#watch me clean this plate of fried chicken with nothing left that bits and pieces of bones

[mothalaalee]

home is where you can be the exact opposite of demure and mindfull

[stxphxn-strange]

(no) rest for the innocent

summary: Tony wasn’t even on trial, but the jury found him guilty and he couldn’t disagree.

a/n: idk last night i was thinking about tony dealing w survivor’s guilt after endgame (and IW) so i threw this together, tw for mention of death and implied thoughts of suicide

“Good evening, Doctor.” FRIDAY’s warm, pleasant voice always reminded Stephen of home and cinnamon scented candles. “How was your trip?” 

“Too long for a meeting that could’ve been handled over email. Or through carrier pigeon, as Tony would say,” Stephen replied as his cloak sailed off down the hall. 

He washed his hands carefully, drying them on an Iron Man dish towel that Peter had given them as a joke wedding gift before putting the kettle on. 

As the water was boiling, he noticed a covered plate on the kitchen counter. There was an obnoxiously orange piece of paper in front of it, which made Stephen smile. Tony always left him little notes on purposefully electrifying paper, that way they were easy to find. 

The sorcerer’s smile only widened as he read the note. 

Steph— 

I wasn’t sure when you’d be back, but I decided to make you dinner anyway. But not because I’m missing you and wanted to surprise you, I just accidentally cooked too much. You know how that happens sometimes and you just end up with an ungodly amount of chicken parm? Life’s funny like that. 

Anyway, I’m in the lab. I had some good ideas earlier and I wanted to start them while I still felt productive. Welcome home sweetheart, and if you go to bed before I do (because you probably will, you responsible asshole you), sweet dreams and goodnight. 

Love, Tones

PS— Orange you glad you met me? … don’t answer that, I just couldn’t help it and had to write that down. 

Stephen rolled his eyes fondly. “Fri, will you tell Tony that even though he’s not funny, I’m very glad I met him?” 

FRIDAY was quiet for a few moments before responding. “Boss says, quote, ‘fuck you Gandalf, I’m hilarious,’ unquote.” 

Stephen smiled, heating up his meal before sitting down to eat. He flipped through a magazine while he ate, FRIDAY turning on some soft jazz music as background noise until Stephen cleaned up and left the kitchen. After a refreshing shower, the sorcerer found himself in his most comfortable pjs and slippers as he walked through the house. Stephen wasn’t sure if he was going to bed yet, but he wanted to see Tony (and maybe he wanted a kiss or two or even three). 

The music in the lab automatically lowered when Stephen shut the door behind him, and Tony looked up with an expression that could only be described as tired. 

Actually, he looked exhausted. Weary. Barely holding himself together. Stephen wasn’t a thesaurus, but very concerned about his husband. 

Tony was trying to smile, but he seemed too exhausted to do that and just gave up, not saying anything as Stephen sat beside him. 

“Hi.” Stephen leaned over and softly kissed his husband’s temple. “Thanks for cooking for me, you didn’t have to.” 

Tony shrugged. “I had a lot of energy earlier, and I accidentally cooked way too much. Maybe it was intentional, you know I’d take any excuse to go out of my way for you.” 

His words said one thing, but his tone betrayed him. His voice was brittle, hard, and almost staticky. Stephen thought he sounded like a rusted hinge that was trying not to cry out for repairs… or maybe that analogy only made sense given where they were. 

Stephen kissed him again as Tony sat back at his desk, closing his well-used sketchbook. “You alright?” 

“Yeah. Tired I guess.” Tony sounded as unconvinced as Stephen felt. 

“Come to bed with me,” Stephen offered. “I’ll bore you to sleep by telling you about the meeting.” 

Tony laughed hollowly. “That bad?” 

“I don’t know how to describe it, but it was a waste of time. Even Wong was bored, and he watches the Antiques Roadshow remake for fun,” Stephen replied. He yawned and leaned against Tony’s side. 

“I see what you’re doing,” Tony murmured, trying to be lighthearted. He was just feeling some kind of way right now, he felt serious and was so endeared by his husband that it hurt. 

“What am I doing?” Stephen asked, resting his head on Tony’s shoulder. 

“Being cute and sweet so I’ll go to bed and let you be the big spoon,” Tony accused. “And maybe I just really fucking need a hug, but… it’s working.” 

Stephen shifted and pulled Tony into his arms, holding the mechanic close as he went lax. 

“My Boss Is Singing Closing Time Protocol please, Fri,” Tony mumbled. 

“Goodnight Boss, goodnight Doctor,” the AI replied, beginning to run the lab’s standard closing protocol. 

“Portal?” Stephen asked. Tony was getting better with going through portals, but some days were harder than others. Stephen didn’t know what tonight would be like and opted to ask, selfishly wanting to make sure Tony got some rest as soon as possible. 

He was so out of it by that point that Stephen wasn’t sure if Tony registered the question, but he nodded slowly and trusted Stephen to lead him through it and into their bed. 

Despite “resembling a sloth clinging to a tree bough,” (Tony’s words) Stephen was intuitive and knew when not to hug Tony. Even when he was asleep, if Tony woke up thrashing or fighting against something in a dream, Stephen let him go. 

Tonight was a bit different. Stephen wasn’t brought to the edge of reality by Tony thrashing in their bed or accidentally tangling himself in their sheets, so he assumed everything was fine. That was until the sorcerer hugged his husband closer, still mostly asleep and just following his instinct, and Tony outright begged Stephen to let go of him. He wasn’t quite awake, but Stephen backed off immediately and heard Tony trip over his own feet as he left the room. The sorcerer fell asleep again after that, trying to stop the sound of Tony’s broken plea from cementing itself in his memory. When Tony climbed back into bed some time later, Stephen was stirring a little bit more. Tony hid his face in Stephen’s collarbone and said nothing, his breathing still slightly erratic. 

“Sorry if I woke you up,” he mumbled. 

“Don’ be,” Stephen replied, his voice unsure whether or not to wake up. 

“Will you hold me again?” Tony asked pleadingly, his voice almost imperceptible. 

Stephen wordlessly obliged, kissing the top of his head. “Whatever’s bothering you… you can talk to me about it. When you’re ready. And you don’t have to, but I’m here for you.” 

Tony nodded. “It feels like too much right now. What I’m thinking about, I mean. I need time to process, I guess.” 

“Okay,” Stephen said simply. “But I’m here for you whenever.”

“I know. I love you,” Tony replied. 

Stephen began to trace soothing patterns on Tony’s back. “Love you Tones.” 

++++

Tony didn’t seem any more rested the next day, but his confident Tony Stark™ pose seemed natural. He’d easily be able to fool people who didn’t know him as well as his family did. So it was a “fake it until you make it” kind of day, and Tony’s energy was on a strict schedule. There was only so much he could take today, and if his teammates wanted to call him selfish then that was their choice. 

It would just go in one ear and out the other, especially this late in the day and after brutal team training. Tony was close to skipping the meeting, but a cutting remark in the hallway made him change his mind. Why did they always act like it was breaking news when Tony needed to step back from something anyway? He was just as human as anyone else, and the world was happy to throw responsibilities on his unenhanced, steady shoulders just because he was a natural caretaker. 

The arguments about Tony’s quiet, withdrawn demeanor started two minutes into the meeting. Stephen was ready to defend his husband as soon as they got to the conference room, Tony collapsing into a chair and leaning his head against the cool metal of the table. 

He didn’t want to talk today, and Stephen didn’t want him to. 

“It’s not nap time, Stark.” There was a small hint of fondness in Natasha’s cold, clipped voice. 

Tony was already regretting his decision to show up, wishing he hadn’t told Stephen again and again that he was fine. He wasn’t, and they both knew it. Everyone knew it, but Tony knew better than to advocate for himself in front of his… colleagues. 

“I don’t even remember what we’re meeting about,” Tony muttered, looking up enough to address whoever was talking to him. 

Rhodey took a seat beside Tony, encouragingly patting his back. “You good?” 

“I’m fine, Honeybear,” Tony replied. He was sitting between his two favorite people, and that helped him feel a little more grounded. “I just didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”

Someone scoffed. “I don’t think anyone’s slept right in months. And don’t say you haven’t slept in years, Stark. We don’t need a story about how everything you’ve ever done has led to years of sleepless nights. We know already. Put it in a book or something and make the team more money so I can have better arrows.” 

Stephen was two seconds away from dropping the archer into the Dark Dimension, or flipping a table. He wasn’t sure how to handle the man yet, still taken aback by the rudeness and stupidity of his comment. “Barton, what the fuck—” 

“Steph, don’t bother with him,” Tony said. He stood up, forcing his tiredness into a corner and giving his coworkers a confident glare. “Pardon me for giving it my all and being a bit tired as a result. Now I’m going to get an ice pack for my shoulder and maybe a cup of coffee. Does anyone want anything?” 

“I’ll take a—”

“Get it yourself, you know where the kitchen is.” 

For dramatic effect (and moral support), the cloak landed on Tony’s shoulders and billowed out as he left the room. He returned with the aforementioned ice and coffee, and a mug of tea for Stephen. 

“You didn’t have to do that sweetheart, but thank you,” Stephen said appreciatively. 

“That’s why I wanted to,” Tony replied. He relaxed a little into his chair, starting to believe he could get through the meeting. 

Then, like clockwork, Clint opened his mouth to complain. 

“Why did you bring him tea and nothing for the rest of us?” He whined. 

“Doesn’t Tony do enough for you?” Stephen asked, innocently taking a sip of his tea. It was his afternoon green tea, made exactly the way he liked it. 

Tony was always so sweet and attentive with his loved ones, it warmed Stephen’s heart. The sorcerer stifled a laugh as Rhodey poured half of Tony’s coffee into his own empty mug. 

“Thank you,” the colonel said impishly. “Consider the roommate tax paid for this month.” 

Tony tried to smile at the old inside joke, but Stephen noticed that it fell flat. 

“Are we done with the interruptions? We need to talk about what’s out there. We don’t know if Thanos is the exception or the rule, and—”

Tony stopped listening. Clint’s snootiness was doing his head in, but the idea of another threat, another thing, another colossus he’d have to conquer and survive if his luck had anything to say about it… that was the breaking point. 

Tony didn’t have a good relationship with luck. He didn’t really believe in it, but apparently it believed in him. Because Tony was lucky. It was true that he was lucky in meeting his husband, his friends, and his family, but this was a different kind of luck. Tony was intelligent and skilled, shrewd and savvy, and there was virtually nothing he couldn’t do or solve, except for one thing. 

He was constantly lucky, constantly cheating death. 

And he didn’t realize that he was hyperventilating, didn’t recall dropping his head into his hands. He didn’t recall that he’d just walked out in the middle of the meeting after a minute, didn’t realize that he was home when he opened his eyes. 

Tony was home, in his spot on the couch in Stephen’s library. Stephen was sitting beside him, quietly watching a documentary or something like that. Tony was laying down, his head in Stephen’s lap with the cloak draped over him like a blanket. The crimson fabric continued to cling to him as he sat up, further proving Tony’s point that Levi liked him best, but he wasn’t in the mood to banter now. He just appreciated the support and the warmth of his sorcerer and their shared, sentient blanket.

With some hesitancy, Tony leaned over and rested his head on Stephen’s shoulder. They locked eyes for a minute, Tony’s gaze deliriously bright and vacant. 

Stephen didn’t know what to say or do to make the man trembling in his arms feel better, but started by hugging him closer and softly stroking up and down his spine. 

“I’m sorry,” Tony whispered, lowering his head and hiding against Stephen’s chest. 

“No apologies,” Stephen reminded him. “I don’t want or need them, and you don’t have to explain yourself.” 

“I have to give a good reason,” Tony said, his voice beginning to shake. “Everything I do needs a reason.” 

“Why? Says who?” Stephen asked. He was more thinking aloud, half expecting Tony to leave the question unanswered. 

For a while, he did. He just sat, furiously trying to blink back tears and gather his thoughts as Stephen held him protectively. 

“Sometimes I think about… things,” Tony began vaguely. “And people. And places. I guess I just like nouns.” 

At this point, he didn’t even know if he was trying to deflect or just tell a joke, but his attempt at humor fell flat. He tried to force a laugh, but halfway through it turned into a painful sob. He cried harder with each breath, ignoring the ache in his chest. Tony barely listened when Stephen encouraged him to breathe, but eventually he gave into his exhaustion and listened to his lungs. 

His stupid lungs, which apparently were just as stubborn as his brain. 

“I can’t keep doing this,” Tony whispered. “I shouldn’t have survived Afghanistan, New York, Sokovia, Siberia, or Titan. I can’t keep cheating death, Stephen. I don’t want to. I don’t want to be lucky and survive when the damage I’ve caused, the damage I claim full responsibility for, has taken so many lives. I don’t want anyone else to get hurt or killed for me.” 

Stephen pressed a soft kiss to his hair, feeling Tony’s guit and fatigue as if it was his own. 

“I don’t want to do this,” Tony repeated. “I’m probably just spiraling or being needlessly selfish, but  I… I don’t know.” 

“You’re taking on too much responsibility where you don’t need to,” Stephen said. “I know that’s easy for me to just say from the outside, but you aren’t the only Avenger. It’s about time the team, if you can even call them that, takes accountability for their actions and stops bulldozing you with their problems. You aren’t selfish, Tones. You’re tired and overworked, and you deserve a break. You deserve to breathe, to just exist without feeling like you have to look over your shoulder or justify your every step.” 

“I don’t think I know how to even do that anymore,” Tony replied. “And I don’t deserve it.” 

“You do,” Stephen argued. “And rest assured I’ll keep telling you that. And I’ll keep telling you how much I love you, because I really do.” 

Tony smiled sadly, trying to press himself closer to Stephen if that was even possible. “I love you too.” 

He was starting to settle down, soothed by a flurry of soft kisses in his hair and the gentle brushes up and down his spine, when FRIDAY quietly spoke up. She almost sounded remorseful. 

“Mister Parker is requesting one or both of you in the lab, whenever it’s convenient,” she began. “And he’s asked me to assure you that it’s nothing major.” 

Tony sighed, sitting up again. “I’ll investigate.” 

Stephen shook his head. “No, let me. I’ll tell Peter that you’re resting, and he’ll understand.” 

“I don’t want him to think I don’t care,” Tony whispered. 

“He would never think that. You know how he gets about making sure you take care of yourself, and Peter knows with certainty that you care about him. Our son is much more mature than the Avengers,” Stephen replied. 

“I still feel bad,” Tony said. 

“I know. I can promise him Thai food if that’ll make you feel better?” Stephen suggested, half jokingly. 

“It actually would,” Tony admitted. “FRIDAY, will you schedule a Thai food delivery for 6:30pm please?” 

“Scheduled,” she replied simpy. She still sounded apologetic for disturbing them right as Tony was falling asleep, but maybe Stephen imagined that. 

The sorcerer stood up gracefully, covering Tony with another blanket as the cloak wrapped a bit tighter around him. “Look after yourself and relax, or get some sleep. No one’s expecting anything from you right now Tones, alright? I love you.” 

Tony nodded, a little smile on his face as Stephen kissed him again. “Love you.” 

He really wanted to sleep. He actually put effort into falling asleep, which was something he never thought he’d do, and of course sleep didn’t come easily. Sleep never came easily, but the memories did. It was all too easy for Tony to get caught in a thought stream, whether he was planning a surprise, inventing, or remembering unpleasantries. Today he was overwhelmed by guilt, readily convincing himself that he was a selfish failure like Howard Stark and his teammates liked to say. It was too easy to get lost in their ire and wanting to please everyone, and Tony had given up so much of his agency just to try and make other people happy. 

It was exhausting, and he didn’t even feel like he’d succeeded at that. 

The mechanic started tearing up again as he continued to think in a circular pattern, faintly aware of the Cloak trying to comfort him. It was a sweet, welcome gesture, and Tony let it happen and let himself cry. He was still laying there in tears when Stephen came back in half an hour later.

“Pete says he hopes you feel better,” Stephen said, returning to his spot and pulling Tony close. “And I told him to just go ahead and eat whenever he’s hungry, or when the food gets here.” 

Tony just nodded, feeling relieved and supported in Stephen’s arms again. He nodded again, as if trying to shake the unending self-deprecating thoughts from his head, before saying anything. “Sounds good.”

tags: @salty-ironstrange-shipper @stark-strange-love2 @chocopiggy @katninjagirl97 @kitkatfat15 @taruyison @funkylittlebidiot

[xjoonchildx]

airplane, pt. 2 | jjk x reader chapter three: koreatown

pairing: jungkook/reader

word count: 3.4K rating: 18+

genre: smut | silly smut | nonsensical smut

warnings:  criminal!jungkook, koreanamerican!jungkook, reality has left the chat, plausibility has left the chat

A/N: so...as i’m turning this PWP into a P “with” P i actually had to add some plot lol. i really hope you guys like the direction this story is taking and i’m starting to feel a bit more confident about how it’s going to end. but please let me know what you think, hearing from you guys makes my day. i’d love to know if you think the plot is making any sense.  i mean, as much sense as a story about jungkook as a super hot criminal robber on the run with a federal agent lover could possibly make, ya know?

xoxo

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06

artwork by the shmexy @ppersonna​ who’s smut is even better than her art

***********************

A postcard comes in the mail seven weeks after San Juan.

Colorful block letters urge you to VISIT BELIZE over decorative shots of the country’s beautiful beaches and most visited spots.

The only thing that appears to be written on the card is your address. You examine it dozens of times, looking from front to back for any other marking. You come up empty.

There is one unusual thing you notice, though.  

The postmark.  

Clearly written at the top: Los Angeles 90005.

There’s no way this card was mailed out of Belize and there’s very little chance Jungkook managed to get back inside the country without setting off a thousand alerts on your phone.  

You assume he must have routed it through his parents.

You’ve tried so damned hard these past few weeks not to think about what happened in Puerto Rico.  You’ve tried to forget the full-body shock you experienced when he asked you to play along with his absurd fantasy.  You tell yourself there’s no way he could possibly believe that you would go on the run with him.  

But then you remember the look on his face.

Seeing this postcard -- holding it in your hands -- makes San Juan real again. It’s not some bizarre fever dream you had or some figment of your imagination.  The emotions it dredges up are uncomfortable to confront. 

Is he in trouble? Is he asking for help? What are you supposed to do with this?

Logically, you know there’s nothing you can do.  

So you slip the card into your bedside drawer and file the information away in that part of your brain that seems to now be dedicated to thinking about Jungkook Jeon full-time. 

************************

Over the next few weeks, two more cards arrive.

Guatemala.

Honduras.

That fake passport Jungkook apparently managed to get his hands on seems to be getting a workout.

Each time a new card comes in the mail -- always postmarked out of LA, the knot in your stomach seems to loosen.  He’s still going. He’s not locked away somewhere.  

Not yet, anyway.

You try to remind yourself that he’s smart -- really, really smart. He has a knack for staying under the radar. His Spanish is probably pretty decent at this point. He’s making or finding enough money to stay on the move.

Maybe he’s got a plan. Maybe he’s figured something out.

But it’s hard to keep the anxiety at bay. You watch your phone like a hawk, waiting to see an email or text saying he’s been caught.  You spend every day waiting for the other shoe to drop.  

So the cards go into your drawer -- and you get up and get dressed and go into the office every day like you’re not secretly rooting for the criminal so many of your colleagues are looking for.

*************************

The other shoe finally drops when you bump into Agent Novak in the cafeteria one afternoon. 

Novak is one of those guys who looks like he’s straight out of central casting on a crime show.  He has the appearance of a boxy, overgrown boy.  Always dressed in a muted grey suit, always sporting a military-grade short haircut.  The only thing that stands out on his completely non-descript face is his big mouth.

And right now you should be very glad for his big, fat mouth.

“You hear about your boy Jeon?” he asks, while piling his plate high with mac and cheese.  The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end for a moment at the mere mention of Jungkook’s name.

You move down the buffet line next to Novak slowly, the sudden adrenaline rush making your limbs feel weak and loose.

“Jeon?” you ask with feigned nonchalance. “Courthouse Houdini?”

“That’s the one,” Novak says, dropping two huge pieces of fried chicken onto his plate.  “My buddy in the Marshals says they’re pretty close to bringing that asshole in,” he continues, adding some crinkle fries into the mix for good measure.

God, you hope he doesn’t have a heart attack before you get all the information you need. 

He needs a trough, not a plate.

“Well, it’s about time,” you reply carefully and you hope it sounds convincing.   “Where?”

“Central America,” he says, reaching down to his plate to start picking off the crinkle fries one-by-one.  “Guatemala or some shit.”

A chill runs up your spine when you think about those postcards in your drawer. 

They’re close. 

They could be there right now.  

He could be in handcuffs again right now.

“Hope they have better luck than I did keeping him nailed down,” you say, willing your voice and face to stay even.

“Oh trust me,” he says, talking around a mouthful of crinkle fry. “They’re going to teach that motherfucker a lesson when they get their hands on him.  He won’t be able to walk, much less run.”

You swallow against the bile rising in your throat.

“That’s what he gets, right?”

Novak nods, grabbing for a chicken finger. You cringe when he shoves it into his mouth. Tiny pieces of the breading stick to his lips and you fight the urge to gag. 

God, has he always been such a pig?

“Damn straight.”

****************************

You circle the block three times before you feel comfortable enough to park.  

The neighborhood is quiet and clean and solidly middle-class.  The house you are looking for is neat and well-kept, lawn trimmed and flower beds nicely maintained. It looks like a nice place to live.

You cut the ignition and take a deep breath.

You have to remind yourself that Jungkook is not Al fucking Capone and there’s no reason for the government to have around-the-clock surveillance on his family home.  You have to maintain a level head even under this insane set of circumstances.

You try not to think about how furious he would probably be if he knew you were here right now.  

Maybe someday he’ll understand why you’re doing this.

Maybe someday you’ll understand why you’re doing this.

You’d worked late at the office, preferring to make this move when the sun went down.  You’re glad for the cover of darkness when you step out of your car and knock on the front door at the Jeon family home.

“Can I help you?” 

You take a deep breath when Mr. Jeon opens the front door. He has the same kind, handsome face as Jungkook, only his is weathered with age and worry.  

“Mr. Jeon, I need to speak with you about your son.”

His eyes widen for a moment. He seems to pull back and assess the way you’re dressed, figures out you’re one of those government-types.

“I’ve already said everything I have to say on the matter,” he says shortly, moving to shut the door.

“Wait, please,” you say urgently.  “I’m trying to help him, I swear. I can explain if you let me in.”

He stops for a moment, levels you with a critical look.

“I think he’s in trouble,” you say quietly.

Mr. Jeon sighs heavily before opening the door wide and letting you in.  

“I’m sorry to turn up at your home like this,” you say, moving immediately across the living room to close the blinds on all the street-facing windows.  “But I’m not sure how much time I have.”

He watches in total silence but you can see he’s unnerved.

“I’m just...being cautious,” you explain, and he nods.

Once you’re satisfied no one can see inside, you start to calm down a bit.  Mr. Jeon offers you a seat on the living room couch.

“This is a very strange situation, I know,” you admit. 

He remains mute and still, waiting for you to cough up some kind of explanation. 

“Do you know who I am?” you ask.

“No.”

His response is clipped and severe and you really can’t blame him.

“Okay,” you say, blowing out a breath. “Yes, I am with the FBI. But I --” you pause for a moment, grasping for a way to explain this bizarre situation. “ -- I know Jungkook.  Personally.”

Intimately. Biblically, as they say.

“Okay,” he says cautiously.

“I need you to get in touch with him because I think he’s going to be arrested. Soon.”

Mr. Jeon rubs a hand across the back of his neck.

“I don’t know where he is.  And I can’t get in touch with him,” he admits.  “He doesn’t want us to know where he is because then you people will have something to hold over us.”

You wince at the venom in that statement.

A faint voice from another room calls out.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Mr. Jeon says. 

He leaves you alone on the couch in the family room.

You wipe your sweaty palms on your dress pants as you take a look around.  The decor is soft and welcoming, with a few nods to Korea in the artwork on the walls.  It looks like a nice place to grow up, you think. The thought helps calm you.

He reappears after a minute.

“I’m sorry about that,” he says apologetically.  “I would really prefer my wife not know about this. This situation has already caused her a lot of pain.”

“Of course -- I understand,” you say quietly. “So you have no way to contact him?”

“No.  Not directly.”

“Then I need to know how you contact him indirectly.  He’s been sending me postcards somehow. Do you know who could be sending me postcards from him?”

His face falls a bit.

“I shouldn’t say.  I’m not trying to get anyone else in trouble.”

You lean forward a bit, fix him with a look that you hope conveys just how sincere you are about trying to help.

“I don’t want anyone else to get in trouble, either. But if you don’t give me that name, I promise you Jungkook will be. Please.”

Mr. Jeon sighs.

*****************************

You pull the brim of your baseball cap low over your eyes and adjust your sunglasses before walking into Min’s Market.

The small, family-owned store is in one of Koreatown’s most populated neighborhoods. You keep your head low as you dodge people on the sidewalk to make your way inside. An electronic chime sounds when you walk in.

The only thing you see in your quick glance around the store is a young man behind the register. He stands when you make eye contact and you take that as the go-ahead to approach.

He’s not a large guy by any means, but he definitely gives off a do not fuck with me vibe.  You straighten your spine and get right to the point.

“Are you Yoongi?”

“Nope.”

He’s lying, of course.  His eyes are narrowed at you beneath long black fringe bangs and you can’t blame his skepticism given the giant sunglasses and the hat and the workout clothes you’re hiding under.  You look like you’re trying way too hard not to be noticed.

“I need to talk to you about Jungkook,” you say anyway.

“Never heard of him.”

Okay, not entirely unexpected.  You’d come prepared for the possibility that he wouldn’t want to play ball.

You reach into your bag and pull out the postcards, drop them on the counter in front of him.

“You’ve been sending me these,” you say firmly. “And we need to talk.”

******************************

Yoongi takes you to the tiny office tucked into the back of Min’s Market.  The space is cluttered with invoices and notes written in Hangul.  There’s a monitor display where he can watch the surveillance cameras at the front of the store.

He motions for you to take a seat on the one small chair he has and opts to lean against the office desk, arms crossed.

“So you’re Carver Street, huh?”

You take your sunglasses off so you can look him in the eye.

“Yeah.”

“And you’re… a Fed.”

He delivers that line with a cynical twist to his mouth that makes you feel self-conscious.

“Yeah.”

“Shit’s wild,” he says, more to himself than to you.

“Yeah, wild,” you exhale nervously. “Look, I’m sure you don’t want to be involved here any more than you already are, so I’ll just come out with it,” you say.  “I need to get in touch with Jungkook.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes.  

“Look, I don’t know you, okay? Maybe he does, but I don’t.  And I’m not trying to be an asshole here, but I’m not going to give you that information.”

You rub at the corners of your temples with your fingers.

“You know he’s been reaching out to me. You know he trusts me.”

Yoongi snickers.

“We haven’t exactly had the chance to catch up over beers since this whole mess started.  The only thing I know for sure is that he wants you to get those postcards,” he says.

“Okay, okay, you’re right,” you concede.  “I’m pretty sure he’s in Honduras right now.  And I need you to reach him as fast as you can. Because they are closing in on him and I don’t know how long he’s got.”

Yoongi shoves a hand through his hair.

“Okay.  I’ll tell him.”

“How fast can you reach him?”

“Look, I said I’ll tell him, okay?”

You tell yourself to relax before you scare Yoongi off entirely.  It looks like his patience with you is already worn thin.

“Okay.  Please tell him to try to get to Nicaragua,” you say, careful to keep the agitation from creeping back into your voice.  “They have a history of denying extradition requests to the U.S.  It could buy us some time to figure out what to do.”

“Us?” 

Yoongi quirks an eyebrow at you, the corners of his mouth lifting in a barely-concealed look of astonishment. You feel the blush that spreads across your face all the way to the tips of your ears.

“Him,” you correct yourself awkwardly, “it could buy him some time to figure out what to do.”

He grabs a pen and scribbles on a sheet of paper on the desk.

“Nicaragua, okay. Got it.”

“And please -- if you can -- get him this,” you say, handing Yoongi your own slip of paper with a number written on it.  “It’s a burner.  In case he needs to get in touch.”

Yoongi takes the number from you and nods.

“Alright.”

You stand to leave, knowing you’ve taken as much of his time as you’re allowed.  

“One more thing and I promise you’ll never hear from me again,” you say, pointing to the monitor inside the office.

“Delete that,” you say. “Please.”

*************************************

You dig around in your cabinet until you find the wine glass you’re looking for -- the huge one -- and then you reach into the fridge for what’s left of your Sauvignon Blanc and dump it into that glass.

Nothing to do now but hope he gets the message in time.  

Nothing to do now but watch your work phone and see if he’s been arrested.

Nothing to do now but watch your burner phone to see if he’s contacted you.

It’s time to admit your nerves are shot.  Weeks of heightened anxiety are taking its toll and the past two days have felt like a marathon.  

You run a bath -- make sure the water is close to painfully hot before you sink into the tub.  Your body feels exhausted but your mind is still racing like you’ve shotgunned a cup of coffee.  

You lean your head back against the ledge of the bath and take a long drink of the wine.

What if he makes it to Nicaragua? What does that even mean? You buy a few more weeks of the same on-the-run bullshit and for what? 

What is the end game here? And for that matter why on earth are you doing any of this?

You barely know this man.  And now it’s starting to feel like you barely know yourself.

Your fingers and toes are pruny and the water is lukewarm at best when you finally crawl out of the tub.  You down the rest of your wine, throw a soft t-shirt on and fall into the bed.

All night you toss and turn and when you finally wake it’s like you never slept at all.

****************************

It’s a few days before you see Novak again.  

You happen to overhear his obnoxiously loud laugh just outside your office and your entire body jolts to attention.  

You jump up from your desk and peer outside.

Novak is busy chatting up a woman who works a few spaces down, no doubt boring her with unwanted banter about his weekend.  He happens to look up and you motion for him to come over. 

“Hey, yeah, I’ll be right there,” he says, and you head back to your desk on leaden legs.

Maybe he knows something, maybe he doesn’t.  

You’ve got to figure out how to walk the line between interested in the search for Jungkook but not too interested. Thankfully, Novak doesn’t strike you as the type to pick up on the subtleties of most interactions.  If he was, he’d stop bugging that woman right away.

He knocks loudly on your open door when he finally makes his way over.

“Hey,” he grins widely. “What’s up?”

“Hey,” you smile back, feeling a cold panic spread across your chest.  Maybe you’re not ready to hear what he has to say. 

“I was wondering if your buddies ever caught up to Jeon.”

“Man listen,” Novak says, helping himself to a chair. “You are not going to believe this shit.”

Your fingernails grip your legs underneath the desk, dig painfully into the skin just above your knees through the thin fabric of your pants.

“Did he...get away, again?” you ask, desperate to keep a note of hope out of your voice.

“Yup,” Novak confirms.  “Piece of shit cleared out by the time the Marshals they sent down there managed to get to where he was. Some place in Honduras or something.”

Novak shakes his head.

“My buddies are sick of looking for his ass at this point. At some point they’ve got to call it off, right?”

You can barely register a thing he’s saying because oh my god he made it out.

“Wow,” you manage, trying to appear appropriately sympathetic and outraged. “That’s unbelievable.”

“Yeah so,” Novak says, “back to the drawing board on that one, I guess.”

You’re forced to sit through a few more minutes of his blabber and small talk but all you can think about is Jungkook making it out in time.  All you can think about is getting back to your house and to that burner phone.

When Novak finally stands to leave, you nearly sigh out loud with relief.

“Hey, good luck to your buddies, yeah?  That’s got to be pretty frustrating,” you say, walking him out the door. 

“Yeah, I’ll pass the message along,” he says. “I’m sure you’re just as ready as they are to see this guy get what he deserves.”

You smile weakly.

“Oh, definitely.”

***************************

You make a beeline for the ladies room and walk right into a stall.  

Once inside, you drop the seat lid and sit on top, desperate for just one moment to be alone with your thoughts.

He made it out.  He’s not in custody.  Maybe there’s a way to fix this entire mess.

Then you fall apart. 

You’ve reached the limit of what you can handle without some kind of emotional release.  The panic and the anxiety and the relief and the hope come together and boil over inside you.

The tears start coming and they don’t stop. 

You have to flush the toilet three times to cover the sound of your sobs.

***************************

You race home from the office and practically dive for the burner phone in your nightstand.  The entire drive back, you’ve told yourself not to expect a message.

It’s entirely possible he doesn’t want to contact you.  

It’s entirely possible that he doesn’t have anything to say to you after the way you left things in San Juan.  You tell yourself to be ready to see absolutely nothing when you check the burner.

But when you do unlock the phone, you find a waiting text.  You steel yourself for what he has to say.

nicaragua is boring [ 3:15 PM ]

send nudes [ 3:15 PM ]

You laugh.  

You laugh for so hard and so long your tears gather in the corner of your eyes.  You laugh until your sides start to hurt from the absolute absurdity.  

It’s so him that you have to laugh.

That night, when you fall into bed you sleep an inky black sleep, without dreams or interruptions.  

It’s the best rest you’ve gotten in weeks.

************************

[celestialvoid-fanfiction]

Hot Wings and Hot Guys

Stiles works at a femboy Hooters. Officer Derek Hale just wants lunch.

 For @loveyprophet​ 

[AO3]

 “Remind me again, why do I do this?” Stiles asked, leaning on the varnished wood counter of the bar.

“Because you needed a job,” Lydia said, drying a glass and setting it aside behind the bar. “And because you have a body that rakes in the tips. Seriously, why did you hide all of that—” She gestured at Stiles’ body. “—under layers of baggy clothing for all of high school?”

“Because I was socially awkward and had no self esteem,” Stiles answered honestly.

“Well, take it from me, you had nothing to be shy about then and you sure as hell don’t have anything to be shy about now,” Lydia said, offering Stiles a sweet smile.

Stiles smiled back.

He had to admit, she was right. He had grown a lot, no longer the awkward lanky kid he used to be. He was still lean but his biceps were curved by muscles and his abs were left exposed by the crop top he wore with ‘HOOTERS’ printed across the chest in bold orange letters. His firm thighs were accentuated by the short orange shorts that hugged the curves of his butt.

What’s more, he wasn’t the clumsy, flailing, nervous mess he used to be. He still had a few accidents or bumped in to things, but he never would have thought he’d be able to balance plates and drinks on a tray the way he does now.

He turned and looked around the bar. The walls were covered in wooden panelling that matched the bar that ran along one of the walls. Behind the bar was a wall of glass bottles with colourful labels.  There were a few booths in the other side of the room and tables scattered across the open floor.

The bar was pretty quiet during lunch hours and Lydia would let Stiles sneak his textbooks into work so that he could study while it was quiet.

The bell above the door chimed, drawing Stiles back to reality.

He turned to see a young man standing by the doorway.

His raven black hair was cut short and slightly tousled and his strong jaw line was shadowed by a beard. His pale aventurine eyes were shadowed by dark circles, slightly unfocused as he stepped into the bar. He was dressed in the familiar beige uniform of the Beacon Hills Police Department, with a nameplate that read HALE, but the usual brown windcheater had been substituted for a worn black leather jacket.

Stiles stepped back from the bar and made his way over to the man, flashing a friendly smile as he greeted him. He showed him to a booth in the corner of the bar and offered him a menu.

“Thanks,” Officer Hale said quietly, glancing down at the menu for a few seconds. “Can I get a serve of original style chicken wings, a serve of smoky chicken wings and some curly fries?”

“Sure,” Stiles said, writing down the man’s order. “Would you like anything else?”

He shook his head and passed the menu back to Stiles. “That’s all, thanks.”

“No worries,” Stiles said cheerfully. “Coming right up.”

“Thank you.”

Stiles made his way back over to the bar, passing on the order. He picked up a bottle of water and a glass, balancing them onto of a tray as he carried it back to the table. He set the glass down and filled it before leaving the bottle on the table.

“Thank you,” Officer Hale said quietly, his voice drained and lethargic.

Stiles’ brow furrowed slightly in confusion as he turned away from the table and walked back to the bar. He set his tray down on the counter and turned back to look at the man.

He hadn’t so much as looked up since he walked through the door.

Stiles watched him for a moment before turning back to the bar.

One of the cooks called him over, setting the plates of food down on one of the black serving trays.

“Thanks,” Stiles said, lifting the tray and balancing it.

He carried the meal over to the booth where Officer Hale sat.

“Here you are. One serve of original chicken wings, one serve of smoky chicken wings and a late of curly fries,” Stiles said cheerfully, setting the plates down on the table.

The man straightened at the sight of the plates in front of him, like a predator spotting their prey.

“Thank you,” he said quickly, reaching for the first plate.

It looked delicious. The plate of original recipe chicken wings were fired to a golden brown, the fried breadcrumb batter crunching as he bit into it.

The curly fries were crispy and the smell of the freshly fried chips flooded the man’s senses.

The smoky chicken wings were glazed in a deep brown sauce, dripping from the wings and trickling down his fingers as he picked them up. The sauce dripped down his chin, coating his beard as he ate.

He didn’t care how uncivilised he looked; he was starving.

Slowly, the fog of hunger and fatigue began to clear from his mind.

He lifted another smoky barbecue chicken wing to his lips, biting into it as he sat back in his seat and looked around.

His eyes fell upon the waiter who stood a few meters away from him, choking on his chicken.

The young man was bent over the edge of a table as he wiped it down, his short orange shorts tightening around the curves of his firm ass.

Derek couldn’t help it; his eyes trailed down the rest of his body: his firm thighs, the curves of his legs, the moles that charted constellations across his skin like stars in the sky, the dip of his lower back.

Derek coughed as he tried to clear his throat.

The waiter seemed to notice, setting down the cloth as he turned and walked back over to Derek’s table.

“Are you okay?” Stiles asked, his dark brown eyes full of worry as he looked at the man.

Derek froze, looking up at the young man like a deer caught in the headlights. He felt his face burn bright red as he stared up at the waiter.

His dark hair was slightly tousled, his chocolate brown eyes sparkling like pools of gold as they caught the light. His skin was as pale as moonlight and a few moles were scattered across his face. He was dressed in a white crop top that stopped just before his abs and a pair of short orange shorts that accentuated his hips, thighs and butt.

He was absolutely stunning.

A moment later, he realised what he probably looked like—sauce dripping down his face, rude and uncivilised—and a feeling of dread settling in his chest.

Stiles let out a quiet chuckle, reaching for one of the napkins on the table and gently wiping away some of the sauce that dripped down Derek’s face.

“Uh, thank you,” Derek said, shaking himself out of his stupor. He cleared his throat slightly. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe how rude I’ve been.”

“Not at all,” Stiles reassured him, offering him a kind smile.

“I just got off a twelve hour shift and I didn’t get a break, so I haven’t had anything to eat since before my shift,” Derek tried to explain. “And I’m so incredibly sorry for how rude I’ve been to you.”

“To me?” Stiles repeated back, slightly confused.

“I didn’t mean to ignore you or brush you off, and I’m sorry if I came off as rude or abrasive,” Derek explained.

��No apology needed.”

Derek bowed his head, feeling ashamed of himself.

Stiles shook it and passed Derek the napkin.

Derek cleaned himself up, wiping down his face and his sticky fingers.

“I’m Stiles,” the young man introduced himself, his face lighting up with a sweet smile.

“I’m Derek,” he replied, holding out his hand.

Stiles shook Derek’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Derek.”

Derek returned the smile.

“If you’re still hungry, Lydia makes the best caramel fudge cheesecake,” Stiles offered. “On the house.”

“That sounds delicious,” Derek said.

“I’ll bring it right over,” Stiles said, clearing away the empty plates that sat in front of Derek.

He carried them back to the kitchen, setting them down as Lydia plated up a slice of caramel fudge cheesecake.

“So…” Lydia prompted as she finished plating up the cheesecake and set it down on the black serving tray.

“So, what?” Stiles asked.

“Oh, come on, Stiles. He’s cute and he’s clearly into you.”

Stiles scoffed, screwing up his face in disbelief.

Lydia raised her hands in a mock surrender, letting the argument fall away.

Stiles picked up the serving tray and carried it out to the table. He set the cake down in front of Derek, who thanked him quietly. He returned the serving tray to the bar and continued to clean down the tables, ready for the rush of patrons that would come in a few hours.

When Derek had finished, Stiles gave him the bill.

“This may sound odd, but can we start again?”

“Why?” Stiles asked.

“Because I’d like to make a better first impression,” Derek admitted.

“Alright,” Stiles agreed.

“How does dinner sound?” Derek suggested. “Saturday?”

“I’ll have to see what I’m working.”

“You can have the day off!” Lydia shouted from the kitchen.

Stiles felt his cheeks warm with a blush. He smiled, trying to hide his embarrassment and hold back a laugh as he said, “Saturday it is.”

Derek paid his bill, leaving a very generous tip before heading towards the door.

“Derek,” Stiles called after him.

Derek stopped, turning back to Stiles.

Stiles pulled out his notepad, quickly writing something down before tearing out the page and folding it over.

“You forgot this,” Stiles said, walking over to Derek’s side and holding out the folded piece of paper.

Derek’s brow furrowed slightly in confusion as he took the piece of paper. He unfolded it, looking down at the scrawl of chicken-scratch handwriting that read Stiles, and below it was a phone number.

A soft rosy pink blush coloured Derek’s cheeks as he folded the note over again. He smiled bashfully at Stiles. “Thank you.”

Stiles smiled in return. “See you Saturday.”

Derek’s smile softened as he repeated it back, “See you Saturday.”

[whumpy-tales-and-thoughts]

Hey from GroveGrocer’s main! I really love Leo and if ur still taking requests could we see either fainting or cry into chest for BTHB?

BTHB - Cry Into Chest

Thank you so much for the request! Hope you enjoy it! <3 @grovegrocer ^^

Words: 1870

TW: Manipulation, slapping, pet names, panic attack. 

******

  The first few days were… easy. Marcus uncuffed Leo off the wall, allowing him to roam around his room at first and around the house, later. Marcus didn’t hurt him, didn’t threaten him, he barely even touched him. Leo, on the other hand, was cautious. This is a serial killer we’re talking about, he kept reminding himself. He was fidgety and easily spooked, watching his captor’s every move closely. Marcus enjoyed teasing him about it, at first. After a certain point, his voice grew colder, and he insisted it was “getting irritating”. His behavior started swaying after that, from kind and caring to cold and scary, and Leo thought it best he stayed in his room. But that seemed to bother Marcus, as well.

  “What are you doing?” Marcus asked, watching Leo curled up under his blanket.

  “What does it look like?” he replied, the usual bit of irony coating his voice. He didn’t get an immediate answer, but felt a new weigh on the bed, assuming the larger man had sat next to him.

  “You hurt me, you know”, he said, his tone emotionless.

  “You hurt me, too”.

  Those words seemed to have triggered something inside Marcus, who uncovered Leo, grabbing a fistful of his hair, bringing him close to his own face. “Listen here, Leo, and listen close. I didn’t bring you here to never see you, I didn’t bring you here for you to be hiding away all day. Either you play along or I dispose of you”, he growled, tossing him back onto the mattress. He climbed on the bed, standing on his knees on top of Leo, effectively trapping him. “I love you too much to kill you, baby, so you’d better do your part”.

  Leo was shaking, his eyes nailed onto Marcus’. He wanted to sink into the bed and disappear. He thought of pushing Marcus off and running away, but he quickly discarded that plan. He couldn’t win, not to this man who was visibly much stronger than him. That was the worst part, the fact that he knew he couldn’t win. Every plan that raced through his terrified mind would end with him hurt or dead. So he didn’t move. He stayed still, only blinking, as he watched Marcus lean towards him. The man kissed his forehead and hopped off the bed.

  “Get yourself together and join me for dinner, honey”, he smiled, moving towards the door. “You can take this as an order”, his heavy words stayed in the room even though he’d closed the door behind him.

  It took Leo a few minutes to land back to reality. In his mind, Marcus was still pining him down. He slowly sat up once the vision of the man on top of him was gone. He put his arms to his chest and breathed. He tried to get up, his knees too unsteady. Ignoring them, he pressured himself to stand. He didn’t want to take long, just wanted to hurry and compose himself and head downstairs. He felt like bad things would happen, if he kept Marcus waiting.

  It was the first time he’d felt like this. Truth be told, he was scared all the time, uneasy, anxious, but never terrified -never till now. Marcus didn’t act violently once since he abducted him, and Leo had actually believed that he was safe from physical attacks. How naïve, he scolded himself, trying to take in a shaky breath.

  He washed his face, made sure he could properly breathe and walk and, even though he couldn’t, he left the room. He walked down the stairs carefully, as if he was afraid of making a wrong move, afraid of what would come after it. He made it to the dining table in one piece, surprising himself. Marcus had made chicken fried steak with rice as a side dish and had cheesecake in the back of the table as dessert. It was the same last Friday, too, he thought, sitting down at his assigned chair, even though his heart was threatening to jump out of his chest. Marcus put the plate before Leo, who just stared at it.

  "Eat up, now”. His voice was coated in honey and silk, yet his eyes were serious, his look unamused.

  Leo touched his spoon but felt bile climbing up his throat soon as he brought some rice near his mouth, so he put it back down.

  “What, you’re refusing my food now, too?”

  “No!” Leo hurried to say, “No, no, really, I just… I’m not very hungry is all. It’s a little early I think,”, he lied.

  Marcus gave him a look. Raised his eyebrow. He turned to his plate again. “Okay, then. Wait for me to finish. I want you here with me today”. Leo nodded at his words, watching him as cut his steak into pieces, a little too violently.

  His stomach churned and turned and he felt nauseous and he was shaking and god, he knew what this was. He knew, and he was so, so upset with this feeling’s return, he was sure he’d gotten over it. Then again, this is pretty stressful. I’m actually surprised it took this long. He pinched his finger as strongly as he could, focused his mind on the stinging and breathed in and out.

  “You’re pale”. Marcus regarded and Leo almost jumped,

  “What?" He asked, Marcus’ voice was kind of blurry to his ears the first time.

  The question annoyed the man; it was obvious from how his face went from concerned to apathetic. "You're pale", he repeated, continuing his meal.

  "Oh..." Leo muttered, returning to his pinching. He didn’t take notice of when Marcus finished eating, but he knew by now he was required to take the plates to the sink and wash them. Tonight, however, was not a good night for that.

  Leo had worked as a server for several years, there was really nothing he was better at than that job. He didn’t know, didn’t realize his shaking had gotten so bad that it could cause him to drop his plate down, spilling the leftover food on the floor. He stayed very still, his breath caught in his throat, as he heard Marcus sigh.

  "Leonard."

  His name. Not cut short. No pet names. This was undoubtedly bad. He felt two large palms grabbing at his wrists and he closed his eyes tightly and took a breather in and-

  He felt a slap burn his cheek.

  "I'm sorry..." he whimpered. "I didn’t mean to I'm, I..." Marcus let go of him, taking a step back. He noticed Leo was biting his lip. Probably to not cry, he thought and smiled. Stupid boy.

  "Leo,” his voice was now sweet again. “It's okay, love, I'm sorry. Leave it be, I'll clean the table up later. Come sit with me, we'll watch some tv".  

  Leo nodded slowly, blue bangs covering his eyes. Careful to not step on the broken plate, he trotted towards the couch. He sat away from Marcus, but a look signaled him to sit closer, and so he did. Marcus put his arm around him, making him visibly uncomfortable, and opened the tv. It was the first time in the two weeks he was there, that Marcus had opened the tv in front of him.

  Even though he’d considered it as a form of comfort, Leo then found out it must have been some kind of punishment. The lady on the news was talking about a disappearance.

  "The 23-year-old young man was last seen waiting in this bus stop, two weeks ago, but nobody has heard of him since. The police and some volunteers are grouped and searching through ditches and other nearby steep terrains. Because as per his mother's words, the young man enjoyed going on hikes. Let’s hear once again what his mother had to say, before moving on to our next story." The lady was cut off, and a panel appeared on the screen.

  Leo audibly gasped. She looked years older than she did when he left her. Her long, chestnut hair was ruffled, her clothes were wrinkled, her eyes looked so, so tired. The knot in Leo’s throat was trying to choke him, now.

  "Is there anyone who might have wanted to hurt your son?" The reporter asked her and she seemed irritated.

  "For the millionth time, no. My son wouldn’t hurt a fly- I know that much. If someone knows where he is, please, please ask him to come back. Please, bring my baby back,", her last words were broken, as If she'd start sobbing soon.

  "Now, on to our next story-"

Marcus lowered the volume all the way down and looked at Leo, who was looking at the screen in shock, silent tears streaming down his face. With a sudden movement, Leo had grabbed onto Marcus' shirt and buried his face in his chest. He was bawling, now.

All the fear and terror from today, all the pressure of the past weeks, and the shock of seeing his mother crying for him, came down to him all at once, and he couldn’t help but break down as well.

 "Please! Please, Marcus, take me back! I'll do anything, I'll drop by, I won’t talk to the police just please! I need to go back!" He shouted between powerful sobs, but Marcus only caressed the younger man’s back with tender, circular motions.

  "It’s okay, love. See, they don’t think you're dead yet, so at least she's got hope you're alive somewhere". Leo only cried harder at that, and Marcus tightened his embrace. "I'm so glad you came to cry to me! I really had started thinking we were drifting apart!"  

  Leo wanted nothing more than to be away from him, yet he was his only source of comfort right now, and he couldn’t help but sob into his chest. He needed the touch, needed the comfort. Not from Marcus, but he had no say in that matter.  

  The worst part was that Marcus' touch actually seemed to work on him, seemed to calm him down. He hated that; he hated that so much, it only caused him to cry harder. He was so exhausted by the end of his breakdown, half asleep in Marcus' hands, who picked him up bridal style with suspicious ease and carried him to his bed.

  "I really wish you're not so difficult with me again, I'd hate to have you like this again".

  The tiredness Leo felt clouded his thoughts and he couldn’t see just how carefully planned Marcus' manipulation was, just yet. Curled up in the warmth of his bed, he reached for the man as he was leaving. "Wait," he said, or at least he thought he did, because Marcus didn’t turn around, only locked him in his room.

  He was alone, scared and exhausted, a trio that didn’t work too well, so he forced himself to sleep, already knowing he would wake up with his eyes glued shut because of the tears, and his mouth would be dry and his mind foggy. But that was okay. Anything was okay as long as he didn’t think right now, as long as he wasn’t conscious.

[davecall93]

Teddy (6)

“Good boy,” said Coach, as he pulled himself out of Teddy’s ass. He laid back and let Teddy curl up to his side. He stared lovingly at Teddy’s paunch, which was unmistakable. Awash in post-coital contentment, he took his hand and began to rub it. “Maybe I’ll get a wish.”

Teddy smirked and felt, despite Coach’s feelings towards his body, a slight rush of embarrassment.

Coach noticed this. It was not the embarrassment he minded but its suggestion of a place where Teddy remained untouched by him. His day to day assault on Teddy’s conception of himself had halted at a recessed corner in Teddy’s mind. Coach, who hated to feel he was being laughed at, did not like that there was some place in Teddy’s mind could be out reach, that could will itself out of reach, that could be mocking him, that could emerge unchanged by Coach. Dominion, knew Coach, was hierarchical. Man over the Earth and God over Man.

And Coach over  a little boy named Teddy.

“Does Teddy want a midnight snack?”

“Sure.”

“I need to rinse.”

As Coach plodded downstairs in a worn terrycloth robe, the little piece in Teddy’s mind that resisted him stuck out. By the time he had finished assembling a meal for Teddy (grilled cheese, glass of whole milk, brownie drowned in ice cream), the pleasure of sex had diminished, and the same spirit that had made Coach a hot-headed competitive swimmer in high school emerged. For that, he piled whip cream on the ice cream.

As Teddy ate next to him, Coach went on the offensive. “You’re resisting me, boy.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re resisting me.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“That’s because you have a limited capacity for self-reflection.” Teddy rolled his eyes. However, Coach was correct. He was attracted to that in Teddy’s nature: that things were as simple as he  thought. It was what made Teddy malleable and accepting. It was what made one day’s interior transformation the next day’s most natural order of things. But it also blocked entry into parts of Teddy.

“Would you be eating if I was not here? Who are you?” Coach knew he was being slightly obtuse.

“What do you mean?”

Coach growled. “Don’t answer back with questions.”

“I don’t know what we’re talking about.”

“Goodnight.” Coach turned off the light and turned to his side. The room, whose blackout curtains were drawn, was pitch black.

“I’m still eating!”

“I know. There are crumbs in the bed. Goodnight.”

Teddy finished eating in the dark.

“Was that a fight?” Asked Teddy the next morning.

“Was what a fight?”

“I don’t know…you know turning off the light and pouting.”

“That was not a fight. I was not pouting. You were not answering my questions.”

“Oh my god,” said Teddy, frustrated. “What’s for breakfast?”

“I am about to head out; there’s a family lunch I have to go to. I have ordered you three pizzas from that new wood-fired place. Snacks are in the pantry.”

“Can I go out?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I said so. I just let you out last week. Besides, this way you can try all their pizzas.”

“Do you like….know the owner or something?”

“Yes, he’s a friend of mine. Also, we own the building. Restaurants are risky because they have a high rate of failure, so I feel I should be supportive.” Coach grabbed his wallet and keys. As he walked past Teddy at the breakfast table, he patted his stomach, “Eat local.” He kissed Teddy on the head and left. “Don’t forget to report what you eat and when you eat it.

A minute later Coach reappeared. “Forget it, we’re going to go eat pizza.”

“That was quick.”

“Go shower and put on some clothes.”

“ But didn’t you already order pizzas to come?”

“Lost your appetite, fatty? You can eat them later.”

Whatever had made Coach change his mind was unclear to Teddy. It was a surprisingly normal lunch, its origins aside. Coach ordered salad and caught Teddy by surprise when he did not order for him.

“You didn’t order for me?” Asked Teddy when the waiter left.

Coach smiled, “I am just being a normal boyfriend in public.”

“What are you up to?”

“Nothing,” replied Coach. “Absolutely nothing.”

Despite what Coach said, Teddy found the next few days strange. There was a clockwork, mechanical feel to things. Coach appeared distant, all while maintaining the life that they had so quickly settled into: morning Boosts, rough handling Teddy, the teasing, three large meals a day. But in certain, intermittent instants, Coach seemed to pull back as if his actions all sprang from a series of suddenly recalled afterthoughts. While he had ceased to notice that the surprise snacks and stuffings that Coach lived to surprise him with, he now noticed that they seemed perfunctory. When he came ba

One morning as Teddy made extra effort to be messy, Coach simply handed him some napkins, rather than yelling or slapping him, or acting like he had to help Teddy clean up.

“Are you mad at me, Coach? Did I do something?”

“No, baby. Not all.” Coach smiled. “Wipe your face, you have some milk dribbling down your face.”

Teddy had even attempted to test him. “Coach…,” he said one evening, as they lay on the couch. “Do you think maybe we…I…should slow down…?”

Coach put down his book. “Is this too fast for you?”

“I don’t mean us…I mean…” Teddy poked his stomach. “You know…”

Coach looked tenderly at Teddy. “Oh, Teddy, we can go at any speed you want.” Teddy panicked inwardly. He had expected more of a reaction.

Coach then suddenly grabbed his hair and pulled it tight and hissed in his ear. “Slow does not mean stop, fatty. Remember that.” He then tossed Teddy’s head away.

That was…normal enough, thought Teddy.

The next week Coach skipped morning boosts and left Teddy to make his own breakfasts and lunch. They had good sex, pleasant conversation, and Coach tied Teddy up for one dinner stuffing, although he asked very politely if he could before hand. Although Teddy did not say anything, he felt as if Coach may as well have masturbated.

On Sunday, Teddy received an invite for a group brunch the following weekend. Someone had reserved a place at the students called “the good brunch spot.”

“Do you want to come?” asked Teddy. In his mind, the question was something of a test for Coach. Like all tests of romantic partners it was poorly calibrated: Coach would not brunch with college students to prove his attachment.

“No, but I will drive you.”

“Oh.”

Coach laughed at Teddy. “I’ve had you cooped up for a while now. Don’t you want some time away?”

“I mean…I guess so…”

“Did you want me to go?”

“I mean…yes…but no…”

“Oh, Teddy, trust me. They’ll have more fun. You should know by now that it’s a fucking drag when people bring their significant others to these things.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right. The whole point of your twenties is to wish your friend’s significant others weren’t there.” Coach pulled him over to cuddle him. “Besides, you’re gonna need all the room at that table. I can barely get my arms around you.”

Teddy realized Coach hadn’t teased him about his weight in three days. Why, he wondered, did each time he try to prove something was off did everything fall back in place?

***

They were 14 at brunch. Teddy knew a fewer people than he expected. The boy who had brought him a plate of food at the part was there. Teddy noticed that he worked his way over specifically to talk to him. His name was Henry.

“Good to see again, man! How’s your summer been?”

Henry had upbeat personality and a warm presence. He was boyish, not unlike in the way Teddy was, but ventured slightly towards having the personality of a brightly colored brochure. However, this was mitigated by a sense of sincerity to everything he said, as well as a certain unmistakable air of sexiness.

Teddy, who was somewhat mopey and confused as to what do with the attention, replied, “Oh, you know…it’s weird to be graduated. I don’t have a job yet.”

At this, Henry burst into a bit of a monologue about how he felt about graduation and life changes. His boyfriend was still on study abroad and wouldn’t be back for another month. Teddy found his positivity disarming. Henry was one of those people who had a way of making people he spoke to feel as if they were a part of what he was saying, even when it was only about himself.

“Yeah, I just met someone,” said Teddy when he took his turn. “It’s different. I haven’t really dated before. He’s a fucking piece of work, and I can’t really tell how it’s going.”

Before Henry could explain to Teddy his philosophy on self-actualization in new relationships, the group was sat. Henry stayed close to Teddy, although they had not known each other before.

As Teddy sat there, his mind, which had been entirely occupied with figuring out what was wrong between him and coach, was forced to settle on new surroundings. He felt suddenly disoriented as his mind was flooded with the realization that this was a world he had been away from for longer than he had realized. Surrounded by people who called him Theo, who knew him as a study partner, partygoer and occasional drunken mess, his mind raced to the little recess where it still kept the remnants of what and who he was before Coach.

Made aware of their own materiallessness by the sudden evacuation of the settings that were his life with Coach, those remnants sparked and sputtered as Teddy blinked and tried to figure out why he felt so strange in a situation he knew so well. It lasted up until the moment that the waitress came by to ask his order.

It came when Teddy began with his usual, practiced order, “I’ll have the chicken fried steak with potatoes and scrambled eggs…” and then added, as the little voice of Coach inside him rose triumphant, “and a side of blueberry pancakes, extra whip cream, and a vanilla milkshake.” Theo had not added that. Teddy had.

Coach could not have known that that day would be the one where the siege of the last two weeks would bear fruit. He would have loved to have been there, and he would have come instantaneously in long, stranding ropes, unaided by anything more than watching Theo surrender to Teddy. Patient and disciplined as erosion, Coach had worn down that final last space. He had not been there, but he had not asked to be. He asked only that it come. He was, as he felt himself to be, remarkable.

As Teddy acknowledged, however dimly, that this marked a change in, he could hear Henry next him saying, “Theo, living his best graduated life!”

“I’m eating for two, now,” he said, patting his stomach.

[elizascarlet]

Part I- Spring

“Happy Easter!” Anne gave her bosom friend a hug, sitting down beside her in class.

“To you too!” Diana returned.

Anne brandished a posy of wildflowers, giggling. “For your table, Madame.”

“Oh Anne,” Diana breathed. “The trilliums are blooming! I do wish I could go with you to pick more of them, but Mother wants me to come home right after school. We’re going to Carmody tonight to spend it with my cousins.”

Anne’s countenance fell. “You mean, you’re not coming to Easter dinner?”

Diana glanced around and lowered her voice. “No. And you should’ve heard the things Father said. It made me so angry I had to go to my room to scream into my pillow.”

“They won’t allow you to come?”

“No.” Diana sounded so dejected.

“I want this Easter to be perfect for Mary. She’s made Sebastian so happy! I just wish you could make it.”

Diana squeezed Anne’s hand. “Perhaps next year things will be different.”

Miss Stacy called the class to attention and their conversation ended.

-

Easter morning dawned bright and clear, with the crow of a rooster and the lowing of milk cows. The Snow Queen finally sprang forth her blossoms, showering Anne’s gable room full of starry white petals.

“Happy Easter to you, dear Snow Queen!” Anne called out her window, finishing tying her braids.

Down below she noticed a horse trotting up the drive. It was Gilbert Blythe. Anne took a quiet moment to really assess her rival. He was really quite handsome, having left boyhood behind, and looked all manly at the moment astride his horse.

Gilbert dismounted, and, noticing Anne in her window, waved. Ashamed at being caught, Anne drew back and slammed her window closed.

As she made her way down the stairs she could hear Gilbert’s voice.

“I’m here to retrieve whatever  foodstuffs you are providing for Easter dinner.”

Marilla answered him back. “The shepherd’s pie isn’t quite done, so we’ll bring it along when we come over later. Anne,” Marilla said, spotting the latter as she entered the kitchen. “Will you fetch that pie I made last night? And a few of those fruit preserves, please.”

Anne did as she was bid, and quick as naught, had an old sturdy basket filled with food looped over Gilbert’s arm.

“We’ll be over there after church. Now get, get, or you’ll be late!” Marilla shooed Gilbert out the door goodnaturedly. “Are you ready for church, Anne?”

Anne twirled, showing off the new dress Marilla had made her. It was green-- a dark green like an evergreen tree-- with accents of gingham at the wrist, hem, and yoke. “I love it, Marilla.”

“I’m glad.” Marilla sighed, glancing out the window. “There’s Matthew with the buggy now. Let me pull the shepherd’s pie out of the oven and we’ll be off.” Marilla set the dish on the warm stove, covering it with a cloth. “There, that will keep it warm until we return.”

“Is it alright if I go over early to help Mary?” Anne asked.

“After church, mind you. Now grab your coat and let’s be off.”

-

Anne walked with Gilbert to his home. “Lovely service. I’m sad that Bash and Mary couldn’t make it.”

Gilbert glanced aside at her. “You know that it’s just an excuse, right?”

Anne raised an eyebrow, scoffing. “I remember that first Sunday. I thought the minister would die from apoplexy there on the spot! I think it so shameful that some folks discriminate. And especially a minister who preaches we’re all equal in God’s eyes! Being banned from the church just because the color of their skin... Oh and don’t get me started on Diana’s parents.”

“They sent a note declining Mary’s invitation.” Gilbert added, glowering and shaking his head. “Within all the flourishing and fancy language, it wasn’t hard to detect the real reason. We all know they won’t come because Bash and Mary are black. It’s disgusting.”

Together they trudged through the mud in the path. A silence fell on the pair, but while in the past it would have made Anne uncomfortable, right now she felt at ease. Was their rivalry truly at an end? Could they perhaps, be friends?

Somehow, that word wasn’t adequate enough to describe her relationship with Gilbert. Her and Diana were friends , and her and Ruby were friends as well in a similar way. Same with Cole and Aunt Jo. Kindred Spirits and friends all rolled into one.

She and Gilbert were friends not in that way. They were different but she couldn’t put her finger at how...

Anne, frustrated at how the right word eluded her, wasn’t watching where her footsteps were landing, and she stumbled over a hidden branch.

“Careful,” admonished Gilbert with a little laugh, catching her elbow to steady her.

“Thanks.” He let go and, strangely, Anne mourned the loss of his touch.

Soon, they made it to the Blythe-Lacroix house, which was already a-bustle with activity. Mary met them at the door.

“Gilbert Blythe! You will stay outside. I want no bad luck of yours to interfere with my cooking, you hear me? You take one step inside this kitchen and your curse will rain down and ruin all my hard work. You can clean yourself up in the barn and enter in through the other door.”

“Aye aye ma’am.” Gilbert gave a goofy salute and headed off round the back.

Anne smiled at Mary. “Would you like some help?”

“I believe I’m all about finished, but thank you for your offer. Maybe you could set the table? There’s Marilla and Matthew now. Oh! And the Lyndes right behind them.”

Soon they were all gathered together, and Sebastian said Grace.

Mary cleared her throat. “Thank you all for coming. You’ve made my heart good. It’s so nice to cook for a large gathering again.”

“Thank you for having us, Mary.” Marilla smiled over her glass.

“What did you put in your chicken Mary? It is absolutely scrumptious and divine.” Anne sighed, in raptures over the blend of spices on her tongue.

“Let’s see, paprika, cumin, tarragon, pepper, and a hint of lemon. I’m glad you like it.”

“Like it? It’s the best chicken I’ve ever tasted!” Anne caught sight of Marilla and hastily amended her statement. “After Marilla’s, of course.”

“Yes, Marilla’s fried chicken is always wonderful,” Rachel Lynde chimed in. “But your chicken, Mary, well, has an… unusual taste, that’s for sure.”

Anne glared at Mrs. Lynde, annoyed.

While the adults changed the subject and chattered about someone’s new cow or other, Gilbert nudged her arm. “Here, you can have more of mine.” He said quietly, gesturing to his plate.

Anne turned the glare on him. “Why? Do you not like it either?” She snarled.

Gilbert raised his hands to ward off her ire. “Relax, Anne. I enjoy Mary’s cooking just swell. But since I’m full and still have some left, perhaps you’d like to finish it, since you seem to like it so much.”

Anne felt chagrined, as though he’d just chastised her. “Sorry. Yes, thank you.”

Gilbert slid what was left of his piece of chicken onto her plate.

Anne quickly bit into it, half moaning at the taste. Finished too fast for her liking, another piece found it’s way into her mouth. This time, she caught Matthew’s eye over the table. He warily shook his head, reaching up and flipping his nose with his index finger, sublty pointing in Mrs. Lynde’s direction

Anne, confused, looked over at the woman.

“Oh my goodness!” Mrs. Lynde gasped, her hand clasped to her chest, her eyes large with scandal. “I cannot believe such a thing.”

Suddenly, all eyes were on Anne. She swallowed quickly, utterly baffled.

“Anne Shirley Cuthbert! I thought you knew better than that!” Marilla admonished, adding her two bits.

“What? It’s just chicken.”

“Yes, but to eat after Gilbert has already partaken of it is such a shameful thing. And you, young man,” She added, turning to Anne’s companion. “You ought to know better as well.”

Anne rose to his defense in indignation. “He offered because I enjoyed Mary’s chicken so much, nothing more. And besides, Matthew shares his food with me all the time. How is this any different?”

“Matthew is your guardian dearest, that’s understandable.” Mrs. Lynde coaxed.”But to share food with a man you’re not related to…” She shuddered, shaking her head.”How utterly shameful.”

Anne narrowed her eyes defiantly and, holding Mrs. Lynde’s gaze, took another bite of chicken.  

The entire table erupted.

Mrs. Lynde and Marilla started shouting, Anne glaring while she finished her bite, then stood, hurling words back as good as she got.

Meanwhile, Matthew and Mr. Lynde exchanged looks before escaping out the door, and Mary hurriedly started cleaning up plates. Gilbert, seeing this, seized his chance to escape as well and jumped up to help Mary. Sebastian was frozen in place, his head whipping back and forth between the two opponents as though following a game of shuttlecock.

“I don’t see why it’s such a big deal--”

“Anne Shirley-Cuthbert you will not talk to your elders this way--”

“Teenagers! Didn’t I warn you Marilla that she would be nothing but trouble, her and her red hair--”

“Why are we bringing my hair into this? It’s not like I can change it! Oh wait, I already tried that!--”

“I am not discussing this further. You have behaved rather shamelessly and now--”

“If you had just listened to me, Marilla she would’ve been brought up right but no, you listened to Matthew and now look what’s happened--”

“Nothing happened! I do this all the time! I don’t see what’s shameful about it at all--”

“We’re leaving right this instance--”

“I won’t stand for it--”

“Argh! Enough, fine!”

“Fine!”

“Fine!” Mrs. Lynde left in a huff the door slamming shut behind her.

Marilla, cross with Anne, grabbed the girl by her shoulders and planned to march the girl straight to the buggy for an uncomfortable ride home.

Just before crossing the threshold, Anne turned back to Mary.

“I’m ever so sorry I ruined your dinner. It really was lovely.”

Mary shook her head, smiling. “Anne, it was in no way ruined. In fact, there was always a tussle or an argument anytime I held dinner at the Bog. Felt like home.”

Anne smiled and allowed Marilla to steer her outside.

As they descended the steps, they could hear Bash raise his voice. “You know better than to feed a woman off your plate. What were you thinking!?”

“I wasn’t! I was just trying to do something nice for her! I…” The rest of Gilbert's response was muffled and lost to the ears.

Anne smiled a little. At least she wasn’t the only one getting a scolding tonight, that’s for sure.

(Read the whole thing on AO3)

[sunshinejs]

Princess Stacy & Stella

this literally came out of nowhere but I wanted to do more Stacy and Stella blurbs. If you’ve got requests for dad!connor, let me know!

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Word count: 1.8k -ish

Connor’s phone lit up with your photo and name flashing across the screen.

 Smiling to himself, he picked up his phone and held it up against his ear “Hi baby, how are you?”

 “Hi bubs” You sigh heavily on the other end, and Connor could already tell something was bothering you “’M good, just a stressful day at work. What about you?”

 “Nothing too bad, just wrapping it up over here” He answered “Are you okay, honey?” He added, with a hint of worry in his voice.

 “I don’t think I can make it home for dinner” You said defeatedly “I just have a lot more to do and I know I haven’t picked up the girls in a while like I promised and I’m really sorry to have to do this, Con but-,”

“Hey, hey, hey” Connor quickly cuts you off mid-rant “You don’t have to worry about anything okay? I’ll pick them up from your parents’ place and get something to eat on the way home. We’ll be fine, baby. Everything is good”

 “Are you sure?” You ask hesitantly “Are you 100% sure?”

  “Baby, it’s not the first time, okay? I’m 300% sure on this” He chuckles, reassuring you “Although, please don’t overwork yourself?” He said softly “You’ve been staying back at the office frequently and I just don’t want you to get so stressed up”

 “I won’t” You promised “And I just have a few more things to settle with for this submission then I’m done, bubs”

 “Alright… Do you want me to pick up something for you to eat?” Connor asked sweetly “I don’t mind dropping by your office to drop off some food if you want”

 “That’s okay, babe. Chrissy and I are just heading to the coffee shop downstairs to get something to eat” You reassured “I’ll see you in a bit okay? Give the girls kisses for me, please”

 “And what about me?” Connor pouted “No kisses for me?”

 You giggled, rolling your eyes playfully “Con, don’t be such a baby”

 “But I am one” He said confidently “I’m your baby. Always. That’s not up for debate, ma’am, sorry”

 “Connor David Brashier, you will be the death of me” You sighed dramatically “I’ll give you all the kisses you want when I see you later, okay baby?”

 He grinned; satisfied with the answer he got “That’s more I like it. Good luck with your work, honey! I’ll see you when you get back and I love you”

 “See you later, bubs” You giggled “And I love you more”

 xxx

 “Connor!” Your mother greeted as she opened the front door. She pulled her son-in-law in a brief hug, asking “I didn’t know you were coming! I thought y/n was picking the girls up”

 “She got held up at work again” Connor responded as he followed her into the house “How’re you doing, mom? Everything good?”

 “Everything’s perfect, Con” She smiled in return “Got to spend the day with the most adorable girls in the world, can’t really complain about anything really”

 “Speaking of adorable girls… Where are they?”

 “They’re in the playroom, having a tea-party with Mr. Snuggles” She chuckled as they headed for the playroom at the end of the hallway of the ground floor “They’re having a pretty good time, so I didn’t want to disturb them”

 Once they stood in front of the opened room, Connor immediately took sight of his little angels; sitting at a table with various plastic desserts scattered around. They were giggling to themselves, pouring imaginary tea for the giant stuffed bear sat in between them.

 “Hey girls!” Your mother called out to them, gaining their attentions “Look who’s here to pick you up!”

 Stella and Stacy squealed at the sight of their daddy, pushing their chairs out as they proceed to run over to him, screaming excitingly “Daddy!”

 Stella and Stacy Brashier looked very identical (most people couldn’t tell them apart at the first meet, which was an entertainment for you and Connor), and are the splitting image of both their parents. They inherited your curly hair but with his blonde coloured, your nose and mouths, and the best part; Connor’s ocean blue eyes that you loved so much.

 You swore their blue eyes could get away with anything, literally anything. Connor is the biggest sucker for them and everyone knows this. You know he tries hard to resist them at times when he’s trying to be a ‘strict parent’ but it never works.

 Those ocean blue eyes and adorable smiles of Stella and Stacy Brashier were going to have boys at their feet… But let’s not freak Connor out about his baby girls having boyfriends just yet.

 Connor got on his knees, opening his arms so his girls could fall into his embrace “Hi angels!” He sighed happily as he wrapped his arms around their small frames “Can I have my kisses please?”

 Both girls giggled in respond, each pressing a kiss to Connor’s cheek.

 “We’re having a tea party with Mr. Snuggles, daddy!” Stella said excitingly.

 “Yeah!” Stacy nodded in agreement “Come join us, pleaseee!”

 “That sounds like so much fun, baby, but we’ve got to get going now” Connor chuckled “It’s getting late now and we don’t want you sleeping past your bedtime, now do we?”

 The little girls let out a whine of protest.

 “What!” Stacy whined “But we’re not tired yet, daddy!”

 “Yeah!” Stella said, trying to back-up her sister “We’re big girls now! We don’t sleep early anymore, daddy!”

 Connor and your mother burst into laughter as he shook his head “Okay big girls, we still need to get something for dinner and take a bath remember?” He reminded them “Now, go get your bags and say goodbye to nana please”

 Both girls sulked but nodded “Okay, daddy”

 After packing up their belongings in their backpacks, they walked over to your mother, hugging her legs tightly “Bye nana! Thank you for taking care of us!” The two girls said in unison.

 “You’re absolutely welcome, little munchkins” She smiled, pressing a kiss to each of their heads “Be good girls and listen to your parents, okay?”

 “Okay!”

 “And remind her to not overwork herself?” Your mother looked at Connor worriedly “We all know how engrossed she gets whenever it comes to her work”

 “I tell her that every day, mom” Connor reassured “I’ll drag her over for a family dinner soon, it seems like forever since we last came here to spend time with you”

 “That sounds lovely, Connor” Your mother nodded.

 xxx

 “Did you have fun with nana today?” Connor asked while they were having takeout’s for dinner a while later.

 “Yes!” Stella answered, picking up a piece of fries and bringing it closer to her lips “We watched a bunch of movies and nana took us out for ice cream!”

 “Ice cream, huh?” Connor raised an eyebrow as he looked at his daughters curiously “After you ate lunch, right?”

 Stella and Stacy glanced at each other for a second before Stacy shrugged “Yeah. After eating lunch, daddy. We know”

 “If you say so, angel” He chuckled.

 “Daddy?” Stella called out, gaining Connor’s attention “Why’s mommy not home for dinner?”

 “Mommy’s at work, baby” He replied with a small smile “She’s got lots of things to do right now”

 “We miss mommy” Stacy pouted “When is she coming home?”

 “Aw lovebug, she misses you too, you know?” He reassured the younger twin “It’s only a bit more, baby, then mommy will be back for family dinners, okay?”

 Stacy nodded in respond, grabbing a chicken nugget off her plate.

 After dinner, Connor took his girls up to their room for a bath.

 “Okay, what pyjamas do we want to wear tonight, lovebugs?” He asked, walking towards the drawer where you kept their pyjamas neatly folded.

 “Frozen, please!”

 He laughs, taking out the piece of clothing from the drawer “Again, huh? You two are still pretty obsessed with Princess Anna and Elsa” He said as he went back to their bed, where the twins were waiting with their little bathrobes on.

 “Princess Anna and Elsa are like Stace and I!” Stella exclaimed “We’re sisters and we love each other very much”

 “Yeah!” Stacy giggled “Can I be Elsa, Stel?”

 “Sure, sis” Stella shrugged in reply “Besides, I like Anna more!”

 “Okay you two, you’re going to make daddy’s heart explode” Connor cooed as he helped the twins into their nightgowns “And why do you like Anna more, Stel?”

 “Because she falls in love with her one true love, silly!” Stella giggled “I want that to be like me too!”

 “Okay, no” Connor deadpanned; immediately shaking his head and giving her a pointed look “Slow down there, princess. You’re not falling in love, you hear me? I’m not allowing it”

 “What?” Stella asked confusingly “Why not?”

 “Because I said so” He shrugged, turning his head to the other twin “Same goes for you, Stace. Sorry”

 “But you and mommy are in love” Stacy said confusingly “Why can’t we be in love?”

 “Because mommy and daddy are old, baby”

 “Okay, so we’ll fall in love when we’re old” Stella concluded, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

 “No” Connor shook his head again “Not until you’re 30, missy”

 “What!” Stacy whined “That’s like in forever!”

 “Forever is right” He nodded in agreement “No more arguments. Time for bed, princess Stacy and Stella”

 “Can we sleep with you tonight, instead?” Stacy asked “Wanna cuddle with you and mommy”

 “Please?” Stella begged “Just tonight, daddy”

And who was Connor to reject his little angels’ request?

 “Of course, angel” Connor nodded as he offered his hands for them to take. He made sure all the lights were turned off before heading across the room to your shared master bedroom.

 He left the light on the side table on as he slipped into bed with the little girls, each of them cuddled up at his side “Are we comfy enough?” He asked.

 “Yes” Stella nodded, letting out a yawn “Love you daddy”

 “The mostest” Stacy murmured sleepily “Forever and ever”

 Connor presses a soft kiss to each of their head, muttering softly “Love you always, baby” with a smile tugging on his face.

 When you got back an hour later and saw the sight of Connor wrapped up with your girls, your heart melts. After cleaning up and changing into a pair of shorts and Connor’s old t-shirt, you slipped into the bed carefully; not to wake them up. You turned off the light and fell back into the sheets, immediately feeling Stella shift.

 “Sorry baby, mommy didn’t mean to wake you” You whispered softly.

 “S’okay, mommy” She muttered, moving closer to you “Love you”

 You wrapped your arm around her small frame and planted a kiss to her head “I love you, angel”

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reblog, like or leave a comment; always appreciated! 

x rina

TAG LIST:

@hurts-like-hell-xx @connordavidscamera @r3ader @tinycertain @green-lxght @queenmxndes

[iluvsexyvoltageguys]

Love is Blindness - Part 1

Fandom: Be My Princess (Love 365)

Pairing: Roberto x Reader

Note: This is an AU fic for @dany-ryujin, hope you enjoy!

‘I’m coming over and I’m bringing food and you can’t say no’ Is all the text read and after answering that you were definitely in, you started cleaning the scattered papers and mess you had made while you waited for Roberto to arrive.

You were a bit nervous which was a strange feeling you didn’t normally have with him but it had been so long since it was just the two of you hanging out. He clearly wanted to talk and you’d just drive yourself crazy thinking about what spurred the visit so you hurried off to do more tidying, keeping yourself busy so you wouldn’t think too heavily about something as simple as hanging out with your best friend.

Soon enough there was a knock on the door and as you pulled it opened, there he stood looking like he had just woken up, which you knew was probably true. His eyes lit up when he saw you and you were just as happy to see him, returning his smile. “I missed you,” He said, leaning to give you a kiss on the top of your head.

You pulled back, motioning towards the bags in his hands as you went to shut the door behind him. “Is that apology Chinese?” You said with a smile. “What did you do? Should I be worried?” You laughed, opening the door all the way and motioning for him to come in.

Roberto had been your best friend for years and lately, his new girlfriend, who was no fan of yours, had made very sure you two spent little time together. “It’s more, Roberto’s an idiot Chinese AND apology Chinese.” He answered, moving to place the bags of food on the counter. You slid passed him to the cupboard pulling out plates and grabbing utensils from the drawer.

“Well if we’ve switched to eating ‘Roberto’s an idiot Chinese’ than we will be eating a lot of it.” You turned in time to see Roberto roll his eyes, and having already opened a few of the containers, he picked up a chicken ball and threw it lazily in your direction, the piece landing on the floor. You bent down to get it muttering about him being wasteful and you could hear his quiet chuckle from behind you.

You were both silent for a few moments until he spoke, soft but strong. “I really am sorry,” he said lowly. Those words changed the easy feeling in the room to serious and so you turned then, leaning your back against the counter to look at him as he sat at the island, dishing out the food. “I didn’t mean to make this weird for you.”

You smiled at him. “It’s not weird, Robbie. You’re allowed to have a girlfriend it just sucks not seeing you much anymore.”

There was more to it, and you both knew it but he just nodded in response. It was hard because you were such a cliche and you had fought very, very hard not to be. You were in love with him and you had been fighting to keep him in your life, in whatever capacity, for months and you weren’t about to crack now.

You smiled, knowing he probably saw it was forced being that he knew you so well and took the few steps between you so that you were standing in front of him. He turned in his chair, knees touching and you reached up to run your right hand through his hair, your left placed securely on his shoulder. Roberto’s eyes were locked on yours and the twitch of his fingers in his lap let you know he wanted to pull you closer but knew you would back off if he did.

“I know you’re sorry but I’m really just sad because I miss you. I’m not mad or hurt, I’m happy for you and if you’re happy…I’m happy.” You leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek, and as you began pulling away Roberto reached up to grab your wrist. “______,” he whispered, running his thumb along your skin, guiding you gently back to him.

“It’s ok, Robbie. So she doesn’t like me. If you like her, which you do, than those are sacrifices you need to make for your relationship. I may not like them or agree with them but you and I are just friends so you don’t owe me what you owe her.” With that you pulled completely away from him and this time he let you go.

You finished organizing the food onto the plates Roberto had started and moved yours to your own place setting. You could feel Roberto’s eyes on you the whole time and you forced yourself to not give in and look at him because you might cry and you didn’t want to do that. You may not have verbalized the entire truth of the situation to each other but you both knew and you were both just too scared to do anything about it.

You thought that Roberto was going to let it go as you felt him shift back towards his food and pick up the fork you had placed in front of him but before he took a bite you heard him say “We aren’t just friends, _____. You’re my best friend. How you feel about her and I matters.”

You finished chewing the bite you had taken, letting Roberto’s words sink in. The two of you had always had a very close friendship. Many times over the years people thought you were dating, in fact that mistake happened so many times that, depending on the situation, you both would just go with it.

Over the years you’d both dated other people but each time there was just something off about it and you’d end up back on the couch, just the two of you, some stupid show playing on Netflix. You’d get take out and spend the evening cuddled up, not really talking about what had happened but being there for each other nonetheless.

Now, the reality was that he had a girlfriend again, and not too unlike his past relationships, this one didn’t like you much. You always tried your hardest to be welcoming to each of them but your closeness with Roberto always sent the girls to pull him away from you. His current girlfriend wanted nothing to do with you and made it very clear that she didn’t want you around. She was sharp and a bit more conniving than girls he’d dated in the past, always placing herself between you and Roberto, pulling him away from you a bit more each day.

As much as it hurt, you weren’t even sure if Roberto realized how calculated her actions were and as he seemed to really like her, you weren’t about to ruin that for him. Maybe you were being selfish, maybe you weren’t. You knew he cared deeply for you but after years of dancing the line between friendship and the possibility of more, you’d had to assume that it just wasn’t in the cards for you. If you two ever decided to take your friendship further it would be because it felt right, not because of jealously over someone else.

It was hard because you wanted to shout how you felt about him from the rooftops, you wanted to pull him to you and tell him everything with his lips against yours, but you were friends. You had drawn that line in the sand years prior and you refused to cross it in its entirety until Roberto was ready and willing and wanting, if he ever even would be.

Him sitting in your kitchen with that look in his eyes that said everything his words didn’t just wasn’t enough. It was only enough to reassure you he cared, that he did love you as you loved him but it hurt in some way, deep down that you knew he felt that way and was still with her. You wanted him to choose you because he wanted to, not because he felt trapped with someone else and because you had always been there and it would be easy.

You wanted a lot of things and you had to come to terms with the fact that sometimes what you want doesn’t happen and you just have to live with it. You sighed then, having taken too long to answer with all of the thoughts running through your mind. Roberto had stopped eating and was just looking at you. Again. You couldn’t even really remember what the last thing he said to you was.

“I honestly don’t know what else you want me to say, Roberto.” You were playing with your food now, running your fork through your fried rice, moving the pieces around your plate so that you wouldn’t have to look at him. Your appetite was gone but you forced a bite so that you’d have something to do but cry. You absolutely did not want to do that. You wanted to be fine and you knew that you should be. You were friends, no matter the rest and you did not have the right to get all emotional over such a situation as your friend having a girlfriend.

“Ok,” Was all he said, though he said it so quietly you almost missed it. You both continued eating then, almost forcefully so the food didn’t go to waste. It felt like there had been a shift in your relationship and you were wracking your brain trying to figure out the exact moment the change happened. You had pulled away from each other, closed off your hearts just a bit more and you cautiously turned your head to look at him.

He was staring down at his plate, his shoulders hung low. It was silent in the apartment other than the clanking of your forks and the soft hum of the show on the tv in the living room you had been watching before Roberto arrived. When you were finished eating, you picked up your plate and put it in the dishwasher, Roberto doing the same behind you.

“Are you staying for a while or are you leaving?” You asked, breaking the long stood silence now that there was literally nothing else to do without asking it. You hated the awkwardness, the silence. Normally the two of you were like two peas in a pod, so comfortable that it just felt right but now, now something had shifted and you were scared about what that meant.

“I’m..I think I’m going to go.” He said slowly. You had started walking towards the living room while he had stayed leaning on the island in the kitchen where you had just eaten. “Okay, well, yeah you probably should, I’m sure she’s waiting. Thanks for dinner.” You barely recognized your own voice in saying that. It felt flat and defeated and you were so mad that that was the case.

You were trying to be reasonable and trying to be an adult who was logical and used her head but your heart was screaming at you to say something, literally anything that might tell him to stay. Instead he just looked at you, the same feeling of defeat you had pressing in your chest written all over his face as he turned and left without another word, the door falling heavily behind him.

BMP Masterlist

[darling-clemmy]

A Feeling We Don’t Know//Clouis Highschool AU--Chapter One

A/N: Welcome to the first chapter of my highschool AU! I will try to update this regularly, and I hope you enjoy the first part :)) also huge thank you to @missdaisymayrio , without her I could not have written this. 

Summary of Story: After the first night, it seems impossible for them not to run into each other. Though, neither the boy with dreads nor the girl with curls can complain about that.

Summary of Chapter: Clementine had never liked parties--until she realized that some of them aren’t so bad, thanks to one dark haired boy.

Word Count: 3,670 words

CHAPTER ONE: PARTY FAVOR

The rain beat down against the overhanging glass of the bus stop, creating a repetitive pattern that was starting to get under Clementine’s skin. She’d much rather prefer to hear his cheery voice right now, speaking reassuring words into her ear, or the muted radio as they kiss in the backseat of his car. But that couldn’t happen now, or possibly ever again.

She pulled her oversized yellow raincoat closer to her body, although that would only relieve the shaking due to the cold, and not due to her silent cries. I’m so stupid, Clementine thought, forcing more tears out of her eyes. Yet, under the heavy rain, they were barely noticeable.

A car with blurry headlights zoomed past her, causing roadside rain water to splash up and hit her ankles. She was too numb to care about anything, much less a little bit more water on her already soaking clothes. Her head lifted at a realization—that car was playing their song. She could recognize that beat anywhere, having listened to it nonstop months ago. How silly it was to think that it held any meaning. She knew now that it was all a mistake. He was a big, heart shattering mistake.

Clementine checked her phone once more for whatever reason, as the same picture of a low battery came up again. She sighed, her entire being feeling so crumbled that it was useless to have any hope for herself anymore. So, with no other choices, she stood up from the cold bench, lifted her hood over her curls, and began stomping through the wet, cracked sidewalk back home, leaving him and all of their memories behind her.

—

7 MONTHS EARLIER:

Ding!

Clementine blinked in surprise as the bell signifying an order was ready rung. She removed her hand from beneath her chin and looked at the plate. 

One large blueberry pancake, four scrambled eggs, and six pieces of bacon with a coffee that might as well just have been milk. Kyle, Clementine guessed, rolling her eyes at the fact that she’d have to bring it out to him. 

Tightening the stained white apron that was tied around her waist, she picked up the chipped plate by its bottom and held the mug’s handle firmly. 

The diner was especially busy today, as it was every Saturday. Besides, Everett’s was the only place other than Bee Joe’s to get breakfast in the small town of Wareham, West Virginia. Because of this, probably around half the population came in between 7am and 2pm, consisting of young children with their mothers, a group of loud old men who split the check in eighths, and Clem’s own teachers at school, who, no matter how much they come in, were always surprised she works there. 

After maneuvering through the clustered tables and booths, she finally made it to the table marked “H,” where, of course, none other than Kyle was sat. 

“Here’s your food,” Clementine choked out through a forced toothy smile. “And your coffee. Do you need anything else today?”

Kyle slumped back in his chair as he eyed the food suspiciously, before returning his gaze back to her silently. 

At his uncomfortable stare, Clem cleared her throat and gripped the hem of her stupidly stiff baby pink uniform skirt.

“Nah, nothing that I can order off the menu, anyway,” he nearly slurred out, making Clementine wonder if he was already high or if he was just sleazy. 

“Okay, well, let me know if there is.” By now, she was smiling so tightly and fakely that it was beginning to hurt. Before he could get another word in, she spun on her heel and rushed back to safety behind the counter, away from the college boy.

Once there, where none of the customers could really see, she threw down the order notebook with a huff. Looking up at the red LED clock, she counted the minutes to when she’d be allowed to leave. 275 minutes. 16, 500 seconds. It’s a lot, but she hoped that maybe she’d be able to just wash tables until then. 

“Dumb day?” A southern-twanged voice asked from beside her. 

Clem sighed in relief that it was Brody, and not her supervisor scolding her for not being “sweet and accommodating,” as she’d always say.

“It wasn’t too bad until Eric, you know, the new cook guy, spilled bacon grease on the floor and I had to clean it up. And Kyle’s here and you know how he always is and of course I’m his waitress.” Clementine complained as she lowered her head in closer to Brody, like preteens gossiping. 

“Ugh, he shouldn’t even be allowed in here. He’s such a creep,” Brody agreed. “I had to wait on the Yorks and all eight of their kids, who all wanted chocolate chip pancakes in the shape of Disco Broccoli. Omar’s a good cook and all, but how is anyone supposed to do that?”

Clem chuckled thinking about Disco Broccoli and his Chive Talkin’ Friends. She was surprised kids still watched that show. “I think customers think we’re Gordon Ramsay.”

“Sorry, we’re actually just a bunch of 16 to 25 year olds and their 40-something year old manager.” The auburn hair girl replied, scribbling down her tipped wages. “On a lighter note, are you doing anything tonight?”

“Nope. AJ’s parents don’t need me to babysit tonight and my parents are both working late again.” She furrowed her eyebrows before continuing, “Why?”

“Marlon’s having a party tonight and I was wondering if you’d like to come!”

“Brody—“

“Shush, before you say ‘I’m not a party person, Brody,’ it’s not as big as his other ones. There will only be, like, 30 people there, at most.” Brody chastised, placing a hand on her hip.

“Why so small?”

“It’s for his best friend. He just got back from a music camp or something,” she explained. 

Clementine sighed, realizing that she and Brody had never really hung out outside of work before. They may not have been best friends, but Brody had always been there for her, so maybe she owed it to her to go to a party or two.  “Okay, I’ll go. At least for a little bit.”

“Really?” Brody squealed, making some customers’ eyes gather on the girls. “Thank you, Clem! I promise you’ll have fun.”

Clementine laughed, “Who’s his actual best friend anyway?”

“His name’s Louis. Has dreads, writes music and plays piano, his family lives in that really big house down on Charlotte Lane,” Brody described, hoping to jog Clem’s memory. 

Really, she didn’t need to. Everyone in Wareham knew Louis Hastings and his parents. With his high economic standing and the fact that he was a major social butterfly, everyone had talked to Louis at least once. He was well liked, too, so it was no surprise to Clem that a welcome home party was being thrown with him as the guest of honor. 

“Well, I’ll make sure I’m there,” Clem promised with a grin. 

The door opened and hit the ear-ringing bell above it. The girls looked over to it to see an old couple, dressed in button up shirts with matching patterns. 

“Oh, look, Mr and Mrs Carlton. I’ll go get them a table,” Brody recognized with fond smile, as the couple often came in for their usual English breakfast tea and raspberry scones. 

Clementine watched as Brody left her side behind the counter before returning her eyes to the clock that seemed to be ticking slower as it went on. 260 more minutes.

Might as well start washing those tables, Clem thought before grabbing the soapy bucket and the old rag and getting to work. 

—

“You really know how to make the guest of honor feel special, Marlon,” Louis criticized, shoving three more packs of red solo cups into the grocery cart that had an obnoxious squeaking wheel.

“Don’t be mad. You should be happy I’m bringing you along to shop for food, since you’re such a picky eater and all,” Marlon rolls his glacier colored eyes in response.

“I’m not a picky eater,” the dark haired boy began. “I am a refined one.”

“Chicken tenders and french fries are real refined, Lou.”

“Everyone likes chicken tenders and french fries.”

“Vegans don’t.”

“They make fake chicken tenders, you know,” Louis informed, scrunching up his nose at the sour cream and onion chips that Marlon threw in the cart. “Are you buying all of this?”

“I’m not that bad of a party host. You really think I’d make you buy your own party supplies?” Marlon asked incredulously. 

Before Louis could respond, he felt his phone vibrating in his back pocket. He could tell by the personalized pattern that it was his dad calling him. He frowned.

“Hey, Dad,” he greeted blandly. 

“Why aren’t you home yet?” The older man interrogated with a harsh tone.

“I’m out with Marlon,” Louis explained. “I’ll be back later tonight.”

“I can’t believe you sometimes, Louis. You really can’t even be bothered to have dinner with your parents after being away for two months?” His father questioned.

“Look, Dad, I—” Louis began, only to be cut off.

“Just don’t, Louis,” his dad interrupted harshly. “Just—if you have the time, text your mother. She’s missed you a lot.”

“Yeah, I will.” He already had two hours earlier.

His father gave no goodbyes before hanging up the phone, leaving Louis to listen to a dull humming.

“Is everything okay?” Marlon asked.

Louis remained silent as he shoved his phone back into his pocket.

“I know how tough your dad can be—“

“Do you still have your fake?”

Marlon’s eyes widened. “ID? Of course.”

At his words, Louis picks a large box of beer out of the cooler and slides it onto the bottom rack of the cart. 

“That’s the spirit, Lou!” Marlon hit Louis’ back roughly.

Louis chuckled, but still, the feeling of disappointment in himself remained in the pit of his stomach.

—

Clementine was late. 

Thankfully, not excruciatingly late. Not so late that it’d be rude to show up now. Just late by thirty minutes or so, since she had spent twenty more minutes than expected trying to figure out what to wear to her first party and another ten getting lost on the way there. 

But, still, she was late. And she hated being late. It was embarrassing.

She walked up the steep steps to Marlon’s front door, the newly setting sun casting her shadow down in front of her, surrounded by a yellow-gold. She was already gnawing on her bottom lip in anxiety, thinking about how lonely she may be here. Yet, Clem still knocks on the door before lowering her hand and wrapping it around her other wrist.

Marlon opened the door, a navy blue can in his hand. “Oh, hey, Clem. Brody said you’d be coming tonight.”

She grinned bashfully. “Yeah, she thought it’d be good for me to get out more.”

“Well, I can assure you that my parties are the best reason to do so,” Marlon boasted. “Come in. Brody’s in the kitchen.”

Before she could say another word, he’s shut the door behind them and ran off to speak to somebody else in his living room. Clementine huffed and raised her brows, analyzing the inside of the house, trying to find the kitchen.

In front of her in the entryway was a rack of coats, hung up high on the grey wall. Clem didn’t bring a jacket, as it was nearly 85 degrees out, so she moved past it and walked into the main area. To her left was Marlon’s living room, accompanied by a few boys she vaguely recognized from school drinking and playing some video game on the large flatscreen. Not wanting to have to talk to them, she quickly walked straight and into the kitchen. 

“You made it!” Brody jumped off from her seat on the granite counter and skipped over to the tan girl to hug her tightly. “I love your outfit.”

Clem looked down at her cuffed blue jeans and form-fitting rosy shirt. Although she was receiving a compliment, she crossed her arms over her chest. “Oh, thanks. It only took a billion years to pick out.”

Brody grinned softly. “Let’s go out onto the patio! That’s where most everyone is.”

The slightly taller girl grabbed her by the arm and pulled her out through the sliding glass door and onto the rocky terrain of Marlon’s patio. To her right was a porch, which you could step up onto and enter an above ground pool. There were pretty, golden bulb lights strung across the entire backyard, glowing down on a little over a dozen teenagers. Music from a nearby speaker played loudly, as Marlon didn’t have any close-by neighbors that would file a complaint.

Brody dragged Clem up onto the porch and over to a few of their classmates who she recognized: Violet LaCasse, Sophie and Minerva Wilson, and Mitch Gray. She had never really talked to any of them, except Mitch once for chemistry homework. But she knew that Brody was really good friends with Sophie and Mitch (surprisingly) especially, so she stayed put.

“Hey, Clementine, right?” Minnie asked as Clem sat down on the metal chair, her arm loosely around Violet’s shoulders.

“That’s my name,” Clementine joked tight-lipped.

“You want a beer?” Mitch chimed in, already reaching for the cooler beneath them.

Clem’s amber eyes widened. “Ah, no, thank you. I’m driving back home tonight.”

Mitch shrugged. “If you wanna’ have real fun tonight, then you drink. I’ll drive you home after.” He gave a cheeky grin.

“You’ve already had three beers in the past 40 minutes, dumbass,” Violet objected, running her finger around the lid of her water bottle.

Clementine remained silent, her eyes furrowed together. Instead, she simply shook her head at his offer. As she looked to her left, she saw how Brody’s lips were set in a slight pout, her fingers wrapped tightly around themselves.

Once the auburn haired girl noticed Clem’s concerned stare, her expression did a complete 180, returning back to her usual welcoming grin. 

Sophie tugged on Brody’s sleeve. “Did Marlon say where Louis is?”

“You know, I don’t—“

As if on purpose, Marlon busted through the sliding glass door, his arm around a slightly shorter, darker skinned boy. A cuter boy, Clementine admired. Louis Hastings.

“Look who’s fuckin’ back and better than ever!” Marlon roared, clearly already tipsy, stumbling out onto the patio.

Practically everyone grinned and cheered, the screams of the teenagers echoing into the forest behind them. The rest of the boys who Clem saw inside also came outside, all thrilled to see their favorite friend back home. After a few minutes of the rowdy boys yelling and pushing each other, Marlon and Louis made their way up the porch steps and over to the table.

Marlon kissed the side of Brody’s head, her nearly flinching at the touch. “You smell like alcohol, babe.”

He kissed her again, despite her protests, as Mitch and Louis did that awkward side hug-back-hitting thing guys did. 

Louis’s eyes scanned the table, nodding a simple hey, good to see you again to the blonde and the twins before his tawny brown eyes met Clementine’s.

He knew her face from around school, but didn’t really know her too well since she was a grade below him and almost everyone else, except for Mitch. All he really knew her by was the fact that she won a state photography prize for their school last year and that she sometimes wore her hair in two cute pigtails tied with purple ribbons. And that she was pretty. Really pretty.

Louis held his hand out towards her across the table. “Why, hello. I’m Louis, to formally introduce ourselves.”

Clem’s cheekbones flushed vaguely before the corners of her mouth lifted up. “Clementine.”

“I’m glad you could make it. The more the merrier, right?” Louis preached. “Oh, wait, that sounds bad. Uh, nevermind.”

Clementine giggled softly, not caring about the slightly confused stares from the rest of the group.

“Alright, you two, stop flirting,” Marlon interjected, waving his hand around. “C’mon, Lou, let’s go talk to Luke.”

“Okay, okay,” Louis said, turning back to look at her. “See you all later.”

The group said their chorus of goodbyes to the two boys and watched as they walked down the wooden steps, Louis holding up Marlon so he doesn’t fall. Clem’s stare lingered on the boy with dreads, even after they walked across the yard to a group of boys kicking around a soccer ball. 

Brody leaned over the arm of her chair and whispered into Clem’s ear, “You’re welcome for inviting you.”

“Oh, quiet. He was just being nice,” she insisted, tucking a curl behind her ear.

“Whatever you say,” Brody sang.

--

Clementine stood awkwardly by the side of the house as she watched the rest of the party-goers dancing and talking. She wraps one of her hands around the opposite arm in an attempt to warm herself up. She wished she had brought a coat now, the early autumnal cold night air surrounding her in an aura of blue. When she lifted her head to look up at the stars, she hoped that the far away heat from them would transfer to her body. Sadly, it didn’t.

Since she was scuffing her white shoes against the ground, she didn’t notice the presence of a body next to her. She was too focused on an ant crawling through the caverns between bricks and a new dirt mark on the tip of her shoe that she accidentally ignored the kind boy.

He cleared his throat, alarming her and making her look up.

“Sorry,” she apologized flustered. “You were pretty quiet.”

“I don’t know if this will surprise you, but pretty much no one else has ever said that to me,” Louis told her, leaning against the tan house as well.

“Well, you did make quite the entrance,” Clementine complimented.

He shrugged. “Marlon and his alcohol made quite the entrance.”

“Right, right.”

“So, um,” Louis began. “I got you a drink.”

Clementine raises an eyebrow. “Why?” 

“I noticed you didn’t have one at the table. I can’t let a pretty girl go thirsty at my party,” Louis explained, his dark eyes twinkling like the stars above them.

She eyed the red cup suspiciously then gazed back at him. “You seem nice enough, Louis, I just don’t know if I wanna’ take a random drink from you.”

“What? I--Ohh!” Louis’ face dropped at what she was implying. “There isn’t anything--It’s just water with ice. I hope you like ice--Ah, okay, this is a really bad first impression.”

Clementine giggled and bit the inside of her lip. “Then, how about you make a good second impression?”

“Yes! Yeah, yeah,” Louis agreed. 

“Can you walk me to my car? No offense to your party, but I don’t really think I’m needed here.” Clementine joked, but her solemn undertone spoke a different narrative.

He smiled wordlessly and opened the glass door for her, following her once she stepped inside. They made their way through the simple layout of the bottom floor and to the front door. Louis once again held it open for her, and her heart felt warm for the first time tonight.

The walk down the long dirt driveway and to the main street that Clem had to park on was silent, since the two teenagers didn’t know anything to talk about and didn’t really mind the comforting quiet that was only filled with chirps of crickets and nearby music from the party. Once they reached Clem’s silver sedan, she paused in front of the driver side door.

“Well, this is me,” she announced, pulling her keychain out of her back pocket. “Thanks for the walk.”

“I’d feel too bad to let you walk down here alone in the dark,” he reasoned with his hands shoved into his jean pockets. “But, you know, I don’t know if our short walk made up for the whole four hours of the party where you looked miserable.”

“What? I was having fun. So much fun,” she promised dramatically, but at his incredulous stare she gave in. “Yeah, fine, it kind of sucked for me.”

Louis sported a small grin. “And I take no offense to that. Besides, I didn’t really throw it.”

“Even if you did, it’s not like my opinion on it really matters. Everyone else looked to be having fun,” she responded.

“Your opinion matters to me.”

Her lips went into a confused pout. “We just met.”

“So? You still matter, and I still feel kinda’ bad that you were dragged here,” Louis empathized with soft eyes.

Clem sighed. “Can you still say thank you to Brody for me? And make sure she gets home safe? I know she doesn’t drink it’s just….”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” he assured, opening the car door for her. He cleared his throat. “Have a nice night, Clementine.”

She smiled and slipped into the car, closing the door after her, but her window remained open. “You too, Louis. Welcome home.”

“Yeah, you too,” Louis said before realizing his mistake. “Wait, no. God, I’ve messed up my second chance, too, haven’t I?”

The tan girl laughed. “No, no, you haven’t at all. Goodnight, Louis.”

“Goodnight,” he waved weakly before stepping out of the way for her to drive off.

He watched her car as she drove down the curvy road like he was watching her herself. When she braked, turned on her blinker, and took a left off of the street, Louis sighed to himself with a blissful smile. She really is something else, he pondered, bringing his hands up to feel how warm his face had gotten during their interactions.

He wondered if she was feeling the same joy in the pit of her stomach, too, or if it was simply one-sided. 

What he did know, though, was that he’d definitely have to thank Brody for inviting her. 

[thenamesseven]

Warnings: Some vanilla smut.

The apartment was empty, both of the guys were practising until late tonight and you had the luxury of having the whole place for just you and only you. It wasn't that the guys bothered you but it was nice to spend some time without needy Jackson and grumpy Jaebum. They were so different, so alike that living with the two of them was a difficult task until you got in bed, that was were both guys agreed and enjoyed your activities as much as you did.

You had prepared a nice bath for yourself. Surrounded by hot water, bubbles and some candles you were just laying there with your eyes closed enjoying the calm and relaxing music playing in the background. Your eyes closed and your head tilted back against the cold tile of the bath, your hands lazily resting on the edge. You liked taking care of your body and almost twice or once a month you managed to find enough time to take baths like this one so most of the stress of your work would go away.

However, 30 minutes later -more or less- you heard the sound of the door being opened, closed and then keys being thrown onto the table at the entrance. "(Y/N)?" Jackson's voice was low enough for you to not hear in case you were taking a nap but loud enough for you to hear it in case you were awake. Jackson was really considerate with you, he liked spoiling you with lots of attention and love, maybe it was because he really had feelings for you, different than the kind of feelings you had with Jae.

"Im in the bathroom" You replied not even opening your eyes.

Mere minutes later you heard the bathroom door being opened, some cold air got into the bathroom making you shiver and your skin turn into a bunch of goosebumps all over your body. You heard the soft rustling of Jackson's clothes as he probably was now leaning against the door frame watching you with a smirk.

"You look like you are in some kind of Heaven" Jackson chuckled at your relaxed expression "Or maybe I am because kitten, you look like a goddess" He manage to make your cheeks red with such silly yet cheesy line.

You opened you eyes to look at him, biting your lip as you laughed "That was horrible" He winked at you laughing, walking into the bathroom and crouching down besides the bath.

"You loved it, you wouldn't be blushing if you didn't" He said with a toothy smile, showing you those perfect teeths he had.

He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss against your lips, the feeling of his soft and plump lips flooding your stomach with a warm sensation, another different kind of relaxation. As always Jackson smiled through it, his nose instantly rubbing gently against yours when your lips broke appart in slow motion, almost as if he didn't want to move away but it was obvious he didn't want to bother your relaxing ritual either.

You were in a relationship with fire and water. Jackson was the fire, he had so much passion that poured on you that it burned. His slow kisses, gentle caress and sweet words made you hot, he didn't need to be rough or sexual to make your knees go weak. Jaebum though, was like a huge tsunami ready to crash onto you without any warnings.

"Make room in there for me" He said with a small smirk. You groaned a little, complainning, you were feeling too lazy today to get some action from any of the guys. "I just want to have a bath too man! It's been really stressing at practise today, you know" He whined.

You couldn't help but stare as he took of his clothes. Taking your sweet time to roll your eyes down his muscular body, his skin looking slightly bright under the dim lights due to his sweat. The way his muscles bulge whenever he made little strength to took off his clothes made you bit your lip, you just lived with two most sexy men in Korea. When he turned around and caught hou staring, Jackson smirked "Like what you see, kitten?" He asked standing by the bath tub, waiting for you to move. Moving your butt foward, you made enough space for him to sit down behind you and Jackson -being the big, cuddling teddy bear he is- quickly wrapped his arms around your body, pulling you back against him. Your head rested against his broad chest, his lips leaving gentle and small kisses on your head as his thumbs did lazy circles on your naked tummy. You could feel Jackson's semi hard member poking against the lower region of your back but he didn't try anything sexual with you.

"Where's Jae?" You asked playing with some bubbles absentmindendly.

"He had to stay at the studio for a bit longer to work on aome lyrics with Jinyoung-hyung. JB told me to come home so you wouldn't be alone" Jackson explained with a soft smile.

Jaebum's way of showing you his affection was way more different than they way Jackson did. When you were with him it was mostly rough sex or naughty teasing, something that would drive both of you incredibly crazy with lust. Deep kisses, biting harshly and being called names were things you tend to relate with Jaebum but then, he would do this little things, just small details that weren't easy to notice that would show you he didn't considered you as just a sex toy. He would always be there to silently comfort you after a stressing day, he would "casually" cook your favorite dishes just to surprise you, he would cuddle you at night when he felt you shiver. He wasn't like Jackson with the slow and passionate kisses, the compliments and warm hugs but Jaebum was definitely charming in his own way.

"He will have to stay there for the whole night?" You asked kind of shocked, looking up at him. Jaebum tend to overwork himself and you couldn't help but worry a little.

"Nah but he'll definitely come back really late" Jackson lowered his head, resting his forehead on your shoulder as he let out a soft sigh "You know the comeback is getting closer and the leader is the one that has to work harder but don't worry, he'll definitely survive" He then proceeded to whine like a small child craving for attention "What about me though? You're not worried?" He nuzzled his head against your neck, his nose caressing your soft skin.

Your response was chuckle a little at his words, how could such a masculine and big man turn into a fluffy and needy ball so quickly? You moved up one of your hands to run your fingers through his hair, turning your head to press your lips against his temple. A bright smile made his way up to his lips as soon as you turned your undivided attention towards him "Of course I am worried about my baby" You said pouting, feeling Jackson's embrance tighten around your body. Resting your hands on his, your thumbs started drawing little circles on his skin feeling his body relax behind yours "How about we make some fried chicken for dinner, mhm? And then we can cuddle in bed, you look really tired" He hummed in agreement as you leaned in to press your lips against his, engaging yourself in another warm but gentle kiss.

"Feel like ordering some fried chicken? We can cuddle in bed after dinner since you're tired" You asked quietly, playing with his hair.

"You've just made me the happiest man in the world" Jackson whispered pecking your forehead.

Laughing a little at his words you simply leaned back down further against his body, closing your eyes to simply focus on the way his hands rubbed your body under the water or the way his chest slowly and calmly moved up and down with each breath. Jackson's hands would sometime wander to your innee thighs or the spot below your breasts, at first you thought he was trying to tease you but the you noticed he wasn't insinuating anything with his gentle touch. He talked about his day without stopping his caressing while he left random kisses on your head, neck and shoulder. You two also made a little contest of who could crack the most silly jokes and obviously Jackson ended up winning, he was too good at that.

The both of you got out of the bath when the water turned cold. Jackson was the first one to move out of the bath tub and quickly handed you a towel before wrapping another one around his waist, it wasn't like you two hadn't seen each other naked but Jackson liked to give you that kind of privacy.

"Im going to get dressed and order the chicken okay? I'll be waiting for you on the couch" He leaned down to kiss your lips again, shortly this time and leaving you wanting more but unfortunately for you, Jackson left the bathroom before you could complain about it.

By the time you were done in the bathroom witb your routine (hydrating your body with lotions, brushing and drying off your hair, cleaning your face and putting some comfy clothes, which were your panties and an oversize hoodie) you finally joined Jackson who was sitting on the couch, eagerly waiting for you to start eating the steamy fried chicken.

He was just wearing some grey sweatpants and a white shirt, his usual yet simple attire to go to bed. As soon as he saw you walking into the living room, Jackson opened his arms for you and you -being the attention seeker you are- don't hesitate about hugging him. He pulls you onto his lap smiling, pressing his lips against yours gently as his hand moves up on your bare thighs, his finger tips sometimes caressing your panties but nothing too teasing.

"Let's eat before it gets cold, kitten" He whispered pecking your lips one last time before setting you down on the couch next to him.

Dinner was quiet. You had left some chicken inside the microwave for Jaebum to eat when he got home meanwhile you and Jackson just sat next to each other on the couch, watching the news and commenting random things as you ate. You noticed Jackson's talking became slower and kind of slurred sometimes as if he was drunk, his eyelids falling down unconciously, he was truly struggling to eat the last piece of chicken on his plate.

Laughing you took the food away from his hand and stood up, gently pulling him up "Let's get you to bed, come on" You whispered, wrapping one of his arms around your neck and placing one of your arms around his waist.

Somehow you managed to make it into the bedroom and undo the bed with a tired yet sleepy Jackson holding onto you, making you support half of his weight. Once he laid down you copied his movements and occupied the empty space besides him in bed. Jackson moved you closer to him, making your back press against his chest while his hand played with the hem of your shirt. You knew what he was doing, it didn't take you too much time to recognised the change of the atmosphere as soon as you got in bed with him.

Jackson's hand, the one on your tummy, soon moved down and into your panties, not even waiting for your permission before he started rubbing the small bundle of nerves that made you gasp in pleasure whenever he or Jaebum touched it. Even though his movements were slightly slower than usual and it all felt a bit too lazy, Jackson managed to make you slightly wet before he slipped his first finger inside of you.

"Jackson..." You groaned a little. He was so tired that he could literally fall asleep on you in the middle of your sex activities, couldn't he just rest and wait till tomorrow?

"I'll be quick kitten, please?" He begged moaning, his voice getting husky. He sounded really turned on, you could feel his hard member teasing your ass from behind. He left random pecks on your neck, his breathing getting slightly irregular when you moaned as he slid another finger inside of you "Just some lazy sex, I know you want this as much as I do" He pulled you closer to him, his embrance being stronger "Turn around kitten, I want to see your face"

Obediently, you turned around in his arms submitting to his lowkey dominance over you. As soon as your eyes met his, Jackson leaned in to get into another steamy make out session, he was eager to be inside of you, it felt like his life depended on it. You could feel it in his desesperate movements, hungry kisses and rougher caresses. Jackson didn't waste any more time and pulled down your underwear along with his sweatpants and boxers, making the clothes fall down on the floor.

"Come here" He whispered shakily, placing one of your legs on his waist so his hips could get between your legs "God kitten you're so wet and I haven't even touched you" Jackson buried his face against your neck as you wrapped your arms around his body. He teasingly slid the tip of his member inside your wet entrance, making you groan in bliss and him in frustration. He didn't even give you time to adjust to the feeling like he always did, Jackson simply thrusted his whole length inside of you in a single thrust. He moaned against your neck, leaving wet and sloppy kisses right when he started moving his hip, his member stretching your inner walls and giving him the pleasure of hearing your moans. "God you feel so good...You're so tight baby...Yes..."

You closed you eyes when he oulled you even closer, your chest pressed against his and lips attached to each other's neck when Jackson replied to your silent pleads for him to move slightly harder against you. "Yes" You would whisper out satisfied, making him speed up his thrust. He just groaned, letting you know he was enjoying this as much as you and that even though he would love to make love to you all night long, he wouldn't last too much tonight. "Faster Jackson" You whispered against his ear, nibbling his earlobe.

"(Y/N)" The way he moaned your name made you clench your inner walls, squeezing his cock which cause him to moan louder "Open your eyes kitten" He ordered and you quickly, without any hesitations did it "I want to see your face when you come undone"

There weren't any more words talked in the room, the only sounds that could be heard were moans, heavy breathing and the clapping sound your bodies have started to make when Jackson sped up, chasing both of your releases. Like that, staring into each other's eyes, saying unspoken words to each other Jackson and you reached your orgasm at the same time, your body becoming slightly numb after such an amazing ecstasis, his drainning all the energy he had left.

Holding onto you like if you were his only chance to live, Jackson left little kisses on your face, his lips caressing your temple, nose, cheeks and lips "Have I ever told you how much I love you?" Jackson asked with a soft chuckle.

You laughed in return, pecking his lips "Have I ever told you how much I love you too?" You asked mocking his question, making him laugh.

"Mhmm I think so, too many times though" He replied cheerfully, kissing your lips again.

Jackson and you got into a comfy position, having some pillow talk before he gave up on staying up and fell asleep. Laying there in his arks you couldn't help but to admire the way his face looked so peaceful and relaxed, a small smile on his lips while you play with his hair.

However, you couldn't help but feel slightly uncomfortable laying there when Jaebum was working his ass off in a cold studio. Making a decision you got up from bed without waking Jackson up, pulled up your clothes and headed to the living room to wait there for him.

It was almost as if you had sense he really had a shitty day.

[fightevilandthengetblownup]

Something borrowed, Something blue... (Part 1 - Bakery!AU)

—-

She wasn’t sure what he would think when he saw it, but she hoped he wouldn’t be upset. It had just screamed at her the moment she stumbled across it, and she knew exactly where it should go. Starting just above her knee and winding its way around her thigh to her hip bone, the stencil marks looked thick and jagged compared to the fine lines and dots it would eventually form into.

“Man, this is goin’ to be a hell of a night for me isn’t it?” The grumbled whine from the other brought a smile on her lips as Jo looked over her shoulder at the other blond.

Rolling her eyes, Jo let out a small laugh as she watched Ash massage his hands with a scowl. “Oh yeah, because this is goin’ to be a walk in the park for me too.”

“Bitch, please, you know you love it when I stick it to you; clearly you’re goin’ to be having a blast.”

“Yeah, and you’re going to get the practice and images for your portfolio - seems like a good day for you too.”

“Only cause I get you all bare legged around me for the night, chickadee.” Ash’s smile twisted into a friendly leer at that, though both of them laughed in unison after a moment. Giving the meat of her thigh a friendly tap, the other reached across her leg to flick the switch on the machine on before he turned his gaze back to her leg, joking look gone and replaced with the serious look she knew was his focussed face. Ash had left the building and Dr Badass, #1 tattoo artist on the West Coast, was in.

Rolling back so she was in the right position as the man started to press the needle into her skin with the high pitched buzzing beginning to fill the air.

Jo lay her head back and almost dozed off as the man’s hands and needle worked over the next seven hours. Occasionally they would pause to allow either of them to stretch, go to the bathroom or get a drink as the hours stretched on.

It was almost midnight before the artist finally put down his gun and wiped over her bare skin with the cleaning pad. Jo’s thigh and hip was aching, and Ash made his own groans of pain as he cracked his knuckles.

“Hello?” The voice came calling from the adjoining bakery, and Jo quickly moved to cover her bare bottom half with the blanket she’d been using to stay warm throughout.

“In here, my man.” Ash called back, peeling off his gloves and starting the steps to pack away his machine and the various ink pots he’d used for the design that night. “Bloody pushy bitch made me do this thing in one freaking sitting.”

“This that secret tattoo I’ve heard nothing about?” The question came as the dark haired man made his way into the tattoo parlor. Moving his way across to the tattoo bed, Jo found herself grinning widely into the kiss he delivered along with the plastic bag of Chinese takeout for the pair.

Jo nodded as she ran her hand through his hair and shifted in her spot to stretch out her leg muscles.

“That’d be it, Joey just showed up one day with this little design and begged me to tag her with it-” Ash replied as he rolled across the few feet of space between the pair and his work station, spinning about and holding out a paper to the other man. “Pretty beautiful piece'a work to get to play with. Going to look mint on Instagram and my portfolio. Just make sure you angle your ass enough when I take the photo, aye darlin’?”

Jo shifted awkwardly as her boyfriend took the design from the other, before turning to give her childhood friend access to apply the necessary serum and then bandage to her hip and thigh.

“Where…where did you get this?” Jack’s voice shook slightly as he looked at the page, and Jo could see the tattoo artist freeze before spinning and sliding his way through the door into the bakery without a word. If she’d been able to see his face, she knew he would have been biting down on his knuckle to avoid speaking. “Jo? Did you-?”

“Find a real beautiful piece in one of your old folders and talked Ash into expanding from American traditional and Japanese to do some fine-line grey work? Yep, yes I did.”

Jo looked up through her hair at the other, not sure what the almost vacant and frozen look on his face meant. They’d been dating for two years, sure, but she hadn’t seen that look since the University mixer eight months ago when he’d frozen up at some question from some patron about when he was doing another exhibit or something. She did remember the silence and the cold responses she had gotten from him until they got home when she’d said he was doing her wall again at the patron’s insistence about where his next work was being displayed. Jo bit her lip hoping that she wouldn’t get the same cold response when he saw her leg.

“You found my sketches? And thought to get one..” Jack’s face was pulled into a closed off frown, brows creased only slightly and the rest of his face blank except for the swirl of colour from light to dark in his eyes she knew came from him focussing really hard on what to say next. “You got my artwork put on you without asking me?”

“I didn’t think it’d be a big deal.” She mumbled the words out, arms crossing under her chest as she looked away from him. Pushing to her feet and letting the blanket drop down, the blonde moved towards her folded pair of sweatpants and underwear to get dressed again now the bandages were in place without looking back at him. “I’ve always wanted a fine line styled one, and something about that just… Spoke to me. Said ‘Jo, I need to be on your body’ or something like that.”

Once she’d gotten her underwear back on, she jumped at the hand on her unbandaged hip as she span to look up at him. His eyes were dark blue - moody, pensive, aroused or quietly angry; but she couldn’t quite tell which one.

“Show me.” The growled words made her want to smirk but she fought it down - aroused or angry it was then - before she peeled the edge of her bandage off to display the design in its entirety, the band of her underwear pulled high over the very top of her hip bone.

Ash had done an amazing job, like always.

While her rib tattoos were highly saturated in their coloring with vibrant depths in the primary colours of the American Traditional style, and their thick borders and shading added contrast and depth that she’d loved and found her own artist appreciated regularly with his fingertips or lips, this design was the complete opposite.

Shades of grey, from inky black depths to almost nonexistent white highlights that accentuated the skin gaps of the petals, we’re all that made up the design. The thin but deliberate lines flowed together, dots and fading shading used in equal measure to add depths to the folds and turns of the design. The flowers spread and bloomed across her thigh and hip, her own skin filling in the petals like they were blooming from inside her rather than pressed upon her surface. It had been a simple sketch of a group of flowers, from the date in the bottom corner Jo figured sometime before whatever fame he had achieved in the art world from her Googling of him before they’d begun dating, but there had been a soul and life in them. And with Ash’s deft hand and skill, they seemed to grow even more organically from her skin than the paper as if they had always been there. Just below the surface.

His hand twitched towards her, and his finger hovered just above her raised skin as if he was following the lines of his own work like he remembered it, before he reached to smooth the bandage back into place at the clunking sound of the spinning chair drawing nearer to return.

“So, what do you think? Something I should expand more into?” The blond man asked as he span his way back into the parlor, three plates from the bakery and several utensils in his hand as he rolled into sight.

The dating pair nodded, Jo pulling her sweatpants on while Jack rubbed at the back of his neck awkwardly.

“You did a great job, Ash, and I’ll make sure to wear my cutest thong when the swelling goes down for your photo.” The blonde quipped back, winking across at her friend.

“You are an angel of the highest order, mamacitta, I’ll see about getting you included when Inked is coming for that photoshoot next month.” Ash replied, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pressing a kiss to her cheek with a grin before he moved to start dishing out the Kung Pao Chicken and fried rice on his plate.

“Photoshoot?”

“Ash is gettin’ featured in some bigshot magazine again. They like to get examples of old work and new work of his for it to give a real, longterm work.” Jo replied, piling her and the other’s plate high with dinner and stuffing a prawn cracker in her mouth. Biting down and letting the cracker disolve on her tongue, she found herself smiling at the appreciative look from the other as he sat down on the tattoo bench beside her. “I already agreed to getting my sides photographed as part of his older work-”

“And now you get to be part of my new work too.” The mulleted artist smirked, slurping up one of the Singapore noodles straight from the container. “It’ll be on the 15th, so make sure you get someone in to fill that time for you.”

Jo nodded her head, not really thinking on it as she began to wolf down her own meal. Tattooing, especially for that long, always made her ravenous as Ash had a strict no-eating policy when he was working. Something about it distracting him from the ‘art’, but she thought it was more that he just got jealous she could stuff her face and he couldn’t without having to go through the sanitisation again.

Jack bumped her knee however, raising an eyebrow at her as he questioned quietly, “Don’t you have that tail for that week? About the wedding and the cake and the bakery?”

That got a groan from her as Jo tipped her head to the side, resting on Jack’s shoulder in exhaustion. “Oh god, that’s true… Ah well, they can just wait for an hour or two while we shoot or something.”

“That or they’ll include it, show off your body in two magazines, aye?” The eyebrow waggle from the tattooer got a tired sounding laugh from her, and she could feel the other’s shoulder shake from his own silent laughter. “Promise we’ll keep her covered up some, Jack.”

“That’s her choice,” The other responded, tucking into his own late-night dinner with them. Jo could see a splatter of paint on the back of his neck from where she was, clearly having spent the night on his own working on his own artwork. “Though I think Rolling Stone may actually appreciate getting a half-dressed show by tagging along too.”

“It’s not like it’s a cover story - that’s your sister, not me, hun.” Jo ribbed back, chewing thoughtfully over her chicken as Ash span away to get some beers from his fridge.

The second week of the next month was something she was dead nervous about. It wasn’t like it was the first article her bakery had been featured in, nor was it the first time she had been interviewed personally - but those had always been for small local or state publications. Or the odd collumn in the society pages when she’d accompanied her step-dad to a reunion special, or been caught on camera out with the brunette sister of Jack’s in the last two years.

But this time it was a large, international even magazine coming to speak with her. A reporter was planned to follow her about for the week to write a feature story as part of the ongoing coverage about the wedding in six months time. The wedding was due to be Kardashian Level Big according to Shada, whatever that meant, and Jo had somehow been sucked into the epicentre of it almost as much as the bride herself.

It had started with an innocent offer to bake the cake. Something Jo would have done for any of her friend’s upon hearing of their engagement - something Jo had done before when Dean’d been engaged to Lisa six years ago (not that it lasted) and when Sam told her that he and Jessica were finally getting married last year. So when Shada had bounced her way into the back of the bakery three months earlier to show off the glittering diamond on her hand, the words had come out with genuine intent and happiness for the other woman. An innocent and wellmeaning offer which was still well meant and innocent enough; but had somehow been the start of the whole cycle of crazy the blonde was now preparing for.

Two weeks after the engagement announcement, Jo had found herself being swept up into a hug and answering ‘yes’ to her boyfriend’s sister’s request for her to be one of her bridesmaids. Shada had said she would have wanted her for a maid-of-honour (though Jo wasn’t sure how to tell her that wasn’t the correct term) but given Jo was already helping “so much” with the wedding cake that the sweet girl did not want to add any extra duties on top of her. Jo wasn’t aware how much that was a blessing at the time, but she did now. Three weeks after that, the engagement party happened.

Since then, it had been non-stop for Jo. It was as if a paparazzi bomb had gone off in front of the bakery given how frequently the bride and her pose came by to speak with her, not to mention all of the other typical wedding activities she had been dragged along to. It had taken all of her willpower not to drop out of it after Shada had tearfully confessed one night while Jack was reading a bedtime story to Billy that if it weren’t for Jo, she would think the whole thing might just be a sham for the show’s publicity. A lot of wine bottles were finished that night while the two women talked, letting the younger one vent about how out of control it had gotten and how much she loved her fiance’s patience with it all. Jo had dragged the bride’s brother to the bedroom after Shada had left, and thanked him for his own patience until it was almost dawn.

It had been last month that she had received the call from some reporter - a Chuck something-or-other - about her being part of a six-month series following along those involved in the monstrostity that was coming of the event and an “inside view to the love story of the year” from the deadpanned description the reporter had given her over the phone. Jo had laughed so much at that that she’d found herself agreeing before she knew what was happening. Her month would be the second month of the series; however she had already been featured and introduced in the story that had been released that very week. Story one had been a shallow interview with each of the bridal party about the happy couple, and a feature on the gianormous ring. Month two would be following Jo around as a bridesmaid and the baker for the event. She had heard month four’s topic would be some monstrosity about the bridesmaids shopping and fittings which would start during her week follow-around and expanded on later with the rest of the bridesmaids that she was not looking forward to.

Jack’s laugh distracted her from her thoughts though as Jo accepted a longneck from Ash. “You’re my cover girl though, pretty sure they’ll decide to make you one too if they spot the tattoo shoot.” His fingers stroked through her hair as Jo plucked his egg roll from his plate with a smile. “I’m sure it will all be fine, Jo.”

“I’m sure you think it will be.” Mumbling around the stolen egg roll, the three slowly demolished the food and the topic moved on to Ash’s work and the upcoming University art display for the other’s senior classes. It was almost one thirty before the three finally packed up and headed their separate ways home. Thankfully it was a Sunday morning which meant the bakery would be closed and the tattoo shop would not open until midday.

As Jo and Jack reached his town house and got ready for bed, the blonde baker found herself turning back and forth in the mirror of the bathroom with a smile on her face. The bandage covered her most recent work, but she could visualise the soft and dark greys of the work underneath as she looked at it beside her other pieces. It was positioned below the American Traditional styled piece dedicated to her father branded across her ribs, the bright red and bold roses surrounding the chrome’d motorbike would tie-in with the roses blooming across her hip; while the grey tones would mesh with the silver of the bikes design nicely. She could tell the love her childhood friend had put into both pieces - the love of his work, the love of the art and skill, and the love for her - would would stare back at her every time she saw each piece for the rest of her life.

Turning the other way, Jo found herself stroking the bare skin of the other hip wonderingly as to how to find a piece to tie in with the roses and guitar on that side of her ribs - a dedication to her son - but also match the new grey work. Perhaps she could talk her artist into making her a custom piece this time, perhaps even featuring an anchor, eagle and globe for her son’s father. She shook her head at that thought. That would require talking to someone about him, and as she felt the telltale pricking at her eyes, she knew that was a conversation she was still not ready for.

Brushing her teeth quickly to divert her thoughts, the baker found herself cuddling into the small spoon position when she returned to the bed, Jack’s arms wrapping tightly across her waist. The last thing she thought as his warm breath brushed against the back of her neck and Jo found herself snuggling back into his warmth was that she was so lucky to have a second go around.

Over the next three weeks Jo found herself smiling every time she remembered the new design on her leg, be it when she’d catch a sight of it in the shower, or when Ash would make a joke about getting her undressed again, or when Jack’s lips would press against it once it was healed enough. She always loved getting new work done and Dean made a joke each time she got one done that she experienced some kind of natural high from them. Jo snarked back that he’d understand it if he wasn’t such a bitch that he was scared of a little needle.

As Monday rolled around, the baker found herself in the kitchen decorating a tray of mojito flavoured cupcakes with a lime infused buttercream and pearlescent green candy balls and candied lime peel when she was interrupted.

“Hey Jo, there’s some guy here for you.” Sam’s voice snapped her out of her routine of swirling the icing with a jolt. The taller man had the good decency to look apologetic as she set her piping bag down as he moved over to start taking over the decorating duties. Jo still wasn’t sure why he still worked for her. He had finished his law degree the previous year, but he’d yet to move into permanent employment in the field - taking over some of the work from Ash now that the parlor was up and running in the last eighteen months, but making no comment to Jo about when he’d be handing over his apron for a suit. She wasn’t sure what she would do when he finally did though. Probably cry at him until he changed his mind, but that was something for Future Jo to worry about. “Looks kind of sketchy but said something about trailing you?”

“That’d be the reporter, remember? That thing for Stone about Shada’s wedding.”

“That’s this week?”

Jo laughed at the apprehensive tone to the other’s voice and the way Sam’s hands dropped the piping bag to start straightening his denim apron and pat at his manbun self-conciously. “Yes, that’s this week so don’t forget to actually look cute for once in your life.”

“Hey! I am always cute,” Sam replied, tugging the name badge - the same Sam-I-Am written in faded ink over and over - to sit jauntily angled before he reached out to tweak her nose. Jo laughed nasally as he let go with a smile. “Where as you’ll have to remember to get your beauty rest and not just screw your boyfriend until sunrise every night.”

“Excuse me?” The unfamiliar voice interrupted the pair, both jerking in surprise and straightening up as if they were twelve and thirteen again and Ellen had overheard them discussing something they shouldn’t be. Jo blinked her eyes a few times as she finally located where the voice had come from - a man with dark hair, scruffy beard and a somewhat bemused smirk, slightly disheveled clothes and an average height with a messenger bag slung across his front and a dictaphone in one hand standing in the open door to the front of the bakery beside Ash - and found herself blushing at the fact that was the first recorded words to her week long interview. “Uh, I’m here for Rolling Stone?”

“Chuck Shurley, right? Yes, yes, nice to meet you - I’m Jo! Jo Harvelle.” The baker slipped quickly into her usual friendly greeting, brushing her hand off of the nervous sweat starting in her palm on her thigh as she rushed across the room to shake the other’s hand. Jerking her head behind her at the taller man as he turned his attention back to the cupcakes, Jo found herself glaring at her friend sharply. “And that’s Sam Winchester, and he’s going to shut the fuck up right now, aren’t you Sammy?”

“Sure thing, boss!” The cheery response made her want to growl but her eyes focussed on the silver recording device the only thing stopping her.

Directing the man back out into the main area of the bakery, Jo led the other over to one of the empty tables as Ash began warming up the coffee machine for the day and getting the bakery ready for customers in the next hour.

“So, uh… How is this, um, going to be going this week?” Jo asked stiltedly, her hands twitching awkwardly around eachother on the tabletop as the man across from her slung his messenger bag off and set the silver recording device down and pulled out a battered looking notebook. “I mean, I know that Thursday we’re doing some bridesmaid shopping or something, and I emailed you about the appointment for the parlor next door tomorrow - but other than that, what, uh, exactly are you intending to do this week?”

Chuck tumbed through his notebook without looking up at her until he got to whatever page he was intending to start on before he finally looked across at her. Jo felt a little like a deer in the headlights as the reporter pulled out a pen and stared across at her.

“Those are two specific outtings, yes, but for the most part I’ll just be trailing you about on a day-to-day basis, asking questions and possibly interviewing friends as well.” He cleared his throat a little awkwardly, and as if summoned by the awkwardness, Ash appeared with two glasses, a glass bottle of water and two coffees for the pair of them. Jo fought down the urge to kiss him as she began to almost inhale the caffienated liquid, not even reacting to the wink he shot her. Bloody psychic friends, knowing her inside and out. Chuck too drank from his own coffee before he jotted something down in his notepad she couldn’t see. “If you’ve got the chance to do a demonstration of the cake, or just one of the teirs of what is sure to be the monstrosity- I mean, extravagantly beautiful cake, then I know that’d be really important for the piece-”

“I can definitely bake up a teir or two of the amazing masterpiece for the wedding of the year-”

“With photos? Of the creative process required for such an… exciting event.”

“Yes, you can photograph the process.”

“Excellent.”

Both trailed off quietly, however the slight awkwardness had faded as both smirked a little. Jo found herself having to bite the inside of her cheek.

“Off record-”

“Okay, off the record.”

“-You’re not looking forward to covering this are you?” Jo asked politely, hiding her smile behind her mug.

The reporter appeared to pause for a moment, eyes darting away as if trying to decide the best, most diplomatic response, before he looked back at her with his own self-depricating smile. “That obvious huh?” Chuck let out a small chuckle. “Usually I’m touring with bands and such or doing some investigative articles, not.. a fake socialite turned celebrity’s wedding.”

“I read that article on ‘A week in the life of a YouTube something-or-other’ a few months ago actually.” Jo replied, smiling congenially across at the other. “And my boyfriend was a fan of your introspective into the decline of alternative music festivals.”

“Can we go back on the record?”

“Sure?”

“Brilliant. Let’s start with some basic questions, aye?” The awkwardness was fully gone as both relaxed back into their seats and the man looked down at his pages as if deciding where to start. “So, your name is Joanna Beth Harvelle-”

“But I go by Jo.”

“Jo, then.” He scribbled a note down. “Your mom and dad’s names?”

“Ellen and William Harvelle.”

“And you’ve got a step-father, right?”

“Yeah, Bobby Singer - you’ve probably got down to chat with him sometime anyways.” Jo replied almost boredly as they made their way through the basic questions.

“He’s the director on the bride’s TV show correct? Is that how you met the blushing bride?”

“Nah, she’s actually my boyfriend’s sister, so I knew her before she was cast. Not that that had anything to do with either-” Jo was quick to add, shifting to sit upright a bit more, rather than relaxing as she realised she needed to be careful to definitely paint her friend in the best light now they were back on record. “-I didn’t actually know Bobby was working on the project, or that Shada was an aspiring actress actually, until after they started filming.”

“Speaking of your boyfriend - he’s Jack Grey, correct?”

“Yes, he’s a lecturer at Cornish in the arts programs.”

The reporter nodded along with her words, jotting down something as he flicked a look up to her face that made Jo flush. “He was a big name in the art circuit a while back, wasn’t he?”

“I wouldn’t know really, not really my scene and I didn’t know him back then.”

“How long have you been together?”

“Just over two years now.” Jo smiled thinking back on how quickly the time had seemed to go, dipping her teaspoon and stirring her coffee absent mindedly as she fell into the easy responses to the easier question.

“And before that you were married, correct?”

The question caught he off guard, spoon clattering loudly against the side of the cup as her eyes widened. She could hear the sound of coughing from behind her somewhere and the hissing sound of the milk frother being turned to full without any milk jug underneath it. She could see the curious look from the reporter and the quick movement of his pen as he wrote down something as he stared back at her. She could feel the heat leaving her cheeks and her stomach twisting around on itself, and her throat catching as if suddenly parched of any moisture.

“Uh..what?”

“You were married before, making you the only married bridal party member. A, uh, William Mark Reynolds correct?” Chuck appeared to look quickly between her face and his notes, frowning slightly. “A captain in the marines, killed in action in Afghanistan five and a half years ago. Awarded a Medal of Honor for-”

“For disobeying orders to rescue civillians from an occupied ISIL facility, and for blocking the escaping civillians path from the combatants with his own body.” She replied almost mechanically, the words combing back to her from the visit by the Marine officer sent to break the news to her. Jo found her stomach twisting again tightly as it had then, however at that time it had hurt doubly from the pressure of their boy inside growing. Shaking her head, she blinked across at the other man with a tight smile. “My husband lost his life in the line of duty, and gave twenty-three people their’s back. That’s all I have to say on that.”

“Would you mind if, should it suit the article, we include the photo of your receiving the award on his behalf?” The photo in question was pushed across to her on the reporter’s phone, and Jo bit back an inappropriate laugh at how different she looked in it to now. Haunted and sallow, sunken eyes and limp hair, and the crisp black dress not hiding at all the protrouding stomach she had at the time of the ceremony. It was the time she had started baking, and within a year had the bakery up and running and a smile back on her face after months of the same blank look in the image.

Jo shook her head, pushing the phone back across the table to the other. “I’d prefer you don’t, and I’m sure you’ll have more interesting things to include than that too much.”

“That’s true, I’ll see what I can do to ensure not to spend too much time on it.” The genuine smile she received in return as well as the softness in his tone helped to smooth the tightness in her at the line of questioning, as Chuck clicked his phone screen back to black before turning his attention back to his notes. “Anyway, you have a son?”

“Billy - William Dean, but we call him Billy. He’s almost five.”

“And you’re the owner of this fantastic bakery, correct?”

“Yes, this is my other baby!” Jo laughed, the tightness disappearing in full as the topic turned back to easier topics.

From there, the questions moved through to how long she had been baking, when the bakery had opened and what had inspired her ‘unique’ choice in name. How she came to meet Shada and her fiance Ian - which Jo felt uniquely qualified to provide an indepth telling of the pairs first meeting in the very kitchen behind them. Chuck laughed at her retelling the story, and both agreed to take some photos of the space and possibly even re-create the “life changing coffee” as Jo dubbed it on the other woman’s behalf. How the bride had asked her to be part of the bridal party, how Jack would be participating in the wedding - “He’s going to be walking his sister down the aisle, and is the last of the groomsmen” - and how she had found the wedding arrangements thus far.

As the hour reached the time for the bakery to open for trading, the reporter simply shrugged his bag back upon his shoulder, tucked away his notepad and brought out a professional camera to begin taking candid photos of the bakery and it’s workers. Jo herself headed back into the kitchen to begin on a new load of pastries for the day as Sam returned to the front of house and Ash began to flit between the coffee machine and his parlor. The rest of the day passed relatively easily, with Chuck almost an invisible presence as the trio moved through their usual patterns of the day. Jo almost forgot to cut him a slice of the quiche lorraine they were having for lunch that day with how unobtrusive he was.

Occasionally, she’d be drawn into a line of questioning about the business and her personal life, as well as to reflect on the bride herself, but for the most part Chuck appeared content to follow her around quietly other than to ask where he could charge his phone and dictaphone. Ash would bring him in a coffee at the same times he would deliver Jo her own, and she heard them have a slight discussion at one point about her and his friendship. She was exceptionally happy to hear Ash never once mentioned the knife collection Jo’d begun collecting as a child, as she doubted that would run well.

So far as her work, the day had been an almost mindless blur of rushing about the kitchen space preparing to get ahead of herself for the hours off she would be taking the next day. Sam handled customers like the pro he was, sweet talking everyone and keeping a smooth transition of items from the back to front without any input from her; while she knew in the adjoining space, Ash would be drinking beer, spinning on his chair and smashing out the prep work for the week’s tattoos ahead of him and preparing for the photoshoot the next day - occasionally Jo could hear him stop to help with barista duties given the tattoo parlor was not open Monday’s or Tuesday’s typically; as well as the odd conversation between all three men working in the building alongside her.

Just before midday, Chuck and Sam had entered the kitchen and set up some kind of rig to capture her in motion with a slow exposure system for stills as well as a video camera for the video miniseries that would accompany the piece. Jo barely thought of it as she continued to work like a madwoman to pump out tray upon tray of brownies, ice racks full of different cupcakes and pile cakes high with fruit and garnishes. She was just glad she’d had the foresight not to agree to any weddings or functions that weekend. Brownies filled with hazelnuts, Nutella spread and drizzled with white chocolate slipped into the fridge beside raspberry cupcakes, poppy seed muffins, dark chocolate tortes, fruit pies and savory quiches and pies. So far as Jo was concerned, the day was like any other with the constant battle to bake ahead of her needs and the scent of chocolate, berries and baking bread filling her nose; cocoa and flour dusting her hair, brushing her cheeks and coating her hands as always.

It wasn’t until it hit four in the afternoon that Jo was reminded that the reporter was slinking about when she’d been greeted by her dark haired man with a wide grin and kiss as usual as he made his way into the back kitchen. She had her arms around his neck, one hand in his hair and the other tugging him into her by his scarf as he brushed her cheek clear of a white streak of flour when the sound of repeated camera shutters disturbed her from her usual greeting.

“Uh… Some privacy?” Jo pulled back from the other to look towards the reporter, camera still out and snapping candid movements as the pair didn’t step back from one another.

There was another few shutter sounds before the man lowered the camera back to the bench and pulled out his dictaphone instead. “Sorry Jo, privacy is for next week. Hi, Chuck Shurley, big big fan of your watercolor period.” The reporter made his way over, hand held out for the other to shake as he smiled in that same self-depricating way Jo had come to know as his bemused look over the last nine hours. “The sunflower segment was a phenomenal series.”

“Oh.. Oh, thanks. Yeah, uh, they definitely were, um, some of my work. Yep.” Jo looked on as the same cold, almost indifferent look swept over his boyfriend’s face as he shook hands with the other man, his other arm staying firmly wrapped around her waist. Jack’s eyes darted about and she could see his jaw muscle clench for a moment. “Nice to meet you, Chuck. I, uh, hope Jo hasn’t caused you too many problems so far today.”

“Hey!” She let out an outraged cry, hand tugging at his scarf playfully angry as she looked up at him. The sound of the camera clicking caught her off guard again as the pair had smiled and smirked at one another before the playful looks dropped from their faces at the sound. Jo coughed awkwardly before turning back to her cupcake work while Jack stepped back a few feet to pick up one of the brownies laid out on a tray ready to be moved out front or stored into the fridge for the next day.

“So, Jack Grey, you’re Shada’s older brother, right?”

“Yes, Shada’s my little sister.” Jack slumped back against the counter top as Jo turned her attention back to her current work. She wasn’t sure what the tone in his voice or the slightly cool attitude he was putting off was about, but figured the reporter would inevitably want to interview him now or in future and was taking advantage of the opportunity as it presented itself. “Our parents were Eleanor and Michael Grey, they have since passed away before you get to those questions.”

The lemon and honey infused cupcakes she was currently working on, a pale golden yellow batter that had come out of the oven right before they moved from a light gold to a warm brown color on the top, were testers for the wedding cake she’d be trialling later in the week itself. She had to decide over the next day to decide on the best icing for the mix - whether she went for the basil and lemon infused buttercream that she moved towards the mixer to whip up, or if she brought in the purple theme for the outer decoration by swirling blueberries or blackberries into the buttercream too.

“Thanks for confirming, uh.. So, were your parents creatives too? To have had both a prolific artist and a rising star actress in the family, it would beg the question.”

“Our mother was a dental assistant and our father was an accountant. So no. They weren’t particularly creative people.”

“In that case, as the first of the artists in the family - how do you think your sister is handling her rise to fame?” Chuck’s question sounded weird, and the tones of both men sounded off to her; however Jo simply spared a quick glance towards the pair over her shoulder as she moved to start working on the berry coulis. Neither seemed particularly odd, Jack seemed to be appreciating his brownie as much as always and the reporter was simply flipping through his notebook with the dictaphone beside them. “It’s so similar to your own rise to prominance too. Straight out of the last few years of study, picked up by a renowned name in the industry and flashed into the public sphere.”

“My sister is very mature for her age.” The words were practically growled out, and as Jo stirred about the berry mix in the saucepan over the hob, she chanced another look behind her. Jack’s arms were crossed firmly across his chest, and that cold look was back. Peculiar. “Shada also has the benefit of being surrounded by people who want the best for her, and have had their own experiences, as you say, with the problems of popularity and attention. People who will help keep her on the right path.”

“Ah. Yes. Not going to see her follow your footsteps then?”

That caught her attention, back straightening and ears pricked but made no move to look around to see what was happening. It was quiet for a moment before Jo found herself getting a kiss on the cheek and a pat on her hip before Jack mumbled something about ‘catching up with her later’ and leaving. Very, very peculiar.

Finishing off the coulis and moving back towards her station, setting the hot pan down on a cooling pad to be used once it had dropped down in temperature. The buttercream was almost finished whipping in the mixer as Jo switched that off as well. Spooning half the basil, lemon buttercream into a medium, petal nozzel piping bag; she began piping in a rose around the top of half the cupcakes as she waited for the berry mix to cool.

She could hear the man rustling about in his bag behind her, flipping pages back and forth, feet shuffling loudly on the concrete floor, and the click of the back of the dictaphone being slid open for more batteries again.

“What was that all about?” Jo found herself asking while the other’s recording device was not recording every word she said. “Off record, what was that all about?”

“Your boyfriend is a bit of an enigma in the art world, if you didn’t know. He was huge for a while there, people were saying he was going to be the next classics master, first one in generations.” Chuck replied, fitting the batteries back into his recorder, but not turning it back on yet as he moved over to watch what she was doing. A snap of his camera came as she added the last petal to the cupcake in her hand. “And then seemingly overnight, he just dropped off the radar after torching his studio. Burnt over a million dollars of artwork some have valued the loss at.”

Jo’s brow shot up, not having dug much further than just that he’d had an exhibit that went around the world some ten years earlier than her meeting him, as she looked across at the other. “Really?”

“He was set to be huge. But none of his work has been seen since then.”

“Huh, guess I shouldn’t have got him to keep painting over his work out front then, aye?” Jo laughed a little to herself, shaking her head as she picked up another cupcake.

The icing on that one was ruined however when she heard the clattering of the reporter’s notebook to the floor surprised her. Jerking around, she looked at the other in confusion.

“Wait..that…that mural out in the main room?” Chuck appeared to struggle to get the words out, staring at her wide eyed. “Is that a Jack Grey?”

Jo nodded her head with another laugh, quirking her lips up as she sat the piping bag and cupcake down on her work station. Brushing her hands off on her apron, she reached across to the top of the work bench for her phone. “Yeah, that’s I think the tenth one I’ve got him to do? I’ve got photos of some of the other’s on here somewhere too.”

For the next thirty minutes the pair stood together flicking through the somewhat unartful photos Jo had snapped of each of her murals over the last two years - from a wall full of flowers with secret faces in the centres, to a black-and-white labyrinth maze, to a stylised sketchy portrait of her and her son that was done to celebrate Billy’s birthday, to a wall full of swirling colours making designs and shapes within itself that was hard to define but had made Jo smile for two whole months - while the dictaphone remained off and Jo answered off record questions about the other’s work in the last two years. Both sides were surprised as they talked, one that the artist was still making art, the other that it was a surprise for him to be doing so.

Once the coulis was cooled down, Jo poured it in lines around the star nozzel piping bag before filling the centre with the remaining buttercream. The swirls were a mix of purple and white atop the other half of the cupcakes by the time Ash and Sam made their way into the kitchen after tidying down the store front and closing up.

“So, we’ll meet back here tomorrow for the… uh?” Chuck looked a little helplessly at the trio as he flicked back and forth through the notebook, now with extra sheets of paper stuck in at all kinds of angles, including napkins and baking paper when they couldn’t locate normal paper.

“Inked magazine shoot next door.” Ash supplied generously, thumbs stuck through his belt as he relaxed back next to Jo, staring hungrily at the rack of cupcakes for the next day. Moving quickly, Jo shoved the rack of her wedding-tester cupcakes into the fridge as Sam added the last two trays of brownies and a slab of cinnamon buns in after her. The fridge was more full than she normally allowed it to get; with premade elements such as the cupcakes and brownies, as well as trays of unbaked bread, buns and rolls ready to be thrown in the oven throughout the next day so there would be freshly baked items as well. The pout that graced the other’s face as he brushed a hand through his long back hair made Jo smirk. “Got this nightmare getting done sometime around lunch, but I’ll be needing her all day. You know, emotional support.”

“What a liar, Ash, you don’t have emotions!”

“Ugh, the pain, the hurt, you break my heart, girlie.” The mulleted tattooer held his hands up to his heart, clutching in fake pain as he stared back at her. Jo wiped a fake tear from her own eye in response, giving an exagerated sniff, before getting caught up in a hug by the other blond. Squealling as her feet left the ground, she wasn’t even surprised to hear the click of the camera at this point, nor the laughter from the other men watching. As Ash sat her back down on the ground, she elbowed him in the ribs gently. “Anyway, Jo’s going to be out of the kitchen all day with me and the guys from Inked, as well as Garth, Gordon, Creedy and Tamara - just so you know Jo and don’t yell at me-”

“Really? You’ve got Gordon coming?”

“Get over it Jo, it was three crappy dates and him texting that he was seeing someone else.” Jo was interrupted in her whining about the man coming and being a part of the shoot by Sam, shaking his hair out of his manbun now that the food was away and the day was over. He reached out a clapped a hand on her shoulder with a smile. “Don’t worry though, I’m going to make sure to burn all of his coffees and add a ton of sugar.”

“But he’s keto at the moment for the next comp-ooooh.” Jo grinned widely in response at the other, rolling her eyes at the mischief that Sam would inevitably get up to tomorrow. He and the other man had never gotten along well, and Jo was almost certain he’d been involved somehow in scaring the other away three years ago when Jo and Gordon had begun to strike up a flirtation when he’d been visiting a lot to discuss his next work with Ash. However it could have been Billy that scared the other off, and the blonde couldn’t help but smile thinking how much better off she was now than three or even four years earlier.

Finishing the last bit of tidying up and confirming the time for ten am the next day, Jo bid goodbye to the other’s before heading back to Jack’s townhouse to get started on dinner and hand over duties with her mom. The night went by quietly - Billy had behaved himself at childcare and for the two hours Ellen watched over him in the evening before Jo and Jack both made it home, Jack’s cold mood seemed to have disappeared completely if the flowers were any indication, and the trio spent a normal night playing games on the rug in front of the television before Jack took Billy for his bedtime story.

As the pair finally retired for bed after two episodes of Good Omens and half a bottle of red wine each, Jo found herself curling into her spot in the crook of the other’s neck and asking quietly, “Did you really torch a whole pile of your paintings?”

She could feel him stiffen for a moment before his arms wrapped around her again tightly. Jack’s voice was just as quiet, as if it was said softly enough it would remain a secret, just between the two of them. “Yeah, my manager was not happy but fuck him.” His fingers stroked through her hair gently as Jo snuggled in closer again. “He was the one that pushed me to pump out crap, he didn’t deserve a single cent of commision from it and I was… exhausted. Physically and creatively. The news said it was the whole studio, but really it was just a few canvases. I was done.”

She hummed in response, curling her fingers around his shoulders as she hugged into his chest, breathing deeply. It was intoxicating, the smell of oil paints, mens deoderant and that underlying scent she’d come to associate with home. Nodding her head against his chest, cheek pressed against the thin, soft sleep tshirt fabric, Jo could appreciate the other’s past as much as she hoped he would hers one day. Not today though, she’d thought on it enough already today, more than she had in over two years; and she didn’t want to go digging around in that box of memories again. “I’m glad you did it then, otherwise you wouldn’t be here now.”

“Exactly, what’s a bit of arson to make everything right, huh.” The words rumbled in his chest and made her smile as they shared a few kisses before rolling about to get to sleep. She would have rolled on top of him, but Ash had made her promise not to get any hickeys and to get a good nights sleep before she’d left the bakery.

And a good nights sleep she got.

Jo rolled into the bakery the next morning, Billy’s hand held tightly in hers since she wouldn’t be in the kitchen unable to watch him that day, and quickly grabbed up the plate of cinnamon buns that Sam had already baked that morning from the kitchen before taking the young boy through to the tatto parlor where there were the starts of the shoot were getting underway. There were lighting rigs, and cameras everywhere. There were cords all over the floors, and Billy was very careful when stepping over them to her relief and pride as they made their way through to where Ash was nursing a beer already.

“Just starting, or didn’t you stop?” Jo asked quietly as she moved Billy to sit up on the tatto bench beside his favourite ‘uncle’. She tore one of the buns in half, handing one half to each of her blond men with a smile.

Ash shook his head as he bit down into the fluffy, cinnamon infused bun before looking at her in surprise at the hidden apple chunks. “Didn’t stop. Saw that beauty round on Elm Street, god Pamela is a goddess, you know?”

Jo raised a brow back at her friend, and almost snorted at the same look on her son’s face towards the tattoo artist though without the knowing leer she knew she was delivering alongside it.

“Uncle Ash, a person can’t be a god,” Billy’s voice cut over whatever Jo had thought to say, biting down on the laugh his words made her want to do.

“You’d be mostly right there, buddy, but when you’re older, you and I are going to have a chat about how all women are goddesses - its just us guys that don’t get any magic powers.” Ash smirked back at the kid, spinning around in his chair before tapping the boy’s nose with one finger. Billy scrunched up his face, looking disbelievingly at the other before dropping it and tucking into his own half of a bun.

The tattoo artist was called away after a few minutes of companionable silence between the trio while eating their belated breakfast buns. A moment after the tattooer left with his unfortunate mullet, the mother and son were joined by her shadow for the week.

“Morning Chuck, didn’t scare you off yesterday did I?”

“Very nearly.” The reporter replied, digging his dictaphone out again and clicking the power button as he’d done the day before. Jo barely acknowledged it now, used to it already. Chuck brushed his hands off, rubbing them together from the cold outside before he spotted the curious face looking at him from Jo’s other side. “Uh, hi there kiddo. I’m, um, Chuck. And you must be Billy.”

“Yep!” The chirpped response from the cinnamon covered boy came with a wide toothy smile, before he held out a sticky hand to the older man. Jack must have been teaching him the manners Jo never bothered to. “You’re the person doing the story on Aunty Shaday?”

“That he is, kiddo. He’s going to be following Mommy around for the rest of the week, so you’ll be on your best behavior wont you?”

“Yessum Mommy.”

“Good boy. Now, did you want to go see if Uncle Sammy would make you a hot cocoa?” Jo asked quietly, running a hand over her boy’s hair as he looked around the place as if he were bored. “And later, Sammy might even get you to help out with decorating some cupcakes if you ask him real nicely.” It wasn’t uncommon on non-baking days for Billy to come into the shop and spend an afternoon icing monstrosities of cakes and sugar cookies under the watchful eye of Sam or Jo. Today however, Sam had roped Jessica into coming in to help out under the guise of practice-parenting so Jo knew there was nothing to worry about with a real nurse on hand for once should anything go wrong.

The young boy disappeared with a squeal back into the bakery, and Jo could hear his excited rambling at the younger couple about cocoa and cupcakes over the din of the photo shoot starting up. The man beside her chuckled a little, flicking open his notebook again and jotting down a few notes.

“Oh, in case you wanted to know, those two works up there-” Jo jerked her head across to the two sketch arts that Jack had done before they’d started dating for Ash’s studio, smirk forming as she saw the clearly not-a-morning-person reporter look about blearily. “-Are two more of Jack’s. A tattoo-parlor-warming present for Ash.”

“Really?” Chuck appeared to squint at the artworks for a moment, before snapping photos with his camera and settling back down again, coffee in hand. Clearly Sam had already taken good care of him that morning. “Any more priceless pieces about this place that my friends in the art community would gag over?”

“I mean, when we get into the photos, you might find another.” Jo smirked wider still at the confused look on the other’s face before her happy demeanor dropped slightly at the arrival of the other ‘models’.

Tamara and Creedy were decent enough people, always tipped Sam for their drinks when they had been by, and Jo figured that Creedy would be getting used for an ‘in action’ tattoo shot from the choice of button up shirt that he usually never wore. Tamara on the other hand had a beautiful Japanese style koi across her shoulder and back that Jo figured was going to be her contribution to the photoshoot. The one Jo found herself rolling her eyes over was when she caught the eye of and shared a nod with Gordon Walker. She was fairly certain he was another Japanese style, a greyscale-styled dragon that from what she remembered and could see poking out from under his t-shirt sleeve wound around his entire sleeve and across his chest. That one would be a pleasure for the photographer to cover today.

“So, who’s got what? What is this whole thing about?” The reporter’s question brought her attention back from following the well-defined sleeve tattoo’s progress around the parlor as Jo blinked back at the other with a shrug. “As much as I’ve followed musicians to their sessions before, a, uh, photo shoot for tattoos hasn’t been on my list of articles so far.”

“And a wedding cake has?”

“Touche.”

Jo laughed a little in response, as she wiped her hands off on her jeans awkwardly. The other three models were getting dragged through the rigmarole of styling as first timers, and the baker knew she would be going through the same process soon enough but given hers would be the only one requiring practically no clothing, there was no point her moving towards the wardrobe discussion. Ash had made a joke about using a sheet when he’d suggested the idea to her first, but looking around Jo knew that perhaps it wasn’t quite as much of a joke as she had thought it was.

Shaking her head, Jo pointed towards the other three, giving a slight wave to Tamara when she noticed her. “So those three over there are the other models - Tamara the lady will be displaying her back piece and likely have a few different poses to try out for it. Gordon, the one smirking over here,” she found herself smiling back nicely but nothing more than a short nod in response to the subject of her conversations look, “will be getting his arm and chest photographed so usually they’ll go for a standing shot. Probably Ash next to him, maybe near the window or by the Insta-wall. And Creedy is the other one, but Ash’ll actually be tattooing him today while they photograph the process - ah yes, there goes his shirt.” As she was talking the older man stripped off his shirt and moved over to the tattoo artist to look at whatever piece they were demonstrating today.

“They use an A-shooter and B-shooter. For the most part, the B will be with Ash and Creedy doing the step by step to see about getting some in action shots; while the A team will be doing photos with Tamara, Gordon and myself.”

“And what are you getting photographed today?” Chuck was noting down as she spoke, however for the most part it appeared to be on a blank page at the back of his book while she’d been describing the process of the day, before he flicked back to the section she knew was about her article. She spotted the words ‘cute little kid, very smart, takes after father - investigate’ before he looked up at her and Jo pretended she hadn’t been looking at his work. He raised a brow, pen poised over the paper.

“I’ll be the American traditional and Ash’s new exploration into fine line greys.” Jo replied with a smile, and bit back a laugh at the blank look as the reporter jotted the words down without comprehension. “Uh, either side of my ribs are two old school styled tattoos to show his main bread-and-butter style, while Tamara and Gordon will be the Japanese section Ash’s been getting a name for. And then my thigh is the fine line style - all the rage right now, and one of the first one’s he’s done. Creedy’ll probably be getting a smaller one on his forearm for the B-shoot.”

“Ah, if the photos end up any good-”

“I’m sure you’ll need to speak with Inked, but they will probably allow use of some of their photos. Or possibly your own. Go have a chat with the art director over there.” Jo waved her hand in the direction towards the crowd of magazine workers milling about and smiled as Chuck gave a nod and disappeared.

Hopping up onto the spare tattoo bench, Jo kicked her feet in the air a little as she pulled out her phone to check over her emails while she waited to be told where she’d next be needed. She could go check up on Jessica and Billy, but she didn’t want to come off as hovering and figured the other woman would appreciate being given the chance to really give motherhood a trial. Maybe she shouldn’t have given Billy a sugary bun for breakfast, but that was all part of the fun of babysitters. Flicking through the emails, she saw some were work related about orders and shipments of ingredients, some where the junk like her old school asking for alumni to return to ‘inspire’ the teens or silly forward emails from her mom. There was six from Shada and her collection of bridesmaids and wedding planner reminding everyone that the bridesmaid shopping would be in two days time, and Jo opened up a response to remind them all to look ‘extra pretty and put together’ as the Stone reporter would be tagging along when there was a bump to her knee distracting her mid sentence.

“Hey darling,” The deep voice caught her attention, and Jo barely restrained herself from the childish desire to jerk her knee away from the man’s hand. Looking up, she raised a brow up at Gordon with a frown. “How’ve you been? Did I see your little brat running about earlier?”

“Walker. Yes you did see Billy earlier, he’s currently with Sam’s fiance working on his icing skills out back.”

“I notice you didn’t answer how you are, Joanna.”

“I’m spectacular, actually.” Jo gritted the words out, turning her gaze back down to her phone and tapping out the end of her email before tucking it away. The amused look on the other’s face rubbed her the wrong way. Forcing herself to not rise to the bait, Jo smiled sickeningly sweetly back at him. “I’ve been extremely busy actually, was on Sugar RUSH last year and did pretty well, I’m being a bridesmaid for a big wedding later in the year, and my boyfriend and I are enjoying our time with Billy.”

“So you finally found someone to replace the big macho man, huh?” Gordon’s face twisted into a smirk as he leant on the bench beside her. “Gone for another military boy like Daddy?”

Jo grit her teeth, sneering back at the other, not dignifying his questioning with an answer.

“From the silence I’m going to assume he is. Did you end up with another William this time around - because if you did, darling, that’s just more than a little sad. Nobody’s going to live up to the last one. What could top a Medal of Honor, aye? Selfless sacrificing war hero leaving his mourning widow knock-”

He didn’t get to finish the rest of his theorising before Jo’s fist was thrown straight into his smug, shit talking mouth with a snarl. As he jerked his head back to the side, her other fist threw out towards where his mouth now was. Her ears were pounding and Jo felt herself rearing back to throw a third one before she was tackled to the side by something warm and heavy.

“Hey, hey now chickadee, gorgeous, mamacitta…” The words managed to sink through her anger as the rush of adrenaline left her shaky and numb as she glared across at the now furiously snarling man, held back from following through again by the warm, tight grip of her best friend. Ash had a harsh hold around her arms, pulling her back and away from the other. "Baby girl, you need to calm down."

As she felt herself calming down again, Jo realised the noise around the room had suddenly dipped, and glancing over the top of her friend’s shoulder, she could see eyes focussed right on her from every corner. She bit down a sneer at the furious look on the bleeding man’s face though.

“You calm now, mama?” Ash asked quietly in her ear, hands rubbing her arms carefully, not quite removing the pressure in case she made a move to go again. Too many fist fights, too many bar fights, and too many screaming fits after it happened had taught him never to trust if she looked calm that she was calm.

Jo nodded her head before he finally released her, cracking her aching fist as she attempted to avoid looking at anyone else but Ash. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good.”

“Good, good. We’re all good here people, let’s get back focussed hey?” The call came out from the tattooer as he looked over his shoulder towards the rest of the room. With a nod from him, the magazine workers went back to preparing for the shoot, while Tamara and Creedy both turned back to discussing one of the portfolio books Ash had out. Gordon only remained standing as quietly as he had before, eyes focussed on the pair of them before he get drawn away by one of the photo assistants.

“Hey, maybe you should suggest they use the bleeding for aesthetics or something.” Jo mumbled the words out as Ash finally stepped back from her, a smile growing on his face at her comment. Nodding, he rushed over towards the creative team with a lot of gesticulation and ‘framing’ hands towards Gordon. A flurry of movement followed shortly after and it appeared the A-shoot had begun.

There was a cough behind her, and the blonde wasn’t surprised at all to see the dark haired reporter popping up at her elbow unnoticed.

“So, a friend of yours?”

“Nah, just some asshole I dated once or twice. However, he loves a good tattoo so...”

“Ah.” Chuck’s voice was soft as he spoke, silve dictaphone held in hand as always, “Well, looks like you’ve helped crack an idea for the photo story at least.”

Looking over, Gordon was already shucking off his t-shirt and had begun moving into position, the focus arm to camera, muscles tightened and flexed to show off the elegant curves of the dragon onto his chest, while his other hand was fisted up as if hitting his own jaw right where Jo had landed her blows. As her eyes caught his, the dark heat of anger shining through towards her, Jo knew she’d just gotten them their best shot of the day for one of the twelve page feature article and spread for the other.

“I’m truly a creative genius, did you not learn that yesterday?” She qupped back, turning to sit back down on the tattoo bench, facing away from where the shoot had gotten underway and facing towards the B-shoot starting with Ash and Creedy. “Well, you’ll grasp that tomorrow when we work on the preliminary design for Shada’s wedding cake.”

“Ah yes, the cake, let’s talk cake while we’re waiting for your call shall we?”

“Well, it’s-” Jo paused for a second, tilting her head at the other as he began to fumble for his notebook to start taking notes alongside the dictaphone he passed her to hold this time. “You, uh, don’t really know what questions to ask or words for a food-focussed article do you?”

“Absolutely not. That’s why I defer to the professionals.” There was a cheeky smile that made him look five years younger and almost what Jo would consider as cute. Perhaps she’d have to find a single friend sometime soon if she was going to be stuck with his presence for the next six months.

Laughing, Jo waited for a nod from him that he was ready to start before begininng to speak and basically ask his own questions for him. They covered the type of cake - a chiffon sponge cake despite the bride’s claims that she wanted a genoise, what she didnt know wouldn’t hurt her - and then a small interlude where Jo expanded on the different types of sponge and why she had selected one of the simpler, more All-American sponge varities for the event. Then the flavor profile of just why Jo had selected honey (”to add the sweetness in a natural form and symbolic to make each day after sweeter”), lemon (”supposed to be for eternal love, but I just love me some honey-lemon mix”) and basil (”given how unique the couple are, it suits to add a touch of the unexpected to the cake”) for the main flavorings. And as the morning moved to afternoon, Jo began to explain aloud her concept for wrapping the layers in fondant and then incorporating the main color scheme of the wedding into a mottled, artistic style with swirls and paint splashes - “perhaps even some gold leaf just to add the sparkle I know Shada loves” - when the pair were finally approached for Jo’s turn under the camera lens.

They had seemingly talked all the way through Gordon’s photos and leaving, as well as Tamara’s shoot which Jo felt a little deflated not to get to see the beautiful koi again since she’d seen the initial concept art. Even Creedy was now being photographed with a finished fine line deer design held on display on his forearm, the geometric lines behind and around it showing the extremely clear vision Ash had during the design and application.

It looked like they were almost finished and one of the makeup artists came over to start working on Jo’s face and hair. They usually only applied something light and a little bit of drama to the eye in order to avoid detracting from the artwork that was the real focus of the shoot. Jo barely contained the eyeroll as Chuck began snapping candidly with his camera again. He leant over to the make up artist for a second and Jo didn’t bother to hide the roll of her eyes as the woman started applying a red lipstick on top of the basic makeup.

“So, little miss punchy, let us proceed without any more mishaps shall we?” The words came from the director of the shoot as he approached with Ash at his side, a smirk on the mulleted man’s face as he shrugged at Jo’s exasperated look. “Firstly, we’ll want a topless shot for each traditional on your ribs, I’m sure you’ve seen enough photos to know what we need. Then, black tank top and thong for the fine line; and then possibly we’ll do a full body with a bit of design on a chair to get your thigh and ribs in the one shot. Capeesh?”

Jo blinked a few times before nodding sharply at the impatient noise from the director. “Yep, capeesh.” Shrugging a shoulder at Ash as the pushy director moved off, the blonde shrugged out of the flannel shirt she had worn that day and made her way towards the well lit window and red brick wall corner that would be used for the rib photos. It took another ten minutes before the director and crew had decided that they had the lighting right and were ready before she slipped her tank top off as well and covered her chest with her hands. “Did you want left or right first?”

From there the three different poses were easy enough - left side of the ribs with the sunlight practically blurring her face in white and her arm tugging to cover herself creating larger curves to her front than she’d even had when breastfeeding Billy, the right side had her hair glowing down her back in stark contrast to the saturation of the tattoo; and then her black tank top and flannel both thrown back on for her thigh to be focussed as she practically hovered rather than sat on the tattoo bench in the best lighting. All pretty standard poses and moves that Jo had seen in the publication before, and had watched from the back corners the last three features done on her friend. Perhaps though, thinking on it, she wouldn’t remind Ellen or Bobby to go searching out that copy of Inked compared to Ash’s previous moments.

She had heard the gasp from the dark haired reporter when her fine line design had been first revealled, and the slight gape to his face as they wrapped up the photographing of it made Jo want to laugh. “I told you, Chuck, that you might get excited by one of the designs.”

“You got a freaking Jack Grey on your leg!”

“Have had more than on my leg you know...” Jo winked at the reporter as she shimmied back into her jeans and joked around with Ash about how uncomfortable it was to hold that pose, the director approached the trio with a pleased look.

“And we’ll do that last set up now."

Puffing her cheeks out a little, Jo looked up at her friend. “Can you go make sure that Billy doesn’t try to come in here if we’re doing that freaking sheet idea of yours?”

“Of course, I’ll make sure he’s very much busy for the next half hour.” Ash smirked, slapping her on the butt cheek as he headed off, calling behind him, “Damn stupid kid, ruining all my fun!”

Laughing, Jo moved towards the stylists and behind the privacy screen Ash would pull open for his more uncomfortable clients. Or those getting something done that would be uncomfortable for anyone to glance through and see. She was directed to strip, laughing with the older stylist woman as they both grumbled about stretchmarks, and then wrapped in a black robe to move back onto the set spot.

They had seeming settled on one of the tattoo chairs with a high back and open sides, and sitting normally Jo was surprised when the director shouted and gesticulated until she turned around, chest pressed against the worn, soft leather and legs thrown to either side of the backrest. Her arms folded across the top of the back and she tilted her head across at the director questioningly. She got a thumbs up in response while the rest of the team ran about, adjusting lighting and the odd pot plant in the background. Got to have those pot plants.

Another gesture and Jo shrugged the robe off and resettled quickly, tilting a hip here on command so her muscles pulled the designs more flatteringly. She had her head resting on her arms for the most part, hair pulled to her far side away from camera. After five minutes, she was motioned to sit up a little straighter. To twist her head like that. To turn her head like that. To hold one hand up to her face. To rest both elbows on the back of the chair. On and on it went until finally she was told they’d gotten what they wanted, and shrugging the robe back on before getting up; Jo was glad that was the end of her day following that asshole’s instructions.

Returning behind the screen, the blonde redressed quickly before moving out of the space to go round into the bakery kitchen to see what her boy had been up to throughout the morning.

Billy was sat on a stool at the bench beside Jessica, both had what looked like powdered sugar in their hair and the odd splatter of food coloring but otherwise appeared unharmed. That couldn’t be said for the workspace itself. There was flour, sugar and cocoa everywhere, and Jo found her eyes blowing wide as she took in the damage.

A hand on her hip didn’t even surprise her as Ash joined her, a coffee being pushed into her hands and the hand guiding her to sit down on one of the only clean stools in the space. Caffiene was amazing and would fix everything, she thought to herself looking around the space. It looked a lot worse than it was, and she figured that she could have the space spotless again within half an hour once she was suitably caffienated.

The sound of a camera shutter barely registered to her as she smiled across at Billy babbling about what he and Jessica had been up to that morning. Something about making cookies in the shape of bones and body parts, and that they were going to be reassembling a cookie monster or something. Jessica looked surprisingly unaffected after four hours alone with the noisy preschooler, and Jo figured that if she was enjoying herself so much it meant that the baker could get ahead of herself to prepare for her day off on Thursday as well.

However before cleaning and preparation and the cookie decorating could get underway, Jo quickly had the two and a half of them working to tidy and clean down the surface with only the slightest whining from the young boy while a tray of sausage rolls baked in the oven for the groups lunch.

When the oven dinged that lunch was ready, the kitchen was back to spotless, and Jo was even in the midst of teaching Billy and Jessica alike the importance of mise en place before she put a hold on the lesson for the flaky puff pastry wrapped sausages, with stewed apples mixed into the pork sausage mix along with dried thyme and fennel seeds making them moist and slightly sweeter. Shortly after they were plated up, one for Billy, one for Jessica, one for Jo, one for Chuck, one for Ash and one for Sam placed in the warming tray to await his opportunity to come in and eat when Ash would hand over for him.

As the five sank into stools around the kitchen, Jo ran over her plan for the rest of the day to check if it suited the other’s and whether or not the reporter needed anything more exciting than watching her preparing cookie trays for the freezer or rolling puff pastry every twenty minutes, or creating tubs worth of various buttercreams ahead of time. Chuck shrugged, and gave no feedback other than he was sure the morning had given him plenty of content for his article and that he’d be back the next day for the start on the wedding cake photos themselves. Jessica had laughed at Jo’s concern she might want to head off to relax on her day off from the hospital, and waved off the suggestion she go home rather than finish her monster anatomy cookies with Billy.

The rest of the afternoon passed by quietly, or as quietly as a busy bakery with buzzing alarms and a squealling almost-five year old and two women singing along loudly to whatever song would come on the radio could be.

Much as the night before, when Jo got home there were smiles, talk of the day’s activities (”some dick started a ruckus during the life drawing class in the morning which threw the entire day off”), babbling excitedly from Billy, a bedtime story and kisses as the night turned to morning and Jo once again fell asleep wrapped up in two warm arms.

---

[licenselesswriter]

The One Who Stayed CH10

Maya wakes up in a room, she was sure it was not hers. She recognizes the Spurs jersey on her, his smell was in all that room, and she wasn't able to suppress her smile - Why now - she recriminates herself while she inhales his scent from the pillow. Unlike the last time, last night he spends the night with her.

She gets up and walks to the kitchen, she found a note over a paper bag "Welcome back to the land of the living" she reads next to a poorly drawn cowboy hat, she chuckles to his sketch. She opens the paper bag and found 3 French Cruller inside - Dammit Lucas - she says while she bites one of the pastries her best friend left for her with a smile on her face.

7 hours later, Lucas walks into his apartment, dragged by the smell of pizza - I know I should be surprised, but at least you paid for pizza - he says while he looks at Maya and 2 empty boxes of pizza.

- Want something to eat honey? - Maya asks in her most sarcastic tone while she watches cars 2.

- Please tell me at least you take a shower - Lucas replies while he takes off his jacket - Want Chinese? - he asks while he picks his phone and dials his usual Chinese delivery.

- You know, a normal person would kick me out after all the time I spend here - Maya says while she mutes the movie.

- I'm not a normal person, yes, hello, yes, yes, ok, I want 1 order of fried rice - Lucas says to his phone, then cover it for a second with his shirt - You want something or what? - he asks Maya.

- Sweet and sour chicken - Mara replies.

- Yes, also 1 order of sweet and sour chicken, yes, look for Lucas Friar, yes, that's the address, ok, thank you - Lucas says before finish the call - I don't want to sound rude, but how you can be that thin when you eat like a pro wrestler? - he asks while he walks to his couch and sits next to Maya.

- Because I ride a bike everywhere unless I have to wear a nice dress - Maya answers and then punch him in the shoulder - And yes, it's rude - she adds, making him laugh a bit.

Until she asks what Lucas wanted to avoid.

- By the way, where's Zay? - Maya asks while she continues watching Cars 2 - I haven't seen him all day, and I'm happy, even when my head hated me for all that scotch - she says, feeling a bit weird when she notices how serious Lucas was.

- Yeah, he's not gonna be around here for some time - Lucas says trying to focus on Mater shooting to the lemon cars.

- Want to talk about that? - Maya asks while she continues looking at him, trying to figure it out what happened from his facial expressions.

- Not before my fried rice - Lucas replies, making Maya smile and cuddle with him.

After 25 minutes, they both hear the knock on Lucas door.

He just looks at the door and caresses her hair - I'm so comfortable here that I don't even want to get my fried rice - Lucas says without any filter.

- Too bad I still want my sweet and sour chicken - Maya replies pushing him out of the couch.

Lucas gets up before ending in the floor, he stretches a little and let a long yawn escape his mouth. He opens his door and receives the paper bags with their food - Thank you - Lucas says and let another yawn escape - Sorry - he apologizes and pays the delivery guy. He walks back to the couch and sits back - Sweet and sour chicken for the Blonde Beauty - he starts, giving Maya her order in exchange for a soft "thank you" - And fried rice for the Mad Dog - he adds making Maya burst in laughter.

- Hey Mad Dog - Maya calls Lucas, the one who says a very soft "yes" - What did he do? - she asks while Lucas looks at her confused.

- Who is he? - Lucas asks back, eating some of his fried rice.

- Zay - Maya replies, making him spit a bit of his rice - Gross - she adds while she passes him a napkin.

- Give me a break - Lucas says and continues eating his rice under the sharp view of Maya - Can at least finish my dinner? - he asks, tired from his work.

- No, tell me - she says with her curiosity at peak.

- For fuck's sake - Lucas says and pull up his phone, then show her the pictures Mark send him this morning.

- The fuck - Maya says while she looks at Charlie and Riley in a series of pictures.

- He found out Riley was cheating on me on the year and a half ago - Lucas explains leaving his rice on his coffee table.

- Damn - Maya says almost regretting forcing him to bring up that subject - So, what you did? - she asks, hoping for the best.

- Well, I start by hitting him - Lucas confess.

- Lucas what the fuck - Maya recriminates him.

- Then I send him to my mother's apartment - Lucas adds while he covers his face with his palms.

- You need to patch things with him, he's your best friend - Maya tries to defend Zay.

- Please, don't - Lucas says to Maya in a begging tone - Also you're my best friend, and I want to spend a nice time watching the rest of Cars 2 with my best friend having Chinese food while I try to not think about how much I miss Lily, can I please have that tonight? - he asks making Maya get close to him and hug him.

- I'm sorry - she says and kisses his cheek, trying to comfort him - Want to cuddle naked and drink wine? - she offers.

Lucas just laughs uncontrollably for 5 minutes - Jesus Christ, I should have done something great in my past life to have you in my life now - he says and caresses her check.

- Is that a yes? - Maya asks, almost fearing to hear him say yes.

- What? No, I mean, I would love to - Lucas says while he allows himself to look at his best friend with some lust in his eyes - But that might end in sex, because you know, we're both hot, and you look especially hot with my jersey on - he adds giving her another lusty look.

But, unlike the other times when they joke about having sex, Maya can't prevent blush on her face - Then we should stay cuddling here, full clothes, while we watch Cars 2 then - she replies while she focuses on the TV again.

Lucas wakes up next morning to the guitar chords of Trace Adkins, he softly pats next to him and surprises hit him when he felt nothing but a warm fade. He scratches his head and yawn - I thought I would be dead, but the day finally came, Maya wakes up earlier than me - he says and laughs at the think of Maya waking up before him, he gets up and walks to his living room, hoping to find her there, but he discovers he was completely alone.

When Cory Matthews walks into his classroom and discovers that all of his sophomores playing with ping-pong balls, only because he took 5 minutes cleaning the cappuccino he drops on his tie, he felt a certain Deja-vu.

- I'm getting too old for this, detention, all of you, all - He says while he points to a certain blonde girl who was next to a brunette.

- You can't give me detention, I'm 29 - Cory hears at his back, making him fastly turn, only to discover Maya, sitting on his chair, with her boots on his desk, playing with a ping-pong ball and a little racket against the wall.

- You - Cory says with a fake disdain tone.

- Me - Maya imitates his first fatherly figure.

- You don't have detention; I know she's the culprit - Cory says to his class.

- Hey! - Maya says with a recriminatory tone.

- Ladies and Gentleman, Miss Maya Hunter - Cory introduce her to his class.

After a few hours of Maya helping Cory with History of Art and why the Nazis rob every museum they can, Cory's class was dismissed.

- So, there must be a reason for you to be here - Cory says while he sits on his chair and Maya sits on the desk that used to be hers.

- There is a reason for me to be here, but - Maya says and then take a little pause - I like this place, remembers me when life used to be easy - she adds, making Cory laugh - What? - she asks him.

- Maybe for you - Cory replies - I had to deal with the whole triangle thing, with Riley stepping aside for Lucaya, then you stepping aside for Rucas, to be honest, I'm surprised Smarkle are still together - he explains to his former student.

- And look at us now - Maya comments.

- And look at us now - Cory agrees with her.

- I think Riley hate me now - Maya expresses her concern.

- Of course, she hates you fierce - Cory says while he gives Maya a sad smile - She thinks you're stealing Lucas from her - he adds, making Maya blurt a tired giggle.

- Yeah, because Lucas wanting a divorce it's my fault - Maya says with her words filled with sarcasm - Also, it's not my fault he thinks I'm a better friend than her - she adds, making Cory get worried a bit.

- I'm guessing he told her that - Cory says trying to not feel bad for his daughter, but he knows she brings all that is happening to her, over her.

- Actually, he hasn't told her this, he told me and Zay - Maya confess, trying to avoid remember what Lucas show her last night.

- That must be hard for him - Cory says with a short giggle - I mean, I still remember what happened when he picked Farkle as Godfather of Lily - he remembers, then notices Maya wasn't giving him any attention.

- I need you to take Lily and Topanga from your apartment - Maya says cutting her former teacher.

- Usually, I would do it, but just out of curiosity, why? - Cory asks Maya.

She just gives him a nervous smile - Riley and I need to talk and get drunk, I don't want Lily to see his mother drunk - Maya explains.

- You're lying - Cory says and gets up, picking up his briefcase - I'm not gonna ask more, and I hope it's not what I'm thinking - he adds. Cory fastly look in his pockets till he finds his keys - Please, try to not break anything, I'm old and I don't deserve to pick up things from the floor - he adds and throws her his keys.

Maya fastly grabs them and give him a sarcastic smile - Can't promise that - she replies while she walks out his class.

20:35 mark the clock when Riley felt her high hopes feel into the ground.

- When my father told me someone special was waiting for me at home, I didn't expect this - the brunette asks, trying not to spit her words to her.

- Thank you - Maya replies with sarcasm - We need to talk - she adds while she walks to the couch with a piece of pizza on a plate - Also I bring tequila so we can talk from the heart - she says pointing at the coffee table.

Riley just look at the woman who she used to think it was her best friend, and she was inches away to run again to her parents on Shawn's cabin, but the smell of pizza makes her stay - About? - she asks.

- About us - Maya replies giving Riley her plate - Also, this - she adds and throws at the brunette the DVD of 27 dresses.

And for a second, Riley thought about it.

2 girls, with pizza, no kids, no parents, no males, tequila, and 27 dresses.

- Ok - Riley says with doubt, walking to her room. a few minutes later, she came back with a simple pajama and her movie blanket - Ok, ready - she says, making Maya smile.

Maya walks back and grabs a piece of pizza for herself, also she brings 2 tequila shot glasses - Ready? - she asks.

- For 27 dresses? always - Riley replies with a smile.

While for herself though, that maybe, just maybe, she's been misunderstanding Maya, and she still is her best friend.

After all, there is no way Maya likes Lucas, at least not enough for her to help him get a divorce.

After 1 hour and 51 minutes, of pure bliss, on Riley's words, they were talking friendly as ever, and almost like the weather knew Maya's intentions, gives both girls a nice rain to solve their differences.

- You wanted to talk about us - Riley starts without looking at Maya.

- I do - Maya replies while she caresses the ring she gave her.

- Are you sure you wanted to talk about us and not about someone else? - Riley asks, making the right question.

- I'm pretty sure I want to talk about us - Maya says while she finally looks at her, taking a little pause - He - Maya says with doubt - He doesn't know I'm here - Maya adds.

- You're on his side, don't you? - Riley asks her. But just as a formality.

- What you did is not a matter of sides, it's a matter of good and wrong - Maya defends herself - And you did wrong - she declares.

- It's not that simple Maya - Riley tries to defend herself - You don't know how it feels being married to the great Lucas Friar - she adds.

- Out of nowhere - Maya calls her attention - Did you try, I don't know, talk to him? - she asks.

- Of course, I tried, but that only makes him more perfect, he left hours on his clinic, and allow me to focus on my career while he takes care of Lily, and even when he did what I ask him, I end hating it - she confesses, making Maya felt guilty about what she wanted to do.

- Then you should have talked to him again, that's what a mature person would do - Maya replies.

- I don't want to hear that from someone who only works 3 days per month - Riley attacks her best friend. Maya gets up and Riley looked worried - Maya? - she asks while Maya opens Uber.

- Then you're gonna hate hear this from me - Maya says to Riley looking at her.

Riley notices how Maya is containing her tears and felt a void on her stomach - Maya? - Riley calls her again.

- I'm going for Lucas! - Maya finally explodes and scream at her best friend.

- Excuse me? - Riley asks in shock.

- I'm going for Lucas - Maya says a bit more calm.

- No, no, no, no, no, no, no, NO! - Riley screams at Maya feeling betrayed.

- I'm sorry Riley, but I've made my decision - Maya says getting up and grabbing her purse - I would love if you decide to not hate me, but I know you do, I'm sorry, but I'm tired - she adds and throws Cory's keys into the couch, next to the brunette.

Maya walk out The Matthews apartment, hearing what she supposed to be the bottle of tequila crashing against the door.

Lucas looks at his watch, 22:56, he reads, then he turns off his TV. For the first time in 4 days he was completely alone, and even when he a bit excited for finally having time for himself, he discovers that he's terrified of being alone.

Being alone wasn't for him, he needed someone on his side, and now that he and Zay weren't on the best terms, he starts to miss his company.

Then he thinks about Maya.

- What I supposed to do with you - Lucas softly says looking at his phone, debating himself if it's right to call her or not.

But then, he notices his headphones, and then back at his phone again, and then back at his headphones. He looks at his wall calendar, he did the math and was surprised for the 8 months and a few days of celibate he did.

He looks around, even when he was pretty sure he was alone, he grabbed his phone and look for Pornhub, he grabs his headphones and connects them to his phone. Then he looks around again, he fastly types "blondes" on the search bar. He felt the excitement on the air, and even when he was just pulling down his pants, he already was hard. he picks the first video, and just mere seconds later.

He was interrupted by the door - Motherfuckers, I can't catch a break - he says before abort what he wanted to do. He pulls up his pants and walks to the door.

Surprised was the first adjective a person would use when he discovers the person knocking on his door was Maya, a soaked by rain version of her.

- Hey Mad Dog - Maya says getting inside with a strawberry smoothie on her hand - Looks like you're happy to see me - she adds while she notices the bulge on his pajama pants.

- Maya what the hell - Lucas says worried, running to his bathroom to bring her some towels.

- I was thinking about you, and then I notice that, since you punch Zay, Smackle and Farkle are on Houston and Mark is probably with Joshua, you would be all lonely here - she replies with a smile.

- Maya, you're soaked, probably incredible cold and smiling - Lucas says while he does his best to dry her hair - Also, what the thing with the smoothie? - he asks, making her smile.

- Oh, this? - Maya says, faking ignorance - This is for you - she adds with a smile.

- Maya - Lucas calls her while he makes some space between them - Why are you smiling? - he dares to ask.

- Oh Huckleberry, Huckleberry, whatever bad, bad things you did in the past, you're still a Huckleberry - Maya says pouring the smoothie over his head.

- Maya, what the fuck - Lucas says feeling the cold smoothie runs through his back.

- Well, I thought that we should go on a date, and since we're both adults, I skip the date and pour the smoothie over you - Maya explains. Lucas looked at her like she was crazy and she just takes off her jacket and her top, revealing her breast to him.

- Are you serious right now? - Lucas asks looking away from her.

- The way I see it, you need a shower because of the smoothie - Maya says and walks to his bathroom really slow, losing clothes on the way - And I need a shower because of pneumonia, I suggest we share it - she proposes biting her lower lip, making Lucas take a long breath.

When Maya disappear into his bathroom, Lucas had a moment to think. He would be the worst liar if he dares to say that he didn't find Maya attractive and that in more than one time, he pleases himself alone thinking of her best friend, but this was completely different, this was not a fantasy, this was the reality.

Lucas takes off his shirt and cleans his hair from the smoothie Maya just drop over him, he takes off his pants and uses them to clean the rest of his body and the floor. He put his clothes on a basket and walk to his room. In the fastest way possible, he gets dressed, he picks his keys and his phone, and even when this might crush his relationship with Maya, he walks away from his own apartment.

[teal-skull]

(J&H fanfic) Dinner in the darkness

In the darkness there was a pale spot of light. It came from above and landed upon a long polished mahogany table full of seductive food and treats on silver plates. Four types of fish with a lemon an top of each and fried pepper steaks. A huge stuffed turkey and two fried chickens. More than three big untouched cakes just waiting to be eaten. There were also two men sitting at the both ends of the table.

The other man was a tall, blue-eyed gentleman with his brown hair tied up in a ponytail. This man looked depressed and sick while the look on his face was so sad, poor and anquished. He was in shackles. An incredibly long chain went high up from a heavy iron ring the gentleman had on his neck. An other chain went down then split in two to prison the poor man’s wrists. His ankles were also chained. But despite this, the gentleman was still well dressed and his Victorian clothes were made of a rich fabric. He didn’t care about the good food in front of him. The man just sat quietly on a gilded chair and looked away from the other man who was sitting before him.

This other fella had put his dark coat and a black top hat on a back of his chair. A cane was leaning towards the armrest. He was dressed like a gentleman but surely didn’t look like one. He was a short and small man with messy and long white hair, which reached his shoulders. The man’s face was strange. His pale skin wasn’t the cause of some sickness and his eyes were cruel and cold green with a spark of madness in them. And lastly, there was something very wrong in his appearance but it could not be named. He cave a disgusting and loathsome impression to those who looked at him.

This odd man, unlike the gentleman, was eating with a great appetite. He had his hirsute and skinny hands on a chicken leg which he gobbled. His white teeth sunk into the meat and ripped it off like an animal.  After the man had finished his chicken he lifted his half-closed eyes to this shackled gentleman. He leaned on the back of the chair. The smile he gave to him was pure evil and unpleasant.

-You should eat something, he said with his dark and husky voice, -My dear Jekyll.

-I am not hungry for anything you offer Hyde, was the cold answer.  

Hyde smiled in a way that looked like he was pitying Jekyll. He shook his head a bit.

-Oh Jekyll. But don’t you remember the times? When we both enjoyed this delicious dinner we’re having, he said with a persuasive voice.

But Jekyll said nothing. Only watched away from his inner demon who he didn’t want to face. It was like he was looking his past evil deeds in the eye. But Hyde was desiring Jekyll’s attention. Like a child does from a parent when he has done something he's proud of. So he kept talking with a tongue that spoke like a snake:

-Jekyll… What happened? You used to eat so well with me from time to time…

-That happened, Jekyll replied coldly and pointed at the cane.

Chains rattled while he was moving. The sound was hollow and lonely in the absolute silence that surrounded them. Like every voice and sound that came from the dinner table. Hyde clanged the cane next to him. He gave it a satanic smile with his eyes nearly closed. Hyde recalled gladly the memories concerning the cane.

-Ah, said he, -The murder. It was a wild night. I’ve never felt so alive before that. Hell, it was amazing…

-It was horrifying! A cruel crime towards an innocent man! A deed so unforgettable and barbaric… And it can never be redeemed! Jekyll cried and then hid his face im his hands.  

Hyde smiled at first a twisted and evil smile. Then he started laughing. But the laugh was dark and mean. The kind of which made a shiver go down the listener’s spine. A psychotic laugh at someone else’s misfortune.

-You’re a monster…, the gentleman said fearing himself. Jekyll looked directly to Hyde this time with pure regret and sadness.

The laughter stopped there. Hyde put his elbows on the table. It seemed that he was thinking something while looking his other side in the eyes.  

-Let’s analyze that. Why am I a monster Henry? He asked finally with a great interest.

-Because there’s nothing humane in you. You’re a beast. Desire is the only thing that drives you. Thinking only about yourself and doing whatever you want without caring if it hurts others. You have no moral nor empathy, Jekyll blamed him with anger in his voice. He felt disgust towards the creature that was sitting in front of him. But in the same time guilt landed upon him. After all, Hyde was what Jekyll had changed himself in.

-But, the creature pointed out raising his finger, -I am what you called out from your. Own. Soul. Then he pointed at Jekyll like a judge that was pointing at the guilty. And he smiled. He knew how much pain it was to Henry. And that knowledge made him smile even more satanically than he had smiled while beating old Garew.

-And, Hyde continued and rose from his chair, -I am only doing this because you wanted to have fun.

The man leaned on the back of the chair and cleaned his mouth on a napkin. Then he threw it away and it landed softly next to the leg of a chair. Hyde asked:

-So who is the real monster here?

Jekyll let his head fall. He tried to fight against his painful emotions. Doctor’s hands closed into fist. The guilt and regret were torturing him. It was too much. Tears started to flow on his cheeks. Again he hid his face in his hands. A silent snivel echoed among the table. For a while, it was the only sound in the darkness. Then Jekyll heard slow steps when Hyde came closer to him. But instead of coming to Jekyll, that cruel man stopped, cut a piece of a blood red cake and put it on a plate. While doing this he stated:

-I think we both know the answer. It is no one else than Dr. Henry Jekyll. But don’t worry. It’s only between us. Everybody else will always be blaming Mr. Hyde while you will be praised by the public. As it should be, my little hiding place.

Hyde walked to Jekyll and offered the red cake. When Jekyll didn’t react to it he just put it in front of the poor doctor.

-Come on Jekyll! I know you desire this behind that gentleman facade you’re keeping! Hyde yelled with bitterness. He took hold of Jekyll’s shoulder and turned his head by force towards the cake piece. But still all Jekyll did was stare at the cake. Hyde looked in the eyes of his other side but saw no urge in them. Furiously he threw Jekyll out of his hands and returned back to his chair.

-You don’t have to pretend to me. I know you. I know what you are. What you were. What you secretly want. With me you can be as free as you want. And no one will ever condemn you about it. Go on. Take a bite my friend, Hyde tried to manipulate.

-No…, Jekyll whispered and continued strongly: -No! I’m not your friend!

Jekyll slammed his hands on the table causing the plates to shake. He rose standing and looked at Hyde with pure fury in his eyes. Jekyll wanted now, more than anything, to get rid of Hyde. Forever. If only they were two separate bodies he would have killed Hyde right now.

The inner demon saw this but didn’t care. Hyde knew that the only way for Jekyll to kill him was suicide. And he trusted on Jekyll that he would be too weak to do it. But a small whisper of fear went through Edward. Even just thinking of death was scary for him. Hyde remembered how the noose was already hanging upon his head. He touched his throat without even acknowledging it. It was the cause of an instinct.

For a moment Jekyll thought that he had managed to scare Hyde with his behavior but suddenly Edward was calm again and said softly:

-Of course you’re not my friend.

Hyde rose again and walked behind Jekyll.

-I’ll tell you what you are, said he and, against all Jekyll's expectations, hugged him.

-You’re my creator. My father, Hyde told and pet Jekyll. He put his head against Henry's back and closed his eyes.

Jekyll was shocked and confused. He wasn’t able to do anything else than stay still. The realization had taken all power Jekyll had left. He understood that it was actually true. Hyde was his creation. Creation, that he had made from himself. A part of his nature that would still sleep peacefully and do inconspicuous harm. But instead Jekyll had woken it up and now it committed sin. All evil Hyde had done in the past months was his own fault. Because he had created Hyde...

-I know I know, Edward started like he was reading Jekyll’s thoughts, - I am your greatest creation. And how you have a father’s interest in me.

-And you have more than a son’s indifference towards me, Jekyll noted sorrowfully and sighed. Like defeated, he collapsed in his chair shackles tingling.

-Yes, said Hyde and nodded, -And I’m so glad that you let your “son” to play around. I had quite fun.

The demon smiled disgustingly and grabbed a dark green bottle of wine. He decanted the burgundy drink into two ornamental chalices with a calm hand. The man took both of them in his hands and put the other one on a table right in front of Jekyll. After doing this Hyde went back to his own chair, sat down and lifted his feet on the table. The grin upon his face was victorious and hurtful. Edward raised the chalice while saying:

-Let’s raise the glass to ourselves. And to what we’ve become.

Hyde didn’t wait for Jekyll to join him, since he knew that Henry wouldn’t do that. He drank the wine on one glub and banged the chalice loudly on the table.

-What we’ve become…, Jekyll repeated quietly and turned his eyes from Hyde to his untouched wine.         

-We’ve become… nothing else than a dual madman! He shouted with anger.

In seconds Hyde started to laugh very loudly and disrespectfully.

-Oh Jekyll…, Hyde said like Henry had told a good joke, -You are the crazy one of us.

-And you are a pitiful coward who hides inside his better self because he’s so scared of the consequences of his actions, Jekyll insulted with a bitter tongue, looking ar Hyde like a disappointed father.

Edward was mad. He revealed his teeth and took his legs off the table. Without any consideration the murderer threw his chalice at Jekyll and roared in fury like a wild tiger. The doctor got hit in the forehead. A sudden pain stroke Hyde’s head too. Putting his hand to his forehead and snarled dangerously. Jekyll rubbed the spot chalice had hit but he didn’t have much time to recover from this injury. Hyde stepped on the table and kicking all the food and plates out of his way he came to Jekyll.    

Hyde took a hold on Jekyll’s collars and pulled the scared doctor’s face close to his own. The great hate Hyde felt towards Jekyll was more than clearly visible in his eyes. A hellish flame blazed in them.

-You are a damn weakling! Two-faced, honourless, arrogant, pathetic, weak, crazy travesty of a man! Hyde raged in pure fury. In his anger, he threw Jekyll on the floor. The poor man moaned when he hit the ground. Hyde felt Jekyll’s pain in his right side but ignored it and jumped off the table. He put his foot on the doctor’s head and that way kept him on the ground. Finally he started to control his anger and stated with a venomous voice:

-Don’t believe you have any power over me. I am the master of this body. And I will have total control! You can’t do anything against me.

Jekyll looked helpless. He answered nothing and just suffered the pain which stormed inside his soul in silence.

-I would happily kill you right now if this all wasn’t just a fantasy inside your subconscious. I hate you more than anything Jekyll. I hate your weakness. My weakness. I hate how I have to be just a part of your personality.

And Hyde pushed Jekyll’s head towards the ground in his anger even though he was also hurting himself. Hate helped him ignore the pain. Jekyll grinded in pain a little but still stayed silent.

-Well… I guess we’ve had enough my dear Jekyll, Edward stated and rose off his feet.

 Hyde took the chain that went up and cut it off like it was just fog. When he did this, Jekyll’s shackles started slowly to turn black as if Hyde’s touch was poisonous. Then he started walking away holding the end of the chain. Pulled by Hyde, Jekyll dragged behind him like a hopeless prisoner. He had given up.

The two left the dinner table and headed to the darkness like Hyde would know the way. Fading away the table disappeared into the darkness.  After a moment, a really small and dusty pillar of light appeared in front of Hyde. A chain hanging in the middle of it.

Just for his own fun, Hyde unexpectedly pulled the chain he was holding and caused Jekyll to fall. He smiled from schadenfreude and connected these two chains together. The shackles were now totally black. Jekyll rose to sit and looked down sadly.

-Mr. Hyde will be taking care of this body now. But don’t worry. I’ll be taking a good care of it. And besides… There’s nothing you can do about it, Hyde said and kneeled down before Jekyll. While speaking he turned Jekyll’s chin and made him face himself. They stared at each other for a moment. One in despair, the other in evilness. And then, Hyde rose and turned his back to Jekyll. He started to walk away without saying a word. Then he started to laugh like the devil himself. The laugh was cruel, insulting and most of all pure evil. It echoed even long after he had disappeared from Jekyll’s sight. Until finally, the darkness was silent again and mr. Hyde took control.  

So this is a little bit older writing of mine but I wanted more of my own content here. I don’t have a crystal clear idea what the heck is going on here but this is meant to be taken metaphorically rather than literally.  If you would like to see more of my writings, why not to visit my DA page here

[mochiinet]

ice cream (bouquets pt. 3)

Featuring: SEVENTEEN’s Mingyu

Word Count: 2.8k words

Summary: Fast forward four months, and your life has changed quite a bit to say the least.  After the wedding, you came back to the States to continue work, but the last thing you were expecting was a phone call from Mingyu saying he’d gotten a job in your city and needed a place to stay...

NOTE: THIS IS PT. 3 TO BOUQUETS!!! This was a request from an anon, they wanted me to make a sequel to my “bouquets” scenario, so here it is!  If you haven’t already done so, please read the previous two parts before reading this one!  ENJOY~!

“Are there any leftovers in the fridge?” Your phone was situated in between your ear and your shoulder as you walked through the hallway of your company’s building, flipping through large blueprints of your latest project.  “Nope, oh wait..... uh yeah, nope.” You could hear Mingyu looking through the fridge on the other end.  “Do you want me to pick up something on my way home?  Were you going to make something? Or we could go grocery shopping?” You spouted questions.  “Depends, when are you coming home?  Do you want me to cook something?” He asked.  “Uhhh it’s 5:39 right now... I should be off around 6?” You said, looking at you watch.  

You made it back to your office, setting the blueprints on your desk, grabbing your phone and putting him on speaker.  “Are you hungry?  If you are I can start making something?” He asked.  “I’m not that hungry yet… but, is there even anything you can use in the fridge?” You asked. There was more shuffling on his end and he sighed.  “I’ll pick up some chicken on the way home, how does that sound?” You said, laughing a little.  “Okay, and then we’ll go grocery shopping after.” He said.  “Sounds like a plan.” You agreed.  “Okay I’ll see you later!” He said.  “Mhmmm.” You hummed and hung up.  

Honestly speaking, it was still a little weird for you.  To make it short, after Sujeong and Dokyeom’s wedding, you spent a couple days in Korea to visit family, and catch up with friends individually, or in smaller groups, Mingyu included.  You were on better terms, and even made a couple jokes at each other, but at that time there was nothing more than that.  And eventually you had to go back to work in the States.  Life went back to normal, your week away from reality was over and it was back to the daily routine.  

However, around a month or so later, you get a phone call from Mingyu, telling you his friend got him a job at a company in the city you were living in and he needed a place to stay for a little until he got his bearings.  Even if you wanted to it would’ve been rude to turn him away, but honestly you were okay with it, so you let him stay with you.  Now the two of you had an odd but comfortable relationship; you were housemates, you did things like go grocery shopping together, sometimes you’d go out and get work done at cafes together, simple things like that.  While there were times when you felt like the two of you were a couple again, it was a completely different feeling compared to high school.  

It has been around four months since Mingyu has been living in the guest room of your apartment.  Your old roommate had moved out a while ago, and you never found anyone to take her spot, so you just turned it into a guest room, and it wasn’t a problem since you could afford it.  After he moved in, you realized that having Mingyu there came with so many benefits; he cooked, he paid half the rent, you had someone to talk to all the time, and he did a lot of things for you.  Not to say that you didn’t do the same for him, but he was and unexpectedly good support system and thus far, you honestly hadn’t thought about him ever moving out.  

The first week or so was really awkward, just figuring out habits, schedules, rules, etc. was a lot to think about but you both got used to it pretty quickly.  And the two of you managed to stay purely platonic.  Despite that, neither of you had gone on proper dates with other people.  And honestly the two of you were so busy with responsibilities that there wasn’t enough time to do so even if you had wanted to.  But, of course, the possibility of getting back together is quite high and it’s crossed your mind more than once over the past four months.  

Mingyu, as well, thought the same.  But he was busy trying to get adjusted to living in the States.  He’d reached out to you, with the honest expectation that you wouldn’t let him stay with you because of the past, but he was pleasantly surprised and indebted that you did.  He knew a guy living in your city, the one who helped him get his job, but he was married and Mingyu didn’t want to burden them.  If you hadn’t said yes, he would’ve figured something out, but he was really glad that you did.  He knew it was going to be awkward and he was prepared, but the awkwardness went away a lot quicker than he expected.  

And even though he’d come with the initial plan of staying for a while and then leaving, he was super comfortable and everything was so convenient that he didn’t want to leave.  You were a great housemate as well.  Compared to back in Korea with his old roommates *cough* svt *cough*, you did a good job cleaning, you were good about food, you weren’t noisy (at most you’d be singing along to some music in your room, but besides that), and you were very considerate of his personal space, which he really appreciated.  

You locked your office door behind you, holding rolled up blueprints in one arm, one backpack strap on your other shoulder.  Saying goodbye to your coworkers who were still there, you headed to the parking floor.  As promised, you stopped by the local Korean restaurant for some fried chicken, and then drove home.  Your work was a little further from your apartment compared to Mingyu’s and the car was yours so you took it, but sometimes if he needed it, you would take the bus.  You parked in your designated parking space in the apartment parking floor.  Putting your backpack on, you grabbed the blueprints in one hand and the bag of food in the other, before heading up to your unit.  

“I’m homeee.” You called out, opening the door.  He rushed over from the couch to the entrance in his slippers, grabbing the food and your blueprints for you so you could take your shoes off.  “How was work?” He asked.  “The same old same old.  I want you to look at some of those designs though, one of my clients wants to do this weird thing... you’ll see what I mean later.” You explained.  You put your slippers on and went to your room to change and while Mingyu began to set the table and unpack all of the food.  

You changed into a comfy pair of sweats and an oversized t-shirt, putting your hair up to keep it out of your face.  The smell of the chicken was making its way to your room and you hurried out to start eating.  “I’m so glad that this place exists here, Korean fried chicken is the best.” Mingyu said, taking a bite of a piece of chicken.  You nodded in agreement doing the same.  You guys made small talk while eating and you talked about your days.  When you were finished, the two of you both began to clean immediately, consolidating trash, storing leftovers, etc.  

“I’ll do the dishes today.” He offered.  “Are you sure?  You did them yesterday.” You said, hands already reaching for the gloves.  “Yeah I got it, I don’t feel like working yet.” He said.  “If you say so...” You said, handing them to him.  He took them from you and you went to the living room area where he’d set your blueprints down.  As you analyzed them, your eyes were unconsciously drawn towards Mingyu.  You noticed that as you grew up, things like guys cleaning or doing household chores well became extremely attractive.  And this was one of those instances.  He was just wearing a plain white t-shirt and a pair of black basketball shorts.  He was also wearing his glasses so every once in a while he’d use his wrist to push them back up.  honestly he’s such hubby material we all know this

You sighed and brought your attention back to your blueprints, waiting for him to finish so you could go grocery shopping.  “I’m done.” He said, putting the last plate on the rack to dry.  You got up and went to grab a hoodie to throw on since it was a bit chilly at night, and he did the same.  After you were both ready, you grabbed your keys and reusable grocery bags, and the two of you headed down to the lobby floor.  The grocery store was only two blocks away so there was no reason to drive.  The streets were decently empty, a few people like the two of you around, going their own ways.  

Mingyu walked with his hands in the pockets of his hoodie and he would occasionally yawn, making you do the same.  “Did you get enough sleep last night?  You left pretty early this morning.” You asked.  “Sorry did I wake you up?” He asked.  You shrugged.  “They called me in because something wasn’t working.  So I had to leave around 5, but I got back super early and took a nap.  My sleep schedule hasn’t been this gross in a while.” He said, frowning.  You nodded in understanding.  

The two of you grabbed a cart, you pushed while he picked out all the things.  Before Mingyu came, while you were capable of cooking and cleaning, it took too much time and you rarely cooked.  But now that he was here, you were eating more home cooked meals, watching your diet a bit more, and you even did a little meal planning because he’d make it a mission to go to the grocery store at least once every week.  Yet another thing you appreciated.  

“Are you craving anything?” He asked as you walked from the fruits and veggies section to the meat and poultry section.  You listed a couple things, and he sorted through the ingredients he’d need in his head.  You laughed a little at his face of concentration, and he glared.  “Be glad I’m feeding you real food.” He said.  “I am don’t worry, you just looked funny.” You said, pushing the cart to run away.  He sighed and chuckled a little at how childish you were being.  He followed after you, picking up a couple things before putting them in the cart.  

You made it to the frozen section and you were deep in thought, trying to pick an ice cream flavor to buy.  This time it was Mingyu’s turn to laugh.  But you were unfazed, still in deep thought.  He walked next to you, and pointed a finger near your left cheek, before calling your name.  “Hm-OW…” You turned your head towards him and his finger pierced your cheek, making him burst in to a fit of laughter.  “I can’t believe you fell for it!” He said between laughs.  He was almost in tears.  “Yah!” You said, running after him down the aisle.  

Eventually he slowed down and you caught him, smacking him on the shoulder.  You both laughed as you went back to the cart and ice cream, and this time he helped you pick one out.  “You got that triple chocolate one last time, and the mint chip the time before.  You should get something else.” He said, remembering which ones you’d purchased the last few times.  “Hmmm should we just get vanilla…?” You asked.  He shrugged and nodded, not really having a particular opinion.

As you were reaching for a carton, he watched you.  Your hair was up in a ponytail, but it was messy, you were wearing an old hoodie that had the name of the college you’d gone to on it.  Your sweats were hugged your legs a little, but not too much to be uncomfortable, and your flip flops were worn out but molded to the shape of your foot.  You were still wearing your makeup from work, but it had worn out through the day so all that was really left was your simple eye makeup.  You were a bit on the taller side, so you were fully capable of reaching to the top shelf where the ice cream was, but you saw a hand reach for it as you did.  You turned a little and your eyes widened a little at how close Mingyu was standing to you, all you could really see was his hoodie and collar bone area.  

He looked down at you, hand on the carton, but not taking it down.  The cold air from the freezer containing all the ice cream and frozen foods was wafting down on you, but you could still feel your face heating up a little.  That was something that hadn’t happened in a long time.  You looked up at him and he was staring right into your eyes and you were just kind of frozen, not knowing whether to move, to look away, or just stand still.  After a little while of looking at each other, he started to move his face closer and your mind was little blank.  

It was all just so unexpected, but he couldn’t help himself.  He kissed you and you closed your eyes, and instead of bringing the carton down, he let go of it and grabbed your hand which had also been up there reaching for it.  The kiss was sweet, simple, and soft, and you were melting.  After a little while, he pulled away and you opened your eyes again, looking at him.  And you were surprised at what you saw.  

He was standing there, a light grip on your hand, but he was blushing, all shy and everything.  And you couldn’t help but laugh.  “Hey!” He said, his voice threatening to crack a little, surprising himself, making you laugh even more.  He laughed as well, and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly with his other hand.  As you were calming down, you saw him smiling at you, and it was one of those loving smiles, full of adoration and appreciation.  And you smiled back. 

“So vanilla?” You asked, opening the freezer door that had closed, focus back on your oh-so-important ice cream.  He chuckled a little and nodded.  You grabbed it yourself, tossing it into the cart, never letting go of his hand.  The rest of the time, the two of you walked, hands intertwined, only separating when you needed to.  And eventually you headed back home, both with grocery bags in both hands.  You both walked in a comfortable silence, and at a stoplight, he turned to you.  

“So do you want to try again?” He blurted, breaking through the silence.  You were a little surprised by his timing but you already knew the question was coming.  You looked at him, the red, green, and other lights from the surroundings were flashing, coloring his face.  You searched his eyes, looking for something even though you already knew what your answer was, a smile growing on your face.  “I think I’d like that.” You said, making him smile and nod.  The two of you walked back and everything was just as it had been these past four months, it was comfortable, but with a little more affection.  

When all of the groceries were put away, he kind of just looked at you and smiled, walking over, pulling you with him onto the couch.  He sat on one side, and slung his arm around your shoulders, bringing you close and you leaned on his shoulder.  He turned the TV on, scrolling through Netflix as you watched.  “You know, the thought of me moving out, never even crossed my mind.” He said.  “Honestly I also hadn’t even thought of kicking you out.” You said.  He chuckled at your wording and you could feel it vibrate through his body.  

“I guess we both had this in mind, whether we knew it or not then…” He said, looking at you.  “I guess so…” You said.  He smiled, kissing your forehead and you smiled too.  “God what is Sujeong going to say…” You realized.  “They’re 100% going to hate us, but they also 100% have to thank us at the same time so….” He said.  You laughed and nodded.  “She doesn’t have to know yet.” He said.  “Let’s just like drop a bomb on Instagram or something, and have everyone freak out about it.  Do they even know you’re living here?” You asked.  “I don’t know actually, but Dokyeom has a big mouth so maybe.” He said.  You shook your head, knowing exactly what he was talking about.  “Well everyone will be in for a surprise I guess.” He said.  “That’s for sure…” You agreed.  

ahhhhhhh so when the anon asked for a sequel it took me a little while to think of what to write but omg i did it and i love it.  don’t worry anon, there’s more of this coming, so prepare your heart!  AHAHH but yeah, there’s one last part that will be coming after this one so i hope you all enjoy and let me know if you like it, want me to continue other scenarios, etc. shoot me a message!! thanks for reading!!

[sevralships]

“Reunion”

(Shoutout to @handleonthescandal for conceptualizing fem!dippin’, an AU where the Pines triplets consist of Fem!Dip, Mabel, and Tyrone. When I recently had the good fortune to spend some time with @dddippinsauce and @equilateral-asshat outside of cyberspace, it was hard to keep the dynamic far from our minds. This fic is dedicated to the two of them ‘cause they’re the bestest chicken nuggets around).

It’s been nearly ten years since the Pines triplets were all together in Gravity Falls for any length of time. They are finally all together, for only a weekend, and Mabel finds herself tempted to pick up right where they left off. Angst, fluff, smut. TW incest. Fem!Dippin Pinecest. NSFW. 11,200 words (ooh what a nice round number!)

Fic below cut, enjoy!

Reunion

Mabel took a break from shoveling bites of syrup-soaked pancake into her mouth to get another look at Dip and Ty. It’d been much too long since they’d all been together like this to let the moment go uncherished, and besides, it was probably wise to give herself a chance to actually chew her food. Next to her, Dipper was happily having a sip of tea, her hands curled gratefully around the warmth of the mug. Mabel had always loved catching Dip in little moments of serenity like this one, serenity being something her high-strung sis too seldom found. Mabel chewed her mouthful of pancakes thoughtfully and looked across the table at Ty. He held a slice of turkey bacon at the ready (having long since agreed to her insistence that they all give up pork as a courtesy to Waddles), his own plate of pancakes mostly emptied. Mabel wasn’t the least bit surprised to find Ty looking at her already, his grateful expression a mirror of her own happiness in sharing such a simple pleasure with her favorite trips.

“Ah!” Dipper gave a small, slightly dramatized sigh of satisfaction as she set down her mug, and Mabel watched Ty’s gaze slide lovingly to their sister. His already sentimental expression gave way to a small goofy smile, “What?” she challenged, her lips curling into a half-smile.

Ty’s smile widened and Mabel’s heart lifted as it always did when Ty smiled that way, “It just feels really great to be home.” He said simply, gesturing to the interior of Greasy’s Diner with the piece of turkey bacon before popping it into his mouth. Glancing around the diner, Mabel couldn’t help but agree. Not a thing had changed in here in the last… was it really going on ten years? The world outside kept changing and demanding different things of them, but Gravity Falls remained eerily and comfortingly the same.

Dip lifted her mug of tea, “Hear, hear!” Mabel lifted her hot cocoa in agreement.

“What the hey does Lazy Susan do to make these pancakes so good?” Mabel asked around another bite, as if the question had not been posed between the three of them thousands of times over the years.

“I’m telling you,” Dip said with a conspiratorial look, “Blood magic. It’s the only force powerful enough to explain this.”

Ty snorted, “You will carry that theory to your grave, won’t you, Dip? I’m telling you,” he said, as he had many times, “She fries them in bacon fat instead of butter.”

“Nooo,” Mabel complained stubbornly, covering her ears with her hands, “It can’t be pork fat, I already gave up bacon, don’t take pancakes from me too!”

“How else would you explain these deliciously crisp edges?” Ty asked, holding up a corner of pancake speared on his fork.

“Blood magic,” Dip replied without missing a beat, “No bacon fat alone could produce such a sinfully tasty pancake.”

Ty snickered, popping the bite of crispy pancake edge into his mouth, “Whether it’s blood magic or bacon fat, I just hope she keeps doing what she’s doing.” He closed his eyes, making a show of reveling in the taste of the pancake, “I don’t want to live in a world without these freaking pancakes.”

“I take it they don’t have pancakes like this outside Gravity Falls?” Dipper said conversationally, already knowing the answer.

“Heck no,” Mabel said, “In Florida most people call them flapjacks and they’re tasty enough but they’re nowhere near ‘sinful’.” There were some things Mabel liked about living in the Sunshine State, not least of all the animals she worked with at a zoo there, but there was no getting used to some of it. She quite liked the word ‘flapjacks’, but they didn’t taste like home.

“The pancakes at the Griddle Houses near me are passable at best,” Ty agreed, the look in his eye implying that he was running through every pancake he’d had since moving to New York, “I don’t think blood magic fits into the franchise policy.”

Dip cupped a hand to her ear, “Do I hear some doubt in your long-held bacon grease theory?”

“Not even a little,” Ty scoffed, “But it’d take more than bacon fat to kick a Griddle House pancake up to Lazy Susan quality.”

Dipper shrugged concedingly and the triplets fell back into a comfortable silence, as they tucked into what remained of their breakfast-for-dinner. Mabel and Ty had both arrived, from Florida and New York respectively, in the mid-afternoon, hungry from traveling and craving the comfort food of their youth. Mabel and Ty each eagerly cleaned their plates, leaving barely a drop of maple syrup behind, but Dipper asked for a take-away box for about half of what she’d ordered. Of course, Dipper could have Greasy’s signature pancakes whenever she wanted, unlike her sibs, having ended up living in Gravity Falls full time.

Not that it came as any surprise that she was the one to wind up here. On the contrary, Mabel thought it would have been stranger to imagine Dipper settling anywhere else. While Mabel and Ty’s respective goals had carried them far and away from the comfort of Gravity Falls and Piedmont, Dipper’s path towards investigating the supernatural had rarely wavered. Mabel had always admired Dipper’s surety and dedication to this one goal, her own wide range of interests and skills leading her down one dead end after another before she had landed on animal care. Ty had struggled similarly with artistic and career attempts, too many of which had been flops. Mabel’s heart gave a twinge, sympathizing with her brother’s rocky path and the deep self-doubt that went with it. Not that Dipper had been dealt an easy hand by any means. It was almost as if being a precocious kid guaranteed you for dissatisfying young adulthood, and Dip was no exception. She did, however, at the very least, have the good fortune of living in Gravity Falls.

The damp autumn evening met them with a refreshing gust as they left the cozy, stuffy warmth of the diner, “Autummmnnn!” Mabel sing-songed, with a little twirl on the leaf-strewn sidewalk, and pulled a deep breath of the clean Oregon air through her nose, letting it out in a satisfied sigh, “Ya don’t find air like that in Florida.”

“Isn’t the air in Florida, like, seventy percent swamp?” Ty asked, wrapping an arm around Mabel’s shoulders.

“Eighty percent, bro.” Mabel said, hugging his waist.

“I dunno,” Dip said, holding out a hand to feel the light, cool drizzle, “Oregon’s swampy air levels are at at least a fifty today, maybe we should have taken the car after all.”

“Oh, hogwash, Dipdot!” Mabel exclaimed, giving the bill of Dipper’s cap a playful flick, “You got your handy-dandy hat, a little spritz like this got nothin’ on you!”

And she was right, for most of the walk. There were very few people out on account of the overcast sky and steady drizzle, and the triplets walked along, hand-in-hand, feeling almost as though they’d gone back in time to one of the summers of their childhood. The leaves were halfway turned, the reds and oranges vivid against the still brilliantly white sky. Everything was dewy and glossed from the mist, giving the world a clean, fresh look. As they walked, they reminisced about adventures with their Grunks, forays into the supernatural wilds of the Falls, and Mabel, delighted by the novelty of the season after a few years in the static heat of the south, pointed out signs of autumn all around them. It was when she pointed out the flock of geese, honking and flying in a symmetrical chevron above, that she noticed the sky had darkened considerably from a luminous overcast white to a threatening soot grey. She said nothing to Dipper or Ty, in hopes that ignoring the portentous sky might convince it to let them reach the Shack before the rain. Surprisingly, this tactic failed and a few minutes later the heavy clouds opened up, pouring cold water down in sheets.

Dipper gave a surprised shriek, the same one she’d made when they were kids and one of her mischeivous triplets would slip an ice cube down the back of her shirt. Ty laughed at the sound, and pulling his sisters along by their hands, broke into a run. Home wasn’t far off by that point and the trips ran the rest of the way, clumsy and laughing, until three sets of feet splashed through the muddy puddles of the parking lot and stamped up the two steps into the welcome shelter of the Shack porch. The rain drummed on the wooden awning that shielded them and the triplets panted with the exertion, exchanging amused looks at each other’s bedraggled appearances, all of them drenched to the bone.

Dipper unlocked the door as quickly as she could, and they stumbled inside. Dipper put leftovers in the fridge, wet shoes squelching, whiler Ty and Mabel eagerly kicked off their own soaked shoes and shucked off socks, “Co-oo-ooold!” Mabel whined, wasting no time in peeling off her purple leggings and sequined beige sweater, and kneeling to rummage through her suitcase in search of dry clothes.

“One of the downsides to the whole season thing,” Ty pointed out and something in his tone caught Mabel’s attention as strange. She glanced at him, finding his cheeks pink and his eyes all but glued to her lace-trimmed lilac chevron-printed undies. She forced her eyes back to the jumbled contents of her suitcase, surprised to uncover a long-neglected jumble of thoughts. After all these years of telling herself that all of that business was in the past, she’d somehow neglected to consider that it might be hard for her trips to forget it once in a while. She blindly grabbed a clean pair of leggings and a shirt from her suitcase and scampered into the bathroom to change. After impatiently slipping into the dry clothes, Mabel stared down her reflection, absently trying to make sense of her mass of unruly wet curls and wishing the flush away from her own cheeks.

That wasn’t what you thought it was, she told herself, staring into her own brown eyes in the mirror, It’s just been a long time since you got into your skivvies like that and you did it without warning. You’re reading too much into it, Mabes. Plenty of people would get weird when confronted with their sister’s nearly naked caboose. Ignoring the fluttering of her own heart should be easy enough, she’d been pushing these thoughts aside for a long time now. No way was she going to squander this short, precious visit with Ty and Dipper getting them all tangled in that nonsense again.

After a few more stern words with herself, Mabel emerged from the bathroom to find Dipper making up the futon that now sat in the living room where Grunkle Stan’s yellow chair used to be. The chair now held a place of honor in the cozy reading nook Dipper had made for herself in the basement, festooned in string lights in a way that surely made Grunkle Stan groan every time he was in town. Despite getting on in years, he and Grunkle Ford were still out sailing the seven seas, determined to squeeze as much fraternity and adventure into their twilight years as humanly possible. Mabel was sorry she wouldn’t get to see them while she was in town, but pleased as punch to know her uncles were making the most of their time together.

She walked over to the futon and grabbed the nearest corner of the fitted sheet, tucking it under the mattress while Dipper did the same to the opposite side. Dipper had changed too, her wet hair wound into its customary braid over her shoulder, her wet jeans and hoodie traded for black yoga pants and a slightly oversized Mystery Shack tee shirt, the old green question mark design from before Mabel had helped to re-brand the Shack during her ill-fated attempt to beef up her graphic design resume. Without prompting, Mabel helped Dip to spread out a sheet and the big knitted blanket she’d painstakingly made for her a few years prior, “Getting caught in the rain is nothing a little cuddling can’t fix.” Dipper said, by way of explanation.

“Such wisdom,” Mabel said, fluffing a couple of the pile of pillows Dipper had scrounged up, “We don’t call you the smart one for nothing.”

“P’shaww,” Dip rolled her eyes, climbing under the covers, “Smart one, my ass. I’m just the most anxious and it keeps me motivated, you know that.”

“Anxiety and brilliance are not mutually exclusive, my dude,” Mabel pointed out, fishing the fleecey polka-dot slipper-socks Dip had given her out from under the futon, “You know--”

“FLOP!” Tyrone announced, as he did in fact flop heavily into the middle of the futon beside Dip. She giggled, and Mabel grinned along. There was simply no resisting Ty’s infectiously sweet and silly antics and she was relieved to see no sign that he might have been distressed by their little moment a moment before. Ty wrestled the blankets out from underneath himself, inviting more giggling from his sisters, before finally getting settled. He rested his head on Dip’s shoulder and she gave his tousled wet hair an affectionate kiss, as Mabel climbed into the futon. She already felt warmer, as if the sight of her two favorite people snuggled up and safe could warm her body as well as her heart. Ty wasted no time in looping his arm around Mabel’s waist and pulling her against his side.

As ever, Ty radiated body heat, and Mabel wrapped her arm around him, her fingers lacing with Dip’s, her body nesting into his side as naturally as if it were designed to fit there. In a way maybe it was, she liked to think they’d all been cuddle buddies since before they were even born. She purred happily against him, squeezing Dipper’s cold fingers, and stating contentedly, “Mmmmm, warmssss…”

“Tyrone Pines, Warms Specialist, at your service.” Ty joked, with a little salute.

“You’re the best at what you do, Mr. Pines.” Dipper assured Ty, her voice not quite sardonic enough to disguise that she absolutely meant it as she nuzzled the top of his head.

“I second that.” Mabel said, burrowing her face into the warmth of Ty’s shoulder. She breathed deep and was comforted to find he smelled exactly the same as he always had. The earthy-sweet smell of his skin was heightened by the lingering dampness from the rain and Mabel risked letting herself sink into the smell. Where her arm was hooked over the comforting squish of Ty’s tummy, her hand rested in Dipper’s, as natural as anything, and Dipper’s thumb stroked her knuckles in the same pattern it had back then.

Back when they were dumb, silly, hapless kids, their hormones raging and their vocabularies not remotely up to the task of describing the tangle of their feelings. She had made a point of putting it out of her mind as much as she could, but Mabel found she still remembered that summer with a startling clarity. It was like a well-loved movie, nearly memorized, that she could watch in her mind as if it were projected on a screen in front of her. It was the summer after their senior year of high school, when the wind through the trees had seemed to whisper ‘freedom’. The seemingly endless drudgery of K-12 schooling had in fact ended, and there was a giddiness to that alone, that the thing that had governed every day of their lives for so long had been defeated. They had all gotten into different colleges, but their minds were not on the more taxing academics in their future, or the looming day when they’d no longer be sleeping under the same roof. No, that summer had been about fun, plain and simple. Fun in all its forms, cryptid-seeking adventures around the town, getting drunk on the Shack roof, concerts, and parties, and long lazy days in bed together. In retrospect, it had been a last hurrah of their childhood together, but none of them had seen it that way then. They’d been seventeen and invincible and looking for fun around every corner.

The first time one of their drinking sessions on the roof had given way to playfully kissing each other, they had all giggled and blushed at how ludicrous and risque it was. They had acted like it was for the thrill, the taboo of it, and Mabel had not voiced the confusion running wild inside her liquor-soaked head. After that day, things shifted, imperceptibly at first. The triplets had never been shy around each other, but Mabel remembered how suddenly they were seeking excuses to touch, excuses to take off their clothes, excuses to act unlike siblings. She could see in cinematic exactness the way the dappled sun through the trees had illuminated Dipper’s eyes as she’d coyly slipped out of her bathing suit while they were swimming in an isolated little cove in Gravity Falls lake. She could feel as if it were happening that very moment the way Tyrone’s lips had felt on her neck and ear at some party where no one knew they had the same last name.

It had been fun, gloriously fun, and delightfully dangerous. Dangerous in a way that turned her stomach to look back on, petrified at the thought of how reckless and stupid they’d been. And more than anything, it had been fleeting. As the end of summer closed in, they’d tried to talk about it a few times without much success. Mabel remembered trying to tell them she was in love with them multiple times, always chickening out, terrified that what sprang from love in her was no more than teenage abandon in them. Ty had poorly explained something to do with hormones at one point, and Dipper had tried to explain her desire to not be as ruled by her anxiety (something that would soon after prove impossible with her rigorous college workload), but when the time came to ship off to their separate colleges, they said goodbye with a million unspoken explanations hanging between them. And for the first time, they spent their birthday in three different states, further apart than ever in the wake of getting closer than three siblings probably ever should have been.

Mabel realized Ty was snoring, and opened her eyes slowly, as if worried that even opening her eyes might disturb him. At some point, Dipper had scooted down in the bed and was tucked under Ty’s opposite arm and her face was directly in front of Mabel’s. The sun had set but there was still a light on in the kitchen so Mabel could dimly see her siblings’ sleeping features. Dipper’s face was uncharacteristically relaxed, the crease that almost always existed between her eyebrows smoothed away by the reprieve of sleep. She was breathing softly, her lips slightly parted, and for a second, Mabel seriously considered kissing her before reprimanding herself for the thought. Neither Ty nor Dipper had ever mentioned the events of that summer since, and Mabel generally took that as answer enough as to whether they had been motivated by the same feelings of love as she had been. Besides, even if they had been, it didn’t matter. It was a long time ago, and it wasn’t like it was something they could pursue, least of all now from three opposite corners of the continent. Ty stirred slightly in his sleep, his grip on both his sisters tightening, pulling them in closer. Mabel’s heart swelled happily, and she let her eyes fall shut again, nuzzling nearer to her triplets and reminding herself as sleep took hold that this was already more than enough cause to be thankful.

The soft music of the rain pattering on the roof and gurgling in the rain gutters, the occasional rumble of thunder, permeated Mabel’s dreams so that waking up was a slow hazy affair. She was perfectly warm, floating in a soft space that sounded like rain and deep breathing, smelled like peaches and cedar and home. She was vaguely aware of the small happy murmur she made as she wiggled deeper into this foggy happy place. The warmth around her responded with a sleepy sigh, and nestled their bodies closer together. It dawned on her that those were arms around her, that against her shoulder was a chin, and against her back was a chest, and against her backside was--

Well, now she was awake. She blinked a couple times, trying to rid the blurriness of sleep from her eyes. A familiar view of half of the Mystery Shack living room greeted her, her arms curled around Tyrone’s forearm, one hand laced loosely with his. It was hard to tell what time it was, the diffused, pale, rainy day light could have been morning or afternoon. Judging by the slow deep breaths that fell warm across her cheek and ear, Ty was still sound asleep. She couldn’t hear any stirring from the other side of the bed and assumed Dipper was still asleep as well. She’d be perfectly happy to keep on sleeping herself. Just in case she’d imagined the startling presence, Mabel gave her hips a small tentative wiggle, greeted immediately by the now unmistakable feeling of Ty’s morning wood pressed right up against her rear end.

She could feel the heat rise in her cheeks, and, for that matter, between her legs. She squeezed her eyes shut, telling herself insistently, it’s involuntary! It’s just morning wood, it doesn’t mean anything! She was pretty sure it was normal for a guy to get an erection in the morning like this, especially if he happened to be pressed against a girl’s butt. Much as she told herself that it had nothing to do with her, the familiar ache between her thighs did not waver. Hating herself for it, she moved her hips slightly again, all of her attention focused on the way he felt. He made a soft appreciative rumble that cut to Mabel’s core, simultaneously wetting her panties and filling her tummy with squirming guilt.

Reluctantly, she severed that forbidden point of contact with him, repositioning herself so that she was lying on her back. She rested her right cheek on the pillow to look at him and was surprised when his eyes met hers. His dark, heavy-lidded gaze was like a magnet, soulful and open. He wet his lips as they stared into each other’s eyes and Mabel had the sense she was looking right inside him. There was longing there that nothing could refute, a desire that ran infinitely deeper than an involuntary physical response. Their still-linked hands rested on Mabel’s belly beneath the blankets and Ty’s thumb slowly stroked the thin fabric of her tank top. Mabel’s breath caught at the innocent touch and she saw the corners of Ty’s mouth twitch towards a smirk.

The quiet intensity of the moment was broken as Dipper stirred. She’d apparently been facing away from Ty but rolled over now to wrap her arms around Ty in a sleepy, enthusiastic bear hug. She made a playful ‘eeeh’ as she squeezed him and nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck. Both he and Mabel burst into wide grins, and Ty turned his head to place a kiss on Dipper’s temple that turned into a loud raspberry. Giggles erupted from Dipper as she tried to wriggle away, her hoarse morning voice protesting, “Noo, in a moment of weakness!”

A tangle of tickling and raspberries ensued before the triplets settled down again, giggles quieting as they sank gratefully back into a horizontal group hug. Dipper didn’t sound much like she meant it when she said, “We should prooobably get up.”

“Or,” Mabel suggested, “We could stay right here forev’s.”

“Hm, an interesting proposal,” Ty said, nodding thoughtfully, “Go on.”

“Well, first of all, we already have the bed all warmed up,” she pointed out, lifting one leg slightly to gesture at the blankets, “It would conserve energy to just keep using these warms than to make new warms.”

Dipper laughed, “Not sure that’s what energy conservation is, but you have my attention.”

“So, what I propose is this.” Mabel went on in a mock-formal tone, “As opposed to going out where it is cold and wet, we stay in here, where it is warm and dry.”

“Furthermore,” Ty jumped in, “In here there are cuddles, and TV, and snacks.”

“Sold,” Dipper said decisively, snuggling her face into Tyrone’s neck, bopping his chest lightly as if with a gavel. Mabel’s heart overflowed to see Dipper this relaxed and silly, a side of her she rarely got to see with their relationship dependent on texts and phone calls. Not that any of the triplets maintained walls between them, but there were just some moments you couldn’t quite have over the phone.

After a couple more minutes of snuggling, Ty gave a dramatic sigh, “Alas, I must leave the comforts of bed.”

“But the warms!” Mabel protested, as Ty disentangled himself from his sisters’ limbs.

“Will have to wait till after I’m done peeing.” He said, giving the bed a last longing look before disappearing around the corner and heading upstairs.

Not willing to risk a moment of cuddle deprivation, Mabel and Dipper closed the gap between them that Ty had filled, enclosing each other in a familiar hug. They’d always been close to the same size, and their arms fit around each other with a pleasant symmetry, their leg placement and head placement complementary. Mabel had always found it strange, on the occasions when she had snuggled with people other than Dipper and Ty, how hard it could sometimes be to maneuver. Where it had always seemed like falling effortlessly into place for the triplets, with others it could range anywhere from tangling awkwardly to feeling like you were trying to squash square pegs into round holes. Dipper nestled her head onto Mabel’s shoulder, “I’m so glad you guys are here.”

“Me, too, sis,” Mabel agreed, kissing the top of Dipper’s head before resting her cheek against her hair, “Like Ty said, it’s really good to be home.”

Dipper nodded against Mabel, squeezing her a little, “Well, it feels a lot more like home with you here,” she paused slightly, choosing her words, “Especially since Soos and Melody have been spending so much time in Portland lately, and tourist season is over again… you’d be surprised how lonely the Shack can get.”

Mabel had to admit she’d never really considered it, but she’d never spent any time here alone. For her, the Shack (and Gravity Falls as a whole) had always been such a safe haven. When she was here, she was with her friends, and her Grunkles, and most importantly her triplets, and that had always made it seem like home. In the summer, the place bustled with tourists, Soos’ kids and their playmates always underfoot. But she tried to imagine what it was like for Dipper, here all year long, through the long harsh winters when the Shack was closed and there were no tourists. Through Soos’ family’s ever more frequent visits back to Melody’s family in Portland. Through the summers when reminders of their shared childhood were around every corner, but her siblings themselves were rarely if ever there, “Aw, Dipdot,” Mabel cooed, suddenly feeling guilty for all the times she’d thought to herself that Dipper had the best circumstances of the three of them, “I didn’t know.”

“Oh, I’m okay,” Dipper insisted, eager to make light of her feelings to keep Mabel from worrying, “I love living in Gravity Falls. I just…” she looked up and met Mabel’s eyes and Mabel was startled to feel her heart speed up at the sad longing look in Dipper’s eyes, “I just want to make the most of having you and Ty here.” Just then they heard Ty’s steps thumping down the stairs and he came back into the room, Mabel’s mind off-balance, trying to make sense of the look she’d just seen in her sister’s eyes. It wasn’t altogether unlike the way Ty had looked at her upon waking.

“D’aww,” Ty said as he grabbed Dipper’s laptop and cord where they were lying on the old dinosaur skull that had long served as an end-table, “You two look so warm and comfy,” he flipped up the corner of the covers and joined them, his tone turning mischievous, “Perfect for warming my feets!” Mabel yelped as Ty’s ice-cold feet touched hers, slipping between her knees to nestle in the warm pocket between her legs and Dipper’s.

Dipper plucked her computer from Ty, leaning partway out of the futon bed to plug it in before opening it and pulling up webflix. They didn’t have to say as much, Ty grabbing the laptop had clearly communicated to both of them what he had in mind. There was fairly little discussion before they settled on something to watch and settled into each other’s arms for the afternoon.

Mabel’s thoughts kept straying from the plot of the movie they had on and carding cautiously through the feelings she hadn’t expected to still hang so heavy in her thoughts. It had been so long and so much had happened in the intervening years, she had been sure it wouldn’t be an issue. Sure, it sometimes cropped up in her mind when she was lying in bed trying to sleep, or when she couldn’t find anything to listen to on the radio in the car, but that didn’t mean she still felt it. But now, here she was, sandwiched between them with her feelings running amok. Being with them again, being in the Shack again, it made sense that it wasn’t too far from her mind, but what she really wanted to know was what was happening in their minds. She’d never really found out back then, and she sighed, accepting that she probably wouldn’t now and would just always wonder if the way they had looked at her had just been a trick of the light.

The afternoon slid by, and they said fairly little apart from on and off running commentary on the movies they were watching. Ty’s stomach started to grumble first, with Dipper joining in close behind. When Mabel’s chimed in, enough was enough and Dipper paused the laptop, “Alright, that’s it, it’s time for food.”

It took a good five minutes to tear themselves from the coziness of the bed and Mabel shivered. The Shack was drafty and her tank top wasn’t really warm enough outside of the blankets. As they walked into the kitchen, Ty must have noticed the way she was hugging herself because he draped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder, “Warms specialist protects.” he murmured in a sweet, joking tone. She leaned her cheek against his, his stubble tickling slightly as his warmth diffused into her.

In the kitchen, a flurry of food prep began. As usual, Mabel opted to whip up a batch of cookies, settling on snickerdoodles at Ty’s insistence. He was already well along in making some sauce and pasta, while at the opposite counter, Dipper was obsessively arranging a cheese plate, slicing various cheeses and filling small bowls with crackers and olives and anything she found in the fridge and cabinets that seemed suitable. Dipper was softly narrating what she was doing in a silly song, a habit she’d picked up from Grunkle Stan in the periods when he and Ford returned to the Shack between adventures. Ty and Mabel exchanged an amused look as Mabel took another tray of cookies from the oven, listening to the ‘song’ Dipper was singing, “Fillin’ up a plate with cheese, fillin’ up a plate with cheese, want some crackers with that cheeeese? No, sir, I just want the cheese.”

“No, sir, I just want the cheese,” Ty chimed in, bopping his head to the repetitive melody, “No, sir, I just want the cheese.”

“Taking cookies off a sheet,” Mabel added, as she scooped the steaming cookies onto a plate with a plastic spatula, “Have a cookie, if you please.”

Ty’s hand was on the plate at light speed, plucking a cookie from the pile, “All the cookies are for me, all the cookies are for me, all the-- ow! Ow! Hot!” Ty sputtered, upon biting the cookie.

“Oh, no, you okay, bro?” Dipper asked, she and Mabel both darting to his side at once to make sure he was alright.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he waved them off affectionately, blowing on the cookie before taking another bite, “Mmmm, good thing I didn’t burn my tongue too much to taste.”

“Instant karma, you cookie-hoarder.” Mabel said, swatting his shoulder lightly with the spatula.

“No clue what you’re talking about.” Ty said, as Mabel put the last tray of cookie dough in the oven, and he grabbed another cookie from the plate. He gave her a cheeky smile, chewing a big mouthful of cookies as she closed the oven door and turned around. She couldn’t help but grin back at him. Just about no one could match her silliness the way that Ty could.

The triplets managed to carry their three bowls of pasta, towering plate of cookies, and over-burdened tray of cheese back to the futon in one trip, cans of Pitt Cola tucked under their arms. They piled back into bed, tucking the blankets up as high as they could get them to stay, and dove happily into their impromptu feast while resuming the dumb movie they’d been watching. Mabel had been too distracted by her own thoughts to take in most of the first half of the movie, but now that she was playing closer attention, she easily slipped into the rhythm of riffing with Dip and Ty.

Sometime after their food was set aside, apart from the occasional grape or olive from the cheese plate munched on, Ty’s hand slipped into Mabel’s beneath the covers, giving a comforting squeeze. She let her head fall against his shoulder and Dip, noticing the cuddles being initiated, laid her head in Mabel’s lap. Mabel’s free hand stroked Dipper’s hair, about two thirds of which had slipped out of her braid since the previous night. Mabel felt the warm fuzzy feelings her trips always brought out in her begin blossoming in her chest and softly said, “I love you guys so much.”

“We love you too, goober.” Ty said, kissing the top of Mabel’s head.

“We love you so so much.” Dip said, reaching up to give the hand that was petting her hair a squeeze.

It was already nearing sunset and Dipper adjusted her head in Mabel’s lap to gaze out the window as the dim rainy day grew dimmer, “Time’s going too fast,” she observed a little solemnly, “Three days sounded like more when we were planning.”

“Hushh,” Ty said sympathetically, reaching over to take Dip’s hand, “I know.”

“I just don’t want you to go yet,” Dip said, “It’s too soon.”

“We still have tonight, Dipdot,” Mabel reminded, trying to sound more optimistic than she felt. In truth, the deadline was weighing on her mind as well, “And aaaall day tomorrow, and tomorrow night.”

“Even a little bit of Monday morning.” Ty added.

Mabel could feel Dipper’s sad smile against her leg and felt a fierce push to kiss her sadness away, “I know, I shouldn’t be wasting our time together worrying about how we don’t have enough time together.”

“I don’t think we could ever have enough time together.” Ty said wistfully, and his sisters nodded in agreement, “C’mere, we gotta hug it out.” He held out his arms and Dipper crawled up to snuggle against his free shoulder, while Mabel ducked under his arm. They laid their heads against his chest, and as Mabel placed her hand absently on his thigh to pull herself closer, she could swear she heard his heartbeat speed up. She glanced up at him and this time there was no mistaking the pink tinge to his cheeks. Mabel’s attention was drawn away when she heard Dipper sniffle, a sniffle she’d be able to pick out even in a loud crowded place, the sniffle that belied Dipper losing hold of the reins of something that had been bothering her all day. Ty knew the sound as well as she did and immediately cradled Dipper’s head closer to him, tucking his chin atop her head and cooing soothingly, “Oh, honey, no,” he said, gently, “You’re okay. Just let it out.”

“I’m sorry,” Dipper choked, wiping the tears from her cheeks impatiently, “I’m being so stupid.”

“No, you’re not,” Mabel said, reaching across Ty to rub Dip’s shoulder, “It’s totally understandable. We feel the time passing, too.”

“This is such a dumb way for me to make you spend it though!” Dipper insisted, “We should all be cuddling and having a g-good time! Not managing my dumb emotions…”

“‘Scuse you, Dippinsauce,” Mabel said gesturing vaguely to them, “But we are cuddling!”

“And we are having a good time,” Ty said, giving Dipper a squeeze, “How could we have anything but a good time with our favorite sister?”

“Exactomundo,” Mabel nodded decisively, tucking Dipper’s bangs back from her face, “Tyroni’s got it right. I’m just happy that for once I’m actually here to help make you feel better when you’ve got sads.”

Dipper nodded against Tyrone’s chest, before half climbing into his lap to snuggle closer. Mabel wrapped her arms around them both in a group hug, tucking her face against them as Dipper’s tears gradually slowed. She could feel the wetness of Dip’s tears against her, and adjusted her head slightly so that she could kiss her sister’s reddened cheek. It must have surprised her, because her breath caught slightly which made Mabel smile and kiss her again. She stroked Dipper’s hair away from her face and was surprised to feel Ty press his lips tenderly to her own forehead. She gave him an inquisitive look, noting the blush again upon his cheeks, “What was that for?”

“Being such a good sister,” he said, lightly cupping her cheek for a second. She was about to lean into the touch but he removed his hand, “You take good care of us.”

“D’aww, you big softieee,” Mabel teased, a slightly bashful smile on her lips, “We take good care of each other.”

“Just take the compliment, Mabes,” Dip said, bloodshot eyes peering up at her, “I’m grateful for it, too.”

“You guyssss,” Mabel protested, surprised to feel the tears rising in her own eyes so suddenly, “Why do we live so f-far apa-art?”

At the sound of her voice breaking, Ty tugged her close against his chest, “Oh, man, you guys are gonna make me cry. Get over here.” With surprising efficacy, Ty rearranged them, maneuvering them so that they were lying down again, with Mabel in the middle. Dipper wrapped her arms around Mabel’s waist from behind her, while Ty resumed holding her to his chest, where she let herself cry freely. She wondered in the back of her mind whether this was the right moment, the best chance she’d have to tell them how she felt, but it was no use either way as the tears were coming too heavily for her to have spoken about anything. Let them believe I’m just crying about saying goodbye soon, she thought, It’s still true and it’ll save us all a lot of heartache.

After her tears slowed to a stop, she just lay there nestled between them. She would have been content, were it not for the confession hiding under her tongue. After some time, she gave into the weariness and sleep overtook her.

The hand resting on her hip was warm, so warm it was like it was on fire, burning a hole in her clothes. It must have, she reasoned, because now it seemed that it was on her skin, the fingers curling, indulging the hand’s desire to feel more of her. She was unsurprised to find the hand belonged to Ty, facing her in bed, his tousled hair falling across his brow. That look was in his eyes again, the aching softness she’d seen before. So lost was she in the inviting liquid depths of his brown eyes, she was almost surprised when they closed as his lips met hers. Small explosions went off in her mouth, dancing down through her body, leaving in their wake little magnets that drifted towards him inexorably. Her body met his, not exploding so much as melting. Even as she was kissing him, her hands running up his arms to grip his shoulders, she was also outside of them, watching how naturally they fit together.

Even with this double vantage point, the impossibly gentle lips that found her shoulder still came as a complete surprise. They moved from the round of the joint in, trailing ethereal kisses along the crest and dip of her shoulder sending exquisite tremors to her core. As a hand rose with infinite care to brush aside her hair from her neck, she knew without the faintest shadow of a doubt that it was Dipper behind her. Who else in the universe could handle her so decisively, yet with such care that it could be mistaken for caution? As Dipper’s soft lips found the base of Mabel’s throat, she knew it could not be caution she sensed, but reverence.

She watched their bodies from above while feeling them from within, marveled at the way their bodies were clothed and unclothed at once. She watched her own hand leave Ty’s shoulder to lay lightly but hungrily on the smoothness of Dipper’s thigh. Dipper pressed closer at the touch, her hips flush against Mabel’s behind. It was that touch that awakened Mabel to her own insistence. All this softness and delicacy had lit a fire in her core, and she wasn’t sure how long her own hips had been moving, eager to draw them both nearer and stoke the fire hotter.  Each time her hips moved forward, she could feel Ty’s tantalizing hardness against her, as if through clothed and not clothed at once. That sometime-sense of cloth only tempted her more, eager to really feel him with nothing in between. As her hips pivoted between them, Dipper’s hand traced much too lightly over her hip. She was distantly aware, maybe informed by seeing from the outside, of how her back arched,  how she whimpered into Ty’s unceasing kisses as Dipper teased. The tips of her fingers just ghosted towards the junction of Mabel’s thighs, making the most maddeningly delicate contact with her yearning flesh. Her hips strained more needfully, chasing the whisper of Dipper’s touch along with the heat and hardness that belied Ty’s own need.

Ty’s hand moved from her hip, starting fires all along her side as it glided up her waist, across her ribs, coming to rest in the valley between her breasts. Dipper’s fingers connected with the seat of Mabel’s hunger as Ty’s palm set fire to her heart and she felt blinded by need. Need was all that remained, need to feel them, need to protect them, need to never leave them, need to lead them in this dance until they shuddered with exquisite torment as she did now. The need was too great, much too great.

For a second, Mabel did not comprehend that she had wakened, nor at all that she’d been dreaming in the first place. After all, she could still feel Dipper behind her and Ty before her. She could still feel Ty’s erection straining towards her, her hips dancing hungrily between the two of them. The fire of need still burned in her so hot that she thought she might break. Ty was no longer kissing her, she realized, and it hit her like a slap in the face. When did he stop? She wondered, her mind sluggish, Why did he stop? She opened her eyes, hoping for some elucidation and it hit her like a bucket of ice water poured over her heat.

Ty was asleep, his face only inches from hers on the pillow. His expression was slack, his lips parted slightly as his breath came slow and deep. His eyes were closed, the eyelids flickering slightly along to some dream no doubt purer than her own. The arousal that had burned clean and bright in her gut only an instant before turned suddenly to stinking shame, spitting and bubbling like pitch. Her hips froze, her heart raced unevenly. Tears prickled her eyes and she scrambled out of the tangle of her siblings’ limbs. She couldn’t be around them right now, their guard down, their sleeping faces innocent and calm, their trust so deeply misplaced in her. Mabel managed to make it into the bathroom before the tears overwhelmed her. She shut the door with one hand while covering her mouth with the other. She couldn’t let them hear her, she couldn’t let them know. They had moved on, they had never felt this in the first place. She was the sick one, the one who had felt more than she was meant to, who felt it still as much as she tried not to.

And she was even worse than she’d thought. Humiliation and guilt swelled in her anew at the thought of the way she’d been grinding against them, the way her body had been so eager to use them for her own pleasure while they slept. She sank to the floor, one arm hugging her knees while the other hand still muffled the sound of her sobs. Much as she loved them and they loved her, maybe it had been a mistake to come here in the first place. It was too much. Too much temptation, too much risk that she would lose one of the people she loved most. If one of them had woken, how confused, how betrayed, how used they may have felt. Her heart broke at the very thought of making either of them feel anything but safe.

She cried until her tears were spent and her butt was asleep from sitting on the floor. She pulled herself up shakily and reluctantly met her eyes in the mirror. She looked frightful, her face red and blotchy, her eyes bloodshot, her hair a stormcloud of frizz. Mabel stiffly washed her face with cold water, so cold it made her hands ache, but it felt refreshing to the heat of her inflamed face. She dried her face and blew her nose, and impatiently dragged a brush through her hair until it looked a little more manageable. She brushed her teeth, prolonging her time hiding from her triplets.

When she finally emerged from the bathroom, the sun was coming up and birds were singing. She looked out at the Mystery Shack lawn, carpeted in fallen leaves. The forest blocked the horizon from her view so she couldn’t properly see the sunrise, but she could see the sky pink and mauve above the tops of the trees. The day dawned serene and crisp, the world cleansed and enlivened by yesterday’s rain, but within her a storm raged on. Bracing herself, she turned away from the window to look back at the futon. Dipper and Ty had closed the gap between them that Mabel had left, facing each other with Dipper’s head under Ty’s chin and their hands clasped together loosely between their chests. Her heart ached with love for them and a big part of her wanted to climb back into their loving arms, but she couldn’t. Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them back, instead walking into the kitchen to busy her hands and hopefully her mind.

Dipper and Ty would wake to the smell of food wafting from the kitchen. It was unlike Mabel to wake up earliest, but she knew they wouldn’t question it if she claimed it had been to make them breakfast. That was the kind of nice thing she did, wasn’t it? She was feeling so out of sorts that she wasn’t even sure. She made eggs and chicken sausages she found in the freezer, she made a fruit salad from the couple fruits she found in the kitchen, meticulously cutting strawberries into roses the way she had learned in her very brief stint as a baker’s apprentice. She was buttering toast when Dipper dragged her feet into the kitchen, “Mornin’, chef of the future,” she said, her voice hoarse from sleeping. She yawned, “I see you’ve been busy.”

“Couldn’t sleep so I thought I’d make myself useful.” Mabel replied, unable to meet Dipper’s eyes as she filled the electric kettle and turned it on. Mabel hadn’t noticed it before, but it was definitely something Dipper had gotten for the Shack.

“Everything okay?” Dip asked, sensing something in Mabel’s tone.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Mabel responded automatically, pretending the toast buttering required all her attention, “Just a, uh, bit of a headache.”

“Aw, well, hopefully food will help,” Dip observed, but Mabel could practically hear the wheels turning in her sister’s head, trying to suss out what was actually wrong, “We didn’t really eat like normal humans yesterday and maybe you just have low blood sugar.”

“Yeah, that’s probably it.” Mabel said, knowing full well that that wasn’t it.

“I…” Dipper started shakily, running a hand through her hair, “Have a bit of a headache myself.” she finished weakly, taking a mug from the cabinet and dropping a teabag in it. Mabel looked at her out of the corner of her eye as Dipper turned the kettle off just shy of a full boil and poured the water into her mug. She hadn’t noticed at first, but Dipper did look a little rough around the edges. She stirred a little bit of sugar into her tea, set in on the kitchen table, and said simply, “I’ll go get Ty up.” and left the room.

Mabel stood in the middle of the kitchen for a second, a slice of toast in one hand and butter knife in the other, unable to move. She heard the groan of Ty stretching in the next room, the muffle of some words passed between her siblings, Dipper’s laugh. I don’t deserve them, the guilt told her. Stiffly, she began setting food on the table, grabbing paper towels and silverware, salt and pepper. She continued bustling around after Dipper and Ty had seated themselves at the table, thinking of more things they might need and frankly, scared to have to look either of them in the eye.

“Hey, Mabes,” Ty said, “Why don’t you hit the pause button and eat something?”

“Okay.” Mabel said, carrying two jars of jam to the table and setting them down by the plate of toast and lowering herself into her chair. She doled food onto her plate automatically, thinking she wouldn’t be able to stomach a bite of it, but was surprised to find just how famished she was when she started eating. Maybe Dipper’s right, she thought against her better judgment, and low blood sugar is most of the problem.

The triplets had spent enough time together over their lives that it was natural for silences to sometimes fall between them. Most of the time those silences were comfortable, sometimes even comforting. It was very seldom that they felt awkward or strained, but the one that fell as they ate their breakfast was tense. Mabel tried to keep her focus on her food, but once the minimum of her hunger was sated the food turned to ash in her mouth and she found herself just moving bits of sausage and egg around her plate with her fork. She glanced around the table at her siblings, found Dipper staring into her tea and Ty smiling wryly to himself.

He laughed suddenly, dropping his fork, getting the attention of both his sisters, “Remember the summer before college?” he asked casually, making Mabel’s breath catch in her throat, “When we’d just laze around and make out all day? I had, like, the most random dream about that last night.”

Dipper put her tea mug back down, and Mabel could swear her sister’s hand was shaking. She realized her own hand was shaking, her fork rattling slightly against her plate. Is he serious? She wondered, how could he be saying this offhand, like it’s normal conversation? She found herself wishing she could be as brave, so it surprised her to hear her own voice, “I had a similar dream.”

“You did?” Ty asked, his eyes searching Mabel’s, giving away his doubt, his hope, and she could have sworn, his desire.

“Y-yeah,” Dipper chimed in shakily, before Mabel could respond, “I… actually, I did too.”

Silence dragged on at the table for a few seconds, but this one felt much different than the last. Ty was the first to break it again, “I… that’s not what I expected you guys to say. Wow, okay.” he ran his hand through his hair, “I was all ready to apologize and for you to be upset but now, I…”

“That summer has been on my mind a lot.” Mabel admitted softly, her heart pounding, “I… didn’t think you guys thought about it.”

“Are you kidding me?” Dipper said, turning to look straight into Mabel’s eyes, her gaze insistent, “I live here! Under the same roof where I… where we…” Mabel laid her hand on Dipper’s where it rested on the table between them.

“Sometimes it feels like that was the last time anything made sense.” Ty admitted, “I-I know it didn’t, but compared to the rest.”

“It was the last time we were all together for more than a week,” Mabel said, her voice growing a little solemn, “I didn’t think that summer was ever going to end.”

They looked around at each other for a minute before silently agreeing, all standing up nearly in unison to clear the table. This was not a conversation to be had without hugs, and they all knew it. Upon returning to the living room, they all hesitated for a moment before climbing into the bed, as if they hadn’t spent the last two days barely leaving it. Mabel forced herself to get into it first, lying a little stiffly on her back. Ty and Dipper followed suit on either side of her, although they were all careful not to let their bodies actually touch.

“I didn’t think that summer was going to end,” Dipper said in a measured tone, and took a deep breath, “And I really didn’t want it to.”

“Me neither.” Ty and Mabel said at exactly the same time.

“I wish I’d known how to talk about it back then,” Ty continued, and Mabel hated the sound of the regret in his voice, “I couldn’t say to you two what I couldn’t even admit to myself.”

“What do you mean?” Mabel asked, her heart was fluttering eagerly at the implication, thinking of the things she herself had been unable to say back then.

Ty sighed heavily, running his hand down his face, and Mabel’s heart lurched at the sight of the tears standing in his eyes, “I… god, I remember saying some just dumb shit about hormones and sexual need,” he scoffed, “As if it was ever about getting my dick wet. But I was an idiot, and that was so much easier than admitting how… that it was…” he took a deep breath and held it for a second, before managing to whisper, “That I love you.”

Mabel didn’t realize how close she’d been to tears herself until she heard her own relieved sob. Each of her triplets tentatively put a hand on her shoulder and she could feel Ty gearing up to apologize and she couldn’t let that happen, “I love you too!” she practically wailed, “I love you both and I did then and I do now!’

Their arms closed in around her and she could feel their tears mingling with her own, could hear the soft hitch of Dipper’s crying as she said, “I love you both too, I love you both too.” They held each other and cried for a few minutes of disbelief before Dipper said with a half-laugh, “We’re so duuuuumb.”

Ty laughed too, but Mabel just smiled, “Seriously, I mean,” Ty impatiently wiped the tears from his face, “We talk about everything, why did we never talk about this.”

“I never ever ever would have thought it’d go like this,” Mabel said, her voice still thick with sobs, “You don’t really ever assume your siblings are in love with you too.”

“Well, turns out we are?” Dipper said, a little incredulous and maybe a little giddy, she lightly turned Mabel’s chin towards her and kissed her. God, was it better than she remembered. Probably better than it had ever been, she’d never kissed her knowing that her love was returned.

“We definitely are,” Ty said into her ear, before kissing her cheek, “By some twisted miracle.”

No sooner had Mabel’s lips parted from Dipper’s than she turned her head so that they met Ty’s, still hovering by her cheek. The same explosive unity that had bloomed in her kiss with Dipper filled her anew. She could hear Dipper’s smile at seeing it. A moment later, she knew exactly how Dipper had as she watched Ty kiss Dipper. She had seen them kiss before, sure, about a decade ago and without the heady knowledge that they were all of them in love. They went on that way for some time, passing the same kiss back and forth between them, eyes bright and tears drying on their cheeks.

Mabel and Dipper were kissing again, the very tips of their tongues exploring just past each other’s lips, when Ty said absently, “Sooo about those dreams we had…” They broke their kiss to look at him, to see what it was he was getting at. He was twisting a lock of Mabel’s hair between his fingers and his eyes glinted playfully when they met hers, “What exactly was I doing in your dream?”

Mabel’s mouth grew dry as she considered the question, drawing to mind again each luscious detail of the dream in question, “Well, uhh,” she cleared her throat, feeling her face growing hotter, “You were kissing me, mostly,” Ty nodded, a smile quirking up one corner of his mouth, “And… and you had your hand on me.”

“On you where exactly?” he teased, as Dipper tucked Mabel’s hair behind her ear and kissed it gently, sending a small thrill through her.

“Um, my hip at first…”

“Here?” Ty asked solicitously, laying his palm flat on the hip nearer to him, making her squirm slightly. He smiled, “Funny, it was like that in my dream, too. I was kissing you and slowly,” he did it as he described it, “Moved my hand from here up to here.” His hand came to rest over her heart, between her breasts just as it had in her dream.

“Wait, really?” Dipper asked, curiously, “You did that to Mabes in my dream, too.”

“Your dream was about me doing stuff to Mabes?” Ty teased, his hand resting warm and heavy on Mabel’s chest. She wondered if he could feel the way her heart was battering against her ribs.

“No, no! It was all three of us!” Dipper corrected, flushing, “I was behind her, s-sort of spooning her, while you two were kissing and you did that thing with your hand and uhh…” Ty raised an eyebrow and Mabel gulped, “And I was reaching around her to… uh…”

“Wait… seriously?” Ty asked, and his voice was intrigued and a little husky, “This… is gonna sound crazy, but I think we all had pretty much the same dream.”

“Your dream was like that too?” Mabel asked, and it was Ty’s turn to flush. He nodded. There was a long moment of consideration, of indecision. This revelation hung mysteriously between them as they each tried to shake some sense out of all dreaming the same thing. As much as they would have loved to claim otherwise, always having been drawn to the supernatural, the triplets had long since debunked any possibility of psychic connection between them. Sure, they were pros at reading each other, but no more than anyone would be after so many years together. What were they supposed to do with this information, that this love and desire was not a curse to bear in silence, but something with which they’d all been living? The question was a complicated one, but the answer seemed simple enough, “This is stupid!” Mabel blurted out, grabbing the front of Ty’s shirt and pulling him down into a kiss. He was too stunned for a second, but quickly remembered how to kiss back. Without prompting, Dipper was scooting closer, her hands running over the both of them as she nuzzled and kissed the side of Mabel’s face, her neck, her ear. Her lips just below Mabel’s ear elicited a soft gasp that disappeared on Ty’s tongue. Dipper moved down her neck towards her shoulder and Mabel couldn’t stand it, breaking her kiss with Ty to capture Dipper’s lips again. Mabel turned onto her side to better kiss Dipper, and realized that her hips had begun swaying not unlike in her dream. Her thighs and Dipper’s rubbed against each other with insistent delicacy as Mabel’s hand found Dipper’s waist. New heat surged through her veins as Ty sidled up behind her, pressing himself flush against her, his erection unmistakable against her ass.

Thought gave way to pure sensation, and Mabel lost herself in the sweetness of not holding back. Though frenzied desire simmered not far below the surface, all three of them were content to take it slow, marveling at the peace and freedom of being together. Showing love without restraint and each challenging themselves to create more pleasure and greater oneness. There was no awkwardness, no standing on ceremony, as garment by garment they shed their clothes, no room for such barriers in as sacred a moment as this. They fell into a natural rhythm, one so innate it was hard to believe they’d never followed it like this before. There was no jealousy, no competing, just joy at sharing and creating such joy.

They spent hours a blissful tangle of bodies. Mabel intermittently had an instant of self-awareness, gratitude so immense that she thought she might burst. Once while her fingers moved eagerly in the wet depths of Dipper’s heat, her mouth glued to Dipper’s breast. Above her head, Dipper and Ty were locked in a searing kiss and Ty’s hips grinded against her back. Once again, in the moment Ty finally entered her, guided by Dipper’s hands as she nibbled at his ear. And again, and again, these unbearably bright moments of need and pleasure and closeness.

She had no idea how long it went on like that, before their frenzy cooled and they fell gratefully back into gentle kisses and soft caresses. Dipper was the first to cry, but Mabel and Ty were not close behind. They were not tears of sadness, quite the opposite, they were tears of relief. There was fear and uncertainty and sorrow not far from any of their minds, but in this moment they were locked together in a thankful prayer. When their tears passed, they slept. Not on purpose and not all at once, each drifting off for a couple minutes or hours before surfacing again. Barely a word passed between them, no word able to say the things they felt compelled to say with kisses, and looks, and fingertips traced lightly over skin.

The sunrise brought with it welcome light, gradually diluting the darkness and making it possible to see each other more clearly than they had throughout the night. But it also brought with it the most unwelcome of responsibilities. Tears welled in Mabel’s eyes again, and she did not need to explain to either of them the reason. Though time had ceased to exist to them, lost in the ecstasy of each other all night, it returned now with all the dread of a death sentence. In just a few hours, they’d have to say goodbye again and go back to the agony of being hundreds of miles apart.

Ty was the first to tear himself from the bed, while his sisters tearfully dozed in each other’s arms. He came back fully dressed and sat at the edge of the bed, looking down at them with eyes full of sadness. Dipper sat up, crawling still naked into Ty’s lap to kiss his forehead and wrap her arms around his shoulders. He cleared his throat shakily and said, “Can we… this time, can we talk about this?”

“Of course.” Dipper said and Mabel nodded, “Not talking about it all this time was a really bad move.”

“I love you both,” Ty said, his voice breaking slightly, “But I don’t know what we’re supposed to do here.”

“Me… me, neither.” Mabel admitted, pulling her fingers through her tangled hair, “I… I want this, but I don’t know how it fits into life.” She crawled over to them, laying her cheek on Ty’s shoulder, “We can’t just rush into this or whatever.”

“Mabel Pines wants a plan,” Dipper joked, “That’s how you know this is serious.” They chuckled lightly, the levity and companionship a pillar of normalcy in the mire, “But she’s right. I think we have some big stuff to figure out and they’re not the kind of decisions we should make lightly.”

Ty nodded and sniffled, reluctantly agreeing, “So we still have to leave.”

“Well, I’m not going to make you,” Dipper said, stroking his hair soothingly, “But I think, yeah.”

“At least for now,” Mabel said, and took a shaky breath, “I dunno what’s gonna happen, but can we please all promise we’re not going to go this long before seeing each other again?”

Ty squeezed them both closer as they all agreed, “No way,” he said, “Home is where you two are and good luck keeping me away for long.”

“Like we’d ever want to.” Dip said, sweetly kissing Ty’s temple. She laughed humorlessly to herself, “What a mess we’ve found ourselves in.”

“And there’s no one I’d rather face it with.” Mabel said decisively, thinking of the many challenges they’d faced together over the years. Every muscle in her body was telling her not to get on a plane and leave them, but she realized that every beat of her heart knew she could never truly leave them, even if they parted. She clung to that knowledge, and held them tight, comforting herself that no goodbye between them could ever keep them apart.