#but she keeps bailing on me every week

[bunnihearted]

onmw walking to the gym on my own o.o

[peachesofteal]

Light On- single mom/neighbor fic Simon Riley/female reader Prompt: 1 of 2 for sickfics / requested by multiple

I’m going to need a raincheck for dinner tonight. 

Simon frowns at his phone. You’re bailing? You seemed excited about it when he asked earlier in the week, offering to take you and Emmaline down the street to the little café on the corner for dinner. It had taken him days to work up the courage, needlessly pushed on by Johnny’s ‘encouragement’ relentless text messages filled with date ideas, and bad pick-up lines. 

Still, you had said yes. Had asked if meant Emma too, and he took secret pleasure in the way you seemed so relieved when he tilted his head and told you, of course.

Okay. Is everything alright? He fires back immediately, wondering if the crying that he’s been hearing on and off all morning has anything to do with you backing out. 

I’m not feeling great, and neither is Emma. I think we’re coming down with something. Coming down with something, like you’re sick? You’re sick? Anxiety twists in the pit of his stomach, worrying curling his fingers into a fist with a clench. 

Alright. Let me know if you need anything? He waits for a text back, an answer of some kind, an assurance that you’ll seek him out if you need help or need anything. 

It never comes. 

Six hours later, Simon is at your door. 

He has grit his teeth through the day, paced around his own flat endlessly, tried everything he could think of to distract himself. Every time he heard Emmaline wail, his stomach flipped, worry, fear, breaking down his logical sense, the analytical part of his brain until he was standing in front of your door, waiting for the inevitable click of the handle. 

When it comes, and you’re standing on the other side, his heart sinks. 

He should have come over soon. 

“Hey, sweetheart.” He says it as softly as he can, a newfound pitch of his voice that seems to only be reserved for you, trying to allay the panic that has started to form as ice inside his chest. 

“Sorry about the noise.” You croak, and he smothers his wince. You sound awful, voice nearly gone, like your throat has been rubbed raw with sandpaper. Emmaline is clad only in a diaper, and when he looks closer, he can see the stain of what he thinks must be her vomit on your shirt. Over your shoulder, dirty bottles, dishes lay stacked next to the sink, a laundry basket with a mountain of baby clothes piled high sits on the table. 

“Can I help-“ You sway, arm tightening around the baby, and he doesn’t think, doesn’t stop himself, he just moves.“Alright,” He murmurs, wrapping an arm around you, supporting both you and Emmaline by shifting you into his side, one hand against Emma’s back. She feels warm, but not nearly as hot as you, and panic tries to bubble up his throat again at the blaring heat that’s coming from your skin. “I’ve got you.” 

“Sorry, ‘m a little dizzy.” 

“It’s okay.” He keeps you close, turning you back through the door. Emma makes scratchy, unhappy noises, and he rubs his thumb against her skin. “Shhh. I know, I know. You’re okay.” You lean into him harder, and he accommodates it, moving the two of you towards the couch. “I know, you’re not feeling too good are you?” He says to Emma after he gets you down on the couch, hands now around her back, waiting for a sign of permission from you to lift her. 

“She can go down. If you-“ Your breath gets caught in your chest, and you curl forward, his hand going to your shoulder, your body shaking with a cough. “If you want to try.” You whisper once you recover, brows knitted together in misery, and he cradles her, rocking her back and forth, mimicking your usual movements. 

“You stay right here.” He nods to the couch, using a fraction of the voice he uses on Johnny, and you immediately nod, eyes shuttering closed with a slow blink. “Just rest.” 

Emmaline is still crying when he opens the door to her room, the first he’s seen it, pale green walls and dark wood crib, small rocker in the corner next to a changing table. It’s a comforting space, decorated and cared for with love, and for a moment, his mind wanders to an image of you, painting the walls with a swollen belly, or curled in the plush rocker, reading a book to Emmaline, still nestled inside you. He wasn’t there for it, but he just knows you were so beautiful, the kind of glow that would have stopped him in the street. You still stop him in the street. 

Emma wails, bringing him back to reality with a softer cry than earlier, and he keeps her close to his chest, murmuring low and soft. “Shhh. You’re alright, baby girl. You’re okay.” He continues the rocking side to side thing you usually do in a standing position, mumbling things to her, stroking his fingers down her cheek, her forehead, bouncing and swaying at the same. “Are you not feeling too good? Is that what’s got you all upset? Yeah. I get kind of grumpy when I don’t feel good either.” He coos, little lashes slowly blinking up at him, transfixed on his face during his stream of chatter until they begin to slip shut, her mouth still hanging half open. He holds his breath, staring in astonishment at her sleeping face, half shocked, half ridiculously pleased.

“Have you taken anything?” He barely sits on your ottoman, leaning over to get a better look at you, uncomfortable with the way your eyes seem glazed over, how slow they are to react. Maybe you need to go to the hospital? 

“Some naproxen, a bit ago.”  You look exhausted, eyelids heavy, and he can’t stop himself from pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. 

“You’re really warm, sweetheart. Do you need a doctor?” Tell me what to do, he wants to beg. Tell me how to help.

“No, jus’ sleep.” A confused look flickers across your face. “Oh my god, did you…” you swallow a cough, his hand sliding down to cup your shoulder, thumb soft against your dirty t shirt. “did you get her down?” He nods, slowly, fighting the small grin that tugs at his lips. 

“Wow.” You breathe, and your hand drags up your chest to where his still sits on your arm, fingers intertwining in his with a small squeeze. “You really are our hero.” He smiles at you, because how can he not, heart warm and full in his chest, the feeling something he hasn’t experienced in a long, long time. 

There’s a moment, a second extended into a minute, maybe an hour, he’s not sure, where you don’t look away from him. Where you look at him, really look at him, and see him, see his twice broken nose, the scar on his cheek, the one above his eyebrow. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t try to hide or look away, just holds himself still, staring down at you on the couch, sweat dotting your forehead and neck, still beautiful with your fever parched skin and tired eyes. 

“Simon.” You whisper, and he thinks, maybe… he’s supposed to kiss you right now. That if he were braver, if Johnny were here to egg him on, if he felt like it wasn’t taking advantage of your weakened state… he might. But instead- 

“Why don’t you close your eyes, love. Try to get some rest. I’ll stay. See if I can get some of these dishes done. I can get her if she gets up.” 

“You don’t have-“ 

“I know.” He soothes. “I know I don’t, but I’m here. Let me help.” Let me help you. Let me be here. 

You take a deep breath, as deep as you can manage, and then your voice is light, but so sweet, and so, so trusting when you say;

“Okay, Simon.” 

[strawberrykidneystone]

Fresh Out the Slammer I Know Who My First Call Will Be

stanley pines x fem! reader

summary: stanley needs to be bailed out. again. don't worry, he'll make it up to you! he swears!

a/n: i am not immune to the gravity falls renaissance,,, all 22 fingers iykyk

tags: smut, set the week before the twins come to gravity falls, reader is late 20s-early 30s, reader wears a skirt, pussy eating, cowgirl, spanking (like twice), creampie (wrap it before your tap it)

ao3 version

y/n stood at the counter of the police department once again, her arms crossed as she had to bail stan out.

again.

how many times has she have to do this? she didn't keep track anymore, yet she would still do it every time he called.

"hey sweets..." his sheepish voice would always ring out as he called to her from the small holding cell.

blubs grumbled something about this being a weekly occurrence as stan meekly came out of the cell, knowing he was going to be in the dog house tonight. stan quickly put his signature jewelry back on and rushed out in front of y/n and held the passenger side door of El Diablo open for her, putting on his best smile as she slid into her seat, her arms still crossed.

the ride home was quiet, the windows were rolled down and stanley glanced over every so often at y/n as the wind blew through her hair. god she was so beautiful, he didn't deserve her. she was always there for him, more than his own parents, more than his own brother, and he knew that every time he messed up like this she just got closer to leaving him like everyone else. he knows better, he knows he shouldn't think like this, and she gladly reassured him every time, but times like this in the deafening silence only being broken by the erratic purr of the engine, he couldn't help but get lost in his thoughts.

this time was somewhat of a last hurrah for stanley since he had the twins coming over. he stopped smoking his usual cigars and replaced all his beer with pitt, even giving y/n a small squirt gun to spray him every time he cursed, trying to get out of the habit before the impressionable 12-year-olds arrived for the summer.

when they arrived home, stan ran around el diablo once again and opened up y/n's door. she seemed less peeved than she was when she first arrived at the station, but she still kept quiet as she stepped out and walked into the mystery shack, stan trailing behind her like a lost puppy.

y/n sat at the edge of their shared bed and looked up at stan expectantly, an aura of annoyance surrounding her. she had one leg crossed over the other and arms crossed to match. "awe doll, don't look at me like that, this was the last time i swear!"

"the kids are coming next week stan! how do i know that this was really the last time?"

"let me prove it to you sweets, i promise on my mother that my act will be together for these kids,” he said holding one hand up and placing the other over his heart like an oath.

y/n frowned a little but gave the old man a curt nod, knowing how important their stay was to him and how much he's already been preparing already.

"lemme make it up to you doll," stan purred and got down on his knees with a little bit of exertion, crawling forward on his knees and gently prying her knees apart. he looked up at her with half-lidded eyes, pressing kisses to the inside of her knees with an exaggerated "mwah" each time along with his stubble scratching against her skin.

this made y/n crack a smile and reached a hand down to run her fingers through his hair, landing on the side of his face, "and how exactly are you going to do that stanley?"

he loved hearing his name from her mouth, he grinned up at her and tugged her closer by her thighs, causing her to sequel with her back landing on the bed, "oh i might have a few ideas doll."

stan pushed her skirt up around her hips and licked his lips, already seeing a wet spot on her panties, "all this just for me baby? you spoil me."

he leaned forward and licked a stripe up the soiled fabric, mouthing at her clothed pussy and reaching his hands around to grope her ass. he nuzzled his nose against her clit, inhaling her scent deeply and hearing a whine spill out from her, "stan stop teasing."

he muttered something incoherent about patience, but judging by the bulge in his pants, he didn't want to wait much longer either. stan hooked his thumbs through the sides of her underwear and with y/n lifting her hips up, slid them off with ease. he immediately dove in like a man starved, massaging his tongue against her sensitive nub and sucking every so often. moving his mouth down, his nose nudged against her clit, encouraging her to rub herself against it as he thrusted his tongue inside of her. she took the hint and grinded her hips against his nose, moaning at the new stimulation while being partially filled up, feeling his tongue rubbing against her walls.

stan groaned and pulled back panting, her slick all over the bottom half of his face, "can't take it anymore doll, need you to ride me."

she giggled and rolled her eyes, "alright, get on the bed old man."

she turned over on all fours to crawl further up on the bed, stan taking the opportunity to give her ass a playful smack, a small squeak falling from her lips. y/n sat back on her heels and took off her shirt, along with her bra. by the time she turned around, stan was comfortably lying with his back against the headboard, completely naked with his cock standing up high.

y/n shuffled on her knees over to him and straddled his thighs, stan looking up at her light she hung all the stars in the sky causing her to blush deeply. she took his cock into her hand and rubbed the tip in between her lower lips, stan salivating as he watched his precum mix with her own arousal with his hands quickly making their way to her hips. as she finally sank down on his length, both of them let out a sigh of pleasure as her warm walls engulfed him.

she took a moment to adjust to his length, allowing his hands to wander up her waist, squeezing her breasts in his big hands and brushing his thumbs over her nipples every so often. he leaned forward and sucked on her left nipple, teething softly but careful to not bite down too hard, switching to the other a short time later. while he was showing affection to her breasts, she ran her hands over his hairy shoulders and reached towards his upper back, running her nails just hard enough to leave a mark. she gave an experimental bounce, her breath hitching as he finally bottomed out inside of her. stan unlatched from her breasts and leaned back, his gripping her ass with a shit-eating grin, "you ready to ride toots?"

she let out a breathy laugh and put her hands on his beer gut, leaning forward slightly to steady herself, "i'd be more concerned about myself if i were you."

as he was about to respond with something snarky, she lifted herself almost completely off of him before sinking back down quickly. he moaned and leaned his head back, giving her a little support with her movements with his hands. stan smacked her ass as she found a steady rhythm, feeling her squeeze around him. "that's it, that's my good girl."

stan grabbed her hips and kept her in place, thrusting up into her with his feet pushing down into the mattress, watching her breasts bounce with each movement. y/n moaned and arched her back, reaching a hand down to rub her clit for more stimulation, "yes! right there, don't stop stan!"

stan kept with the pace he was at and could feel himself getting close, gritting his teeth, "where do you want it doll?"

"inside, please!"

he nodded and reached one of his calloused hands down to rub her clit, replacing her own hand as he continued to thrust inside of her as she moved with him. with the rough texture of his hand, y/n opened her mouth in a silent scream as she reached her peak with stan not far behind as he released his seed inside of her.

the two sat in a comfortable silence, only their heavy breathing filling the room. y/n looked down at him and smiled sleepily, affectionately tapping his chest, "good job keeping up oldie."

he snorted and put his hand behind his head, "'m sorry doll, it was one last hurrah. am i forgiven?"

y/n pretended to think and tapped her chin with her index finger, "hmm i don't know... yes of course, I'll always be there to bail you out stan, you know that."

a soft smile rested on his face as he took the hand on his chest, kissing each fingertip, "i know you will doll, and I'm damn lucky to have you."

she leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, grinning like a cheshire cat suddenly, "i took your bail money from your buried cash box."

"you WHAT-"

a/n: ty for reading!!! also it's my fanfic and i'll write as many run on sentences as i want!!!

[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

Thinking about baby daddy!Miguel O’Hara that starts to invite you over to do activities more often during his weeks with Gabriella, saying it would be good to show your daughter that you both still had a good relationship with each other. Which struck you as odd since you two genuinely have always gotten along anyways but you decided to ignore it and brush it off.

Baby Daddy!Miguel who invites you over to his place on a hot summer day, saying that he’s having a pool party with a bunch of your friends. Insisting you bring the guy you’ve been talking to so he can finally meet him and totally doesn’t want him there to prove to him that he’s not worth your time.

Baby Daddy!Miguel who can’t keep his eyes off you when you come out to the backyard after having changed into his favorite a bikini, asking Mj to help you apply sunscreen on your back. Wishing it was his hands rubbing it into your skin instead.

Baby Daddy!Miguel who rolled his eyes when your not-boyfriend-but-more-then-a-talking-stage guy finally arrived over three hours late with the wrong type of beer, seeing him come in with a pack of Bud Light when Miguel was strictly a Modelo man. “Accidentally” squeezing his hand a bit too tight when he shakes it.

Baby Daddy!Miguel who made sure to keep telling stories about you two from your time together, not sparing any details as he and all the guys/dads gathered around the grill while Miguel turned over the carne asada y Pollo asado he was grilling. Not even caring about the looks your new boy toy would throw at him. His best friend Peter and his brother Gabriel both shooting each other a knowing look.

Baby Daddy!Miguel who took the aux from Peter and switched the music over to his spanish playlist, totally not on purpose starting off with the song Que Malo from Bad Bunny, then immediately after the playlist start to play Eres Mía from Romeo Santos, you didn’t even have time to think about the song choices before Miguel dragged you over to dance per your daughter’s request.

—

“I’m sorry Peter, but if I have to hear you play it wasn’t me from shaggy again, I’ll lose it.” Miguel exasperated as he unplugged his friend's phone mid song, earning a protest from Peter, but Miguel just shook his head as he plugged his own phone. “You’ve placed that song at every function since we were 18.”

You couldn’t help but let out a small squeal of excitement as Bad Bunny took over the backyard. Singing along to the song as you pass around another round of drinks to the guys at the grill, completely oblivious to the subliminal message that Miguel was sending you as you recited Ñengo Flows part. A new modelo in each one of the guy’s hands (well except your talking stage, he had a Bud light), it seems that your new little friend didn’t seem to understand a lick of Spanish, the message of the song completely flying over his head as he nodded along to the beat mindlessly.

Once the song ended, the new one played, Eres Mía, your brows scrunched a bit at the sudden genre changing. You were in the middle of crossing the grass lawn to where Miguel’s phone was sitting next to the speaker to change it, when you suddenly felt the small fingers of your daughter’s hand dragging you back.

“Mami! Ma! Baile con Papi! I love it when you two dance to these songs.” She begged, you usually wouldn’t mind doing so when she asked you too, but since the guy you were talking to was here, it would feel awkward if he watched you dance something as intimate as bachata with your ex. (Mommy ! Mom! Dance with dad!)

“I-I don’t know Gabi-“ You started, once you finally stopped in front of Miguel, your face filled with a bit of confusion on what to do. Miguel noticed and waved his hand as if reassuring you it’s no big deal.

“He won’t care, right bud?” He said as he nodded towards your guest, but before he could say an answer Miguel’s hands were already wrapped around the small of your back, as he started to guide you through the dance.

You just decided to go along with it, it’s not a big deal right? It’s only one dance.

—

Part 2<

Part 4<

Not proofread.

Word count: 700

Taglist: @ginnysculture @mishaglass @wusyanamee @mangoslushcrush @queerponcho @bunnibitez @miguelzslvtz @migueloharastruelove @dahehow @sinners-98-world @othersideoftheparadise @toyfortoji @yeshajane @yvesbi

(If you Would like to be added pls say so, I’m sorry if I missed anyone lmk if I did!)

[nonasuch]

here is a fun little star wars scenario that has been pinging around inside my head like a screensaver:

so let’s say there’s some very zealous, very low-ranking fresh young Imperial officer on duty the day they take the Senator from Alderaan into custody. 

and he is very very nervous because a) he’s been here for like a week and b) none of that week required him to be in a room with Darth Vader. which he now is. so he is trying to focus very very hard on Doing Everything Exactly According To Protocol, as a means of not focusing on the seven-foot evil wizard standing fifteen feet away.

and part of the protocol for processing new prisoners is to make a new file for them in the prisoner database, and enter all their biographical details and vital statistics and a gene sample and their known associates and the nature of their terrible crimes against the Empire and so on. which he does! very meticulously!

except the computer keeps throwing an error message. the stupid thing keeps beeping at him, this awful grating little noise that makes his shoulders ratchet up tighter and tighter every time it honks at him, and he can’t fix it and Darth Vader is right over there—

except oh god oh fuck the beeping noise must be annoying Darth Vader, too, because he’s coming over here and our poor junior officer is convinced he’s going to die before he even lives long enough to send his first paycheck home to his poor widowed mother —

he stammers out an apology. Vader just stares at him. he swears he’ll figure out the problem right away, sir, it’s probably a bug in the system, it’s just that for some silly reason it keeps saying this gene sample doesn’t match the one on file for the Senator so he can’t get her logged as a new prisoner just yet —

“Dismissed,” says Vader. the poor kid flees, gratefully.

Vader considers the matter. in fact, his underling was correct: the gene sample, which he saw taken through his very own helmet lenses, does not match the official record of Senator Leia Organa, heir to the throne of Alderaan. so: perhaps the sample on record was falsified. not impossible, but very, very difficult. and ordinarily a crime attempted by the lowly and desperate. he cannot see any need for it, in the daughter of a queen.

another possibility presents itself. Alderaan has no history of using royal doubles, as some worlds do. but Bail Organa has worked closely with royal houses where the practice is long-established. perhaps he was inspired. perhaps the girl they captured is not Leia Organa at all.

Vader runs the gene sample against the ship’s database. it is woefully incomplete, of course, containing only a fraction of the Empire’s billions of citizens: the ship’s own complement, a selection of known criminals and Rebels they might encounter, high-ranking officials whose identity must be confirmed should the Emperor require their presence. unlikely that this girl, whoever she is, would have a record here, or even a partial match—

the computer beeps at him. it’s a cheerful beep, this time, not the error message that stymied the junior officer. the computer reports that the gene sample is a partial match for Pooja Naberrie, the Senator from Naboo. they are, with eighty-nine percent probability, first cousins.

and Vader just. kind of stands there. for a minute.

when he goes to Leia’s cell, there’s no interrogation droid with him. he goes in. he shuts the door behind him. he stands there, silent, for frankly a worryingly long time, until Leia has run through her entire stockpile of  “how dare you, I’m a member of the Senate on a humanitarian mission” and “whatever you want, you can’t possibly think I would be of any help” and “well, if you’re going to interrogate me, get on with it already” and “are you even listening to me?” and  falls silent herself. 

Vader has been listening to her. he has also been listening to the Force, which seems to think that she’s not lying. obviously the humanitarian mission part is bullshit, that goes without saying. but the “I’m Senator Leia Organa” parts and the “I won’t help you” parts? yeah. he searched his feelings. he knows them to be true. the Force is singing in his head, bright and clear, in a way it hasn’t for nearly twenty years.

there’s still Tarkin to deal with, though. Vader turns and leaves the cell without a word.

Tarkin wants to blow up Alderaan. this is unacceptable, obviously, and Vader forbids it on the grounds that the Queen and the Viceroy possess vital intelligence, not disclosed to their daughter, that must be acquired. said intelligence being, not that he’s saying this out loud, how the fuck Bail got his hands on his daughter, and who else knows about it.

“the fate of the galaxy rests on it,” is what he does say out loud. from the way the Force harmonizes with his words, that might even be true.

so the Death Star just. parks there. in an incredibly threatening orbit around the planet. they issue a demand that the Organas surrender themselves, or else, but apparently the happy couple just left for a low-tech weekend retreat in the mountains, what awful timing, they’re sending someone to fetch them right away. Vader shuts himself up in his quarters, to seethe and watch the surveillance feed from Leia’s cell. he’s not really paying attention to much else. 

and it’s not like a random freighter getting tractored in for being an incredibly obvious smuggling vessel is the kind of thing you’d alert Darth Vader over, anyway. 

so he’s still sitting there, one great big thought filling up his whole entire head, watching Leia take a frustration nap, when her cell door opens. 

and a trooper comes in.

and the trooper takes off his helmet.

and he says, “I’m Luke Skywalker. I’m here to rescue you.”

(continued here)

[lilac-5ky]

Holed Up (Husband!Toji x Fem!Reader)

mini kinktober tribute: stuck in a wall/hole

plot: you should've known that asking Toji to help you out of a hole would lead him inside another—or that time you got stuck in the dog house and he bailed on you for KFC.

tags: MDNI, stuck in a wall/hole, pet play (kinda), breeding, doggy style, fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), spanking, pet names (bitch, baby), established relationship, crack plot, unsolicited kfc orders, i promise toji loves reader, he's just joking guys.

wc: 2.2k

Masterlist | Kinktober Masterlist | AO3

“Whatcha doing?”

Sarcasm rolls from your husband’s tongue as he stares down at you. Back arched, knees bent, and head encased by wooden planks. Not the most flattering position to be found in, especially with how the light autumn breeze blows at your dress and parts its layers, opening a window to the pink panties of your choice.

His question feels excessive. He knows exactly what you are doing. It was only this morning that you asked him to dig poor ol’ Mister Stinky’s remains from the dog house and he claimed he’d rather buy his son a replacement. No arguing there, but should Megumi see what became of his favored stuffed animal—fuzzy entrails gutted out of the frog’s shredded belly in a path initiating from his bedroom—he’ll be having nightmares for weeks to come.

Besides, you doubt synthetic is the kind of fiber your vet prescribed for your puppy's diet.

“What you should’ve done instead.” You finally spit out, contempt over what Toji’s long fingers could’ve accomplished without him needing to stick half his body into a hole like your, admittedly, dumbass self did.

“For thirty minutes straight? Damn, seems I overestimated ya.”

Even though your view of him is limited to a pair of overworn black slippers, you can vividly picture his scarred lips pulling over his teeth in another of his complacent smirks that scream I told you so.

“Don’t have anything better to do than time me?”

“Nah,” Toji drawls. “Grew tired of waiting on ya, so I thought I’d come see how it’s going.”

“It’s going great!” You lie through your teeth. Anyone with a functioning pair of eyes could see how non-great this is going. “Anything else you need?”

“Well it is noon.” He points out.

“And?”

“And my darling wife’s out ‘ere, rolling in the mud when she should be having lunch with me.”

A snort flares in your nostrils. He is unbelievable.

“What a cute way of letting me know you’re hungry, Toji. You know, if you’d actually helped, I would’ve had the time to set the table and give Mister Stinky a proper burial, but I can’t do both at the same time, can I?”

“Mhm, so how ‘bout we help each other?” He suggests, undeterred. “I get your ass out, and you cook us somethin’ tasty real quick.”

“Wh-who said I was stuck? I can get out whenever I want.”

“Really, huh? What keeps ya from getting out this instant, then?”

“I don’t want to.” You answer wryly. “I like it here. It’s quiet, and I could use some time for myself.”

“In the dog house.” His tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth. He’s not buying an ounce of what you’re selling. “C’mon, don’t be stubborn. You’ll end up reeking of dung if ya stay here a minute longer. Lemme give ya a hand.”

You know that accepting his help comes at the exorbitant price of utter humiliation, but he’s got a point. Last night’s downpour emanates strongly from the saturated wood, a dizzying smell that turns overwhelming when combined with the strong odor of what you sincerely hope is not piss. Your knees are on the verge of collapsing, and there’s more dirt in your nails than if you dug a grave barehanded. Right now, a day in the bathtub seems like a panacea for your every issue.

Almost.

Kissing your teeth, you resign with a long-drawn sigh that’s barely audible over the rumble in your stomach. You shouldn’t have skipped breakfast.

A moment passes before you hear the crunch of leaves as they rustle beneath his feet; see a second pair of knees take place between your own. Then it’s two hands gripping at your hips, and eventually, a face—your husband’s handsome face that beams with a smug smile and eyes of mischief.

“Lookin’ good, sweetheart.” He greets, though you doubt he sees your face with all the hair that’s curtaining over your eyes while you hang upside down.

“What are you doing, Toji?” You recycle his question in an aggravated tone that fizzles out the second you feel his thumb press against your panties and tug the fabric to the side.

“Nothin’. Just curbing my hunger.” His finger teasingly glides across your nether lips and lands at your clit, while a palm large enough to envelope both your ass and cunt kneads at the tender flesh he’s offered. “Fridge’s empty, so.”

“This isn’t funny!”

“‘m not laughing, but c’mon. You hafta admit it’s pretty damn funny.” Warm air wafts from Toji’s mouth as he inches closer to your thighs. “Y’always whine when I fuck you from behind, but now? Look at you. Bent on all four like a real bitch.”

“T-Toji!”

Your breath hitches in your throat as he slides two fingers in your hole, languidly scissoring them in and out until there’s enough slick to lather your clit with. He circles around the nub while his fingers prod deeper inside, the icy touch of his wedding band clashing with the heat that sparks through your body when he bottoms out. A smothered moan gains echo as it bounces off the walls and into his ears.

“Such a well-trained pup,” Toji praises, retrieving his palm to lick his fingers. “Might win yourself a collar at this rate.”

You bite back your tongue before it can react to his backhanded comment, reminding yourself that you’re still outside, right where your neighbors can peek over the white picket fence for a quick hello and catch you slutting yourself out on your husband’s fingers.

“Can’t we continue this inside? Mrs. Honda is right next door, and M-Megumi—” You stutter when his palm returns to your body, its twin joining in spreading your cheeks further apart.

“Kid’s at school for another hour,” Toji mumbles, his hot tongue parting your folds with a long stroke that has your knees buckling. “So fuckin’ good,” he groans, his nose buried between your two holes while he lazily laps at your juices. “That sweet cunt is the reason why I married ya.”

You keen to his touch, hips bucking into his mouth, and walls clenching for more. “Only reason?”

“Nah. Consider that tight little ass as the second.”

His fingers burrow into the supple skin to squeeze at it, only lifting to deliver playful smacks that cause your ass to jiggle against his face. He growls into your pussy, mouthing all sorts of filth that gets drowned by your moans. It feels so good when he eats you out—it always does—but the probability of being caught in such a compromising position adds to the excitement.

The hand that’s trapped with you inside your pet’s house scratches at the wood, while the other rakes at the soil for grounding. Your orgasm creeps up on you, turning your vision blurry and tinting the darkness of space with colored specks. You are so close; all he needs to do is keep swirling at your clit, swallowing the entire bundle of nerves in his mouth, and sucking hard until—

“Ah, right.” He stops, words slurring from the threads of saliva that link his mouth with your cunt. “You said ya wanted time with yourself.”

Anger washes over you in place of the orgasm you were robbed of, the pleasurable fireworks traded for the obnoxious red alarm that goes off in your brain. “Toji, I swear to God, if you don’t fuck me right fucking now, the only lunch you’ll be seeing is KFC buckets for the rest of your life!”

A low chuckle falls flat from his lips. “Three. I love that snappy mouth ‘f yours.”

In an attempt to meet his eyes, you duck between your legs. Your hair mops the floor as you watch him pull down his pants and boxers, the last thing you see before blood shoots up in your head being the hard cock that dangles out of reach. The heat in your stomach stirs at the sight, anticipation building rapidly when you feel him run the reddened tip between your puffy folds.

“Sure you don’t want it here?” Toji taps his cock against your ass hole and your entire body jolts in response, a loud Toji amusing rather than deterring him. “A’right, a’right! Gotcha the first time.”

His profound dream of burying himself nine inches deep into your ass crumbles as he aligns his cock with the entrance of your pussy. You brace yourself, patiently awaiting that initial sting that never goes away; no matter how many times he fucks you or how diligently he preps you, the thickness of his girth always threatens to split you in half.

But now he’s stalling, a complacent smile sitting on his lips while he contemplates your silence. “Bet you’re red as a beet in there, aren’t ya?”

He plunges himself inside before you are given the chance to either prove or disprove him, a silent scream punched from your throat as his cock rams straight into your g-spot. He huffs a deep breath, barely keeping a groan bottled, when he feels your walls tighten around him. It’s suffocating. Wet, and tight—a little similar to what being stuck in that small space feels like for you, but infinitely more pleasurable for him.

"Mm, such a sloppy little cunt. Got yourself stuck in there for this, didn't ya?"

His fingers latch onto your hips, bruising you as his nails dig meanly into your skin. He drags his cock halfway out of your cunt only to snap his hips back in, picking up a pace that ramps up over time. His quick thrusts fuck you further into that hole, your tits bouncing and slapping against the hard wooden planks while your dress rides higher to expose your back.

Toji bends your body into an arch, a heavy palm situated on your stomach until you’re able to hold the position on your own.

“Like it when your husband fucks ya like a bitch?” He grunts, catching the hand that’s squirming on the grass beside him and twisting it behind your back. “Pounded in broad daylight f'everyone to see how dumb you get over my dick, huh?"

Your whimpers don’t go unnoticed by him. He laughs at the high pitch your voice has assumed, babbling his name an incomprehensible amount of times that exceeds the frequency with which his swollen cock head kisses your pulsing core. You can't think enough to reply, and you can't bring yourself to ask him to stop.

He smacks your ass loud enough for you to whine, alerting every last neighbor in the block to what is happening in their quaint suburban neighborhood. “Answer me.”

“Yes, Toji—fuck, love how big it feels.” Your thoughts stem from your pussy without being filtered by your brain. All your body knows is how badly it needs to be pushed over the edge, disregarding the scornful looks you’ll definitely be receiving at the next neighborhood watch assembly.

“That’s not what I asked.” Toji smacks your ass again, softer this time—or so it feels because of your numbing skin. “I asked, Who owns this pussy, mm?”

“That’s not what you asked at all!” Your talking back earns you a third spank. You realize you’ve got no agency of your own.

“Won’t ask again. Who. Owns. This. Pussy?” He punctuates each word with a thrust sharper than the one before, his cock twitching when he hears you screaming your answer at the top of your lungs.

“You do, T-Toji. My pussy is yours—ngh!”

“And who’s bitch are you, baby?”

“Your bitch!” You answer willingly, your mind clouded, and your logic dulled. “Fuck, Toji, you know I’m all yours.”

“Damn right, y’are.” He hums in response, hunching over your body to rub tight circles around your clit, jerking the nub up and down, round and round.

You’re almost there, and when he asks you whether you wanna be bred like one, the tension in your gut finally snaps, eyes involuntary crossing as white waves of pleasure overtake you.

He fucks you through your high at an animalistic pace, the thought of filling your belly with a baby that’s half his and half yours flooding his brain before your answer registers, his cum spilling deep within your pussy with a few sloppy pumps that squelch to the sound of your mixed fluids.

His moans mingle with yours, the rough sound of his voice raising goosebumps from where he kisses your back to the resounding ringing in your ears. He wraps his arms around you almost tenderly, peppering your back with kisses that almost convince you he’ll finally pull you out of that miserable hell hole but that’s not his intention. It never was.

A final smack meets with your ass right before he rolls his pants back up and walks toward the house, undisturbed by the screams that follow close on his trail.

“You said you’d get me out of here!” Your fist hits the ground, finges clenching around a tuft of grass blades that you violently root out.

“And you said you can get out whenever ya want. That you needed time for yourself, ‘member?”

“I didn’t mean that!” You object, your tone too squeaky to be taken seriously. “Toji, you’d better help me or else—”

“Or else what? KFC until I die?” He snorts. “Relax, I’ll come back before Megumi gets ‘ere.” You hear his phone buzzing as he—presumably—punches something in his search bar. Hot wings don’t sound too bad; he whispers for himself to hear, speaking up only when he asks you if you want him to order you a twister wrap or something before he closes his order.

a/n: the episode excited me too much, apologies. i was gonna post this later asdfghjkl but toji is back and we cum.

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

It's a bit long - maybe it a two-parter? But reader is in love with Eddie and tries to show him, sending him love notes in his locker but he thinks (hopes) they are from Chrissy so she decides to just give up, thinking he will never see her like that so she distances herself completely and he doesn't understand why - she even changes direction when they are about to run into each other in the corridor - and when he finally manages to confront her she just tells him "You won't ever love me like I love you so I am just trying to move on" and he's like "well, how do you know that, you've never given me a chance to love you, you just bailed when I didn't realize you were the one sending the notes!"

Request by @somethingvicked 💞

Angst, fluff, pining.

💞

For the last two weeks you had a secret. It was something you hadn't told anyone, not even Robin.

The note in your pocket is carefully sealed in an envelope that you are going to try and sneak in Eddie's locker.

In the last few weeks you have been leaving love notes for your long time crush Eddie Munson. You had poured your heart out in the notes, it was cathartic. A way to express your feelings that were bursting to be let out and it was nice to watch the sweet smile on Eddie's face when he read the notes.

They were all signed anonymously and you disguised your handwriting just enough so that Eddie wouldn't notice it was you. To be honest you were trying to build up the courage to confess to him.

Cautiously you look around and there is a rare occurrence where the hallway is pretty much empty so you quickly rush over to Eddie's locker and slip the note in.

Heart hammering you hurry away from the locker and feel nerves swirl in your stomach. This note was different, a lot more detailed and lovey dovey than the others, you couldn't help it. You were head over heels for Eddie and even though the notes were anonymous, it felt cathartic to say how you felt.

When Eddie finds the latest note at lunch time, the whole of Hellfire is gently teasing him. His cheeks are pink but his eyes are full of excitement, and an anxiousness to know who they are from.

"Who's going to send this doofus love notes though really?" Gareth jokes and ducks to miss the pretzel thrown at his head while laughing his head off.

Then Eddie perks up, smiles dreamily and sighs. "Hey maybe they are from Chrissy?" He looks so hopeful and the words immediately crush any thoughts that you had in which he might feel the same.

Chrissy. He wanted it to be Chrissy, of course he did. She was the sweetest and prettiest girl in Hawkins High, there was no way that Eddie was immune to her charms.

It hurt you though. All this time he talked about not conforming and yet he falls for the beauty queen. Not that you could be too mad at him, it's not like anyone could help who they fell for. You wish you could have that power, to erase these feelings you have for Eddie.

The thoughts still make you feel faintly nauseated and you get up suddenly, "Sorry guys, uh headache'' it's all you can do not to run out of the cafeteria while blinking away tears.

Thank god no one saw you crying. Then you'd really have no way to explain yourself.

That night you're laying in bed and listening to the most angsty music you can find, your thoughts racing about what happened today and stomach churning at what it meant.

You knew deep down that Eddie might not feel the same and at least that was confirmed. It was time to stop indulging in dumb fantasies, it felt like the small bit of hope you had clung onto had faded and now you had given up. Eddie was never going to see you as anything more than a friend.

Maybe it was the push you needed to move on? Or at least distance yourself a tiny bit until these feelings faded.

But how long would that take? The thought of not seeing Eddie every day is awful, you don't know what to do and the worry and despair keeps you up all night.

By the morning you feel numb but full of acceptance at what you need to do.

💌

Distancing yourself from Eddie was hard. He was so ingrained in your usual routines, you were so used to seeing him practically every day that there was this ache in your chest that he wasn't around.

It didn't help that Eddie looked at you like a lost puppy and it shook your resolve every time. You missed the guys at Hellfire too, instead of your usual spot at the table you talked to Robin or Nancy, aware of eyes on you when you didn't sit down beside Eddie.

It was a catch-22, you desperately wanted these feelings to go away so things were back to normal but you missed Eddie like crazy, it felt like a piece of you was missing.

When you saw him in the corridor today, you froze and went in the other direction but you didn't miss the look on his face when you did. It was so hurt and it crushed your heart even more.

You couldn't leave things like this, you would have to say something. Eddie must be so confused and you didn't want to hurt him. But how could you explain how you felt about him, that you're the one who sent the notes?

What if finding out how you felt ruined your friendship? What if what you were doing was ending it, honestly your mind was racing a mile a minute.

Shit you haven't sent any notes in over a week, you didn't want Eddie to get his hopes up wishing it was Chrissy only to be disappointed that it was you.

Obviously you and Eddie really need to talk. Eddie must be thinking the same thing because he shows up at your house around an hour later with a determined look in his eyes.

He's angry and you can't blame him. If the situation was reversed you would feel the same. His furious gaze softens as he takes in your tears.

"Why have you been avoiding me?" His tone is gentler than you'd expect and that makes you feel worse. God you've missed him, you've really missed him.

"I'm sorry" you murmured and made your decision to tell Eddie about the notes, hoping that he wouldn't hate you. "Eddie, I-" he speaks before you can get the words out.

"I know it's you sending the notes" oh...oh shit. You're nervous so that makes you babble and grow even more flustered because you don't know how Eddie would react.

"How?" is the last question you ask and he smiles, all dimples. The smile that you love.

"When you started avoiding me after I said I hoped the notes were from Chrissy, the look on your face...I'm not stupid sweetheart, it became pretty obvious" so much for thinking that you had covered up your feelings, you should have realised eddie would figure it out.

He could be annoyingly perceptive. "I know you don't feel the same Eddie, you're panicking now so you're basically word vomiting, "I've been trying to get over these feelings so that's why I've been distant, I'm sorry"

He frowns, "Sweetheart, I don't want you to avoid me" you bite your lip, emotions rushing to the surface. Frustrated you wipe the tears that are building in your eyes.

"I don't know what else to do Eddie! You won't ever love me like I love you so I am just trying to move on, I'm trying to do that so I don't mess up our friendship" you choke on the words and try to stop the tears that are blurring your eyes. he stares at you looking absolutely stunned.

"You love me?" his voice is so small and you swear there's a hopeful edge to it but you must just be imagining it.

"Yeah, I'm the one who's been sending the notes, but you wanted it to be Chrissy and like I said you don't love me like I love you so I need to move on" Eddie groan exasperated and runs his hand through his hair in frustration. It tugs on his unruly curls and he groans, once his hand is free, he's gesturing widely.

"Well how do you know that? You've never given me the chance to love you, you just bailed when I didn't realise you were the one sending the notes" he snaps and you're seriously frustrated.

"Because you wanted it to be Chrissy! And give you a chance to love me? You either love me or you don't Eddie. I can't just sit around on the off chance that you might feel the same way when you obviously don't"

Tears roll down your cheeks and you wipe them away shakily, you're emotionally spent and you just want to have some time for yourself.

Eddie softens and his hands are on your shoulder, soothing and tender. "You're not listening, I want a chance to love you because I am in love with you"

Oh... "You do, you reply hopeful and he nods, keeping his gaze on you. What about Chrissy?" he shakes his head and his hand moves up to caress your cheek, his gaze is soft and full of adoration.

"Just a dumb crush. I'm over her now. What I feel for you...you're all I think about sweetheart, shit I think almost losing you helped give me a uh, knock on the head" you giggle and he ducks his head looking almost shy.

"Can I kiss you?" you nod eagerly and it doesn't take long for his lips to meet yours. Eddie pulls away after a few seconds and looks completely blissed out. It's exactly how you feel. Wow.

"Shit, I am an idiot, could have been doing that for a while now if I wasn't so oblivious" you stifle a smile and he's grinning too, smiling as he kisses you again.

And again. Showing you how much he loves you.

💞💌

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hi hi! Can I request an angsty/fluff piece with Jason? Maybe he hasn't told her that he's Red Hood yet, and they want to tell him that she loves him for the first time, but with his constant disappearances at night they're thinking that he's starting to get tired of them?

This went a little too long when I decided to stop, so I might need to split this into two parts if needs be 🦦

‘Hey honey,’ you greeted Jason with a peck to the cheek, pulling away smiling brightly. ‘Are you all ready for movie night tonight? I’ve already got a couple films set up and ready to go and I promise none of them will make you cry like last time.’

Jason grimaced. Shit, he knew that something was happening tonight but couldn’t remember what and -like a dumbass- had agreed to going out on a patrol with Dick and Damian later on. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry chipmunk I can’t do movie night tonight. Can we do it next week?’ Jason hated how he was the one who made the smile upon your face disappear as quickly as it came, he hated how he was the reason why the excitement left your eyes, only to be replaced by a look of poorly concealed disappointment.

Jason hated how it seemed as of late that his commitment to being a vigilante had been the leading cause of your unhappiness. While he was out clearing Gotham almost every night, you were left in your shared apartment, left to sleep alone in a bed that was designed for two people and ponder how things could’ve gotten to this stage; wondering whether this was a relationship worth being in after all.

You sighed, trying to be understanding but how could you when this was the third time Jason had bailed on you this week. It didn’t seem fair to keep trying at this point when it seems as though you’re the only one who is actively trying to make time for each other. You had planned to tell Jason you loved him tonight but all that was thrown into the bin, all because he apparently forgot all about it. ‘It’s fine Jason, I’m sure whatever you have going on is inherently more important.’ You said, feeling more hurt than anything as you clenched your jaw to stop yourself from saying something you’ll inevitably regret.

‘I’ll make it up to you-‘

‘Would you like to know how many times you claimed that you’ll make it up to me but never have?’ You asked Jason rhetorically and watched his face further become into one of guilt. ‘Three. Times.’ You told him, holding up three fingers. ‘Once is excusable, but three times Jason. I thought you were over making false promises, much like how I’d trick myself into thinking that you would actually like to spend time with me in our own apartment, but it seems like I was wrong as per usual.’ You scoffed.

Jason tried to reach out for your hand to console you, but you immediately took it away before he could and put a good deal of distance between the two of you to show that you were in need of comfort but not from him. ‘Y/n, I’m sorry-‘

‘Don’t bother. Just make sure to have your keys on you before you leave because I wont stay up for you anymore.’ Was all you said before leaving the room to go into your room, where you’d stay until he left for the night doing god knows what. His disappearing act didn’t bother you at first but when it become more frequent and grew more obstructive when you wanted to spend the night with him, a pit in your stomach grew and it had been growing ever since followed by thoughts that doubted Jason’s loyalty to you.

Were you boring him but he didn’t have the heart to tell you? Is that why he’s been disappearing almost every night or so? Just so he could meet up with someone else behind your back and shit talk you? If that was the case then he could stay out for all you cared, you’ve given him your heart but it didn’t seem as though he couldn’t bring himself to even fake in giving a shit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile Jason felt like the biggest dickhead ever. He could tell that you were reaching the end of your rope with him and he wasn’t so sure that he could go back to living by himself if you were to ever leave him, he could try but it wouldn’t be the same when you were the reason his apartment felt like an apartment at all. And yet he has no one else to blame for this but himself.

He was the reason you could’ve have a simple date night at home.

He was the reason for your frequent disappointment.

He was the reason you no longer felt loved by him but that just wasn’t true. Jason loved you so much it physically hurt and scared the poor man of what he was willing to do for you. Jason’s love for you burned him in the most delicious way imaginable, he was left wanting for more, hooked on your love as though it was an easily addictive drug sweeping the streets of Gotham. However even Jason couldn’t ignore the wedge between him and you, a wedge that only seemed to get worse the more Jason bailed on you for his vigilante business.

As he was sulking in the fact that this might be the end of your relationship, Jason got a text from Dick asking where he was and all Jason could think of whilst grabbing his keys and leaving the apartment, was how he was going to make up for every night that you felt as though you were abandoned by him; and if anyone who knew Jason best knew he was anything but a quitter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Movie night was depressing as shit when you were having it all by yourself as a way to cope with the fact that you might not be enough to keep Jason interested.

You were bundled up in bed, hugging your childhood plushie tightly against your chest as you watched a movie adaptation to one of Jason’s most favoured book out of Jane Austen‘s body of work. Hell most of the movies you’ve picked out were based on Jason’s favourite author but you weren’t enjoying it as you would if he was beside you, muttering the lines alongside the characters under his breath as he held you against his chest as though you were something precious; even going so far at to using the excuse that when a kissing scene happens you should be kissing too for a more immersive experience.

He was such a dork but he was your dork and now it feels as though he didn’t want to be called yours anymore.

You didn’t know what it was that you did for him to get bored of you but it hurt like a motherfucker and the more you thought about it the more your eyes began to well up with unshed tears. ‘What am I doing wrong snuffles?’ You brought your plushie to face you with its beady button eyes. ‘Am I really that much of a bore that he can’t bring himself to just end it? What does he get out of dragging me along? Is this some sick joke to him?’ You asked and you asked but got no response, then again that’s what you get when trying to seek answers from a weighted plushie.

‘Who am I kidding.’ You uttered defeatedly as you put down your plushie, switched off the tv after seeing that there was no point in having it on in the first place, and stared up at the ceiling as you tried to will sleep to hurry up and claim you. ‘Did you know that I was planning on telling him that I loved him?’ You asked aloud for no one in particular, smiling weakly as you wiped your eyes. ‘How stupid was it of me to think that we’d ever last. He’s obviously found someone else who doesn’t bore him as easily as I do…so why should I stay?’ You felt yourself wanting to cry again but you were too tired to give your body what it wants and tried to ignore the lump in your throat by forcing your eyes shut.

*knock, knock, knock*

[kinardsevan]

i was watching some Gabriel Iglesias jokes and he was discussing the correlation between men and wine, and it made me need to write this. 🤣🤣🤣🤣 call it another trip down the outsider view of bucktommyweek, even though it's now September.

-

“Lucky bitch.” 

Taylor mutters under her breath as she shifts in her seat, waiting on her date now for at least ten minutes past when he last texted he’d be around. She’s not even sure why she’s still waiting, but she doesn’t have any other plans for the evening, and she’s not about to spend another night at the station editing footage together her field report on the wildfire in the Angeles National Forest. But as she stares across at the man a few tables over, he seems to be held up as well, checking his watch and phone every few seconds. He has two empty wine glasses on the table with him, and a bottle resting in ice. She recognizes enough of the label to know that it’s not cheap. She stares at him for a time, contemplates getting up and going over, asking if he wants company. He’s tall and muscular, beefy, as the youths say today, and she hasn’t been with a guy like that since…well, since Buck. And truth be told, even Buck wasn’t as muscular as this Adonis sitting feet away from her. 

All at once, she’s both irritated, jealous, and annoyed. Irritated that this specimen of a man is sitting so close, yet so far away, and he’s not there for her; jealous for exactly that reason, and annoyed that she’s still waiting on the arrival of her date when she could be chatting up the man sitting at the other table. Still, she’s not entirely sure what stops her. Maybe it’s the way he seems to have an invisible box up around him, shutting everyone else out, or the way he keeps staring at his phone, waiting on whoever hasn’t arrived to meet him yet. Maybe it’s because of something else she can’t put her finger on. Either way, she doesn’t get a whole lot of time to piece it together, because her own date finally arrives a few seconds later, and before he can launch into a list of excuses as to what took him so long, she stops him. 

“First of all, I wait on no one, so this is your singular warning to not do this to me again,” she states. “Second, I’ve already ordered appetizers because I’ve been here waiting all this time for you to arrive, so third, I hope you’re prepared to pick up the check.” 

Somehow, a miracle, she thinks, the man sits down in the seat across from her, finally launching into his speech about why he was late, and she’s a little shocked he didn’t bail at her lecture. She’s pulled it out before—laid out her expectations front and center—with the understanding that she won’t be treated like a petulant teenager because someone else can’t keep their time straight. 

After the long-winded excuse, the appetizer arrives, and then there’s an order of their own drinks and the main course, and the next time she looks over at the beautiful man, his date has clearly arrived, although Taylor can’t see her between the other patrons around them now. What she can see, is the gorgeous man smiling, enraptured by whatever his date is telling him, a twinkle in his eye as he sips from his wine. At the same time, her own date drones on about his day job, and all she can think, yet again, is lucky bitch.

. . .

“Oh come on, not this motherfucker again.” 

It’s four weeks later when she sees him again. They aren’t even at the same restaurant. He’s being delivered to a booth this time while she sits at a different table, waiting on a different date. Late guy didn’t even make it to her doorstep. She’d abandoned him in the parking lot of the restaurant after he’d made a comment about journalists being hacks. And now, when she’s having to meet Kenny, one of the network higher-ups about trying to gain more of an anchoring position, this jackass has to be front and center for her again. 

She tries to ignore his presence by scrolling through her phone, even taking time to scroll through Tinder. Still, she mostly swipes left as the tables around her fill up. Once again, she’s left waiting while other people start their meals, enjoy their dates, and so forth. When she looks up at the pretty one again, it’s clear that his girlfriend has arrived because he’s got that same stupid smile on his face, although maybe a bit more subdued? Like maybe everything isn’t perfect in fantasy land? She wiggles an eyebrow to herself, contemplating her chances again over whether she should introduce herself to the walking Statue of David. But then the network bigwig is arriving and taking her attention away from the pretty one, and the next time she looks over, she sees him holding someone’s hand. Well so much for that. 

. . . 

“You have got to be kidding me.” 

Six weeks. She’d gone six weeks without seeing the sexpot that was the beautiful man who was now plaguing her dreams. And, like, it’s not like she was fantasizing about him or anything…but she was very aware of how gorgeous he was both times she’d seen him previously, and she couldn’t help herself, taking inventory of him. Those muscles, that jaw, the curl of his hair…

Except, tonight he’s less buttoned-up. The sleeves of the maroon henley he has on are shoved up to his elbows, exposing the sinewy lines of his arms, as though he completed a workout not that long ago. But it’s the jeans that do it for her; the way they hug his ass and thighs, and all over again, she’s jealous. And also now, now she’s angry. She’s angry that she keeps getting roped into these stupid nowhere dates and network meetings that aren’t gaining her the traction she wants, but some other girl out there is getting to ride that stallion all over fucking Los Angeles. When is she going to get her turn? 

Clearly not tonight, because date number four with the guy she’s been out with over the past two weeks is starting out the same way the last three have—he’s late. And the thing is, Taylor gets being late. Reporters are, by nature, always late to the scene. It’s a minor miracle when they’re actually at a place, much less with cameras rolling when an event happens. More often than not though, they only get the aftermath, so she can rationalize not being on time all the time…. But this guy hasn’t been on time once. And they specifically picked this restaurant because it was closer to his place than hers. And yet…

The pretty one is on his phone, looking rather perturbed as he listens to whoever is on the other end of the line. She watches as his expression goes from that, to one of concern, a pause to smile and laugh—there’s that stupid twinkle again. Does this bitch even realize how good she has it?—back to the worried expression. He’s too far away for her to make out what he’s saying, but before long, he’s slapping money on the counter and leaving before she can figure out what’s driving his attention. Her journalist skills have her wanting to get up and leave, follow after the man and find out what has him so concerned all of a sudden…but her stupid date comes through the dining room then, already rattling off an excuse. She stands, lists all the reasons that she’s not staying and why there won’t be another date—and why the tab is on him for the drinks she had while waiting—but by the time she makes it to the parking lot, the beautiful man is gone. 

Taylor huffs. 

. . . 

Three weeks later, she’s sitting at a table in a coffee house, reading through an article she’s written up. She’s gotten a decent amount of bylines since her book got published, and if things are going to continue to fuck her over at her current network, then maybe it’s time for a change. Besides, she’s heard some good things back from a friend down at the sister network a few miles over, so why not? 

The door chimes, and she ignores it, along with whoever walks in and up to the counter. They’re too far away for her to really hear, but she looks up when a barista comes to her table with freshly ordered latté and scone…

…and her eyes fall directly onto one Evan Fucking Buckley. She stares at him with a furrowed brow for a minute. He’s in his LAFD hoodie and a pair of dark joggers, probably coming off of a shift and heading home, if his generally slumped composure is anything to go by. There’s a generous bruising along the side of his jaw that has her curious, but they haven’t spoken in quite some time—not since a few weeks after he was struck by lightening, and even then, it was a short conversation—so she’s not about to step back into his life and start asking questions. 

Still, she’s taken by seeing him out in the wild. She watches briefly as he makes small talk with the barista behind the counter—someone he clearly knows well. While she can’t hear them or read lips, she can tell by their postures that the barista is asking about the bruise, and he’s quick to dismiss it, as though having his face that color is just normal. Still, she doesn’t want to eavesdrop, and before long, she’s looking back at her computer, trying to work on the article she has up. 

The door chimes again, and this time, she looks up, only because her brain is still atuned to picking out Buck’s voice in a crowd. Still, her brow furrows when she overhears ‘hi, honey’. 

She looks back up, glancing around the café, very confused when she doesn’t see another female striding up to him. Instead, her jaw slacks open as her eyes fall on him. The fucking beautiful man. The one from the restaurants—the one she’d been so jealous about. And he-…wait what!? She watches him stride right up to Buck and slide a hand down his back right over his ass and use the other to turn his cheek with fingers wrapped around his chin, clearly eyeing the bruise. Buck nods—clearly having been asked if he’s okay—and then the gorgeous one kisses him and Taylor is pretty sure at that point her brain is in a puddle on the tabletop. 

A moment later though, she quickly recomposes herself, because they must’ve felt her staring, when Buck looks over in her direction. His brow furrows briefly, and then he lifts a hand and waves. She gives the slightest hint of an affiliative smile and a quick wave back, turning her attention back to her computer. She’d been right, all of those times she’d seen the gorgeous man before. He was taken, and the person lucky enough to have him was in fact a lucky bitch. 

She just never expected the lucky bitch to be her ex-boyfriend; and that spurred a jealousy all of its own. 

[morganski-19]

The One Where Steve Feels Smart

“Where are Jon and Argyle?” Steve asks Nancy. The rest of the group gathered around the table for their weekly group dinners.

“Jonathan said that he has a lot of work to do, and Argyle is working closing. Said they would try to come later if they could.” Nancy sits at the table, acting as if the information doesn’t bother her.

Steve doesn’t buy it. “I thought Argyle never closed on Fridays.”

“I don’t know,” Nancy shrugs, annoyed. “Maybe he’s covering for someone. It doesn’t matter, so just eat.”

Steve still doesn’t buy it. Jonathan will always use their hangouts as a break, so his eyes don’t try to kill him. Argyle values friendship too much to take a shift during one of their hangouts. If what Steve knew about them was right, though.

But, he decides to ignore it, and eats dinner.

The next week, however, something like this happens again. It’s not an everyday thing that the group gets together at the coffeehouse after work to talk, some can’t justify buying coffee five days a week when they can just make it themselves. But today, everyone is there. Everyone except for Jonathan and Argyle.

“Isn’t it weird that they aren’t here?” Steve asks, mainly to himself. He’s sitting at the bar, bugging Eddie while he’s on shift.

Eddie shrugs, passing a drink across the bar to a customer. “Maybe they’re busy again. Didn’t Jonathan shoot like four wedding in the past two weeks? That’s a lot of editing.”

“But he would bring it here. Especially since Argyle would get off shift,” he looks down at his watch, “an hour ago. They would come in here together and chill with the rest of us.”

“Don’t know man. Maybe they just wanted to stay at home. The weather is kind of shit today.”

It’s never stopped them before. Something else is going on.

The next time it happens, it’s on game night. He asks Nancy if she’s heard from them and gets shut down immediately. Something about the both of them needing to work. Nothing else.

When it keeps happening, Steve starts to get more and more suspicious. Everyone else seems unbothered. Blind to the excuses that mean nothing, and continue on with their lives. When Steve knows that they are hiding something.

He decides to bring it up again when him and Robin are making dinner. Trying to use both their heads to figure this out without Nancy shutting him down immediately.

“You don’t think they finally,” Steve makes a motion with his hands, indicating that they are together.

Robin glares at him from the kitchen. “Probably not, Jonathan’s demi, remember.”

“That is not what I meant,” Steve says, partially annoyed. “I just meant like, dating. What if they are dating.”

“I would hope they would tell us if that actually happened. We’ve listened to too much of their suffering to not know.”

Steve stares at the cutting board. Not so sure about that. “I think Nancy knows something.”

“Here we go,” Robin groans.

“No, Rob, seriously. Like every single time I ask, she shuts me down almost immediately. With the same excuse. Jonathan is busy editing, or has a shoot, and Argyle is working a closing shift. I’ve never known Argyle to have this many closing shifts in his life.” He turns to her, hoping to see that she sees what he sees. “Isn’t that a little weird?”

“I guess,” Robin goes back to stirring the vegetables in the saucepan. “But maybe their rent got raised and they had to pick up a few extra shifts. Wouldn’t be that surprising.”

Steve is still not convinced. “Maybe.”

A week later, the group was planning on going to see a movie. Some weird horror movie that Nancy and Eddie love, but will probably traumatize both Steve and Robin. Normally Jonathan and Argyle would come along and laugh at how unrealistic it is, but they bailed again.

They’ve been bailing for about a month now, something was definitely up.

Steve stands in line to get the popcorn, letting the rest of the group go into the theater to get their seats. Hoping that Eddie is able to save a seat next to him for Steve.

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve sees two people who look familiar. After thanking the guy behind the counter and turning toward his theater, he sees it. Jonathan and Argyle walking in with their tickets. They make eye contact with him, looking caught.

“Well, there you guys are,” Steve says, trying not to make it weird. “I feel like I haven’t seen you guys in weeks.”

“Uh, yeah,” Jonathan says. “Just been really busy with work, that’s all.”

Steve nods, going alone with the lie. “Yeah. I’m glad you guys were able to make it tonight though. Unless, you know, you came to see a different movie.”

Argyle opens his mouth, going to say something. Jonathan nudges him with his shoulder, shutting him up. Argyle presses his lips together in a forced smile. Eyes wide.

“Yeah. We were just going to get some popcorn, so why don’t you go into the theater, and we’ll meet you in there.”

The smile that forms on Steve’s lips is one of pure joy. “I don’t mind waiting. It might be easier to carry all this shit to the theater.” He takes a glace down and sees their hands clasped together. “Four hands are better that two, so.”

“Four hands?” Argyle questions under his breath.

Jonathan looks down at their hands, and pulls them apart.

“You guys weren’t going to see the same movie, were you?” Steve questions. Feeling smug.

“No, we weren’t,” Argyle blurts out. “We were going to see this comedy together because we’ve been dating for a few months now.” He immediately slams a hand over his mouth.

“A few months,” Steve says much louder than he should.

Jonathan starts looking around. “Dude, quiet down.”

“Sorry.” Steve lowers his voice to whisper shout. “A few months. I thought you were just dating for a few weeks.”

“You knew we were dating?”

Steve snorts. “You two are not as subtle as you think you are. Always missing hangouts conveniently at the same time. It’s really rude to cancel on your friends to go on dates for your secret relationship, by the way.”

“We’re sorry,” Argyle apologizes. Looking like he’s going through multiple emotions at once. “We just have been busier with work so the only times we’ve been free to go out are the days we would hang out.”

“You’re not going to tell everyone, are you?” Jonathan asks, hand rubbing at the back of his neck.

Steve shakes his head. “No, it’s your thing to tell. I wouldn’t do that. I just miss you guys. I am still going to gloat about being right, they just don’t need to know what about.”

“Thanks, dude.” Argyle finally calmed down back to one emotion.

“We really appreciate it.”

“I have to go, the movie’s about to start. Have a good night, guys.”

Steve turns and head to the theater. He finds the rest of them and sits between Eddie and Robin. The popcorn immediately getting pulled from his hands.

“What took you so long?” Robin asks over a mouthful of popcorn.

“The line was long,” Steve says. This was going to be fun.

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or taken off) @slowandsteddie, @annieofhearts, @cacdyke, @ubpd, @captain--low,

@thespaceantwhowrites, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @lunaticparisianlady,

@apomaro-mellow, @dolphincliffs, @dragonmama76, @maggiebug417, @stevesbipanic,

@fearieshadow, @eightpackdiaz, @au79burger @bookworm0690 , @practicallybegging,

@potato-of-the-lord, @autumncrocusandladybug, @estrellami-1, @ilovecupcakesandtea, @gregre369

@my2amgaythoughts, @ellietheasexylibrarian, @emmabubbles, @eriquin, @grtwdsmwhr

@croatoan-like-its-hot, @dreamercec, @dreamy-jeans137

[priniya]

🤸🏼‍♂️ CONFESSION

synopsis. james gets jealous when you tell him a story about your first kiss.

notes. james potter x reader. (former) remus lupin x reader. mentions of underage alcohol consumption

“wait, y/n. you’ve never told us who were your first kiss?” dorcas frowned, earning you a frew curious glances from people present in the room, james included. “drink up and speak the truth.” sirius words were accompanied by a chuckle as he handed you the small bottle.

“we have to specify the question though.” marlene added, throwing an arm around her girlfriend’s shoulder. “first kiss as in a full makeout session, right?” the girls nodded in agreement, watching carefully as you took a sip of veritaserum. “tell us the story, ravenclaw.”

you could feel james staring at you, his curiosity intensifying each second, when you gave yourself some time to think of an answer. catching you crack a soft smile, sent him a painful jolt. things got only worse when you finally replied.

“a story?” you chuckled. “m’kay, it happened at the end of year four when you were involved in throwing a party, remember? well, remus bumped into me, spilling all his drink on my shirt and refused to let me go until i agreed on getting one of his. we went upstairs and it happened.” you shrugged as if it was nothing, but you smiled beforehand so it definitely meant something, didn’t it?

“MOONY?” sirius shouted in surprise, shifting his gaze to the mentioned boy, his mimic changing almost immediately. “wait it was you? no wonder why there were so much tension between you the next year.” his slurred words made the werewolf blush lightly, but he laughed it off quickly.

“well, there’s a story behind it too.”

“y/n, sweetheart, care to elaborate?” dorcas smiled at you sweetly, mischief flickering in her eyes, revealing her investment in the secret story behind your relations with remus.

“we were dating.” you confessed your little secret, probably too drunk to feel how your boyfriend tensed up upon hearing your words. “not long though, till late january, then we were just hooking up once in a while.”

“you were dating ravenclaw, and you didn’t tell any of us?” mckinnon looked at the blonde boy with a faked upset, shaking her head in disappointment. “i mean… to defend remus, he actually told me.” lily sent him a smile, averting her eyes to james for a millisecond only to catch him looking all unfazed.

“we wanted to keep it on the low in case it didn’t work out.” remus shrugged, taking a sip of his beer, involuntarily noticing how potter dropped his arm from your shoulder. “then she dropped me for james.”

“potter one, lupin zero?” peter chimed in, snaping the beverage from his friend’s hand, taking a turn in drinking. “geez ravenclaw, you really went for your ex’s best friend.”

“you act like you weren’t the one who decided to stop, ‘cos you wanted to make a move on sirus.” you wiggled your eyebrows, arms crossed at chest. “not that i don’t wanted to, you were just quicker.”

the conversation died down quickly after you were forced to spill all the secrets about your past relationship, someone quickly changed the topic to something more interesting that you weren’t a part of. at first, you didn’t even notice the change in james’ behavior, but then when you were falling asleep next to him, and he turned his back on you, you realized somethung was bothering him.

james avoided you almost all week, always finding excuses to bail on your suggestions to hangout or canceling them last second, having you wonder what was going on. he even skipped some of the classes you’ve had with him, while sirius was trying his hardest to convince you that nothing was wrong.

to be honest, you were stressing out, vivid images of your break-up flashed through your mind every time that your mind wasn’t occupied. so, after lots of consideration, you decided to bury yourself in studying for newts, while waiting for the boy to come and talk to you.

“merlin, prongs. what’s wrong with you and ravenclaw, have you fought or something? you’re sulking and she doesn’t even come here nowadays.” sirius rambled, taking a seat next to james on his bed, and frown when the boy doesn’t reply. “mate, i’m for real worried, so is your girlfriend. talk to me.”

“i just… can’t stop imagining her and moony together. whenever i look at her, the image of him is somewhere in the back of my mind. it bothers me so much, i can’t think straight.” he sighed. “i can’t stop thinking about the what if’s. i can see her breaking up with me to get back with remus.”

mentioned boy just walked out of the bathroom quietly, taking in the entirety of the conversation and let out a laugh, catching his friends’ attention almost immediately. “she indeed may break up with you, not for me though, but because you keep avoiding her like fire.” lupin plopped onto his bed.

“listen, you’d do the same–” james’ words were cut off.

“sirius didn’t, and he’s in the same position as you are.” he shrugged. “my point is, she wouldn’t break up with you to get back with me, because she loves you so much ever since you started hanging out, she told me she loves you after your second date, she always wakes up at four to watch your quidditch’s practice and you think she would choose me over you? buy yourself new glasses.”

“and, the reason we broke up was that we realized we were just horny teenagers that could fulfill each other’s needs, that we weren’t in love.” remus scoffed, ruffling his hair. “and you know what? i decided to stop hooking up with her, because i wanted her to finally make a move on you, merlin, prongs all she ever talked about, since your first tutoring, was you.”

when james stood up so suddenly, lupin knew he succeeded on knocking some sense into the seeker’s mind. “she’s at the library.” werewolf murmured as the seeker was on his way to leave the dorm.

you were burying yourself in tons of books, trying to get in as many informations as possible, occupying your brain with anything that wasn’t james potter. speaking of the devil, you didn’t even realize when he sat beside you with a scowl on his face.

“love,” you jumped at the sound of his words, eyebrows knitted together. “can we… talk?” james spoke, embarrassment ringing in his tone as he couldn’t bring his eyes to look into yours. he would be a fool if he expected you to fall into his arms, apologizing for nit telling him earlier — all in the most dramatic manner you could only pull out.

when you didn’t reply nor move, his shoulder sulked, eyebrows knitted together as he still waited for an answer. it took him more than five minutes to realize you weren’t going to continue the conversation, making him the one to talk. “i get that your upset, i do, you have every right to be upset with me and my behavior towards you. i was jealous, i’d never known you were together and it got to my head and i couldn’t think straight. i’m sorry, really.”

“james.” a sigh escaped from between your lips as you finally looked at him. “it was something completely different with remus, i thought i liked him, but with you — i’m certain i love you.” a smile lit up his face upoin hearing your words — it was the first time you were the one dropping the L bomb, not him.

“so… are we fine?”

“we are, if you won’t pull out something like that again.”

[phillydilly]

Priorities

⊹♡— In which Charles and his long distance girlfriend get into an argument over her priorities

Part 1 , Part 2

Charles Leclerc x fem!reader

Warnings: arguing, angst

Charles had been counting down the days until his planned trip to London to visit his girlfriend, Y/n. They had been in a long-distance relationship for a while, and every moment together was cherished. Charles had meticulously planned the weekend, envisioning romantic strolls through Hyde Park and candlelit dinners at their favorite restaurants.

As Charles sat in the bustling Nice airport, his excitement was palpable. The engine-like roar of the airplanes outside seemed to echo his racing heartbeats. He checked his watch, anticipating the moment when he would finally board the flight to London.

Meanwhile, Y/n, a dedicated business manager at a prestigious firm in London, had been juggling her hectic work schedule with the anticipation of Charles's visit. She had managed to free up her weekend, or so she thought, ensuring that they would have quality time together.

Just as Charles was about to board the plane, Y/n's name flashed on his phone's screen. He smiled and answered, expecting her warm and excited voice on the other end. But the voice that greeted him was strained and filled with regret.

"Charles," Y/n began, her tone hesitant, "I have some bad news."

His heart sank as he clutched the phone tighter, "What's wrong, amour? Are you okay?"

Y/n sighed, "I've just been told that I have back-to-back meetings scheduled for the entire weekend. I can't believe it, but I won't be able to do any of the fun things you had planned."

Charles's excitement turned to frustration, and he couldn't hide his disappointment. "You knew I was coming, Y/n. We've been looking forward to this for weeks. How can you let work take precedence over us?"

Y/n's voice quivered, "It's not that simple, Charles. I have commitments, and my job is important. You know that."

Frustration simmered in Charles's voice, "I understand your job is important, but so is our relationship, Y/n. I've been looking forward to this weekend for so long, and now you're telling me it's all off?"

Y/n tried to explain, "I tried to rearrange my schedule, but these meetings are critical. I can't just bail on them."

Charles clenched his jaw, struggling to keep his emotions in check. "So, what? I just drive back to Monaco and pretend like everything's fine?"

Y/n's voice trembled with guilt, "No, Charles, please. We can still spend time together in the evenings after my meetings. It won't be the weekend we planned, but we can make the most of it."

Charles felt a wave of frustration wash over him. He had been looking forward to this weekend with Y/n, a break from the high-speed world of Formula 1. "I can't believe you're doing this, Y/n. I thought we meant more to each other than this."

Tears welled up in Y/n's eyes as she pleaded, "Charles, please try to understand. I never wanted this to happen, but sometimes work just takes over. I love you, and I want to make this work."

Charles, his patience wearing thin, snapped, "Love isn't just words, Y/n. It's actions. And right now, your actions are telling me that work comes before us. I'll talk to you later." With that, he hung up the phone, his anger boiling over.

He walked away from the gate, his luggage in hand, and returned to his car. Charles sat in the driver's seat, tears threatening to stream down his face. The frustration and disappointment he felt were overwhelming. He had been so excited about spending time with Y/n, and now it felt like a dream shattered.

As he drove away from the airport, Charles's mind was a whirlwind of emotions. The engine's roar provided a stark contrast to the turmoil in his heart. He had never expected such a turn of events. Y/n had always been understanding of his career's demands, but now it seemed like she was prioritizing her work over their relationship.

Hours passed, and Charles's tears had given way to a deep sadness. He replayed the argument in his head, wondering if he had been too harsh on Y/n. He loved her deeply, and he didn't want to lose her, but she had really hurt him. He knew he himself wasn’t always available, but they had planned this for weeks, he felt that his frustration was justified.

Back in London, Y/n sat in her office, tears streaming down her face. She had never seen Charles so angry and hurt. She knew she had let him down, but the demands of her job were relentless. She had hoped he would understand, but now she feared she might have pushed him away.

Unable to focus on her work, Y/n picked up her phone and dialed Charles's number. It went straight to voicemail. She left a heartfelt message, "Charles, I'm so sorry for everything. Please, let's talk this through. I love you more than anything."

[toournextadventure]

our little secret pt.vi

Summary: Life has a funny way of coming back around. Maybe, for the first time, it's actually going to come back around for the better.

Word Count: 10.9k Warnings: swearing, homophobia, HIV/Aids crisis, religious trauma, excessive smoking Pairing: Lorraine Day x Fem!Reader (Masterlist)

The sun was just starting to rise by the time you finished letting the cattle into the field. Fall was coming in nicely, and the spring calves had more than come into their own by that point. They were rather mischievous at this age. They reminded you of such as they continued to butt their heads into the back of your legs every chance they got.

Adorable little bastards.

The crops surrounding the small gathering of buildings were looking pretty damn good, if you said so yourself. You let your fingers trail over a few peas as you squatted down to look for pests. They were almost ready to harvest. Not too much longer and it would be market season, and with any luck you would have enough harvest to make a little more to put back.

As you stood up, you picked two pods off the vine. One went straight into your mouth. The crunch was superb. Definitely ready. You tossed the other pod to Hank, who was lying in his spot on the porch, more than ready to start sunbathing. He was a useless cowdog, but you’d be damned if you didn’t love him.

“You’re doin’ great, buddy,” you said softly. He continued to crunch on the pea pod as you scratched behind his ear and walked inside.

Based on the noise echoing through the log cabin, everyone was already in the kitchen. Good, you wouldn’t have to chase them down. Not that you had to do that much anymore, everyone had fallen into a rather comfortable rhythm. A schedule, if you will. A routine fit for the veterans you now called your family.

“Thank god,” Jane sighed as you walked through the doorway into the kitchen. “Roy’s burning breakfast.”

“Course he is,” you mumbled.

“I’m not burning anything,” Roy called back. He still stepped aside without protest when you walked up beside him.

“Yet,” you said with a raised brow.

“Morning,” was all he said in reply before walking back to sit at the long kitchen table.

The whole crew was already up and ready to go while you finished saving breakfast. A wonderful array of eggs, bacon, sausage, and… well, whatever they could get out of a can. For some unknown reason - it wasn’t entirely unknown, just unconfirmed - they made it a habit to steal cans from an old military warehouse not too far away. They’d grab whatever they could carry, come back, and barter them amongst each other until their next run.

You weren’t sure why they didn’t just share, considering they all lived in the same place.

“Are you working today?” Greenback asked from where he was sitting on one of the counters.

“Yes,” you said with a nod. You turned and gave him The Look, as they all dubbed it. “Which means I can’t bail you out today. So unless you want to spend the night in jail,” you look back down, “don’t get arrested again.”

“Yes mom,” he mocked. “You don’t have to remind me every day.”

“Sure she does,” Hippie said. Unlike the others, he was waiting patiently for breakfast. “She didn’t remind you last week. Remember what happened?”

There was an awkward silence. You bit your lip to keep from laughing because you certainly remembered. So had your savings, quite frankly. And he was paying you back for it dollar by dollar, so he remembered too.

“I got arrested,” Greenback finally answered, so quietly it was almost inaudible.

“So maybe she does need to tell you,” Hippie said.

“Now listen here-”

-the noise of their argument died out. It was a skill you had learned after only a year of being there. All of them were wild, constantly arguing and occasionally devolving into screaming. Terrifying at first, considering each of them had killed someone at least once in their lives. Now you knew better.

They just needed someone to care.

“Here.”

Out of the corner of your eye, Roy held out a cigarette. You mouthed a silent “thank you” before taking it, waiting patiently for him to flick his lighter open. Smoking was a nasty habit. Yet, when everyone around you imbibed, it was easy enough to fall into it with them. In a strange twist of fate, Camels were preferred over Marlboros. Peculiar.

Disgusting.

“Going to the hospital this morning?” Roy asked.

You nodded and exhaled the ashy smoke. “Wanna go with me?”

He was already shaking his head. “Those are your people, not mine,” he grumbled before leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms.

“Some are vets,” you said, looking at him with a raised brow. “Just cause you don’t claim ‘em don’t mean they’re not yours.”

“Tell that to our old man,” Roy said, all joking aside.

“Yeah, well.” You exhaled the last cloud of smoke before you put the cigarette out on one of the many trays around the house. “I got a few other things I’d rather say to him.”

“You and me both,” he said, patting your shoulder and pushing away from the counter with his hip.

He was doing better, you thought as you told everyone breakfast was finally ready. He was much better. Maybe it had something to do with being around a bunch of other people who understood. Everyone in the compound - or commune, as Hippie called it - except you had been in Vietnam. They knew each other’s struggles and fears. As much as your daddy hated the term, it was everyone’s safe space.

“Hey Preacher, you’ll bail me out if I get arrested tomorrow, right?”

And unfortunately, you were everyone’s Commune Mother. Who would’ve thought?

—---

“Morning, Richard,” you said once you saw the kind doctor behind the desk.

“Good morning, Preacher,” he said with a smile that hid behind his mustache. “I was hoping to see you this morning.”

You smiled to yourself and gripped your bag tighter. Dr. Richard was a sweet man, not too different from Huck. If Huck was closer to your father’s age than yours, that was. His smile wasn’t as crooked, but you supposed some would find it attractive.

Not you. But someone.

“Who do you have for me this mornin’?” You asked, instinctively leaning over the counter.

You weren’t supposed to, you knew it was against policy. Richard had said it was something against patient privacy or something like that. The first few times, just the thought of violating someone’s privacy was enough to send you home. The last thing you wanted to do was read something they didn’t want you to. You knew that better than most.

Now though? Oh, now they could tell you to your face if they wanted you to back off.

The long list of names was almost as recognisable as the Bible itself. You visited a very specific type of patient. A type that had gotten you ostracised your first few months. You knew every single patient that came in, and every single one that Robert - you adamantly refused to call him daddy anymore - condemned to hell. If they were going to hell, you were going with them.

“Here we go,” Richard said, pulling you out of your thoughts. “Mr. Baker.”

You leaned further across the table, almost touching foreheads with Richard. Mr. Baker was new, if you remembered correctly. In his 50s, grumpy, determined the world was out to get him. Maybe it was, you knew the feeling. Hell, the world had been out to get you. It wasn’t too far-fetched to believe it might be the same for him.

“He gonna throw anything at me?” You asked as you finally dropped back to the floor.

“He’s been advised not to,” Richard said with a sigh.

“Oh thank the lord, he’s been advised.”

“I’m sure he’ll behave,” he said. His smile was always nice. Kind.

“I’ll go see,” you said. You pushed yourself away from the desk but didn’t get very far before you heard Richard call after you.

“Can I buy you dinner tonight?”

You looked at him for a moment, your head tilted. This wasn’t a new question. In fact, he asked nearly every week, if memory served you right. Part of you wanted to tell him yes, just once. Just once to see if you could change. It would certainly make the world a lot easier to deal with.

It wouldn’t be fair to him.

“I have to work,” you said with a soft smile. He kept getting smaller as you walked backwards.

“How about a drink?” He leaned forward on the desk.

Oh, he was charming. And yet, you still felt nothing but a platonic admiration for him. Nothing you did would “fix” you. If you couldn’t fall for someone who was inarguably a perfect match, with the only issue being he was a man? Nothing would work. And for the life of you, you still couldn’t decide if it was because you were broken?

Or perhaps nothing was wrong with you at all.

“Ask me again next week,” you told him.

“Will you say yes?” He asked as he stood up straight. It was the same old song and dance, week after week. A routine. Comfort.

“No,” you said with a cheeky grin. You managed to see Richard shake his head and smile to himself before you turned around and continued your walk through the hospital halls.

As unusual as it sounded, there was something comforting about the hospital. Yes, it was filled with disease and death and despair. An unfortunate consequence of the times. But with all the time you had spent between the walls, you felt at home. No one judged; they didn’t have the time nor capacity. You felt welcome. Wanted.

Mr. Baker’s door wasn’t hard to find; you knew the layout like the back of your hand. Though you would admit, you didn’t think you had been to that particular room before. Not that it mattered, they were all the same. At least it would be easy enough to find for next time.

You knocked on the door three times, gave it a moment, and walked in.

“Good morning, Mr. Baker, I-”

“-Get out of my fucking room,” he said before you could even close the door. “I don’t want some fucking priest in here.”

Your mouth snapped shut. In your mind, you checked off the boxes as you studied him. Grumpy? Judging by the set of his mouth, check. Older? His balding head of grey hair was a check. Sick? Well, he was in the hospital, so check. Scared?

Check.

“Good thing I’m not a priest,” you said slowly. He could hear perfectly well, but you didn’t want to make him more angry. A skill you had learned rather quickly.

“I can see a bible thumper from a mile away,” he continued. “It’s sticking out of your damn bag.”

Slowly, you looked down. Damn. He was right.

“I’m not a bible thumper, Mr. Baker,” you tried to say.

“If you’re not some priest, what are you?”

“Would you like my name?” You asked.

“I don’t give a fuck what your name is.” He shook his head. “I want to know what you are.”

“What do you want me to be?” You asked as you took a step further into the room.

“You some kinda prostitute or something?” He asked. You finally noticed his thick Yankee accent.

“Is that what you want me to be?” You asked again, taking another step.

He opened and shut his mouth twice before looking away from you. The very first few weeks you had started coming to the hospital, you remembered what everyone had told you. They’re like cornered animals. You had initially taken offense at the sentiment. They were scared, and the staff had the nerve to compare them to animals?

Until you remembered when you were cornered. You had been just as angry, just as scared, and just as vicious. Those first few months alone without the three people you knew would have protected you. Those were the most terrifying months of your life. Each time someone looked at you, fear raced through your veins. Did they know? Would they try to kill you too, just for the crime of existing? Were they angels, coming to personally drag you to hell for the sin of love?

Only once you had someone who cared did you feel any sort of comfort in your skin. Roy and his entire gang would fight heaven and hell for you. They didn’t care who you loved, they just cared that you were safe. That you were loved, unconditionally. It wasn’t a feeling you were accustomed to.

Everyone you visited in the hospital just wanted to be loved, not feared or ridiculed.

You took another step closer.

“If you want me to leave, I will,” you said softly. “Just say the word.”

Mr. Baker continued to look out the window. It didn’t feel right to stay if he didn’t want you, and you wouldn’t blame him. You waited a few more seconds in awkward silence before nodding slowly to yourself. He didn’t want you there, and that was okay. You backed up and turned to face the door. It was alright, you could always try again next-

“-you can stay.” You smiled to yourself while still facing the door. “Since you’re already here.”

It was a lovely visit with Mr. Baker. He had been a lawyer, back before the epidemic scandal. Hell, he had been a lawyer less than a week ago. All until he had gotten too sick, and got fired for being gay. He complained about his wife leaving him, but he didn’t seem all that upset by it. You could understand.

“If you’re not a priest,” Mr. Baker said, “why carry that damn book?”

“Cause it used to bring me comfort,” you said as you flipped aimlessly through the Bible. “It’s the last thing I have of home.”

“You get excommunicated?” He asked.

You turned and gave him a sad smile. “Somethin’ like that.”

“Do you feel free yet?”

No. Not entirely, at least. That feeling of guilt that had weighed on you throughout your entire adult life had eased, but you weren’t free. Free would be living with Lorraine, and Beau and Huck. Not a care in the world, just living off together and doing whatever you all wished. Yeah. Yeah, that was freedom.

“Not yet,” you finally answered.

Mr. Baker chuckled humourlessly. “That’s what I thought.”

You didn’t stay much longer. He made you promise to come back next week. Well, he didn’t so much make you promise, it was more like you can come back, if you want. But you had been around enough people to know what that meant, so you said you’d come back.

Without your bible, of course, that was what he emphasised.

“Hey Mama.”

You smiled at the words. “Hey baby.” Quietly, you closed the door behind you. “How are you today?”

Eric smiled back at you. “Better and better each day.”

You both knew it was a lie. From what Richard had patiently described to you, Eric was at most a few months away from dying. No more than a boy at only 19, he was going to die without any of his family around. All because they thought he was gay. Perhaps that was why he had attached himself to you as quickly as he had; there was no time to be picky.

“Come sit with me,” he said as he patted the spot beside him.

Without hesitation, you placed your bag at the end of the bed and crawled in with him. The television was situated directly in front of the bed, on a rolling cart that you often found yourself moving. It was some western, but you couldn’t be bothered to know which one. All knowledge of westerns had been forcibly shoved out of your mind the moment you had been displaced.

If anyone from home would have seen you at that moment, they would have keeled over. Not only were you in bed with a suspected gay boy, but one with AIDS? The devil’s disease? The thought of their disgust alone was enough to warm your soul. You hoped they would find out, and you hoped it killed them.

You wouldn’t bother going to their funerals.

“You bring the goods?” Eric asked.

You were already nodding your head as you leaned forward to grab your bag. “If you tell anyone I got these for you, I’ll never buy them again.”

“My mouth is shut,” he said.

He watched with hungry eyes as you pulled out the contraband. The first was a pack of cigarettes; Lucky Strikes. Eric claimed he liked them for the flavour. You knew it was because his grandfather had smoked them during the second world war. Second was a pack of baseball cards, unopened, directly from the corner store a few blocks away. Rumour had it they carried the best cards around.

Third was a Playboy, which you quickly handed over so you wouldn’t have to touch it anymore.

“Oh, you’re the best,” he mumbled to himself as he ripped open the pack of baseball cards with his teeth. “Bet there’s something special in here.”

“I hope there is,” you said with a barely concealed laugh.

While he pulled the cards out, he handed the pack of smokes to you. As much as you knew better, it had become a nice little routine of yours. You would open the smokes and get one started for both you and him. He would look through the cards and show you the “good ones,” going on about every little detail. Once your cigarettes were nothing more than a filter, you would sit back, enjoy a bit of company, and watch whatever you could find on the television.

“Oh this is amazing, wanna hear about it?” He asked, but he didn’t wait for an answer before starting talking.

You slipped the light cigarette into his mouth while he talked. His enthusiasm was contagious. You had not the slightest idea who he was even talking about, but even you were impressed with the person’s statistics. Not enough to remember any of it, but that didn’t really matter.

Eric carried on, and you just sat there and watched him. He reminded you of Jimmy. Young, eager, excited about the little things. It was good to be young. Good to be excited about things that others would consider silly or inconsequential. Maybe that was why you had such a soft spot for him. You might not have had Jimmy, but you had someone that gave you hope in the world.

It wasn’t enough. But it would do.

“Oh shit,” Eric said in a hushed voice. You looked down to see the Playboy in his hands. “They’ve got Miss Minx in here.”

Your brows pulled together as you looked down at the magazine. Admittedly, you couldn’t have cared less about the issue. Your small window into the world of smut had closed that night Lorraine had left. It didn’t have anything to do with you anymore and, quite frankly, perhaps it was all for the better.

But nothing could have prepared you to see a full print of Maxine in a Playboy.

“She made it,” you whispered to yourself with a small smile. “The crazy bitch made it.”

“What do you mean?” Eric asked. His eyes grew wide as he looked up at you. “Wait, did you know her?”

“Yeah,” you said softly. “Her and her whole crew.”

“You knew her early stuff?” He asked excitedly. His body turned to face you.

You nodded.

“Like Bobby-Lynne?”

Another nod.

“And Jackson Hole?”

And another.

“And-”

“-Yes, I knew them all,” you interrupted. 

You couldn’t hear her name coming from someone else’s lips. It would have been sinful to speak of the woman you would have worshipped day and night. Something about hearing someone else talk about her felt wrong. Blasphemous even. It was better to let sleeping dogs lie.

At least out loud.

“Think you can get me an autograph?” Eric asked, still as enthusiastic as ever. “It can be my, uh,” he exhaled harshly. “What’s it called,” he mumbled. His eyes lit up before he looked at you again. “That Make A Wish thing.”

“Ain’t that for kids with cancer?” You asked.

“Maybe,” he said with a shrug. “But I’m a kid with AIDS, so I think I count.”

“Don’t think it works that way, baby,” you chuckled.

“Just one autograph,” he begged. “I won’t ever shoot up again, I promise.”

“You already can’t shoot up again,” you said not unkindly. “That’s what got you here in the first place.”

“Oh come on, please?”

You sighed and shook your head. You always had been a sucker for big brown eyes.

“I’ll see what I can do,” you said dejectedly.

The rest of the visit went exactly as it always did. Eric talked non stop about everything that crossed his mind, and you listened. From what he had been “forced” to eat last night, to what he was looking forward to you bringing next week. He very much wanted a burger from your bar. You couldn’t argue; it was the most sensible thing he had asked for in months.

“Don’t get in trouble before I come back,” you told him as you walked to the door. It was past time for work.

“I promise on my life,” he said with a smile that showed off the purple lesions on his gums. “Love you, Mama!”

“Love you too, baby,” you called out, shooting him one last smile before leaving the room.

The first tear fell before the door clicked shut.

With a shake of your head, you made your way out of the hospital. Richard gave you a quick goodbye, and you were off to work. It was some sleazy gay bar on the outside of town. You knew better than to try and take a cab out there. If Roy or Jane couldn’t grab you from the hospital, you would just walk the 30 minutes to get there. Safety first.

Unfortunately, it was far too hot for the walk. It was nothing you weren’t used to, but that didn’t make it enjoyable. Sweat was dripping into your eyes and keeping your shirt stuck to your back by the time you finally walked through the doors of the bar. Thankfully you kept a change of clothes in the back.

“Thank god,” Jessie groaned when you came back to the bar in much cleaner clothes. “I was about to panic.”

“Don’t be a dick,” you whispered in his direction as you smiled at the man on the other side of the bar.

“Is your doctor coming in tonight?” He asked with far too much excitement.

“Go serve your drinks, pretty boy,” you told him before turning back around to start working.

There was something surprisingly enjoyable about working at a bar. Or perhaps it was technically called a club, you weren’t entirely sure. Regardless, you loved it. It was freeing in a way. No one expected you to act a certain way, or pretend to be something you weren’t. You could just laugh, have fun, and genuinely thrive.

“Can I buy you that drink now?”

You smiled to yourself before sitting on the other side of the table. Richard had made himself at home - as he usually did when you worked - and was still nursing his singular drink. His usual doctor’s coat had long been abandoned, instead replaced by a flowery shirt and some cargo shorts. Something that made him stick out tremendously among the group of gay men and women.

“Not on my break,” you told him.

“How about a smoke?” He asked, pulling out a fresh pack of Camels out of his shirt pocket. With skilled fingers, he opened it and pulled a single cigarette out.

“Oh, you’re my hero,” you mumbled, leaning forward to wrap your lips around what he had dubbed the “cancer stick.”

“Those are bad for you, you know,” he said even as he lit it for you and slid the pack and lighter across the table.

“I stopped caring about that a long time ago, Rich,” you said.

As the patrons continued to mill about and enjoy their night, you sat quietly with Richard. He really was a good man, and a part of you wished you could love him. Hell, he had helped you through a lot, the least you could do was give him the one thing he wanted. If you had any belief that you were capable of it, you would have taken him up on his offer long ago.

But you couldn’t in good conscience marry a man that you couldn’t properly appreciate. It wouldn’t have been fair to him. You had watched Lorraine go down that road with RJ, and it hadn’t gone well. She was miserable, doubtless, he had picked up on it as well, and neither one ended up being happy. That was no way to live.

You put out the smouldering cigarette on the ashtray and immediately lit another. That train of thought was not going to end well. You hadn’t painstakingly forced yourself to keep going just to end up thinking too hard one night at work. No, you simply needed to feel the sticky burn at the back of your throat a few more times.

“Is Roy taking you home tonight?” Richard asked.

You hummed affirmative. “No need to play taxi cab,” you teased.

“Will you be back in the hospital soon?” You nodded again. “The men love you.”

“How ironic,” you said with a humourless laugh. “If we had loved each other to begin with, all our lives would’ve been different.”

“Don’t be cynical,” Richard said. He reached out and placed his hand on top of yours. It was warm. Soft. So very different from Beau’s.

You thought for a second before answering. “What do you want me to be?”

“Don’t start that,” he said, quickly pulling his hand back. You couldn’t help smiling at him. “That trick doesn’t work on me, sweetheart.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” you said. Another inhale, another ache in the back of your throat, another satisfying cloud of smoke. “Jessie said I need to quit usin’ humour to cope.”

“He’s not wrong,” Richard said. His voice was soft over the sound of the music playing in the bar. “Do you need to talk about it?”

He really was sweet, you thought. Truly a shame.

“I’m alright, Rich,” you said. “Really.”

“I know, just,” he sighed. “I know we aren’t compatible, but I do care for you.” He, too, had irresistible big brown eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You didn’t know what to say. It was all entirely too much, and you were still feeling emotional from hanging out with Eric earlier. The last thing you needed was for Richard to get emotional on you. If you were being honest with yourself, you needed him to mind his own business.

“You need to go home,” you said with a smile. It was a poor attempt at teasing. “Jessie works tonight.”

“Oh shit,” Richard mumbled. His back straightened and he looked around frantically. “Yeah, I had better go.”

“You should say yes sometime,” you said as you both stood up from the table. “You’d make his year.”

His eyes got big before he undoubtedly noticed the crinkle by your eyes. “I couldn’t dare lead him on like that.”

“Go home, Rich,” you laughed.

You leaned up on your toes to press a quick kiss to his cheek. It was scratchy; he needed to shave again. Roy had told you not to give the man hope, but you weren’t. From the beginning, you had been very clear with him where you stood, and he had never pushed you for a different answer. A kiss on the cheek was nothing more than kindness.

“Get home safe, sweetheart,” he said. “I’ll see you later.”

You bid him goodbye and walked back to the bar. If you put all your attention into work, it wouldn’t be long before you closed and you could go home. Tomorrow would be calm until you had to go back to work later that evening. There should be plenty of time to start harvesting crops and getting everyone set up for the next few weeks.

“I’ll get that man to love me one day,” Jessie said. You followed his line of sight to see Richard walking out the door.

“Sorry, Jess,” you said with a shrug, “but I don’t think he’ll budge.”

“Then he can tell me no himself,” he said. “I can wait.”

“You’re gonna get you in trouble one day,” you said as you started preparing a drink for one of the usuals that had just walked in the door.

“So are you,” he said from his spot beside you. “Someone was asking for you while you were with Doctor Handsome.”

You slid the drink across the bar. “And what did you say?”

“We don’t give out that information,” he repeated like he had so many times before. “I know the rules, I’m no amateur.”

You hummed in acknowledgment as you continued working. Who could have come asking for you? Perhaps it was one of the Vets; Jessie didn’t know all of them. Vulture was quite the intimidating character, maybe it had been him. He was the least likely of the crew to remember your work schedule. Yeah, it was probably him.

The rest of the night was reasonably quiet. Those were some of your favourite nights. There were fewer expectations and interactions. You could simply do your job, get paid, and go home. No stress, no need to overthink, nothing. It was wonderful.

Like clockwork, Roy walked into the bar after everyone had left and you were finishing cleaning. He sat down at the bar, resting his arms on the cool wood. Without stopping your movements, you slid the pristine pack of cigarettes over to him, which he swiftly opened and lit.

“How was the hospital?” Roy asked.

You leaned forward so he could place a smoke between your lips. “Same as always,” you said. “Eric’s magazine had Maxine in it.”

An exceptionally tough stain captured your attention. Having something to focus on was nice, you didn’t want to think about seeing Maxine. In fact, you already regretted bringing it up. You knew Roy had liked her too, even though he had only met her once or twice. It wasn’t fair to either one of you for you to have brought it up.

“Well hello, Roy,” Jessie said as he sidled up next to you.

“Hello, Jessie,” Roy said politely. And nothing more than polite.

“You ever going to party with us?” Jessie asked. He was not helping you clean. “I think you would be good for business.”

“It ain’t really my scene,” Roy said with an unsure smile.

“It could be,” Jessie said. The flirt.

You quickly shoved your hand towel into Jessie’s hands. “Think you can finish closin’ on your own?”

Roy took that as his sign to head out, telling Jessie a short “good night” before heading to the truck waiting on the street. You loved Jessie to death, you really did, but he was going to get himself into a world of hurt if he didn’t stop. Roy wasn’t homophobic by any means, but the man still wasn’t consistently stable. He was not the one to play with.

“Quit flirtin’ with my brother,” you hissed as you grabbed your Camels, lighter, and cash tips. “And my doctor.”

“Quit bringing handsome men to the bar,” Jessie called after you. “It’s not fair, you know.”

“Night Jessie,” you shouted. He answered as the doors swung closed behind you.

If there was one thing you could say about Roy’s truck, it was that the interior was as pristine as a farmer’s truck could get. Everything was in its place, and everything had a place. The car lighter was always ready, and he kept one pack each of three different smokes in the center bucket. In the glovebox was his pistol and a few spare rounds in an unmarked cardboard box.

“You didn’t share a cigarette with that boy earlier, did you?” Roy asked once he pulled off onto the main road to get back out to the compound.

“No, Roy, I ain’t stupid,” you huffed. “I lit his, then got my own.”

“Don’t get testy,” he defended quickly, “I just don’t want you gettin’ sick too.”

“Oh I’m fine,” you mumbled more to yourself before looking out the window.

It was because he cared, you reminded yourself. Maybe a bit too much, but he did. Even though you both considered the other Vets your family, you still only had each other. No one understood you like he did, and vice versa. You wouldn’t be who you were without him, and he was protective to a fault.

That did not mean you had to enjoy his line of questioning.

“Make any new friends?” He asked after a bit of awkward silence.

You told him all about Mr. Baker; not that there was much to say yet. He listened intently, nodding along with your tale and mumbling encouragement when appropriate. It was a pretty one-sided conversation, but that didn’t matter. He listened, and you got to say a bit. Hell, he even laughed when you complained that Mr. Baker had called you a priest.

“Hey Roy.” You waited until he grunted for you to continue. “Did you ever think maybe Robert was wrong? With his preachin’?”

He laughed. A big laugh, one that would put anyone else to shame. It caught you off guard and you frowned at him even though he was focused on the road. He didn’t need to be so rude.

“I knew he was wrong the day I was drafted,” he said after calming down. “Why d’you ask?”

You looked down at the pieces of paper you were slowly picking off the pack of Marlboros in your hand.

“I’ve just been thinkin’ about it lately,” you said with a shrug.

“What exactly have you been thinkin’ about?” He probed.

“You think God is ashamed of us?” You asked.

When Roy was silent, your fingers pulled at one of the cigarettes in the pack. Maybe Richard was right, you needed to slow down. But with all the thoughts running through your head day and night, the last thing you were worried about was a smoke. That sounded like a problem for the future, if you ever got to it.

You exhaled smoke before continuing. “Think He saw us and decided it was easier to turn his back?” Roy was silent. “Cause He don’t talk to me anymore.” You turned to face Roy, who was still looking straight ahead. “Did I do somethin’ wrong?”

“You did nothin’ wrong,” he said quickly. If you looked closely, his knuckles were paling from his grip on the wheel.

“Just what I’ve been thinkin’ about,” you said quietly. “Sometimes I feel like I did somethin’ wrong.”

The truck pulled up to the front of the house you shared. The lights were on downstairs and in the kitchen. Hopefully Moose wasn’t drunk again. The last thing you wanted to do was deal with his nonsense so late at night. Honestly, you just wanted to go get in bed and start a new day.

“Guess we should head inside,” you mumbled.

You put the cigarette out on the heel of your boot before putting the now-cool butt in your pocket. Everyone knew better than to leave trash in Roy’s truck. But when you went to open the door, Roy’s arm reached in front of you and pushed down the lock.

“Why’d you do that?” You asked with a small laugh. “We’re already parked.”

Both of his hands stayed on the wheel. He still wasn’t looking at you. You knew the look on his face. It had never led to anything good.

“Remember when we first got here?” He asked quietly.

“What?” You asked. He didn’t move. You sighed and shook your head. “Yeah, I remember.”

“You didn’t get out of bed for two months,” he continued.

“Why are you askin’?”

He exhaled slowly. “I wrote a letter back home not long after we arrived.”

“What?” You asked incredulously.

“I didn’t leave a return address, but I wrote to Ma that we were safe,” he said.

“You never told me that,” you said.

“I didn’t want them to hear from Mr. Dylan first and think badly of you,” he said.

Finally, he turned to face you. He wore a troubled look, one you so often saw when he was having a hard day. It usually accompanied a bit of crying, perhaps some yelling, and a lot of nightmares before that look of his went away. You didn’t like that he had it again.

“A few weeks ago, I got a letter from someone,” he said. “Through the circuit.”

You vaguely remembered him explaining that to you. Some backroot way Vets were talking with each other. A system they had all created with a bunch of different towns. If you sent a letter through the circuit, some way somehow, eventually it would find who it was supposed to. You didn’t question it much since none of your Vets used it.

But only other Vets knew about it.

“Who sent you a letter?” You asked.

Roy looked at you with pathetic puppy dog eyes.

“Roy,” you said, more stern, “who sent it?”

“Jackson.”

You looked back at the house. And the silhouette of someone now standing in the window. Perhaps they were looking out, you didn’t know. You didn’t care. You knew that silhouette. Knew it like the back of your hand; better than that, actually.

With shaking hands, you put another cigarette between your lips. It took far too many tries to start the lighter, and even longer to keep it still long enough to catch a light. The smoke and ash didn’t hurt enough. It didn’t quell whatever was going on inside your chest.

“Unlock the truck, please,” you said softly.

Roy didn’t move. 

“Unlock the fuckin’ truck,” you said more forcefully.

The moment you heard the lock click, you threw the door open. Heavy boots hit the hard ground, and you gripped the door handle until you were sure you could stand on your own. The ground tilted beneath you, like a ship on the sea. Back and forth in front of your very eyes. Or maybe it was still.

You started walking away from the house. It would be a decent walk, but that was okay. Long enough for you to clear your head, get a grip on reality, and rest. You knew where to find a warm bed, and no one would do anything to you. Everyone knew not to mess with you, you had friends in high places.

“Where are you goin’?” Roy called out to you.

You took a drag of the cigarette. “I’ll stay the night at Richard’s,” you called back. You sounded pathetic. Weak. Broken.

“You ain’t just walkin’ away-”

“-why not?” You interrupted as you spun on your heels to face him. “Why can’t I just walk away?” He looked at you intensely. “That’s what we did four years ago. Why is this any different?”

“Because you could’ve died,” Roy said quickly. “When I walked in, you were about to be fuckin’ executed.”

“Better than bein’ lynched,” you said. “At least it would’ve been quick.”

“Don't act like you weren't scared.”

“I've been scared every day of my adult life,” you admitted. There was a lump in your throat. “How would you even know how I feel anyway?”

“Because,” he laughed, “none of us are stupid. You're not as good at hidin’ your feelings as you think”

You scoffed and crossed your arms over your chest. “You're full of shit.”

“Oh yeah?” He asked, standing taller. “Then how come everyone always saw you as a bigger suicide risk than me?”

You froze. 

“Yeah, now you're listening,” he continued. “You think no one talked behind your back? Even Ma would ask me if you were alright, if you and Beau were good.” He shook his head. “Everyone was worried as all get out about you.”

“If y'all were so concerned, you sure knew how to hide it,” you argued.

“What were we gonna do, Y/N?” Roy asked. “Potentially out you to the whole town? You're right, they would've lynched you outside the church.”

“I already told you, I wasn't scared of dyin’,” you said as you walked closer.

“Don't act like you gave up in that church because you weren't scared,” he said harshly. “You gave up to protect Lorraine.” His finger jabbed into your chest harshly. “If you died, no one would've ever known about her and she could've lived happily ever after. You gave up because you love her,” he practically hissed.

You took a step back. The burn of a lit cigarette inched closer to your knuckles. It was a feeling you could live with because at least it was a feeling. A better feeling than whatever Roy’s words had done to you. They were carving out your insides, scraping you off the edges until you wanted to cry and scream and hike into the woods until you couldn’t remember your own name.

“We missed Gramma’s funeral.” You shook your head. “We missed our baby brother’s wedding.” It wasn’t true. “I ain’t lettin’ you miss anything else.”

It was too much. Everything was just too much. What did he mean? Gramma had been in perfect health when you had left. Hell, you all swore she would live forever. And what about Jimmy getting married? Sure, you had expected it sooner or later, but without you?

He got married without you?

“I’ve spent four years workin’ on movin’ on, Roy,” you said. The lump in your throat only grew bigger. “I’ve worked day and night to try and live without her.”

“And look where you are, darlin’,” he said. “You still have nightmares from that damn church. And Jessie told me how many women you’ve turned down.” The cigarette butt fell from your fingers. “Think someone who’s moved on would do that?”

Damn Jessie. Damn him for talking with Roy. Though, he wasn’t wrong. Over the course of working at the bar, more than your fair share of women had asked you to dinner or to buy you a drink. They were all nice, and attractive. But you told them no time and time again because of one flaw that wasn’t their fault.

They weren’t Lorraine.

“You’ve been through some shit,” Roy said softly, and you looked up to meet his eyes. “Don’t go throwin’ away your shot at happiness.”

You wrapped your arms around your body and looked at the house. The silhouette was still in one of the windows of the living room. If you looked closer, you could see the scene you had always wished for. Holding Lorraine close, in a house you called your own, drinking coffee and watching the sunrise. No fears, no shame, just love.

It was what you wanted more than anything.

“I don’t wanna lose her again,” you whispered.

For the first time in a while, Roy smiled at you. “I promise you won’t.”

His hand rested on the small of your back before gently pushing you forward. Right, you needed to move. Okay, you could do that, you could move. All you needed to do was get to the house, right? Get to the house and get the girl. That’s what Jimmy would’ve told you. It’s what Beau and Huck would’ve told you.

Each step closer to the house forced your heart to beat harder and harder. Roy had seemed pretty confident, but what if he was wrong? What if Lorraine was there to officially end it? After all, she had been engaged to RJ. Not happily, but she had been. Without you around, what need would she have to break it off?

Oh, that wasn’t a good train of thought. Not good at all. Maybe you didn’t want to see her again. You didn’t think your heart could handle rejection, not after everything it had already been through. It would be less painful than jumping in front of the train that ran through the outskirts of town.

But what if she said yes?

Now that. That would be worth the risk.

Roy’s footsteps could be heard around the porch. There was a side door that lead to the second half of the house, the one that had originally been its own building. After everyone had knocked the middle wall down to make one house, they had still treated it as separate. That’s where the Vets stayed more often than not.

Which left you alone.

You couldn’t stay outside the door forever. Well, you could. Maybe you should. Would that really be so bad? Just sleep outside for the night, you could go find Hank’s dog house and rest. Moose had built it big enough to fit, well, a moose. Yeah, you could fit, it might be a good idea just to stay in there.

Someone shuffled around inside, and you couldn’t take it. You needed to know if it was her. You needed to know for sure, and you needed to give your heart a break. Whatever the outcome, it would bring some sort of closure. Anything was better than the limbo you had been living in.

The door creaked as you pushed it open. It pierced your heart like the splinters outside. Your palms could not have been more clammy. The floor was solid beneath you. It swayed beneath you, but at least it didn’t feel like it was falling out under your feet. That was always nice.

You faced the door as you closed it. The shuffling behind you - it was in the kitchen - came to an abrupt stop. The wooden door was rough beneath your fingers. If you scratched it, you could flake off the paint. Some scratched paint was the least of everyone’s worries in that house.

Turn around. If you could just turn around, it would be okay. Roy said it would be okay, and you trusted him. He wouldn’t lie to you, not about this. With a sigh, you let your forehead rest against the door. Come on, you just needed to turn around. Right. Something weighed heavy in your stomach. You felt sick.

One slow breath in.

Slow breath out.

A splinter pricked your finger as you pushed yourself back and turned around. You focused on that, looking down at the sliver of wood. Tired fingers picked at it, and you used it as a distraction. Work at the splinter, and get your breathing under control. Once you were ready, you could look up.

But you couldn’t wait. You had waited so long already. Within your chest, your heart was aching. Reaching out for its other half. Scratching at the confines of bones and flesh to escape and relish in its freedom once again. To drown itself in the love that it so desperately desires.

You just needed to look up.

The moment you saw those brown eyes again, you knew it was over. All the pain and suffering and rejection. The fear of being found out, or being ostracised for a love that was no different than anyone else’s. It was over once you locked eyes with her.

She looked tired. The bags underneath her eyes rivaled your own; no small feat. If she had lost weight, you wouldn’t have faulted her. You had certainly lost your fair share. It was difficult to keep yourself well fed when you didn’t see the point in continuing. You knew that well.

Should you say something to her? She was looking at you like it was expected, but what could you possibly say? A simple hello wouldn’t suffice, not after everything you had both been through. Not after you had nearly been killed. What could you say to the woman you loved? What could make up for those years apart? Those years spent denying something serious was taking place within your hearts for the sake of peace?

Turned out, all you had to do was breathe.

One inhale was all it took. Lorraine’s body slammed into you before you could do anything else, knocking all the breath out of you in one fell swoop. Her momentum carried you, and before you could steady yourself, the floor rushed up to meet your back. It should have hurt, should have stolen the breath from your lungs and ached for days to come.

But you didn’t feel anything besides her body against yours. You had forgotten how well she fit in your arms. Like you were supposed to be together, two halves of the same mould. She was warm, and soft, and her heart beat rapidly against your chest. If you listened closely, your heart was in sync with hers. Like it should have been. Like it always had been.

With your back to the floor, she couldn’t properly wrap her arms around you. But you could. Your arms wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her tighter. Her breath tickled against the hollow at the base of your neck. When you inhaled, she smelled of spring. She always smelled of spring.

“I knew I’d find you again,” Lorraine mumbled against your skin. Her lips were soft.

You didn’t know what to say, so you said nothing at all. You just pulled her tighter against you. If you could keep her where she was, it would be impossible for her to disappear. No running off to go on some film shoot, no leaving to save face with RJ. She would stay right there in your arms where she belonged.

Where she was supposed to be.

“Baby?” She whispered. You hummed in acknowledgment. “This is getting uncomfortable.”

An ache shot through your hips when you tried to move. Clearly, she was right. Your girl was always right. But you weren’t going to let her go, not so soon. Instead, you kept your arms wrapped around her and struggled into a sitting position. It was like instinct for her to maneuver herself so she could sit in your lap and rest her head between your collar and jaw.

“They said you and Roy ran off,” Lorraine said softly. Small fingers played with the buttons of your shirt. “First it was a vacation, then he kidnapped you, then y’all were dead.”

A low rumble cleared your throat. “Weren’t no vacation, that’s for sure.”

“Missing the fourth of July gave that away,” she said.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered into her hair.

“Beau lost his mind,” she continued. “Huck couldn’t even keep him calm.”

“Are they-”

“-they’re still good,” she said quickly. “Just worried about you.”

“And you?”

You knew she cared. God, you knew. But you needed to hear her say it. All your feelings had been put aside day after day because you couldn’t ruin whatever pretend lives you had on display for everyone. She needed to say it, to confirm that yes, she does love you, she did miss you, you weren’t imagining everything.

“Every day, I prayed to find you,” she said softly. “And if that wasn’t possible, then I prayed for God to just kill me.” Her breath tickled your neck. “When every beat of your heart hurts because it longs for something it can’t have, you start to wish for the worst.”

You didn’t have any sort of reply for her. What would you say? If they had all been that concerned without even knowing what had happened that night, you couldn’t in good conscience tell her the truth. I’m sorry you were worried, baby, but we left because I was almost murdered. How would that help anything? Besides, you were more than content to try and forget the whole night anyway.

In your lap, Lorraine shifted until her back was pressed against you and your hands rested in her lap. Naturally, your chin rested on her shoulder as you looked down. Her warm hands played with your own, twisting them this way and that. Gently, of course. It was then you noticed something different, and you rubbed your finger across her bare ring finger.

“I broke it off,” she said.

Hell, she didn’t need to say more. Those four words were enough to have your stomach rolling. Those shackles you had both been bound by were gone. No need to pretend you were nothing more than best friends. Friends. The word left an ashy taste in your mouth. No, you would never be her friend again.

“Was he upset?” You asked.

She was silent for a moment. “I think he saw it comin’.”

“Damn,” you said. “I was hopin’ he was devastated.”

Lorraine laughed. A big laugh. God, it was beautiful. The sound of her laugh warmed your chest from the inside, spreading down to every nerve in your body. Only she could make you feel like that. You had always known it, but this just proved it even further.

“I missed you,” she said softly. Her fingers continued to gently pick at yours. “Missed just bein’ with you.”

“I missed you too,” you answered.

Hesitantly, you turned your head to place a ghost of a kiss on her cheek. If you thought about it for too long, you believed you felt her shiver. It could’ve been a figment of your imagination, but you didn’t think so. She leaned back with what little space she had left, leaving no room between the two of you.

“I think you need a new ring,” you said as you ran your thumb over her ring finger again.

“Buy me dinner first,” Lorraine said without hesitation. Her voice sounded sleepy. “I’m still recovering from a failed engagement, remember?”

“Oh yeah,” you said. “I bet you’re devastated.”

“Heartbroken, really,” she said as she turned around, placing her legs on either side of your hips, keeping you trapped. You were done when her arms wrapped themselves around your neck.

“You have my condolences,” you said. Her eyes were mesmerising.

“Thank you.” Her fingers played with the hair on the back of your neck. It tickled. “I think I just need some comfort.”

“Well lucky for you, that’s my job,” you said. “I can bring you all the comfort you need.”

Her smile was contagious. God, it was so pretty. She was so pretty, scars and all. You had missed her, in every way you could imagine. Being able to sit with her, tease, joke, enjoy just being with her? You had missed it all. And when she leaned forward to rest her forehead against yours? You were in heaven.

“I think I just want-”

“-oh shit.”

The voice forced your body to tense up. Lorraine’s hands gripped the back of your shirt tighter before she hid her head in the crook of your neck. Across from where you were sitting, at the bottom of the stairs by the kitchen, was Bull. A monster of a man if ever you saw one.

If you ignored his Garfield sleep shirt.

“Sorry, Mama,” he said with a smirk. “Just came down for a snack.”

Of course he did. Out of everyone, Moose and Bull were the ones who snacked in the middle of the night. None of the other Vets came down. They would wander, sure, but they wouldn’t get the munchies. For Moose, it was from the weed. Bull? Well, he was just a big guy.

“Cookies are in the cupboard,” you said with a gesture of your head.

Lorraine gripped you tighter.

“Chocolate chip?” He asked even though he was already digging for them.

“Shortbread,” you answered.

“Fuck yes,” he mumbled once he found them. “Thanks, Mama.” He froze at the bottom of the stairs and looked back at you. “Night, you two.”

“Night, Bull,” you called back.

The two of you must have been quite the sight to see in the middle of the night. Sitting on the floor, not moving, holding each other like your lives depended on it. Which maybe they did, you couldn’t be sure. It certainly felt like they did. Like Lorraine would disappear if you gave her any sort of space. You had lost her too many times, you wouldn’t risk it again.

“Sorry,” you mumbled into her hair. “The guys get restless.”

“Mama?” She asked. You could feel her smile against your skin.

“Someone’s gotta mother them,” you defended. “It ain’t like they’re grown or nothin’.”

Lorraine giggled. “I like it, it’s cute.”

Your fingers traced every inch of her skin they could find. When they ran out? They trailed under her shirt. Nothing scandalous, you just wanted to touch her. To feel her and confirm that yes, she was with you. She wasn’t gone, she wasn’t someone else’s, she was yours. Only yours. Your girl, your Rainey.

“Don’t they care?” She asked, pulling back to look into your eyes.“About…” she trailed off. You knew who she was talking about.

“No,” you said with a soft smile, “not at all.”

“Can we-” she stopped mid-sentence. Her eyes drifted down.

You stayed silent to give her time to focus on her words. This whole situation was… difficult, to say the least. Disappearing for years, lying to everyone for years before that. The years had flown by, and who knew how many you had left. But you could give her a few more minutes to get her thoughts in order.

“Can we stay here?” She asked, finally looking back up at you. “All of us? Together?”

That was all you had ever wanted to hear. All you had ever desired from the moment you had realised your feelings for her. To be able to be with her forever, in any capacity, as long as you could call her yours. Lorraine was the only one your heart and body and soul yearned for. 

And to have your guys with you? The ones who had been with you both through thick and thin, who had supported you even when things were tough? They were as much your loved ones as Lorraine. Your happily ever after included them too, and you knew Lorraine felt the same.

You leaned forward to capture her lips in a kiss. Soft, gentle, slow. But no less passionate. It was a kiss to make up for the years apart. To make up for all the secrecy, and hiding, and shame. A single kiss to confess your devotion to her and her only. It was enough to have your heart beating so fast you swore it would explode.

Even though she chased after you, you pulled away until you could look into her eyes again.

“Buy me dinner first,” you said, repeating what she had told you earlier.

“You’re lucky I love you,” she said with a smile that stretched across her face in the most delectable way.

“You’re lucky I love you too,” you said, leaning forward to give her another kiss. One that held no shame. It tasted of freedom.

“I need to hold you,” she whispered against your lips. “Take me to bed?”

Well that. Now that you could do.

“I’m your Huckleberry.”

—---

The sun was hot on your back, scorching whatever piece of skin it could find. If you didn’t quit soon, you’d be burned to hell and back. And if you were sunburned, you knew there was an entire compound full of people that would make it a point to hit it. A bunch of sorry bastards is what they were.

The joints in your knees ached as you stood up straight and stretched. A pop here or there released some of the tension. Enough, at least, to start walking back to the house. With a towel in hand, you started scrubbing the dirt off your ring. The last thing you wanted was Lorraine to see you had dirtied it all up.

“Your wife is making cookies,” Huck said when you stepped onto the porch. “Something about you havin’ a sweet tooth?”

“Legally she’s yours,” you said with a raised brow that intimidated no one. “And I don’t have a sweet tooth, that’s Tack.”

“Can’t be, he’s out at the barn with Beau,” he said.

He held out a beer, nice and cold, and you took it with a mumbled “thanks.” His lazy ass was in the same spot it had been all day; on the rocking chair beside Hank’s little dog bed. The moment he had seen Hank, you knew it was love. If it had been up to him, the dog would’ve been sleeping in the bed with him and Beau every night.

Beau shut that down real quick.

“Beau and I got competition in two weeks,” Huck said as you quickly sat down on the porch in front of him. “Think we can harvest in time?”

You took a swig of your beer and pulled out the pack of cigarettes from your shirt pocket.

“Probably not,” you said before inhaling the smoke. “But Greenback’s arrest last week means he owes me.” A slow exhale. “We’ll get it done while you’re gone.”

“I think Hippie wanted to travel with us,” he continued. “Said he was curious.”

“He’s been curious for years,” you chuckled. “At least he’s finally askin’ instead of mopin’ while y’all are gone.”

“Be nice to him,” he said. “At least he likes hangin’ around.”

“Course he likes hangin’ around, the four of us do everything for ‘em,” you teased.

Huck laughed, and you couldn’t help but smile with him. “Ain’t that the truth. Where would they be without us?”

“Gettin’ arrested,” Beau said, appearing beside you. Tack was nowhere to be seen.

“Speak of the devil,” Huck mumbled.

“You only show up when we’re gossipin’,” you claimed.

“I heard your wife’s makin’ cookies,” he said. You smiled to yourself and took another drag of your cigarette as Beau fell gracefully into Huck’s lap. You also ignored the sound of him kissing him.

“Know how you only call Beau my husband when he’s in trouble?” You asked, turning back to look at the both of them. “You do the same with Lorraine, so what’d she do now?”

“We just think you should be the one to test her cookies first,” Beau said.

“Make sure she don’t poison any of us, again” Huck continued.

“Y’all better hush before she hears,” you whispered as you reached out to slap one of the four legs that you could reach. You didn’t know who it belonged to, and you didn’t really care.

“Her cobbler the other day poisoned Roy,” Beau claimed. “Said so himself.”

“Roy don’t even like peaches,” you said, “so he’s full of shit.”

“He said he- oh hey, Rainey.”

Beau changed his tune quickly when Lorraine walked out onto the porch. Judging by the look on her face, she had heard the gossip. Damn her and her good hearing. You certainly didn’t have it, you would have been ignorant to everything if it had happened outside the door. And that was just fine by you.

“Jane helped with the cookies,” she defended, “so no one is gettin’ poisoned.”

“Told you it was fine,” you called back to them.

Lorraine sat down beside you and pulled you into a quick kiss. You didn’t think you would ever get used to the feeling. Every time she even looked at you, your stomach twisted and turned into knots in the best way. Let her ring be in sight? Oh god, it drives you crazy. She was your wife. And everyone knew it.

“You goin’ to work tonight?” She asked.

“Nah,” you shook your head. “I’m free till tomorrow night. Why?”

“Max and the crew are comin’ by later,” Lorraine said as she rested her head on your shoulder. “Wanted to make sure we’d be home.”

“Course we will be,” you said as you pressed another kiss to the top of her head. “There’s nowhere better.”

The four of you sat on the porch and continued to look out at the home you had all built. A full barn, trailers, and bales of hay waiting to be moved. Across the way were the fields full of more crops than you could reasonably harvest, but that was alright. You would just prepare better for next year. Out to the left was a field you had claimed as your own. It housed the crosses for all the patients you met at the hospital. In the very front was Eric’s. You kept some Lucky Strikes and a pack of baseball cards by it.

Never in your wildest dreams had you ever imagined you would have everyone together and actually living the lives you had all hoped for. To think, it had all started off messy. Now, you all had lives, and hopes and dreams that you didn’t fear would be squashed just for existing. You could love. You could be loved. Out there in the East coast where your dreams had always led you.

With Lorraine’s fingers intertwined with your own, you exhaled another cloud of smoke and looked out.

There was something relaxing about spending a day outdoors on your and your loved ones’ farm.

[junislqve]

⟡ stay in my memories

when you had finally started to accept your past, it comes back to haunt you

pairs ex!jake + reader content angst kissing jake being toxic wordcount 1404 — find my other works

note ending is highkey rushed and was supposed to be happy, but this is self indulgent, so! i also listened to memories an ungodly amount while writing this

YOU HUFFED AS YOUR DOORBELL RANG FOR THE SECOND TIME. it was 11pm. a few minutes ago, your friend had just left after picking up her cat from the week-long vacation she had with her boyfriend. you had sensed she’d forgotten something.

when it rang once more, you begrudgingly stood up dragging your legs to the front door. the lights to your small living room was already off save for one that was only enough to illuminate the front door.

you sigh as the door click open, “you really need to stop forget-” 

“hi, babyy” 

your heart dropped. not because of how the man in front of you accidentally stumbled and now practically has his boy weight supported by you, and also somehow not because of how his hands circle your body and rest on your waist like how it used to.

it was his voice that did. 

his voice that you swore on everything you would never want to hear again. hating how it sounded so much you’d bail on any man that sounded similar to him or had his accent.

how could you not when only a few simple words uttered with that voice had your mind reeling? repeating the same heart wrenching sentence in your head over and over again, it engraved itself.

it was pouring outside. you’ve been very stuffed with schoolwork and your finals coming up. papers spread out everywhere on your table and books scattered on your bedsides and floor. 

you felt a tickle on your ankle and watched as your dog rubbed its side on your body, begging for attention. you chuckle, dropping your pen and bending down to pick her up. sitting her on your lap as you rubbed its back. 

“i’m sorry, i just need to finish this paper and i’ll promise i’ll give you some attention, okay?” you coo at her, it hung her head low but complied, laying her head on your lap. 

a moment later, your phone lit up. you stared at the caller and with no hesitation immediately picked it up, a smile growing on your face, “hi, babe-”

“let’s break up”

you stopped. the pouring rain seemed to have hushed in a matter of seconds, the air around you felt constricted. your dog stayed silent, looking up at you in confusion.

“what?” 

“it’s just going to be hard keeping up our relationship in the long run. i’m graduating and you still have two years” 

“so?”

“so i don’t want to hold each other back” he sounded frustrated. 

“so that’s it?” you ask, voice heavy. “you’re going to leave me because you don’t want to wait two years for me?”

“you’re twisting my words”

“that’s exactly what you said, jake” 

“i’m sorry”

no he’s not. 

“no, you’re not” you say, you wait for a second too long before hanging up. you damn well know he’s not, because if he was you wouldn’t be crying as hard as you are right now. your chest wouldn’t have felt as painful as it does.

there was nothing but confusion that clouded your mind the following days. you were trying to reason with yourself why he’d ever break up with you. 

your boyfriend is the sweetest yet most comforting guy you’ve ever known. or at least, was. you thought there must be something wrong with you.

everything reminded you of him. back then, you thought you hit the lottery when he landed as your first love as well as your first boyfriend. you never doubted your relationship, he was always there for you whenever you needed him and you never turned him down if he needed a shoulder. 

every waking moment after the breakup felt plain to you. habits and hobbies turned more of a chore, some of the things you did were picked up from his habits.

you were quiet about your breakup. it took a total of 13 days until anyone found out. your friends having to fish it out of you when they felt how quiet and more zoned out you’ve become.

for three months, jake’s name was not allowed to be uttered. it was a rule your friend made. she knew anything correlated to him could tip you off, but what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. 

she didn’t know that you’d still visit his old album from time to time just to feel something. to remember all the ways he loved you and all the ways he wasn’t there to, anymore.

you can’t let go the feeling of how he would hug you, all the times he would kiss you giggles filling out every corner of the room. the moments he’d lay on the bed with you, whispering sweet nothings lulling you to sleep.

you still can feel all of that, a ghost of the past you were never willing to let go.

you wished time could heal all of you completely. because now when you swore you have finally started to move on, he has his body slumped on yours, breath fanning your neck.

“jake?” you curse yourself from how quiet it came out. your voice wavering, your breath shallow before you slowly walk in, his body still slumped on yours.

he hummed, “i missed you” he dug his head deeper into your neck, making you physically sick.

you tug him off, stabling him by his shoulders and you wished you didn’t. you could see his state now. his hair was all messed up, face tinted red from drinking and he had that pout. his eyes attempting to blink itself awake as he looks at you through sleepy eyes.

“jake” you say again, finding your voice. that pout of his grew at your tone.

“don’t you miss me?” he asks, voice so soft you almost gave in. his hands still hover on your waist and you’d lie if you said you weren’t fully aware of it. 

“i’ll grab you some water” you say, walking out of his reach. the heat from his body slowly seeping away as you walk to grab a glass of water.

you turn back to see him sat on the couch, his head laying on the arm rest, legs sprawled sideways. tapping him on the shoulder, his eyes crease open along with that smile of his. your heart clenched.

he grabs the cup and downs it in one gulp, “thank you” he says quietly.

when you were about to grab it and walk back to the kitchen, jake had tugged your shirt causing you to topple on top of him on the couch. 

“you haven’t said you missed me back” he said, head buried in your hair, breathing you in. 

you gathered all of you to push against him and stand up, “jake, stop”

“i know you’re sober”

it barely showed, but you could see the slight waver of his smile.

“i miss you” he says for the third time tonight, eyes open but still slightly glazed.

“you’re being selfish” tears start to well up. it’s overwhelming to say the least. how could he just show up at your doorstep months later giving you false hope? after everything he’s made you go through.

“i know” he starts, sitting up slightly, “and i know i have no right to come back here begging for you to come back. but i miss you”

“you should leave” you look away.

“please”

“jake”

“i’m sorry” he says, “but i’ll do better this time”

maybe it was those eyes that convinced you, or the sliver of sincerity you pretended to see in his eyes or maybe once again it was that voice that allured you. but you gave in. 

he brought you in for a kiss. one that you’ve undoubtedly miss all these months of being apart. jake just knew how to bring you back into his arms. he held you all night long and between the kiss and the cuddling, you dozed into a sleep you haven’t felt for months.

you shifted, you peek at the light hitting your eyes from the slip of the curtains. 

you rolled over, the space beside you, cold. 

you sat up, the blanket falling off your body as you looked around the living room. trying to grasp at the hazy memory of last night.

the table in front of the couch is neat. when your eyes focused there was a scrap of paper placed on it.

‘i don’t deserve you, i’m sorry

-love, j’

© junislqve 2024. liking, commenting, and rebloging are appreciated.

[heartfullofleeches]

do you ever just feel like an old man browsing tumblr because youre so behind? liek everyone was fixtated on puppyboy reader and fast food reader and ALL the readers and i wasnt and now im fixtated on fast food reader while everyones now fixtated on lacey and lucy T_T

If u want to could u do a scenario where fast food reader gets kidnapped? Make it as short as u want i just wanna read smth fromyou lol

Bound and unable to move - you lay motionless on the dirty floor of some unmarked van; counting the blood splatters on the ceiling to pass the time. 32, 33, 34 - wow, these guys are really serious. Being kidnapped by hardened criminals would've gotten you a win on the bingo card of all the fucked things happen to you on the job - if you hadn't already been kidnapped twice this week. It just had to be a Friday too. Your boss will use this little encounter to drag you back in for the weekend due to "concerns for your safety" or whatever other bullshit they make up to keep you on duty. Speaking of staff - why haven't they saved you yet?

"They're too loud. Shut them up."

You're about seventy percent sure these guys aren't telepathic... It's when one of the crooks tells you they aren't that you come to the conclusion that you've been talking out loud this whole time. A faint riiip sounds from the passenger seat as the one sitting in it stands, duct tape in hand. You plant your feet against the wall, pushing yourself upright as they approach.

"Before you do this - just know the only reason you all are still alive is probably because my coworkers are placing rock paper scissors to see who gets to keep your spines. You'll honestly be lucky if you die here."

The kidnappers eyes narrow behind their mask. As their foot draws back, static coming from the radio stops them from bring it down on your chest. They turn as the driver findles with the radio as the static crackles and pops from its speakers, bashing his fist against the dashboard.

"Why won't this fucking thing turn off!"

A familiar voice overlaps with the static.

"Over come with guilt for their wrongdoings, the driver takes the gun from the glove compartment and places it against his temple - pulling the trigger. The employee closes their eyes, and keeps them closed until they are free"

Your eyes clamp shut right as the driver reaches for the glove compartment. They catch a glimpse of the man placing the gun against the side of his head - a loud bang causing you to squeeze them tighter. Chaos erupts soon after - as if there wasn't enough already. Before the surviving crooks had time to process what just happened, the entire van quakes with the reverberating boom of something large hitting it from outside. The back door is torn from its hinges, cold air seeping through like blood from a fresh wound. You hear the kidnappers raise their guns and voices in defense, weapons tumbling to the floor as as sharp metal scrapes along the walls of the van. A wet snout presses against your cheek - heavy tongue licking the sweat from your damp skin.

"I'm okay, Lambchop. The ropes are a little tight, but I'm unharmed otherwise. Please go easy on them."

The mascot snorts in response. At least you tired. Two pairs of hands pick you up off the floor of the van and drags you out as the first scream tears through the bitter night. You feel weightless as they carry you back inside and sit you down in a booth. One set of hands checks your face, hands and every exposed inch of skin for bruises or scratches. The others gentle cup your cheeks.

"Y/n, open your eyes."

"I physically can't until you untie me."

Your chest becomes lighter as the ropes fall off you. The first sight you see as you reopen your eyes is the janitor pocketing their pocket knife and the concern in the succubus' gaze as she removes her hands from your face. The Janitor is the first to speak.

"Are you okay?"

You rub at the rings around your wrist. "Probably would've had my chest caved in if the Storyteller didn't bail me out, but I'm okay now."

The janitor's hands tighten into fists. The succubus' eyes dark so deeply they turn near black, but she hides her anger behind a sweet smile.

"Well since you're okay we'd better it going. I'm sure the ball pit hands can help you relax better than you could."

"Where are you two heading?"

The janitor speaks up for her. "We're going back outside. I need to get my spines before Lambchop completely turns their bodies into paste."

[moncharrow]

water polo player! abby

a/n: hey!! i know i said id be posting for ellie first but this thought hasn't left me for a month. i love the though of this oh my god i am feral. thanks for reading! rb or comment to support a lil fic author :) also i'm gonna be referring to water polo as a super gay sport and that's because it is xoxo i mean high contact with buff women. like.

-content/warnings: 1.4k, mentions of contact sport violence, smut scenes (strap, riding abby, nickname 'beautiful', semipublic sex in a locker room, fingering, oral (both receiving), gn reader but has a pussy, mentions of roughhousing in water/ drowning (not really drowning but yk)

men dni.

water polo is one of the most intense sports- it's high contact, rough, with a high probability of being punched, getting a black eye, etc

but when you're as buff as ms abby anderson here, it's not as big of a deal

there aren't really many set positions in wp, but the most important one is center- placed front-and-center of the goal, they're the person everyone looks to to get a good shot

center has to be dependable, strong, and fast

abby is perfect! her drive is amazing (ahem ahem) and she's constantly swimming like crazy to get into position so her team can rely on her

she started in high school, learning the ropes and getting to know the sport

got crazy good, and was definitely a very proud varsity athlete. she knows she's good, so why shouldn't she flaunt a bit?

im gonna be honest she absolutely wore her varsity jacket for way too long during freshman year in college

she joined her collegiate team (possibly on a small grant/scholarship) and met the most amazing team

it's hard to be queer in sports a lot of the time, but her entire team is queer/allied!! she has a space to be herself which she really appreciates

she blossoms on that team

every girl at her college absolutely drops their panties for her im not even kidding. its not even that fun to her because she just wants someone to love, not just a hookup

((that doesn't mean she rejects them all though))

the pretty center draws crowds to the natatorium

and that includes you, of course

you're a friend of the goalie and you're not all that into sports, but once you hear that the hot girl you've been thirsting over in org. chem is there?? it's all over, goodBYE

you are seated right in the action, front row of the bleachers, cheering in school colors, pretty eyes glimmering in the bright sun, sweat drops dripping down the front of your shirt

abby is fully focused on her game but when she's benched she gets a liiiiiittle distracted ngl

like i said though, she's mostly game face

but after a win? she feels like she's never lost. she's pure confidence and she decides to keep the streak going and see if she can successfully get your number

it's slightly awkward because when abby gets closer she sees that wow you are so much more attractive than she first thought when she had chlorine water in her eyes

so she just doesn't ask you out lolol she bails and bugs the goalie about you for the week leading up to the game, asking who you are, if you're coming next time, if you like this or that

her hands are so large and strong from gripping that ball... just imagine what they could be used for !

her thighs are absolutely massive- she has to stay above the water somehow, and the kicking she has to do has sculpted her into a thunder-thigh goddess

eating her out is insane because she fucking clamps down on your head with her thighs LMAO

broad shoulders that you can hold while riding her

strong shoulders that you grip and squeeze onto for dear life every night before a game as she plows into you for "good luck"

-the room is filled with the rhythmic slapping of her skin against your thighs as she grips your hips and bucks up into you.

"taking it so well for me, huh? my little good luck charm..." and you can't say anything. you just whine as you feel every muscle in her body working overtime to treat you just right

the veins in her forearms throb and pop out as she bounces you up and down, touching and squeezing and groping everywhere she can. she looks up at you cheekily, biting her lips and grinning. "there we go, beautiful, look 't you go"

"i'll be sore tomorrow" she says. it isn't a complaint. she says it's her favorite workout

yeah she says she's done but she's also finger fucking you in the locker room during half-time

-"sorry coach, i'll be quick, i promise!" abby lifts herself out of the pool with pure upper body strength, muscles tensing and water dripping off her like some kind of lesbian wet dream. when she promises haste, she means you'll be quick, because you know the drill. you're already amongst the rows of lockers as abby pushes you against them, sliding past your underwear and shoving her fingers in. her thumb is on your clit, middle and ring fingers finding your g-spot immediately and going at it relentlessly. "think you can do 5 minutes for me, beautiful?

-you can because she won't accept anything else. you're cumming all over her fingers, groaning at the overstimulation as she fucks you through it. when you're done, she pulls out, inserting her fingers into her mouth and cleaning them. you shoot her a playful dirty look as she jogs back out the locker room door

-"thanks for the pep talk, babe!" girl.

she wins every game and says it's because of you

it's sweet, but she's just that good of an athlete

but if you met her because you play too? oh get ready for a whole 'nother world

you're her defense during practice, in the trenches with her and jumping over her shoulders to make sure she doesn't get the ball

but she'll do petty shit to fluster you, like turning and kissing your shoulder and holding your hand in the middle of wrestling for position like ???

-"anderson!" the team captain reprimands. she gives a cheeky smile and puts her game face back on, pinching your thigh underwater where nobody can see

water polo players' love language is straight up drowning people. like the coach yells for everyone to meet him in the corner of the pool and instead she's fucking barrelling toward you, wanting to pull you under

when you're waiting to practice throwing the ball into the goal, she'll slide under the surface and tug at your ankles to pull you

when you come back up, she's giggling like a child and acting like it was another teammate

-"abby, i know it was you, you idiot!" you say, grinning

despite not really having jerseys like in other sports, abby will have you wear her team merch with logos

you wear last year's team shirt to bed, her flannel pants to class, her two-piece tops when you go to the beach with her

you go crazy for her when she's in her polo suit. they're tight so that players can't get grabbed, but it's tight in all the right places

it showcases abby's broad shoulders and slutty waist, curving around her chest and tastefully contouring her back muscles

thank god for this sport, you think

she always complains about how the suit rides up her butt, giving her a slight wedgie, but it gives you perfect access to her tight ass

smacksmacksmack

-"can you hold off for one minute, babe?"

-"no."

it's like there's no person attached to that ass. and she's just as obsessed with yours dw! she uses those big hands to grasp your entire cheek and land a harsh slap! on there that makes you jump. she just smiles n laughs

water polo! abby who takes you out to dinner after games and ends up stealing your food because "ohmygodbabeimsohungryyoudontevenunderstand"

it's like she's never eaten

speaking of eating... (im sorry)

she will throw your legs open when she eats you out. if you try to shut them she'll use the full force of her forearms to pin your thighs down and dig her face deeper in your pussy, sucking and licking like a woman starved

who wrote that. i didn't. anyways..

you put her hair up in a fishtail braid for her !! then she'll ask you to put her swim cap on and give you a cute smile when you screw it up

-"i fucked it up! sorry!"

-"babe it looks great" while she's tucking all her shorter hairs into the bottom of it

if her team is winning by a lot, she'll mess around a bit and point at you after she scores a goal, and you roll your eyes and your face feels hot because she's so ridiculous

but you do feel a lil special.

anyways water polo abby mi amor :3333 take me in the locker room