the exact same. Actually, I think they might be worse.”

He turned in place to look at her. “The two of you know far too much about each other.”

“I know,” She chuckled. “I think it’s a sister thing.”

“Even more reason to be grateful I was an only child.” He shook his head before swinging his legs over the side of the bed and reaching for his pajama pants.

She laid there a couple minutes longer once he had gotten up, staring up at the ceiling and mentally preparing herself for the day ahead, but eventually she leaned down to retrieve her nightgown from the floor and quickly pulled it on. She got up then and headed for the wardrobe before taking out a pale blue dress and returning to the bed with it. Normally, she made a little more of an effort when it came to Sunday Mass, but they were beginning to run late now and so it was going to have to do. Once she had found some underthings to wear, she shed her nightgown and laid it at the end of the bed before changing into them and putting on her dress. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes as she watched Gus rake his fingers through his hair in front of the mirror while she approached her vanity to start doing her own. Men had it so much easier. It always took her forever to get her hair done.

As she took her hairpins out of the box on the table, she watched him through the mirror as he came up behind her and smiled when he bent down to kiss her gently on the cheek. “I’ll go down and let them know you’ll be there in a minute.” He ran his hands down her arms when he pulled back again, letting his chin come to rest atop her curls for a second.

“Gracias. I won’t be long.” She told him before he turned and left the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

She combed her fingers through her curls then, getting rid of any tangles before she started to pin them up on top of her head to keep them out of her face. They were still dealing with the high temperatures and the last thing she needed was her curls getting in the way and making her hotter than she already was. Once she was done with her hair and she was satisfied it was neat enough, she put in her earrings before standing from the chair and walking across the room to her shoes. Slipping her feet into them, she finally made her way out of the room and when she reached the top of the staircase the familia was already beginning to congregate at the bottom of them. She hadn’t even gotten to the foot of the stairs before Pepa gave her an all too familiar look and put her hand on her hip, causing her to chuckle gently as she came to stand beside her. “Seriously?” Her hermana asked.

“What?” She raised an eyebrow at her.

“You were almost late.” Pepa pointed out, her voice soft.

“But I wasn’t.”

“But you almost were.”

“But…” She held up a finger. “I wasn’t.”

“Ay, you two need to choose your moments better.” Pepa rolled her eyes.

She looked at her sister for a second, remembering what her husband pointed out to her earlier. “Gus thinks we know far too much about each other, you know.”

Pepa stood there in silence, thinking for a moment before she frowned. “He has a point.”

“All we all here?” Their mother spoke up, bringing their talk to an end.

They and the rest of the family mumbled in acknowledgement before she said it was time for them to leave and they all began to make their way out of the house together. It was going to be a long, hot morning and an even longer, hotter afternoon, but Julieta didn’t mind that in the slightest. Sundays were family days, days where – when they returned home from church – more often than not, they all headed outside into the garden and spent some quality time together and in her mind there was nothing more perfect than that.

Absolutely nothing.

…

She could see Catalina speaking with a small group of women from across the room as she stood with Gus following the morning service, waiting for him to finish talking with Señor Garcia so they could head home. She needed to speak with her. She had been hoping to speak with her before Mass began, but she and Eduardo had been running late – out of character for them – and they hadn’t actually arrived until about ten minutes in. When they had though, it was by chance that they had sat down right across from her and the familia and she had noticed her black eye right away. She knew for a fact it was recent, not only had she not had it when she saw her last but the colour was an indication too, and she had no doubt as to how she had gotten it either. Should she have needed more convincing though, the way she kept glancing in her direction during the sermon would have been more than enough. This morning, it had been centred around the topic of marriage. Reminders of the way maridos were meant to treat their wives and vice-versa, and it was clear in the way she kept looking at her that a number of points made had spoken to her. She hoped that meant that she had started thinking about what she’d said.

One of her main concerns was that the church would look down on her if she spoke about it, but the sermon this morning had proven different.

A husband was meant to love his wife. He was meant to sanctify her and Eduardo was doing neither of those things, so he was going against those important teachings.

If she spoke to Señor Flores about his treatment of her then she would have the backing of the church and he would be the one the congregation looked down upon, not the other way around as she had been led to believe. That was why she wanted to speak with her before heading home. If she really had changed her thinking – if she was ready to open up about things – then they could get things in motion. They could speak with Señor Flores and arrange to sit down and speak with him at a later date, that way Eduardo would have no need to be suspicious, and both of them could relax a little more. She just felt that it was crucial that they got things started as soon as they could. Especially now, with it being clear he was beginning to spiral and he was gradually becoming more violent toward her.

Looking in her direction once again, she realized the small group had begun to disperse and she watched as Catalina began making her way out of the church while brushing an errant curl from her face. “Amor, I’m just going to step outside for a minute,” She took Gus by the arm when there was a slight break in his chat with Señor Garcia and he smiled, giving her a nod in response before she moved away from him. She made her way through the room then, exchanging pleasantries with one or two people, and when she finally made it out of the building she soon caught sight of Catalina once again. She was standing a little out of the way, waiting for Eduardo to come out so they could start walking home, and so she thought it was the perfect chance for her to have a talk with her without anyone else hearing them. She smoothed her hands down the front of her dress as she walked in her direction, returning the smile she gave her when she glanced her way and realized she was there. “Hola.” She said as she came to stand next to her, leaning her back against the wall and watching as people began saying their goodbyes to one another and walking away from the church in opposite directions.

“Hola Señora.” Catalina replied.

For a moment, both of them were silent, but then she turned her head her way to look at her. “I need to ask. Does this have anything to do with me coming to see you? Because if it does, I…”

“No,” Catalina was quick to assure her with a hand on her arm. “Eduardo still has no idea about that. This was my fault. I took a nap and woke up late, so I was running late with dinner the other night.”

“Catalina…”

“Señora, I know what you’re going to say and I actually, uhm, I actually wanted to talk to you about that.”

Julieta’s breath hitched. “Alright.”

“I spent some time thinking about what you said the other day and I…I think…”

Right as Catalina was beginning to find her voice, the two of them became aware of the sound of approaching footsteps and Julieta felt her heart sink in her chest as she watched Eduardo approach them both. He had a smile on his face, but she could tell it was ingenuine. He was putting it on for her. It was all a part of his act, but he had no idea she knew the real him and could see right through it. She knew the best thing she could do for her friend at the minute was go along with it though, so she forced a smile of her own as he came to stand in front of them. “Hola, Señora Madrigal.” He greeted her.

“Hola, Señor,” She replied. “How are you?”

“Can’t complain,” He shrugged. “Although we had a bit of a trying morning, hence why we were late. I doubt we’ll have the same problem next week though. Will we, amor?"

There was something in the way he said those words, the way his gaze hardened slightly when he looked at Catalina, that made her feel sick.

She had no idea what had gone on before they had come to church, but she it couldn’t have been anything good.

“No.” Came Catalina’s timid response from next to her before he held his hand out to her and she took it, moving to stand at his side.

“Well, we should be getting home. A lot to do this afternoon,” He explained. “Adios, Señora.”

“Adios.” She echoed before watching the two of them turn and begin to walk away from her, leaving her alone.

She doubted he intended for her to, but she saw the way he pulled his wife close enough to murmur something in her ear as he led her further away from the church and all it did was fill her with a new kind of fear. What was she going home to? What was going to happen to her once the two of them were back behind closed doors, alone together and away from the watchful eye of the townspeople?

Her marido would tell her she was going to make herself sick if he knew she was worrying so much, but she couldn’t help it.

She had been so close, moments away from having her tell her exactly what she wanted to hear, and now it felt as though they were right back to square one.

The look she’d seen on Eduardo’s face told her he had an idea something was going on. He had no idea what, that was something of a relief she supposed, but she could tell he had a feeling. It was that what worried her. She was the only person in town who knew anything about what Catalina was enduring. She was the only person in town she felt she could speak to about it all and with him now on edge, she was starting to worry things were going to change. The time for fretting about that was when it happened though, not right this second. She would likely drive herself insane.

“Ready to go home?” She was pulled from her thoughts by the sound of her husband’s voice and she gave him a smile when he came to stand next to her.

“Mmm,” She nodded, reaching for his hand and taking it in hers so she could lace their fingers. “I think Mira mentioned something about staying behind for a little while. She wants to speak to Daniela.”

“Alright,” He said before the two of them began to walk away from the church together, his brow creasing when he noted her unusually quiet demeanour. “You’re sure you’re okay? You’re quiet lately.”

She shook her head. “I am, I promise. I think I’m tired, that’s all it is, and I have a couple of patients who need a little more attention at the moment. I’ll manage though.”

“I worry about you.” He sighed, dropping her hand so he could put an arm around her waist and pull her close to him, letting her tuck her head into his neck.

“You have spent the last 30 years worrying about me, I think I’m used to it by now,” She teased as she tilted her head back to look at him. “Really though, I’m okay.”

He stroked his thumb against her hip through her dress. “You promise?”

“I do,” She stretched up to brush her lips gently against his own. “I promise…”

…

“¡Maldita sea!”

Pepa gasped and turned her head to look at her hermana when she yelped, watching her drop the knife in her hand onto the table before she cradled the other in it and inspected the cut she had gotten. She frowned, turning in place while wiping her hands on the front of her apron. She could tell something was wrong. Her sister was a wonder in the kitchen, she had spent half her life in there near enough, but today she was so uncoordinated. She was dropping things, she had burned herself, and now she had gone and cut her hand because clearly her mind was someplace other than on her work. She had noticed she had been acting unusual and she had been a little quieter than normal lately, but she thought it was tiredness more than anything because she’d been so caught up in her work down at the clinic. Now though, she was beginning to doubt. This seemed like more than just fatigue. It seemed as though something was weighing on her mind and she was starting to worry about her.

She heard her breath tremble as she came away from the table and headed for the sink so she could wash the blood from her hand, a deep sigh escaping her as she reached up to tuck a red curl behind her ear before making her way up behind her. She laid a hand on her back which made her look her way and it was clear she could see the concerned look on her face, the way her shoulders slumped. “You can talk to me, you know,” She told her gently, watching her pass her thumb carefully over the cut in her palm to clean it. “And you can’t tell me there’s nothing wrong because I am your hermana.”

Julieta chuckled before turning the tap off once the cut was clean and returning to the kitchen table. “I’m fine.”

“Mhm,” She hummed, unconvinced. “Sit down and let me sort your hand.”

“Pepa…”

“I said sit.”

Realizing that Pepa wasn’t going to change her mind, Julieta admitted defeat and pulled out a chair at the table before sitting down with a huff while she walked off to go and get the medical kit from the cupboard. Her hand trembled as she cradled it in the other and she watched it begin to bleed again, the sound of her hermana returning to the table making her look up a second time. Pepa pulled out the chair at her side and sat down while placing the medical kit down on the table, both of them sharing a look when she took her hand and brought it into her lap before taking a dressing out of the kit. “Out with it.” Was all she said while placing the dressing on the wound and reaching into the kit again for the roll of bandage. Her hermana said nothing for a moment, but eventually she let out a sigh.

“I don’t know…” Julieta shook her head, wincing as she began wrapping the bandage around her hand. “I have a lot on my mind at the minute, I guess. I have things I need to sort before the clinic opens tomorrow and I still need to sit down with Isa so we can talk about these new responsibilities. Oh, I also forgot Gus is going home to see his familia this weekend and I need to sort his clothes for that.”

Pepa tied the bandage to help keep it on before dropping her hand and leaning back in her chair. “I think you’re doing way too much.”

“If I don’t do too much, not enough gets done.” Julieta pointed out.

“You need to learn to ask for help when you need it,” Pepa tutted. “How many times have I told you that I’ll help with things?”

“I know, but you have enough of your own things to see to.”

“Juli, if I didn’t want or have time to help you out then I wouldn’t offer in the first place.”

Julieta gave her a small smile.

“You deal with the things for the clinic and speaking with Isa,” Pepa told her. “If you bring me Agustín’s clothes then I’ll get them sorted for him. Then you have one less thing to worry about.”

“Are you sure?” Julieta asked.

“Of course I am,” Pepa nodded. “I think I owe it to you. You help me out enough.”

Julieta reached out and gave her hand a tender squeeze. “Gracias. You don’t know how much that means to me.”

“De nada,” Pepa replied before the two of them heard the sound of squeals and laughter coming from the back garden. The children had been hot and bothered when they got home from church and so they had gotten changed and gone out into the back garden, their mamá and the men deciding to do the same, and none of them had come back in yet. It was no surprise though. The heat was nearly unbearable and the pair of them were beginning to feel the effects now, having been cooped up in the kitchen for so long. “I think that pot still has about 20 minutes. How about we sit outside a while?”

“Yes please.” Julieta agreed before they got up with a chuckle and began to make their way out into the garden.

It took them little time to find their family and neither of them could keep from smiling when they saw the children running around together, laughing and squealing while Luisa sprayed them all with the hosepipe. Their maridos had even decided to join in, but that was no surprise. Both of them were still children at heart. Sitting a short distance away from them all was their mamá and Bruno, Valentina sat in his lap with a cup of water while they watched the fun. Silently, they approached them before sitting down in the chairs Félix and Gus must have been sitting in earlier. “Ay, you both look so warm.” Alma commented, slightly concerned, when she stopped watching her grandchildren play momentarily to look at them both. “Stay there, I’ll get you something to drink. It might cool you down a little.”

They thanked her with their eyes before she stood from her chair and headed for the table the drinks were on, Valentina babbling gently in Bruno’s lap making Pepa smile when she turned her attention to her. “No Mamí this afternoon?” She inquired, reaching out to caress her nieta’s chubby cheek lovingly with the back of a finger before she reached for her and she gladly stole her from her hermano.

“Dolores and Mariano said they were going for a nap about an hour ago,” Bruno explained. “I told them we’d wake them before dinner.”

She nodded while bouncing the baby in her lap. “I don’t think either of them – Lolita mainly – are getting much sleep at the minute, so I get it. This heat is a nightmare.”

“Am I allowed to say I miss your gift at times like this?” Julieta only half-teased, palming a curl from her sweaty forehead.

“Meh.” Pepa shrugged.

It was a couple moments later when their mamá came back with a glass of lemonade each for them and they thanked her when she gave them to them, watching her sit back down in her seat with a sigh. No one spoke much for a time then, the four of them content to be in the company of each other while watching the others cool off, but then Gus and Félix stepped away from the group and Julieta and Pepa felt their breath catch. Both of them were completely soaked, their hair free of the product they had put in it for church earlier, and their shirts had become almost see-through and were clinging to them in a way that made them feel even warmer. It got past neither of the men, it was clear in the way the pair of them blinked at them before looking at one another and chuckling when they worked it out, and they cleared their throats as they made their way up to them. “I think we’re going to go up and change before dinner,” Agustín announced. “We, uh, told the others they have five more minutes.”

Julieta nodded and her heart raced a little when he gave her a wink, the corner of her mouth curling into a smirk as she watched him and Félix start making their way back inside.

She felt Bruno looking at her then and turned her head to look his way, unable to keep from laughing as she watched him look back and forth between her and their hermana several times.

“I hate you both.” He told them.

“You love us.” She tutted with a shake of her head, lifting her glass of lemonade and taking a sip.

“Nope.” He argued.

“He loves us.” Pepa laughed, drawing Valentina close and letting her rest her head on her shoulder.

Going back to watching the children run around on the grass, Julieta traced the rim of the glass in her hand and sighed as she leaned back in her chair. It would be time to head back inside and continue with dinner soon enough, she knew that, but for the time being she could just sit and spend time with her familia. She could have a drink with her siblings, watch her mamá smile each time one of the children did something funny, and see her babies – who were no longer babies at all – have fun together and that was her idea of perfect. If someone had told her three years ago that their familia would be like this, all of them together and at peace with each other, then she wouldn’t have believed it. They had come so far in such a small amount of time and she couldn’t have been prouder of them all.

She couldn’t have been more grateful.

…

Julieta set a cup of tea down in front of her hija before pulling out a chair and sitting down at her side at the kitchen table, Isabela giving her a smile as she brought the cup into her hands before sipping carefully at the steaming liquid. “Lo siento, I did mean to talk to you about this earlier on, mi amor, but I ended up having more to get through today than I thought I was going to.” She admitted gently.

“Don’t worry, Mamá, I get it.” Isabela shook her head.

“Okay, so I had a think about what you said about wanting to do more at the clinic and I had an idea,” She told her. “Like I said before, you aren’t going to be doing anything on your own for a while yet. I know how capable you are, but thinking you can handle something and actually being able to handle something are very different things and I don’t want you panicking because something hasn’t gone the way you thought it would. That being said, I do want you to have a little independence though because you’ll learn better that way. I was thinking that, tomorrow, you could be the one to see the first patient of the day. I’ll be in the room with you, but I’ll be quiet and let you handle things the way you think and I’ll only step in if you need me to or if I think I have a reason to do so,” She explained. “I think that one patient will be enough for your first time and then, after, you can have a think about how it went and we’ll have a talk about it when we get home from the clinic. Does that sound alright?”

Isabela nodded. “It sounds perfect.”

“I know you’re worried,” Julieta reached out and tucked her hair back behind her ear, having seen the look in her eyes when she told her she’d be starting in the morning, giving her a smile as she ran the back of her hand down her cheek. “But you can do this and you know you can because you told me yourself. You know the things you need to ask patients about, you know the things you need to look for, and you know more about each of those hierbas than I could hope to. You need to have as much faith in yourself as I do because the only one having doubts right now is you. I trust you completely.”

“And…and you’ll be there. The whole time?”

“You aren’t going to be left on your own for a second.”

“Okay…” Isabela breathed a sigh of relief, leaning back in her chair before she chuckled under her breath. “I think Papí will be glad. He’s tired of hearing me talk about it now.”

Julieta laughed. “No, he is as proud of you as I am and he knows you’re just excited. He loves you so much.”

Isabela smiled and looked down into her tea for a second before drinking the last of it and setting her cup back down on the table. “I think I might go to bed. I want to make sure I sleep.”

“Good idea,” Julieta agreed before the two of them stood from their chairs and tucked them in. “I’ll be going up myself soon. I want to get those dishes done before Señora Lopez comes in the morning.”

“You do know Pá will come looking for you at some point, right?” Isabela brought a hand to her hip and gave her a look.

Julieta rolled her eyes playfully. “I know.”

Giggling, Isabela took a step closer to her and caught her in a hug, burying her nose in her shoulder for a moment when she felt her wrap her own arms around her and bury a hand tenderly in her hair. “I love you, Mamá.” She said into the fabric of her dress, the love she had for her mother deepening when she kissed the side of her head and let her hand run down her back through her nightgown.

“I love you too, corazón.” Julieta replied as she gave her a squeeze before letting her pull back from her.

“Before I go up,” Isabela suddenly remembered. “Things are all sorted for the morning, aren’t they? You don’t need my help with anything?”

“No, I dealt with all that earlier.” Julieta told her, running a hand down her arm.

“Okay. Well, buenas noches.”

“Buenas noches.”

Her daughter stepped around her and walked out of the kitchen then, heading up to bed and leaving her alone, and she failed to keep from smiling to herself as she grabbed the cups from the table and carried them to the sink so she could wash them. She was so, so proud of her little girl. She always had been, from the moment she was born, but there was something about the way she was nowadays that made her prouder than she could put into words. She had changed so much in the time since things changed for them. Her attitude had improved, her relationship with the familia – Mira especially – had improved tenfold, and she was just the most selfless young woman she knew. She still had her moments, of course, she was far from perfect – even though in her mind she could never be anything but – but she was one of her greatest blessings and she was so looking forward to seeing her flourish and go from strength to strength. She had no idea what her future had in store for her, whether she would continue caring for people and go on to run the clinic one day or whether life would take her down another path, but there was one thing that she was completely sure of. She had no doubt about.

She was always going to be there to support her.

[bamber344]

A Day In The Life Of Vivienne Matthews

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Heyo! So, for those of you who didn't see my post about this, I know I said at the end of the last chapter that you would be getting more bird woman this chapter, but i had a bit of a block so i decided to work on something a bit different to give myself a break from the whump. Hence, this!

Last time we had Viv pov, I felt like I didn't get to do enough introspection to really explore her character, so i wanted to make up for that here.

sorry it took so long! there were a number of things keeping me from writing at my usual pace these past couple of weeks. Namely, screaming children. But also I went on a date one day so that was nice :)

Anyway! I won't keep you for any longer! Enjoy!

CWs: discussions of abuse, recreational drug use, slight allusions to ns/fw things (a friend with benefits, horny dreams)

A Day In The Life Of Vivienne Matthews

The irritating chirp of an alarm was the first thing Vivienne heard as she woke up that morning. It pierced her ears and ripped her out of the pleasant dream she’d been having, leaving her stuck in the waking world for the foreseeable future. Just because this was how she woke up every weekday didn’t make it any less annoying. She groaned, burying a face in her pillow as she reached out to turn it off. Time to start her day, whether she wanted to or not.

Viv forced herself to sit up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes and trying to remember what she’d been dreaming about.  Regardless of the contents, it had certainly been a good one, she could say that much. Good enough to leave a wet spot on her sleep shorts and a lingering tingle in her thighs, apparently.

She couldn’t help but laugh at herself. It had been a long time since she’d had a dream like that, so it was probably due. Maybe it was time to hit up Brea for another late-night meeting? Between school, work, and Union patrols, she hadn’t really had much time to think about that sort of thing, but clearly, her body was sending her a message that she was a little pent up.

She pushed the thought into the back of her mind as she got up to shower and go about her morning routine. None of her roommates were awake yet, so she was careful not to make too much noise as she gathered her clothes and teleported into the bathroom.

Viv dumped her fresh clothes on the floor and hopped into the shower, letting the cold spray wake her up properly before it heated into something pleasant. She went through the motions, scrubbing herself down before getting out and getting dressed for the day. A touch of makeup here, some cute earrings there, and she was ready to go. She smiled at her reflection, pulling a little pose to show herself off.

From there, she teleported into the kitchen and started on breakfast, putting together a quick meal of fried eggs on toast and scarfing it down as quickly as she could. She didn’t have a lot of time before her lecture started; intentionally setting her alarm as late as possible thanks to the convenience of her powers. No need to worry about travel time when you could get to your location instantaneously, after all.

Sam, her roommate, was just coming out of their room when Vivienne was grabbing her bag and making the final preparations to go.

“Morning,” they mumbled, shuffling into the kitchen to make an instant coffee.

“Hi,” she greeted, securing her bag over her shoulder. “If you’re planning on cooking anything for breakfast, there’s already a pan there you can use. Don’t need to make any unnecessary dishes.”

Sam waved her off. “Breakfast is for chumps. I don’t eat until noon at the earliest.”

Viv paused. “That’s… unhealthy. You should eat more.”

“Your mom’s unhealthy.”

Viv plastered a smile on her face. “Pleasant as always. I’ll see you later.”

“Later.”

With that, Viv focused her mind on an image of her usual seat in the lecture hall and, with a slight pop, she teleported. Several people around her recoiled in shock. She grinned, greeting them as they calmed back down.

“Vivienne, I thought I told you not to teleport into the lecture hall!” the lecturer yelled. “You could hurt somebody!”

Viv winced, ducking her head as her face heated up. “Sorry, I forgot.”

The lecturer sighed. “Just don’t let it happen again, please.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

—

Vivienne trudged through the lecture, trying to intake as much information as she could, taking notes where possible, and generally just doing her best not to doze off. Despite her attempts to always come across as bright and bubbly, the truth was that Vivienne was tired. All the time. Between studying for her nursing degree, doing whatever work she could as a superhero, looking after Madeline, cooking, cleaning, doing what little self-care she could fit in, and most recently, worrying about Jordyn, she had almost no time to herself to just relax. It was good that she actually enjoyed working as a hero and spending time with Madeline, but a girl still needed time to herself to just decompress. Everyone in the union relied on her for her powers, so she constantly had to be vigilant to any monster attacks or disasters so that she could help dispatch people to the scene, and frankly, it was fucking stressful. Part of her was regretting taking on such a demanding degree, but at the same time, it was what she wanted. She couldn’t spend her whole life living off of the Union, and helping people always made her happiest. It was hard work, but it was good work. It was worth it.

Probably.

Her day continued in the usual fashion; more lectures, more notes, more expensive iced coffee from the university cafeteria, followed by two hours of frantic studying to teach herself all of the things the lecturers missed. Thankfully, all of her lectures were in the first half of the day, so while her mornings were usually an impossible flurry of activity, it left most of her afternoons free so that she could focus on whatever she deemed most important at the time. Ideally, that would’ve been a nap, but there was something else that had been sitting in the back of her mind ever since that chance encounter a few nights ago, and she had to address it before anything else.

She sighed, rubbing her eyes. It was just her luck that she would stumble upon another lost bird to take in, but now that she knew, she couldn’t just ignore it. Those bruises and cuts weren’t just training injuries. Jordyn needed help. Vivienne needed a plan.

Her ears popped as she teleported, and she worked her jaw to alleviate the discomfort as she adjusted her eyes to the dim conference room of the Union HQ. It was the biggest room in the building, with a large table right in the centre and a massive screen covering the entirety of one wall, displaying analytics of the city. Without that citizen’s report detection system, Vivienne’s job would’ve been much harder.

She shivered, hugging her arms to herself. After coming straight out of the afternoon sun, the room was almost aggressively cold. In fact, it was weird just how cold it was. Or, at least, it would have been weird, had Maddie not been sitting at one end of the table with her legs kicked up, forming small icicles to throw at a dart board set up on the far wall. She wasn’t alone. The smell of marijuana lingered in the air, wafting from a joint hanging between Ashley’s fingers as he focused on something on the table. It was pretty rare to see both Union leaders working together these days, what with Maddie’s mental health issues. Though, to be fair, it didn’t seem like Maddie was doing much work. Still, her presence alone was progress that Vivienne couldn’t help but be proud of.

“Hey guys,” she greeted, approaching them. “I can’t remember the last time I saw you both here together.”

“Hi Viv,” Ashley greeted, scratching at his dark stubble and not looking away from the papers spread out in front of him. He was a fair bit older than her and Maddie, in his mid thirties. He was one of the few people in the Union who didn’t actually have a power; having inherited his leadership of the Union and everything that comes with it from his elderly mother once she became too old to manage things, unlike Maddie, who was voted into the position. A new leadership election would be held in about a year, once Maddie’s term was up, and the new co-leader would take her place beside Ashley. As much as she had on her plate, Vivienne certainly wouldn’t mind holding the position herself, if it came to that.

“Hey,” Maddie said, grabbing the joint from him and taking a puff. “I just figured I’d come here so that I was actually doing something instead of waiting for you at my apartment. I figured you’d show up eventually, so it seemed efficient. We’re sorting out budget issues at the moment. Or, at least, Ash is. This stuff goes over my head a little.”

Ashley smiled. “Hey, don’t sell yourself short. You’re way better at the people side of things than I am.” He looked up at Viv. “So, you two are hanging out tonight?”

“Yeah,” Vivienne replied. “Having dinner at Maddie’s.”

He raised his eyebrows and nodded, glancing over at Madeline with a suggestive sort of smile. “I see. Is this just a friend thing, or…?”

Maddie practically flinched, and the ice dart she was aiming went way off course, thudding into the wall. “C’mon man. It’s not like that.”

He put his hands up. “I know, I know. I just think you should consider it. Well, maybe not with Vivienne, obviously, but just in general. Putting yourself out there again could be good for you.”

Maddie pulled her feet off the table and got up, walking away with her shoulders raised. She stopped in front of the dart board and started pulling the icicles out. “Stop, Ashley. I’m not ready for that.”

Ashley sighed. “Sorry, Madds. Just trying to help.”

“Well, I didn’t ask you to.”

Ashley didn’t reply, and the room fell silent. Vivienne clenched her fists, feeling immensely uncomfortable in the suddenly frigid atmosphere of the space. She had to fix this somehow.

“Uh, I- I actually have something I wanted to speak with you about,” she said. “Both of you.”

Madeline turned around. There was still a tenseness to her shoulders, but her face had softened a bit. Viv must have sounded more upset than she realised.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

Vivienne sighed, rubbing her eyes. “It’s that police hero. Seven.”

Maddie stood up straighter. “Has she done something to you?!”

Viv frantically shook her head. “No, no, nothing like that. Actually, we’ve been getting along pretty well, the few times we’ve met. It’s more… Well, I’m worried about her.”

Ashley frowned. “What is it?”

Viv bit her lip as the memories flashed through her head. “I… I don’t think she’s a hero by choice. I think de Vygon has forced her into it somehow. And… he’s not treating her well.”

“How do you know?” Maddie asked.

“You remember when someone tried to assassinate her a few weeks back? Well, Brea and I were there, helping provide first aid. We took Seven’s chest plate off, and her body was covered in bruises and cuts. At first, I just hoped it was from training or something, but I ran into her the other night, and she was practically beside herself, crying her eyes out. Someone had forced her to get drunk, apparently, and she admitted a whole lot of stuff to me. She said she has no memory of her past beyond about a year ago, and all she can ever remember was being groomed to be a hero by her dad, who I can only assume is de Vygon, though it remains to be seen if he’s actually her dad, because that man is white as hell, and Jordyn’s skin was pretty tan from what I saw. It’s just sketchy all around.” She was starting to ramble a little, but with all of the emotions that talking about this sent through her, that wasn’t surprising.

“Jordyn?” Ash asked.

“Oh, um, that’s her name. She told me when she was saying everything else. Anyway, she also mentioned that her dad would punish her if she didn’t get home in time, which, by the way, is a fucking facility underneath precinct 23. By the sounds of it, she doesn’t even like being a hero, especially not in the way de Vygon makes her, with all the faux-police work. It- it’s just… Ugh! I don’t know! I want to help her but I don’t know how. I figured if anyone could, it would be the Union. There’s gotta be something we can do to get her out, right?”

Ashley frowned. “If what you say is true, then we absolutely have an obligation to help her. The only problem is, there’s no proof. Coming out and announcing something; that de Vygon… what, kidnapped an amnesiac and trained her to be a hero against her will? That would be shot down as an unbelievable rumour in an instant. And from the sounds of it, if we tried to offer her an olive branch and allowed her to stay with us, de Vygon would accuse us of kidnapping, which is the last thing we need right now. I’ve actually done a bit of research on this ‘Project Genesis’ thing of his, and it’s being funded by some of the most rich and powerful people in the country. You remember Sebastian Beaumond, the senator who ran for office a few years ago? Yeah, he owns a controlling share in the project. Honestly, even if we did have proof, unless it was absolutely incontrovertible, they would cover it up without a second thought. This isn’t a beehive we want to poke without a good plan.”

Viv snapped her fingers. “Beaumond! That was his name! He was the one that forced Jordyn to drink the other night.”

Madeline sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I don’t think this is an issue of coming up with a plan. No matter how we do it, if we lay even a single hand on de Vygon’s little pet, he’s gonna come crashing down on us with the strength of the entire police force. The Union would be finished, and no matter how bad things are for Jordyn, we can’t afford that. There are too many people relying on us to survive. She’s on her own. Besides, I’ve been keeping an eye on her activities, and let me tell you, that woman can fight. She can get herself out if she has such a problem.”

Vivienne’s jaw dropped. “Maddie, what the fuck? You of all people should know that abuse doesn’t work like that!”

Maddie clenched her fists. The room grew several degrees colder. “I’m saying we don’t have a choice. She can get herself out, because that’s the only way she’s getting out. Abuse, domestic violence, people don’t fucking care about that shit! If we raise a stink and start throwing accusations, even with proof, absolutely nothing will come of it. You’d need a much bigger controversy to even make a dent in de Vygon’s friends’ armour. It… It sucks, okay? I get it. You see someone hurting, and you wanna do everything in your power to help, because you’re just good like that, but you need to understand that there is nothing in your power that you can do. 

“Besides, like you said, abuse doesn’t work like that. If she’s really been groomed by that bastard for as long as she can remember, she’s not gonna want to turn away from him just because we tell her that the way he’s treating her is wrong. The only way that anything could possibly happen would be if Jordyn was allowed to join the Union. Maybe then we could slowly work de Vygon’s collar from her neck, but that’s never going to happen, because de Vygon hates us. He would never let her anywhere near us.”

“I’m… not so sure about that,” Ashley said, butting in. Vivienne was grateful. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to formulate a reply to Madeline’s argument without bursting into tears. This type of conflict just didn’t agree with her, emotionally speaking. 

Maddie turned to him. “What do you mean?”

“Think about it. What could possibly be the goal here? He pours all this money into making what basically amounts to a super cop? That just seems like a waste of cash. No, there’s something he wants; something that only Jordyn can help him get. I can make a pretty good guess as to what that something is.” He pointedly glanced down at the floor before looking back up at them. 

It took a second to click, but when it did, Vivienne’s stomach dropped. “You don’t think…?”

“I do. He’s been bitter about not being part of the main family ever since he learned about it. Doubly so now that we don’t share the de Vygon name anymore. That’s half the reason he hates the Union so much, like it’s our fault his grandfather was born later than my great-grandfather. I can only imagine how angry he was when my mom married my dad and took his last name. Now Min is the main family name, and de Vygon is the branch name. That’s gotta sting for a man as egotistical as him.”

“So you think Jordyn is just a ploy to get a soldier into the Union to usurp control of the Godling’s prison from you?” Madeline asked.

“Why else would a man who hates superheroes raise a superhero? He’s certainly biding his time, but I don’t doubt that the moment Jordyn expresses interest in the Union, he’ll let her come here and stake the place out.”

“So what do we do?” Vivienne asked. “I mean, we’ve still got to let her in, right? She needs help.”

“Of course. That way we kill two birds with one stone. We already know de Vygon’s plan – or at least, our best assumption of it – so we can take steps to ensure Jordyn doesn’t get too far with it, while also doing our best to help her recover and break free from him.”

Viv pursed her lips. “I suppose it’s our only real option. Still, it just… I wish we could do more.”

“I know. The situation is just awkward. Still, we’ve got a plan now. Vivienne, how close are you with her?”

“Uhh, not very? We’ve just run into each other a couple of times. She seems to like me well enough, if the hug she gave me when she was drunk was anything to go by.”

“I’ve met her once, but she seemed weirdly enamoured by me,” Maddie said. “Kept staring at me.”

“Well, the next time one of you run into her, make sure you let her know that the Union is an option.” Ashley replied. “The sooner the better.”

“Got it.”

“Also, don’t discuss any of this with anyone else. If Jordyn does join the Union, it needs to feel as natural for her as possible. That’s not gonna work if everyone’s watching her like a hawk.”

“That makes sense,” Vivienne said.

Ashley nodded. “Good. Now, I believe you two had plans? I wouldn’t want to keep you.”

“I can still work for a bit longer,” Madeline said.

Ash shook his head. “Nah, it’s alright. I’m pretty much finished anyway, and I need to go do more research into de Vygon’s whole deal. You two can head off.”

Maddie shrugged. “Okay, then.” She walked over to Viv, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Shall we?”

Vivienne’s relief that the previous tension between herself and Maddie had faded away was palpable. She smiled. “Let’s go.”

—

Cooking was always something that Vivienne looked forward to. The act of taking all of the separate ingredients, refining them, and then bringing them together into something that was more than the sum of its parts just relaxed her. For a small moment of time, all she needed to focus on were the even cuts of the knife through an onion, and ensuring that the cacciatore in the pan didn’t burn. There was no room to worry about nursing degrees, or her friend’s tenuous mental health, or the fact that an acquaintance was almost certainly being abused, or even her own never-ending fatigue. It was just her, the ingredients, and the sizzle of the pan. 

That wasn’t all she liked about cooking, though. No, her favourite part was definitely what came after the cooking. Sharing a meal that she poured her heart and soul into with a dear friend; that was what made cooking truly great. The feeling of watching Madeline take her first bite of pasta and seeing her face melt with enjoyment was a sensation that would never get old.

“So? How is it?” Viv asked, perhaps stroking her ego a little bit, but who could say?

“Fuckin’ amazing, as usual,” Maddie said. “Seriously, we’ve gotta do this more often.”

Viv beamed. “What, just so you can enjoy my cooking more?”

“Exactly. Why else would I hang out with you?”

“Damn, all this time I thought it was for my charming wit and stunning good looks.”

Maddie let out one of her rare laughs. “Sure, that’s totally it.”

They fell into a comfortable silence as both of them enjoyed their meals. They were sitting out on Maddie’s apartment balcony, basking in the warmth of the setting sun and the cool breeze wafting through the streets. The city was calm; the sound of traffic floating up to them and providing a nice white noise that sat comfortingly in the background. Despite all that, though, Viv just couldn’t get her mind to rest. She couldn’t stop thinking about Jordyn. Apparently, Madeline was on a similar wavelength.

“So,” she said through a mouthful of penne and sauce. She paused and swallowed it down before continuing. “How do you think de Vygon found Jordyn, anyway?”

Viv frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you said she says she doesn’t remember anything other than her training, right? So, what, de Vygon just kidnapped someone out of the amnesia ward of the hospital or something?”

Vivienne gave it some thought. “I don’t know. That seems really risky for how secretive he’s being about the whole thing, and besides, what are the odds he kidnapped someone with a power anyway?”

“Okay, what about… he trafficked her in from another country to hide from the missing person’s report, and used hypnosis or some shit to wipe her memory?”

“No, she doesn’t have an accent. Also, I feel like that wouldn’t really work with how publicised Jordyn is. The moment anyone hears about her power to control shadows, they would immediately know who she was if they knew her before she was kidnapped, even in another country. Only one person can have a power at one time, after all.”

Maddie threw her hands up. “Well fuck, I don’t know. Genetically engineered test-tube baby? Some sort of clone? Y’know, speaking of which, do you reckon if someone cloned me, the clone would have the same power as me? Cuz they would technically still be me, right? I’ve always wondered about that.”

Viv snorted at how quickly she drifted off-topic. “I mean, they’d probably still have a power, since you’ve got the mutation for it, but they probably wouldn’t have yours. It would be like having a twin, right? Just because you’re genetically the same, you’re still different people. Thanks to how powers work, no one else can have the same power as you, so I’d imagine your clone would manifest something different.”

“So what you’re saying is, we wouldn’t be able to find out who she was cloned from by looking at power records?”

“Why do you think she’s a clone?” Viv asked with an incredulous grin. “They’ve barely even done research on cloning sheep, haven’t they? We’re years out from any reliable human cloning program, let alone one that lets you make a fully grown adult.”

Maddie tapped her temple with a finger. “That’s what they want you to think.”

Vivienne squinted, finally noticing the redness in Maddie’s eyes. “Oh my god, how high are you?”

Maddie grinned. “Hey, someone had to finish that joint Ash and I were having while you were cooking. That was good weed! I didn’t want to just waste it.”

Vivienne laughed, shaking her head. “I should’ve known.”

“Honestly, I’m just surprised you didn’t smell it.”

“Well, have you got any more? I’m starting to feel left out.”

Her grin widened. “Now you’re speaking my language.”

—

Vivienne really should’ve gone home and studied that night. It would’ve been the best use of her time, and she hadn’t promised Maddie anything more than dinner. Instead, what she did was get very high and watched movies on Maddie’s couch late into the night. She’d been having too good of a time to just up and leave, and if she was being honest with herself, the little break from everything on her plate was nice. Needed, even. There was only so much bandwidth she could spare before she fizzled out, so it was important to find the time to blow off steam like this. Usually, she would find herself in Brianna’s bed for that purpose, but hanging out like this, just relaxing like two friends should, it hit the spot just the same. She and Maddie didn’t get to do that enough these days (again, usually Brianna was filling that role lately), and Viv wasn’t going to waste this no-doubt fleeting moment of high spirits for her.

As the night wound down, Maddie retreated off to bed, and Viv stayed on the couch, not wanting to go back to her apartment where her roommates would no doubt be loudly gaming until the early hours of the morning. She stared up at the dark ceiling, thinking about everything they’d discussed today. As was the usual lately, her mind drifted to Jordyn. She remembered that drunken hug they’d shared the other night; the feeling of the cold, uncomfortable metal of her armour pressed up against her body, juxtaposed with the warmth of her tears soaking into Viv’s shoulder. Despite all of the evidence to the contrary, Vivienne couldn’t help but hope that none of what they’d theorised about Jordyn was true. It hurt to think about the fact that she might be hurting at this very moment, and Vivienne couldn’t do a thing about it. The pain and fear in Jordyn’s voice that night still rang through Viv’s ears, and it was the perfect fuel for her mind to keep supplying her with horrible samples of what Jordyn’s screams might sound like as de Vygon punished her for some perceived mistake. She tried to shut it out, but as per usual, her brain just wouldn’t stop working.

Vivienne didn’t get much sleep that night. But hey, what was new there?

Taglist: @steelandblood @sapphicwhump @urnumber1star @alsolucakairomi @idkwhattodowiththisaltiamsorry

@iamheretohurt @anoyedartist @dontyoubleedoutonme @seastarblue @lettherebepain

so, originally this was just gonna be an interlude, but then plot started happening, so i guess this is an actual proper chapter now. Lucky you, viv fans!

i have been very very exhausted and lost a lot of sleep this past week, so if there are any mistakes I've missed, please let me know!

Next time, I super duper prommy that you'll get your bird lady wishes.

let me know what you thought with a comment or reblog! It's very appreciated :) Also let me know if you want to be added/removed from the taglist! Thanks for reading!

[theskeletonprior]

Write Time: Day Sixteen

This month, my goal is a cool 30 000 words written. I’ll be carrying on with more RAVENOT. If you’re curious, you can take a look at my WIP intro right here. And if you’re really keen, you can read the first chapter (sort of a pilot as I toil) right here! Now onto the daily ramble.

I'm still a bit cloudy-headed today, and I'm far behind my count after the last couple of days. Weekends are the hardest for me because I have so much travelling to do to get to my job. Things are going well at work, and I think there's a lot of opportunity for things to get even better, but it's slow going and that makes it hard to resist the fear that I've made a mistake, sometimes. My mind pulls in a lot of different directions, and it can be hard to find focus, and hard to prioritize. It's harder, too, when a lot of the things I'm doing aren't going to have an immediate yield. The dead-end jobs I've been working did have that going for them--the hours weren't predictable, but the money was consistent. DMing, some of the money is consistent, but it's taking time to build the network I'll need to be really successful. It gets in my head sometimes that I may think I can do this thing, but I'm wrong, and I'm actually just wasting time and money. And writing? Forget about it. The sheer amount of unpaid labour writing a book requires can be an overwhelming thing to think about. But I am going to write these books, and I am going to keep working on my DMing, and hopefully for once in my life being stubborn and working hard will actually pay off. And I must admit, despite the pressure that I feel, I do like it more. There's just a lot at stake, and that's sometimes intimidating. I never feel like I'm doing enough, and I'm not sure how to stop carrying that feeling around. Anyway, I'll keep after it. And now, this. Sometimes cute things happen in my stories.

“Once we’ve had our look at the wall, I can go to Yarrowling for you. I ought to tell her about the woods and look in on Tanabel while I’m at it.” Hadan fiddled with the strap on his quiver.  "That’s good of you, Hadan.” Dia smiled again, and that made him feel a little lighter. “I’ll have to owe you one.” Suddenly he was on the wall again, looking at the dark silhouette of the Unmade, thinking this might be the terrifying end of his short life. And hadn't he had so much to live for? Hadn't he known right down to the soles of his boots that he was going to fight to get back to those things? "A dance," Hadan said, quickly, as if his tongue might try to stop him if he didn't get it out fast enough. "I'd like a dance, sometime." He could feel the heat rising all the way into his ears when he saw that open, beautiful surprise on Dia's face. "You-don't-have-to-say-yes!" Hadan buried his face in his hands, spinning on his heel to turn his back, wondering all the while who had made him this way. What kind of joker had written this into the fabric of the universe? What cackling trickster had brought him to this terrible moment of mistimed bravery? "Oh, forget I said that," he groaned, muffled behind his hands. "You sure?" Dia's voice was sparkling with mirth. "Was going to say yes." Hadan whipped around to look at her, his heart thudding in his ears so loudly it felt like he'd have trouble hearing himself when he opened his mouth to speak. "Really?" His voice got wretchedly squeaky in moments of stress, and this was no exception. "It's just a dance," Dia said with a grin. "I think I can handle it, though I'm starting to get a little worried about you, honestly. Just have to hope your heart can take it."

Until next time!

Taglist: @alexanderflowerbird @void-botanist @carmillasboywife @ceph-the-ghost-writer @wintherlywords

As always, let me know if you’d like to join or leave the taglist, and I’ll act accordingly. You can reply right on this post, if you’d like. Divider by @/strangergraphics, from this set: here. Thank you!

[jawritter]

Carry On

Chapter 14

Summary: It was just a simple hunt, found on a pie festival. It was supposed to be easy. Something they’d all done one hundred and one times a million. No one could have told Y/N, Dean, and Sam that nothing from that point on would ever be the same again.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader x Sam Winchester

Word Count: 2254

Warnings: It’s getting a little tense around the bunker...

Due to the graphic nature of this fic, and the fact that it will eventually contain Smut. This fic is an 18 + only fic! If you’re under 18 DO NOT read this fic!

A/N: This fic is beta’d by @kazsrm67​​​​ Thanks so much love! Please do not copy my work! Feedback is golden! I hope you all enjoy this ride with me!

My Mastlist        Series Masterlist

“Sam, have you seen your brother?” Y/N questioned as she stepped down into the library, finding Sam surrounded by a pile of books almost as tall as he was. 

“Yeah, he said that he was going to go take a shower, he’d been in the weight room all morning working on that leg thing with me. He wanted me to let you sleep in, said you were up late with him last night.”

“Yeah, nightmare,” Y/N admitted, “They seem to get better, and then all the sudden, they get worse.”

“I was actually doing some reading on Post Traumatic Stress this morning, and honestly, I think he’s got a lot of PTSD that he doesn’t want to admit, he has that he’s dealing with,” Sam admitted with a heavy sigh. “We both know Dean by this point, he’s gonna try to white wash it until it’s covered up or buried so deep that no one notices it.”

“Yeah,” Y/N agreed, leaning forward on the table and hiding her head in her arms. “I’m pretty sure he had a panic attack in the kitchen a few weeks ago, and that’s when the nightmares started. I was gonna talk to you about it, but he keeps me busy, and I didn’t want to talk about it in front of you, because you know how he gets, I don’t have to tell you.”

“I mean, the man almost died, I expected it a little,” Sam voiced as he closed the book in front of him, and sat back in his chair. “But he’s up, he’s moving around, he’s functioning better than either of us thought he’d ever be functioning the night we got to the hospital with him. I’ve been through a lot with Dean, parent deaths, friend’s deaths, returning from hell… I honestly could go on, but I’ll spare you the logistics of it. What I’m trying to say here, is that if I know one thing about my brother, is that pushing him to open up will get you absolutely nowhere. Some things, Dean just has to work out for himself.”

Irritation bubbled in her chest, and Y/N desperately wanted to get up and slap him. Sure, nothing had been as traumatic as going to hell, and nothing had been traumatic as losing your parent’s several times. She was sure that Dean had gone through horrors that she knew not of, and couldn’t handle if she did. He was strong. Most people would be a fucking blubbering mess in the corner if they even went through a minute fragment of some of the things that Dean had been through before he even turned 35 years old. Still, pushing him to a corner and saying he’d work it out himself, just leave him alone, felt wrong. 

“And if he can’t pull through it, and it gets worse?” Y/N pressed, but Sam just kept scrolling through his phone virtually ignoring her. “I know I wasn't with you guys a whole lot until this point, but I never remember anyone talking about Dean having flashbacks before?”

“He did,” Sam interjected, “When he went to hell, purgatory, he had flashbacks and nightmares. He got over it. The main thing is he’s not a vegetable somewhere, and he seems to be getting better at getting around and taking care of himself.”

Y/N blinked at Sam, utterly dumbfounded at the pure, unconcerned, just didn’t give a fuck attitude that Sam had, and she was wondering if a shapeshifter had taken the form of Sam, and was just dicking off here to fuck with her before he tried to kill them.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Sam said, “It’s not that I don’t give a damn, it’s that I’ve been through this enough with Dean before to know that he’s not going to let me in unless he WANTS to let me in. So it’s best to just give him his space.”

Miraculously, Y/N suppressed the eye roll, but she wasn’t sure how she did it honestly. It was an impressive one. 

“So that’s your plan is it, just sit here, hiding behind books and fuck ever else and wait for Dean to cave?” 

“Yeah,” Sam stated, with a nod of his head, “Because if you try to get yourself in there before he’s ready for you too, it’s just gonna blow up in your face. Now, if you will excuse me, I have to go and meet Eileen in the garage, we’re getting ready for a road trip.”

“A road trip?” Y/N questioned, spinning around in her chair to face Sam, who had already stood from the table and was headed towards the hallway, “You’re going on a road trip?”

“Yeah,” Sam breathily answered her. “Eileen and I haven’t had any real time together, stress free time anyway, since Dean got hurt, and we want to take a little road trip, maybe do some hunting and just spend some time together.”

Y/N fought the sudden urge to point out the fact that he’d done very little since Dean had been hurt but whatever the fuck he wanted to do, while she stayed at the hospital, bathed, fed, and took care of his brother while he and Eileen did whatever they wanted to do, but Dean’s slow approach down the hallway stopped her, and Sam was goddamn lucky it did; because today, she’d had just about enough of his bratty ass attitude. Not that she regretted anything she had done for Dean, but fuck if he was going to stand there and act like he’d done so much, sacrificed so much, when he hadn’t done a damn thing. 

“You’re leaving?” Dean questioned, brow furrowed and holding onto the wall to brace himself in front of his baby brother, hair still wet and in his most comfortable clothing. He looked so much better than he had in months, he just needed to work on gaining some weight and his strength back…

“Yeah, Eileen and I are gonna take off and spend some time together,” Sam told him, and Dean’s gaze drifted towards Y/N, she could tell that he had questions, and more than one of them. 

“You know, if you’re going hunting you can just say so Sam,” Dean said after a moment, “It’s fine, I’m not gonna have a fucking chick-flic moment about it or something.”

“Well, I mean, we might pick up a hunt or two along the way, but we just mainly want to get away for a while,” Sam deflected with a shrug. 

Dean’s jaw tightened, and his nostrils flared slightly, but he said nothing, just nodded. 

“How long are you gonna be gone?” Dean questioned, and Sam just shrugged. 

“I don’t know, a week, two, maybe a little longer, it really just depends on how we’re feeling. We haven’t really got to spend any time alone together since your accident, and I think it’s time we get away for a while. We’ll come back after we’ve had a little time off.”

Y/N sat and watched Dean in silence as he nodded again, and looked down at his feet, and she swore she could physically see his blood pressure rising. 

“Don’t bother,” Dean said after a moment, and Sam took a step back, looking at Dean like he was crossed between confused and pissed, but Dean didn’t seem to care much about Sam’s disdain. “Y/N’s got me,” he continued, “you two don’t have to stay here if it’s that much of an inconvenience to you.”

“Dean, that’s not what I said–”

“No, but it’s what you’ve implied when honestly, Y/N’s given up a fuck ton more than you or Eileen through out this whole ordeal. She’s the one that uprooted her whole life to come and stay with me, take care of me, fucking wipe my goddamn ass when I couldn’t do it for myself, while you and Eileen ‘apartment hunted’, or whatever else you called yourself doing. But sure, you’re tired of being here, and you’re not really doing all that much anyway, I'm not keeping you here, so don’t bother.”

Y/N stood from her seat at the table at that point, she wasn’t going to get into it, but judging by the look on Sam’s face, this had the potential to get ugly, and if Sam was dumb enough to swing at Dean, Chuck, Jack, who the fuck ever wasn’t going to be able to pull her off of him. 

“You know Dean, you’re the one that was telling me to go for it with Eileen. The one telling me that he wanted me to have a normal life, but apparently that’s only when it’s convenient to you,” Sam fired back, and Dean chuckled humorlessly. 

“Believe what you want Sam, that’s not what this is about. But just like it’s always been with you and just like it was with Dad, there’s no talking to you, and I’m too weak to care about arguing. I don’t need you here, you don’t want to be here, don’t bother coming back. Do like you always do when things get a little hard around here for me. Run. It’s what you do best.”

Sam made a step forward towards Dean, and Y/N cleared her throat loudly, catching Sam’s attention and making him take a step back. The look on her face must have screamed ‘do it, and I’ll kick your ass,’ cause he backed down quickly.

“Fine,” Sam said, “believe what you want Dean.”

Without another word, Sam turned and made his way towards the garage to help Eileen load the car, and Dean watched him go, shaking his head as he did.

Y/N stood there feeling helpless, and honestly, she wanted to track Sam down to the garage, and give him a well-deserved slap in the face, but she knew that wouldn’t help Dean one way or another. 

When the garage door slammed shut behind him, and Sam was out of sight, Dean turned to face Y/N, who was still standing in her spot, holding onto the table top to keep herself from tracking down the younger Winchester, and beating whatever temper tantrum he was having out of him. Dean needed a support system, not just her, he needed to know that his brother was there for him when he was at his lowest, he did not need this. 

“You’re not gonna bolt on me too are ya?” he questioned, and for a moment, she was sure he was about to cry. 

She said nothing, she just slowly let go of the table, and walked over to him to wrap her arms around, careful of his back, and he melted on the spot into her. 

“I’ve told you before, and I’ll keep telling you, a pack of hellhounds couldn’t drag me away from here.”

Dean let go of her, and nodded as he slowly made his way to the nearest table and set down. She did the same, staying as close to him as possible because she really didn’t know where he was mentally at the moment, but she didn’t want to leave him alone. She was already inwardly praying that this didn’t set him back any. 

“Sam’s been like this his whole life,” Dean said after a while. “He couldn’t wait to run to Stanford and get away from dad. Every time something bad happened to me, he’d run. Except when I went to hell, and that’s because he felt guilty because I sold my soul to keep him alive. Other than that, he’s run over a fucking dog, no offense Miracle, and ended up with a girl, and I’m stuck in fucking Purgatory for a year, and he never even looked for me. Fuck, if you hadn’t called the ambulance, I’d probably be dead right fucking now!”

“Well, you did ask him to stay for that last bit, but he still could have at least called 911,” Y/N admitted, pinching the bridge of her nose. “He’ll come around Dean, I think that’s just his way of processing things.”

Dean didn’t answer, he just started to mess with the tie on his sweats with trembling fingers. 

“Hey,” she said, scooting closer to him, and taking his hands in hers, “I got you handsome, you’re not alone, and you never will be again.”

“I know,” Dean admitted, “and honestly, Sam and I have been stuck together the majority of our lives, maybe it’s time we go our separate ways for a while, live life a little bit.”

Y/N said nothing, she chose to keep her opinions to herself, because after that little stunt Sam pulled this morning, she couldn’t help but think maybe some time apart might do both Sam and Dean some good. 

“Besides,” Dean continued, looking up at her and giving her a tired smile. “I wouldn’t mind having some time with just the two of us. It’s high time I had some normalcy for once.”

‘Normalcy?’ Honestly, Y/N wasn’t even sure what that was, she understood what it was supposed to be, but she’d never had any herself, and she’d be a lair if the prospect wasn’t an enticing one. You know, white picket fence and all. Dean in the front yard, working on his car or maybe throwing a ball with a littler version of himself… what girl wouldn’t want that? The question remained, could they actually do it? Could they really pull that off?

Forever:

@my-proof-is-you​

@samanddeaninatrenchcoat​

@wittysunflower

@demongirl1996​  

@as-lost-as-sams-shoe​

@jensenslady79​

@spnwoman​

@stoneyggirl2​

@unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men​​

@stixnstripesworld​

@fullwattpadmusictree​​

@nancymcl​​

@christycreature​​

@whiskey-infused-dreams​​

@supernatural79impala​​

@deandreamernp​​

@forgetthisbull​​

@miraclesoflove​​

@slamminmine​​

@deanwanddamons​​

@rvgrsbrns​​

@chevyharvelle​​

@i-love-superhero-movies​​

@lyss-dw79​​

@magssteenkamp​​

@lemondropirwin​​

@squirrelnotsam​​

@hobby27​​

@spnbaby-67​​  

@mrsjenniferwinchester​​

@defenderrosetyler​​

@thecreatiivecorner​​  

@vicmc624​​

@busy-bee-angel-misska​​

@justanotherwinchester​​

@brilovesdeanwinchester​​

@idksupernatural​​

@lyarr24​​

@emoryhemsworth​​

@dean-winchesters-gardian-angel​​

@flamencodiva​​

@itmejado​​

@thoughts-and-funnies​​

@teresa-67​​

@hearteyes-j2​​

@peaches007​​

@bobbie3939​​

@vulgar-library​​

@writercole​​

@fairlyspnfanfic​​

@sexyvixen7​​

@spngi​​

@b3autyfuldisast3r​​

@donnaintx​​

@maliburenee​​

@the-family-business67​​

@agirlwithdemonblood​​

@captainsoldiergirl​​

@twinkleinadiamondsky​​

Jensen and Dean’s Babes

@deans-baby-momma​​  

@impalaslytherin​​

@perpetualabsurdity​​

@msmarvelouswinchester​​

@akshi8278​​

@love-jackles​​

@irmcpar​​

@pink-sparkly-witch​​

@deans-spinster-witchs-favorites​​

@herstarburststories​​

@mimaria420​​

@deanwinchesterswitch​​

@charred-angelwings​​

@pascal-rascal424​​

@myloversgone​​

@fortheloveof-jackles​​

@eevvvaa​​

@bts-spnlvr12​​

@jxackles

@lassie-bird​​

@samsgirl93​​

@shawnie74​​  

@kaz11283​​

@mlovesstories​​

@ladysparks78

[aristocratic-otter]

It's been far too long since I had the time and energy to post, so I'm determined to do it tonight (even as I just found out my son has COVID...again. And I just spent all of yesterday evening with him. Fuck.)

Thank you to all of you who never gave up on me even when I disappear. The people who've tagged me since last I surfaced: @fatalfangirl, @cosmicalart, @aroace-genderfluid-sheep, @cutestkilla, @prettygoododds, @wellbelesbian, @ileadacharmedlife, @larkral, @whatevertheweather, @j-nipper-95, @artsyunderstudy, @facewithoutheart. @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @iamamythologicalcreature, @hushed-chorus

From Westward Son (penultimate chapter up tomorrow or the next day!):

For several heartbeats, I hear only the frantic rustle of clothing. Then something touches my thigh. Baz’s palm, cold as ice. I hiss at the sensation. “Fuck, Baz,” I complain, “You’re a friggin’ icicle.” 

Then he presses his cold front side to my back.  I yelp and he chuckles softly. “Warm me up, hmm?” he murmurs into my ear. 

From Saving Simon Snow:

Physically shaking himself like a dog, he turns to me with a strained smile. “Home sweet home, right?” he says, though his voice is a little wobbly. 

“Right,” I say softly, watching him carefully. His eyes dart away from my gaze, and he’s suddenly a flurry of movement. He pops open the passenger side door, swings himself out of the car and hurries around to the trunk to retrieve our luggage (Bunce kept hold of hers). I let him get away with the deflection, but at some point I’ll probably have to convince him to talk about his feelings. This won’t be much of a (fake) marriage, if we both spend all our time smiling stiffly at one another and lying through our teeth. 

A little Simon and Baz mischief from my Age of Sail AU (need to come up with a title for that!

On the third beach over, we find a waterlogged chest. We open it to empty out the water and make it easier to carry and find tins of biscuits and candy, along with soggy clothing and a wooden chess set. Baz and I exchange glances and I know we’re both thinking the same thing. 

Twenty minutes later, we set off to continue exploring, carrying the chest between us. It’s lightened by the removal of two tins. The evidence of our theft resides in our bellies and the empty tins are buried in a sand dune. 

From Snow Fox (first chapter will be posted next week!):

How far would I be willing to go to save a child’s life?

A nascent plan swirling in my brain, I stand up and stroll over to Tarleton’s side. He’s insisted on doing the whipping himself, and right now, he’s hefting the leather weapon in his hand and testing his grip. 

“Are you well practiced with a whip?” I murmur, trying to make my voice light, but suggestive. 

It works. His grip on the stock of the whip tightens for a moment, and he stands up straighter.

And enjoy Baz and Simon having a light moment before things get real in To Heal A Broken Mind:

When I pull into a parking spot at the Pret, he looks at me, eyebrows raised. “Starting at midnight, you won’t be allowed to eat for nearly twenty-four hours,” I remind him. 

“Yeah, so?”

“So, assuming you’ve got no big plans today…” I trail off to allow him to answer, and to my great pleasure, he shakes his head. “Then you are going to eat your way through Pret’s entire sandwich menu, my treat. You’ll be so stuffed you won’t even want to eat tomorrow.” 

What's that, you say? Only four WIPs? No...not actually. I have a secret project I've been writing, and I just started on my CORB (no words yet, just outlining)...so I've got six again. Sigh.

Tagging everyone because who knows when I'll post again? Tag backsies for everyone above, plus @frjsti, @angelsfalling16, @alexalexinii, @bazzybelle, @bloodiedpixie, @bookish-bogwitch, @carryonsimoncarryonbaz, @confused-bi-queer, @dragoneggos, @erzbethluna, @ionlydrinkhotwater, @ivelovedhimthroughworse, @jasonfunderberkerthefrogexists, @krisrix, @letraspal, @messofthejess, @moments-au-crayon22, @moodandmist, @nightimedreamersghost, @onepintobean, @prettylightsbigcity, @rimeswithpurple, @rainbow-0bsidian, @raenestee, @subparselkie, @shrekgogurt, @sillyunicorn, @technetiumai, @tea-brigade, @thehoneyedhufflepuff, @theearlgreymage, @theimpossibledemon, @upuntil6am, @whogaveyoupermission, @yellobb-old,

Whew, that was a lot. Happy Wednesday, y'all!

[applestorms]

🛳️ 🐌 💥 🪩 for the ask game?

hell yeahhh (original post here)

🛳️ Are there any new ships you want to write for? (Platonic, romantic, or anything in between.)

birthdaymassacre is the first thing that comes to mind, though i wouldn't mind dipping my toes into the moonriver a lil either. i've also had this one really distinct yagamane fic idea plotted out for a while now, so we'll see if i ever get around to expanding that into a proper fic instead of like. two pages of notes LMFAO

in terms of non-romantic relationships, i am Always wanting to expand on wammy's house stuff, particularly in terms of lawlight interacting w/ meronia. The Potential. it's There. also more beyond-- getting a physical copy of LABB has really gotten me back into all of His shit again recently lolol.

🐌 What is one of your smallest writing goals?

hmm smallest in what sense? i suppose in the very short term, posting this fic i'm currently in the process of doing final edits on (it'll be out in a couple hours lol). this question is tough cuz i feel like most if not all of my writing goals are some kind of long-term practice thing =3=" i guess Get Weirder maybe counts. i've grown to really like superegos over the last few weeks since i feel like it ended up being a really interesting twist on the usual sex robot tropes (interesting to me, anyway) and i hope i can do something similar again. there's an honesty that i genuinely feel like i can't get at unless i allow my writing to be fully weird and/or off-putting to the degree that i want it to be, so. also-- really Committing to writing some proper horror. though that gets a bit into the next question...

💥Is there a chapter, scene, or WIP you're most excited to write? Share a snippet or tell us about it!

i have been Frothing at the mouth wanting to write the meronia sequel to praise the sweetness after K put the idea in my head however many months ago. thx for that. after my DJRBB fic this is my Top priority for fic writing moving forward. i fear talking about this in much more depth since i haven't gotten much down get and my ideas will inevitably change (also latent paranoia that the more i talk about something the more likely it is the fic will bury itself away to die a quiet death in my drafts. can't talk too much they can smell it and panic easily) but. yeah :)) putting mello thru the cult torment nexus 👍

also might post a little birthdaymassacre ficlet but We'll See, i'm still deciding if i want to commit to expanding on that or not.

🪩 Do you have any "good" writing habits you want to cultivate?

writing regularly!! and watching my tenses. screams. mostly just writing regularly. i think i got into a decent schedule last quarter but my classes are gonna change again after break so i'll probably have to re-figure my fic writing time again depending on how busy i get. the goal is always a little bit daily but frankly i don't invest too much in that while school is active since i don't want to totally exhaust myself or turn this into a chore that i hate. i feel like most other writing goals/improvement comes down to this though, thinking about writing means jack shit for me unless i actually try and Do It once in a while. i should also probably try to critically read my old shit to see what things i'd like to work on but, eh. we'll see.

[thesconesyard]

Something a little lighter after the last three or four chapters…

Where the West Begins

17. Trick Roping

“What are you doing out here?”

Jaylah glanced up as Pavel sat down next to her on the dark front porch.

“It’s cold out here,” he continued. “Not as cold as at home in Russia, but cold for you.”

“It’s fine,” Jaylah said softly.

“You’re not,” Pavel said, and set his hand on the arm of her chair. “Do you want to talk?”

A brush against her leg made Jaylah look down. Two eyes glowed up at her before Franklin jumped into her lap and began to purr. She stroked down his back and held him close.

“How can we ever trust people?” she asked quietly. “Why do they want to hurt us?”

“Oh.”

Jaylah buried her face against Franklin’s soft fur for a moment.

“Most people are fine,” Pavel said slowly. “Only two people have come here to try to hurt us. And we will be on more alert if someone comes again.”

“But Kati was so nice!” Jaylah burst out. “What if someone else comes who’s nicer but does more bad?”

“I know,” Pavel answered in a defeated tone. “It is rough now. I liked Mr. Harrison when he came. But we all came here once and Jim took a chance on us.”

He moved his hand to rest on Jaylah’s. She glanced down at it.

“You are sitting in the dark and cold. It will be better in the morning.”

“Do you think so?” Jaylah asked.

“Da.”

The front door opened and Franklin jumped from Jaylah’s lap. A small smile pulled her mouth as Leonard and Montgomery Scotty stepped onto the porch. The little cat twined himself around the doctor’s legs.

“Sonofa—! This damn cat’s gonna make me break my neck one of these days!” Leonard exclaimed.

“He loves you!” Jaylah said, her smile growing.

“Killing me ain’t love,” McCoy grumbled. “Why are you sitting out here in the cold? Get back inside and warm up.”

“Len.” Montgomery Scotty touched the doctor’s arm, and Jaylah saw his eyes dart to look at Pavel. Her own eyes widened at what Montgomery Scotty must be thinking.

“Well, don’t stay out here too long,” Leonard conceded, a twinkle beginning in his eye.

Jaylah was glad to be sitting in the dark as her face warmed in a blush. The two older men left the porch and called good night as they went. Little meows followed them as did grumbles from Leonard.

“Were you ready to go in?” Pavel’s voice sounded stiff as he asked. Jaylah strained to see his face, but he was more shadowed than she was. Was his face also coloring?

“I suppose we should,” Jaylah said slowly. She got to her feet. “Thank you,” she said.

“For what?” Pavel asked.

“For helping me feel better.”

The winter sun shone on Jaylah as she crossed from the barn to one of the empty pastures. Pavel had been right and she felt better about the world in the daylight. It was a gamble, knowing who to trust in life, and on the ranch she had hit a jackpot.

Part of her hoped no one else would ever come wanting to stay. She had lost her real family to cruel outlaws; the people on the ranch were her new family. Jaylah swallowed back a lump that threatened to become tears.

She had come outside for the fresh air. She had helped with the morning chores, but she wanted a break from work for a little while. She smiled as she set herself up by a fence post. James T had taught her roping for fun. She had practiced and practiced until she could hit the post nearly every time.

In the spring, when the baby calves began to run around, James T promised to show her how to rope moving targets. Jaylah couldn’t wait; she knew how good she was getting. After that she would try on horseback and the thought was exhilarating. She’d be able to ride and help move the cattle.

“What are you doing?” came Pavel’s voice from behind her.

Jaylah grinned, then spun around and sent her rope flying towards him.

“Hey!” Pavel exclaimed as the lasso settled around him. Quickly Jaylah pulled it tight around his arms before he could push it off. She began to laugh.

“Let me out!” Pavel protested.

Jaylah pulled the rope back towards herself and Pavel was forced to stumble forward. He was still talking but Jaylah didn’t understand the words.

“You better not be cursing at me,” she told him firmly.

“You bet I am!” he cried. “Let me go!”

“Not until you say sorry for cursing me!” She continued to pull the rope towards her. He stumbled to a stop a few feet from her.

“Fine. I am sorry for cursing,” he said, trying not to make a face. “Now you.”

“Me what?” Jaylah asked.

“Say sorry for catching me with the rope!” Pavel huffed. “And let me go!”

“Oh,” Jaylah said. “But I am not sorry!” she grinned.

“Jay—”

But before he could finish calling out her name again, she reached forward for the knot of the lasso and pulled him forward. Stretching up, she kissed his cheek. As she settled back on her heels, Pavel took one step back, face flushed crimson. Jaylah’s hands loosened the knot and lifted the rope over his head.

“You are free,” she smiled, and began coiling the rope on her arm again.