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javierpena-inatacvest · 7 months ago

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Chapter 6- Undeniable

Summary: when your car breaks down, you’re forced to ask Frankie for help. You’re not sure what you hate more- that you have to ask him for help, or that there’s a part of you that maybe can tolerate him

Word count: 6.2k

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (reader has a name/nickname, no use of y/n)

Warnings: Angst, tension (in a good way??!!), yearning (AHHH), teenage Frankie (and current day Frankie, for that matter) are down so bad, Santi and Benny play Dr. Phil

A/N: okay I said there would be smut this chapter, but I am a liar, and I am sorry 🤥 I flip flopped some scenes around and it ended up making more sense for some ✨things✨ to happen next chapter instead 🤷🏼‍♀️ I seriously love these two more and more every chapter, and this may have been my favorite one to write so far!! Thank you SO much for all the kind things you’ve had to say about this story- it really means more to me than you know 🥺💛 (sorry for any errors, I didn't have time to edit this chapter as well as I should have!)

All The Things We Never Said Masterlist

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Frankie, Age 18, Summer of 2007

“Jesus Christ, Morales, you got bricks for feet, or what?”

The Garcia’s newly installed basketball hoop had been a welcome addition to the neighborhood rotation of afterschool hangouts. Santi knows just as well as Frankie and Benny that it’s really nothing but a ploy to keep the boys occupied and out their parent’s hair, but the three have gladly accepted the olive branch Santi’s parents have extended to them, regardless of motive.

Now that the heat of late May has begun to sear off the pavement of Everett Street and the dwindling motivation of senior year is in full force, basketball has quickly taken over as the new after school activity.

Benny and Santi love it because it gives them a chance to get out the competitive angst they’ve had locked away since football season has come to a close.

Frankie loves it because it gives him something to keep him occupied until you come home from soccer practice.

Even then, he still finds himself anxiously counting down the minutes until your car pulls into the driveway, stepping out of the driver’s seat to give him that same goofy wave of approval that frees him from his friends’ constant bickering about where the three point line lays on the cement.

Ever since he told you he was leaving, there’s a part of him that debates forgoing basketball all together, just so he can make it to your house that much quicker when you get home. Now more than ever, he’s hyper aware of every second he has left with you, the internal countdown constantly nagging in the back of his mind before it’s four hundred miles that separate the two of you, not four houses.

Because now, not only does he have 74 days left to figure out how to say goodbye to his best friend, he has 74 days left to figure out how to tell her that he’s head over heels in love with her.

That’s what’s on Frankie’s mind as the pass Santi’s thrown at him rolls right past his shoes and down the driveway.

No shit, he’s got bricks for feet.

“Helloooooo? Earth to Frankie? You gonna get the fuckin’ ball, or what?” Santi shouts, wildly waving his arms, trying to snap his friend out of whatever weird daydream he’s stuck in.

“Oh, y-yeah. Yeah, sorry.” Frankie stammers, half jogging for the bouncing ball, tossing it back to Benny, also barely paying attention enough to keep the rubber from smacking him upside the head.

“Fuck, dude, you tryin’ to kill me, or somethin’? A heads up would be nice next time!” Benny scoffs, trying to downplay the fact he’s nearly just shit his pants from the ball that came out of nowhere and almost took him out.

“S-sorry. My bad.” Frankie grimaces, sheepishly running his hand through his thick, messy curls before rubbing the back of his neck.

Santi and Benny exchange confused glances with each other before turning their attention back to their clearly pre-occupied friend.

“Hey, you good, man?” Santi asks, scrunching his brow at Frankie’s tortured scowl.

“Yeah dude, you’ve been like, super out of it the past couple of days. Everything okay?” Benny adds. He tries to discreetly nudge Santi, givinging him a look that’s meant to ask if there’s something he’s missing. The best Santi can give him back is an ambivalent shrug, just as lost as his friend as to why Frankie’s mentally residing on another planet.

“Yeah. I’m- I’m fine.”

Sure, Santi and Benny aren’t as emotionally mature as their friend, but they also aren’t stupid. It’s obvious there’s something he’s keeping from them, and they’re far too relentless to let it go until they find out.

“Dude… C’mon.” Santi prods, taking a step towards Frankie to poke him on the shoulder.

“Yeah, spill the fuckin’ beans, Frank. What the hell’s goin’ on?” Benny chimes in, following Santi’s lead with another forceful poke.

“It’s nothing! Jesus, will you drop it?”

Santi smirks at how agitated Frankie’s become, spending enough years with his friend to know there’s one thing, and one thing only that’s got him this worked up.

“Is this about Kenz?”

Frankie’s eyes dart rapidly between his friends, the sky and his feet, too afraid to settle in one place as he’s consumed by his own silence, crossing his arms over his chest as he braces himself to defend against the onslaught he’s about to be faced with.

He could lie, say no, keep arguing with Santi and Benny until he’s blue in the face, but he knows it’s no use. Deep down, he has a feeling they already know what he’s going to say. He also has a feeling he’ll never go a day for the rest of his life where they won’t give him ten pounds of shit for it, but Frankie’s desperate. If he doesn’t figure out what to do, there’s a good chance he just may explode.

“You have to swear you won’t say anything about this to anyone.” Frankie sternly sighs, eyeing down his friends with a deathly glare, “Swear you won’t.”

“We swear, man.”

“Yeah, we swear.”

Benny and Santi nod in agreement, too shocked at his agreement to tell them anything rather than asking them to fuck off and leave him alone. They wait in patient silence as Frankie takes a long, shaky deep breath in.

“I um- fuck. Fuck.” He stammers, terrified to hear himself admit what he’s had locked away in his brain for years out loud for the first time, “I’m uh- I think I’m in love with MacKezie. I think I’m in love with her and I don’t know what to do.”

Frankie’s mortified by the silence from his friends in the seconds that follow. He’s even more mortified by their howling laughter that comes after that.

“That’s it? Oh, thank God!” Santi cackles, him and Benny clutching their chests to try and keep themselves standing, “Dude, I thought you were gonna say something fucking crazy. You looked like you were gonna fucking throw up.”

“W-what? Santi, did you not just hear what I fucking said? I literally just told you-”

“That you’re in love with MacKenzie? News flash, Morales, we’ve known you’ve been in love with her since like, the eighth grade. Holy shit, I can’t believe you finally fucking admitted it!”

Frankie’s face grows hotter by the second, his cheeks ablaze with bright reds and pinks, not sure if he’s more embarrassed by what he’s admitted, or the fact that he’s worked himself up for weeks to finally tell his friends something they’ve already known for years and Frankie was too blind to realize it.

“Well, okay- I just- what am I- what am I gonna do?” Frankie stutters, throwing his hands up to the sky, very aware that the admittance of his love for you is only a small part to his greater problem.

“Whatta you mean, what are you gonna do?” Benny questions, he and Santi still giggling over how frantic and flustered Frankie still was.

“It’s not fuckin’ rocket science, Frank.” Santi smirks, giving him a playful nudge, “Just tell her that you love her.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind, Santi?! I can’t just tell her I love her, that’s- fuck, that’s crazy!” Frankie’s all but shouting at his friend for what feels like the most outrageous idea he’s ever heard, crazily pacing up and down the driveway, as if he’s asking his friends for advice on where to hide the body he’s just killed.

“And that would be crazy because….?” Santi teases, anxiously awaiting whatever ridiculous answer Frankie has to finish off the rest of his sentence.

“Because?!” Frankie asks, storming so fast up and down the driveway, he’s about to make fresh cracks in the concrete, “Because, b-because- fuck, Santi, what if I tell her that I love her and she doesn’t feel the same way? What if I ruin our friendship forever and then I get my fuckin’ heart broken and lose my best friend? Jesus Christ, that’s why.”

“You wanna tell him or should I?” Benny proposes, shrugging at Santi.

In a silent agreement, Santi gives Benny a nod, taking a step towards Frankie to grab him by the shoulders, forcing him to stand still enough to capture his full attention.

“Frankie, lemme ask you this.” Santi pauses, bringing Frankie’s gaze from his feet up to his friend, thinking for once in his life, he may actually be willing to give him some serious advice.

“Yeah?”

“Are you blind, or are you stupid? ‘Cause I think you may be both.”

“What the fuck, dude?!” Frankie scoffs over Santi and Benny’s snickering, outstretching his arms to push Santi off of him.

“Damn, maybe he is.” Benny grimaces overdramatically, playing into Santi’s theatrics.

“Fuck off, Benny!” Frankie frowns, starting to regret asking his friends for help.

“Jesus Christ, I can’t believe I really have to spell this out for you.” Santi sighs, squeezing his temples between his thumb and index finger.

“What!?” Frankie presses, nearly fed up with his antics.

“Shit, you’re right Benny, he may be dumber than we thought.” Santi snorts before quickly turning his attention back to Frankie, “Frankie… You do realize MacKenzie’s in love with you too, right?”

Frankie feels his heart stop. He’s partly convinced it’s flatlined indefinitely. The only thing that’s keeping him alive is even the tiniest chance that what Santi has to say is actually true.

That maybe, just maybe, you love him, too.

“Santi, c’mon. Be- be fucking serious. There’s no way.”

Frankie won’t let himself believe anything yet, no matter how badly he wants to. Knowing Santi, he wouldn’t be shocked if he’s trying to pull him in to some sick sort of joke, but the looks on his, and Benny’s faces is all the earth shattering reassurance Frankie needs to know that Santi’s telling the truth.

“He’s being serious, I swear.” Benny chimes in, trying to aid in convincing Frankie.

“Think about it, Frank. The two of you spend every fucking second together. You’re basically already dating without actually dating. And not even just because of the fact you like, pretty much go on dates to the movies or ice cream, or whatever. Didn’t you say she cried for like, an hour when you told her you were leaving?”

“I- I mean, y- yeah, I guess.”

“Or the fact that she’s never dated anyone else and has had you locked in as her prom date since last year.” Benny adds.

“Don't even get me started on the fact you two cuddle every time we watch a movie together, because God forbid you’re not touching each other for an hour and a half.”

“I- I- I- don’t know. I mean, sure, yeah, but just because she does that doesn’t mean she’s in love with me!”

Frankie can feel his insides churn, like someone’s put them in a blender and cranked it on high. He’s not sure what’s more terrifying- that you do all those things but you’re not in love with him, or that you do all of them because you are.

He quickly comes to determine the second is much scarier than the first. Mostly because there’s a part of him that believes maybe you’re just as in love with him as he is with you.

“Fuck, I think I’m gonna throw up.”

Frankie’s knees wobble as he sinks to the ground, bottom hitting the pavement with a thud.

“Well shit, don’t do it on the driveway, my mom’s gonna kill me. If you gotta yak, at least do it on the grass.”

Santi and Benny settle in on either side of Frankie, the trio of boys squatting at the edge of the driveway. Frankie buries his head in his hands, scrunching his face so hard into his sweaty palms that maybe, some sort of reasonable idea will pop into his brain if he squeezes hard enough.

“You guys really think she likes me? Like, actually?” Frankie asks, peeking his head up to look back and forth between Santi and Benny.

“Uh, yeah.” The pair agree in unison, each giving their friend a pat on the back, trying to keep their all-knowing laughter at bay to soothe Frankie through his distress.

“Fuck. Holy shit. So- So what do I do? Just- Do I just tell her?”

“I mean, I’m no love guru, but you like, may wanna be a little more subtle than that.” Benny snickers, giving Frankie a little nudge, “I mean, do you wanna tell her?”

“Yeah. Fuck. Fuck, I wanna tell her so bad.” It spills out of Frankie’s mouth without any hesitation. The more he thinks about it, the more sure he is.

“Like, you’re already going with her to prom and stuff. You could do it then?” Santi suggests with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

“Damn, alright, Mr. Romance over here with the advice.”

“Shut up, Benny. You got any better advice? At least I’ve fuckin’ had a girlfriend before, you dingus, have you? Didn’t think so.”

Frankie’s completely blocked out their bickering, lost in his own train of thought, where all he can picture is you- Your smile, the little strand of hair that you tuck behind your ear when it falls in your face, the way your nose crinkles when you laugh, the little curl in your lips you get when you smirk at him when he tells a stupid joke.

How badly he wishes his lips could meet yours to feel that smirk pressed against his face.

“Do… Do you- Do you think I should kiss her?”

“Jesus Christ, Frankie, what are we, twelve?” Yeah, man, fuckin’ kiss her.” Santi snorts, Benny joining in with muffled laughter in his throat at the innocence of his question, “God, with how nervous you sounded, I thought you were gonna ask if you should like, have sex with her, or somethin’.”

It’s then his brain truly short circuits, his heart about to fall out of his ass and lump in his throat the size of a softball.

He has enough balls to admit he’s thought plenty of times about kissing you.

But right now, he certainly doesn’t have enough balls to confess to his friends, (or even to himself, for that matter) he’s spent just as much time thinking about doing a lot more than just kissing you.

He’s spent even more time thinking about just how badly he wants to.

One step at a time, Morales.

You, Present

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me…”

Turning over your ignition to the sound of empty rattles once wasn’t anything to worry about.

Turning it over twice to the sound of silence you could chalk up to bad luck.

But after six different attempts to start your car to no avail, you were fairly certain your issue wasn’t based solely on user error.

“Fuck…” You huff to yourself, yanking out your keys and slamming the driver’s side door behind you as you storm back into the house, now in a race against the clock to get your car not only started, but driveable enough to get you to work on time.

It’s the stupid things like this you haven’t mentally prepared yourself for when it comes to your father’s impending death- Not having a built in mechanic at your disposal to help solve your car issues when something goes awry. It seems selfish to take from the few precious moments you have left with him to pester your dad about your car troubles, but you know for a fact, your dying father has a better chance of diagnosing your issue from his bed than you do hands deep in the engine.

“Hey, Dad.” You grimace, gently rousing him from his half-awake state in front of the TV, “Dad, can I ask you something, or are you too busy dying?”

Your joke is enough to crack a sleepy smile in the corner of his lips, grunting as he turns his head over to see you hunched over the edge of his bed.

“Depends. Is it worth my time, or should I go back to decaying?” He fights with everything in him to let out the softest laugh, a sputtering cough following as his chest rises and falls, trying his best to not let his final days prevent him from being the helpful dad you’d always known.

“My car won’t start. Do you have any idea of what it could be?”

“You gonna wheel me out to the driveway to have me figure it out?”

You both know it’s ridiculous, what you’re asking him to do. You’re not sure what compelled you to think that he’d be able to help solve your problem, but your yearning for the normalcy that’s been absent in your life for so long seems to outweigh any logic.

“I think we could probably crank the bed high enough for you to look under the hood.” You shrug with a sad type of sarcasm, anxiously fiddling with your fingers to try and brainstorm a solution to your time-sensitive issue.

“You know there’s someone four houses down who is very capable of solving your problem who isn’t dying.”

For as hard as your dad fought for his half huffed laugher, he fights even harder for the smug smirk pinching the corner of his cheeks.

“Dad…” You let out a deep breath, trying to not let your eyes roll to the back of your skull from even pondering the idea of admitting to Frankie Morales that you need his help.

“Mackenzie Grace?” He questions back, pretending to be blissfully unaware of your reason for dramatic pause.

“Dad, you can’t be serious.”

“I am, actually. Dead serious. And right now, I’m at a point in my life where that statement can’t be any closer to the truth.”

Unfortunately, that’s an argument you can’t fight.

You sigh again, chewing at your lip to see if your brain can muster any other plausible solution before you admit defeat, but you know it’s no use. Your dad is kind enough to accept your silence as a white flag, sparing you the embarrassment of admitting he’s right. What he’s not kind enough to do, is to let you off without making sure he gets the last word.

“You can’t stay mad at him forever, honey.”

“I can, actually.”

Right now, your dad better thank his lucky stars he’s dying, because any other circumstance, and you would have already been halfway out the door before you put yourself through this conversation again.

“MacKenzie,” He pauses, the frail and wrinkled ends of his fingertips reaching out just enough to rest on the hand you have wrapped around the bar of his bed guard rails, “if I give you some dying words of wisdom, do you promise to listen, actually listen to what I have to say?”

You know he’s about to tell you something you have no intention of wanting to hear. You want so badly to lie, to say “yes”, just to appease him without really meaning it. But the guilty conscious eating you alive in the pit of your stomach won’t let you get off that easily.

“Yeah, I promise.”

It’s soft enough for only you and him, just quiet enough to keep the world out of your shared secret.

“Holding a grudge won’t make you any happier. It won’t change what happened, either. I’d be willing to bet he’s still holding one against you, too. There’s two sides to every story, MacKenzie Grace, and you can’t keep blaming him like you didn’t have a part in what happened, too. He’s already accepted he’s in the wrong for what he did. God bless the fact you ended up just as stubborn as your old man, but at some point, you have to get off your high horse and do the same.”

It’s unsettling, the feeling that washes over you- it makes every inch of your body twinge and wince in a strange sort of self-inflicted pain you can’t shake, the indescribable discomfort that makes you want to crawl out of your skin and evaporate into thin air. The tormented sensation stirring in your gut makes you want to scream and cry and run away, all at the same time.

Because it’s not the truth of your dad’s words alone that make you feel this way- you’ve come face to face with this truth more times than you’d like to count.

It’s the fact that for the first time, you’ve come face to face with the truth, and there’s a part of you that can accept it.

You stand there for another moment at the edge of his bed, eyes peeled to the ground, trying to find the words you’re too scared to admit. Maybe your silence is a loud enough confession.

“I’ll see you when I get back from work, okay?” You lean down and kiss his head, giving your dad’s hand a final, gentle squeeze before you’re halfway out the door, car keys in hand.

“I thought your car wasn’t working?”

Your dad has never been one for “I told you so’s” . The stifled smile and playful glisten in his tired eyes will do just fine.

“Bye, Dad.”

Your dad’s words echo in your brain as you begin your journey down the driveway, terrified by the tiniest amount of weight it’s lifted off your shoulders.

“Holding a grudge won’t make you any happier. It won’t change what happened, either.”

Maybe he’s got a point. But that’s easy to say when you’re only dealing with the idea of Frankie you’ve built up in your head, not when you’re about to come face to face with him in real time.

There’s a part of you that debates just walking to work. Hell, the hour walk it would take you to get to work would probably be easier than the thirty second walk you’re about to take four houses down.

You’ll be lucky if you don’t gnaw off your entire thumbnail by the time you make it to the Morales’s doorstep, trying to clench your fists as tight as possible with every step you take towards their house to attempt to keep your nerves (and nails) intact.

You’re not sure you’ve ever walked this slow to his house. There was once a time that you couldn’t sprint there fast enough, legs leaping over cracks in the sidewalk to meet Frankie at his front door. Now, it feels like you might as well be crawling with the time you’re trying to waste before you ring his doorbell.

You practically tip toe up the steps to the porch, like it’s some sort of crime to be at his house and you’re terrified of being caught. Your finger hovers over the doorbell, outstretched and ready to press, too frozen in fear to move the extra inch it will take to press the rounded button.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” You curse under your breath, furrowing your brow at your inability to face his front door. You ball your free hand up to a fist, slamming your knuckles against your forehead with a sigh so heavy, you’d probably give that wolf from The Three Little Pigs a run for his money, “‘C’mon, MacKenzie, just ring the damn doorbell.”

Your heart stops as the tip of your index finger finally pushes hard enough to force the high pitched chime, forcing yourself to keep your feet planted on the doormat below you instead of booking it half way across town.

“One sec!”

The bellow of his voice from behind the door is enough to jumpstart the stand still of your heartbeat, so much so that in an instant, it’s gone from flatlining to nearly beating out of your chest.

At this point, even if you wanted to run, you’re not sure your body would let you.

As the knob turns and draws back towards the house, Frankie’s broad body fills the doorframe. He looks almost as frozen as you, so stunned by your presence, his tongue darts between his lips as a placeholder for the words he lacks.

“H-hey?” He asks it so cautiously, eyebrows scrunching in confusion while he looks you up and down, too scared to say anything else until he figures out why you’ve shown up at his front door.

“My um- My car won’t- I have to go to work and I can’t get my car to start.”

You don’t dare phrase it as anything other than a statement of fact. You’ll die before the words “Frankie, will you help me?” escape from your lips.

“O-oh. Shit.” He cocks his head, the pinch of his face immediately easing along with the rest of his body, standing up a little straighter as he leans against the doorframe.

“Sorry, i-if you’re busy or whatever, don’t feel like you-”

“No- No, I mean, yeah, no, I don’t- shit-” He stutters, pausing as he shakes his head with a little laugh at the ground, trying to compose himself before he trips over his words again, “Yes, I um- Yeah, I can help.”

“O-okay. Thank- Thanks.” You try to fight the tug you feel in your lips creeping towards the corner of your cheeks that mirrors the grin Frankie’s trying so desperately to hide on his face.

The two of you stand there for a moment, feet wriggling in the tips of your shoes and fingers twiddling in your pockets, using every ounce of strength you have to ignore the heat flushing through your cheeks that makes you want to hate him just a little bit less.

It’s hard to suppress when Frankie’s trying to keep up his facade with the world’s worst poker face as he’s beaming ear to ear.

“Let me just uh- Lemme grab some stuff and I’ll meet you over there?” He asks, tiptoeing around what seems too good to be true.

“Y-yeah. Yeah, sounds good.”

You give each other a little nod before he disappears behind his door. You tilt your head to the sky, eyes closed as the deepest sigh of relief you can take escapes your body. It feels like the first gasp you take when you peak above the surface after holding your breath underwater, remembering what it feels like to finally breathe again.

It takes everything in you to pretend you don’t feel the strange pang in your chest as you watch Frankie walk to your house after you’ve made it back to your driveway, his gray shirt clinging to his biceps as he carries over his bucket of tools and brown curls spilling out from under the worn, Standard Oil hat he’s obviously still refused to throw away.

You lean against the hood of your car, arms crossed over your chest, trying your best to seem ambivalent about the whole ordeal.

If you were nominated for an Oscar in the “Pretending to be aloof in front of Frankie Morales while he fixes your car” category, you most surely wouldn’t be winning.

“Hey, again.” He grins as he sets his tools down, mirroring your stance to cross his arms over his chest.

“Hey, again.” You parrot.

“So, uh… Your car?” Frankie asks, nodding over to the vehicle you’re leaning on.

“Yeah, uh- yeah, I don’t know what’s going on. I tried starting it like, five different times and it doesn’t do anything. I’ve never had this happen to me before and of course it’s when I’m trying to leave for work.” You shrug, trying to play into the fact you at least tried to do something before coming to find him.

“Huh. Alright, well, lemme see what I can do, okay?” He nods again, leaving your fingers to play with your sleeves to keep yourself occupied, instead of staring at him, mesmerized by the way you can still hear the gears turning in his brain as he processes. “Can I uh- is it okay if I have the keys?”

You fumble through your pockets, digging out your keys to place them in the palm of Frankie’s outstretched hand, the linger of your touch on his skin just long enough to make you subtly jerk your arm back in embarrassment.

You step back to let Frankie slide past you, watching him try to squeeze himself into the driver’s seat to start your car, half his body still hanging out the open door.

“Are you- are you not teaching anymore?”

“Wh- huh?” His question catches you off guard, the scowl of confusion painted across your face making him quickly elaborate before drawing his attention back to your car.

“You just uh- sorry, you said you were going to work. It’s 5 P.M. on a Thursday in June, so, ya know, figured you probably weren’t going to school.”

He gives the key one more turn before sliding out of the car, carefully passing your keys back off to you before making his way to open the hood. You cautiously follow behind him, arms still crossed against your chest as he props the front of the car up to reveal the engine.

“Oh. Uh- no, yeah. No, I’m uh- I’m still teaching. Normally I do summer school to make some extra money, but because of my dad and everything and not being home, it just, ya know, I just couldn’t. I still wanted something to do to make money and keep me busy, so um, Katie’s Dad still owns The Parrot’s Nest on 14th, so I asked him if I could just do some part time waitressing and bartending and stuff. It’s nice ‘cause he’s been really flexible with everything going on.”

Your eyes dart to the ground as Frankie shifts his view from the inside of the car back to you. The air fills with a heavy pause, like neither of you are really sure how to react to the fact you’re managing a semi-civil conversation that’s more than just one word responses.

Frankie lets out a quiet huff, trying to hide the soft smile curling in the corner of his scruff covered cheeks before turning back to the car, silently tinkering for a few moments before mustering up the courage to speak again.

“That’s nice of him. Didn’t even know that place was still around.” There’s a little grunt as he leans deeper into the car, reaching around to search for some sort of part he wants to check, “I’m uh- I’m glad you’re still teaching, though. That’s um, that’s good.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Your hands have shifted from folded across your chest to in your pockets, a subconscious move you’ve made as a brick from the wall you’ve built between yourself and Frankie Morales seems to crumble without you realizing.

You let him work for a few more moments before he’s diagnosed your issue, carefully closing the hood and wiping the engine grime on the towel from the tool bucket he’s brought with him.

“So uh- good news is, you just need a new battery. Easy fix. Bad news is, your battery’s dead, and your car’s not gonna start without a new one.” Frankie shrugs, hoping he’s not pushing his luck with the little laugh he gives himself at his joke.

“Fuck. Okay, uh- shit, okay.” You mutter, not necessarily upset with Frankie for delivering the news of his discovery, but angry at the fact you need to buy a new car battery and have no way to get to work. “Um, sorry, give me a second, I’m gonna call Jim and let him know that I can’t make it in today.”

“I- I can drive you.”

You’re sure Frankie’s just as surprised as you when the offer comes out of his mouth, freezing your thumb over your boss’s contact you’re about to dial. Frankie clearly interprets the look on your face as one of skepticism about his idea, quickly trying to backpedal before he preemptively digs his own grave.

“No, I mean, um- if you want. I can- I can drop you off. So you, uh- that way you don’t have to miss work.”

“No, Frankie, it’s fine, you- you already helped figure out what’s wrong with my car, it’s not a big deal, don’t wo-”

“I want to.”

You don’t mean for your sigh to be as audible as it is. It only seems fair, considering there was no world in which you ever considered having to contemplate not only asking Frankie for help, but also spending a fifteen minute car ride together so he can drop you off at work. You chew at your bottom lip as you contemplate the lesser of two evils- be stuck in Frankie’s metal death trap of a car, forced within a 3 foot proximity of him for the entire ride, or miss out on the most hours you’ve been scheduled in the past two weeks for money you really do need.

Swallowing your pride is the toughest pill you’ve had to swallow in quite a long time.

“Fine.”

It’s not even your answer you think shocks him the most. It’s how little he had to argue with you to agree.

You want to roll your eyes at the little smirk of satisfaction he gives himself, knowing you’ve gone 0-2 on your hardened stance of despising Frankie’s guts since talking with your dad. It only stings more that you’re sure Frankie is getting endless amounts of satisfaction that you’ve given into him so quickly.

But fuck, if you didn’t miss that stupid, goofy grin of his when he knows he’s beaten you at your own game.

“Only if your car isn’t gonna kill us first before we get there.” You groan, eyeing down Frankie’s beater truck he’s been driving since he got his license. It was in questionable shape over a decade ago, you’re not sure what kind of deal Frankie made with the devil to keep the hunk of junk up and running.

“She’s fine. Haven’t managed to kill you in her yet, have I?” Frankie rebuttals, grabbing his tools as you follow behind him towards his car.

“Well, there’s a first time for everything.” You sigh, shaking your head in annoyance that Frankie’s still driving this damn thing on principle alone, “How the fuck is this thing even still running?”

“‘Cause you don’t give her enough credit. Got me here from North Carolina just fine.” Frankie scoffs, the two of you settling into your perspective seats inside his truck.

His comment makes you frown at your lap as you buckle your seatbelt, not because of the sass he’s inflicted, but because it reminds you that he’s moved himself states away just to further the distance between you two.

“S-sorry, it was meant to be a joke.” Frankie mutters, looking over at you as he drives and noticing the way you’ve gone quiet, eyes peeled to the ground.

“No, I know.” You reply back, anxiously digging under your nails with your stare still locked on your feet. “How’s um- how’s North Carolina?”

“Oh. Um, It’s uh- It’s fine, I guess.”

It’s then you notice Frankie’s realized the reason for your silence, uncomfortably fidgeting in his seat and grip tightening around the steering wheel as he processes your disappointment.

It’s hard to decipher what he means by “fine.” Fine, like he’s more than fine and doesn't want to rub it in your face how well he’s doing? Fine, like actually a normal amount of fine and he just has nothing of interest to report? Fine, like he’s not fine at all, but doesn’t have the balls to admit it to you?

With the way he can’t bring himself to look at you, it has to be the first or third option. You’re not sure which one is worse.

You’re also not sure why you feel so compelled to find out.

“You still uh- doing um, mechanic stuff for the Army?” You ask, glancing over just enough to watch Frankie’s fingers drum against the steering wheel.

“Yeah. Helicopter maintenance, mostly.”

It’s still not enough to give you the definitive answer you’re looking for. You’re too stubborn for your own good to just quit while you’re ahead. Because of all the questions you could have asked him, the one you ask him next is like voluntarily putting a gun to your head and asking him to shoot.

“Are you, uh- you um, seeing anyone? Samantha, or whatever her name was?”

It’s the first time he locks eyes with you since you’ve gotten in the car. Frankie looks you up and down, tongue running across the top of his teeth under his lips and raising his brows just enough to let you know you’ve got his attention.

Every second of silence that lingers before his answer only leads you to believe he’s trying to let you down slowly before he has to pull the trigger. You brace yourself for the bullet.

“No. I uh, shit- I- Sarah and I broke up a while ago. After um, after Santi’s wedding, actually. No, I um, I’m not seeing anyone. Haven’t really been since then, I guess.”

Your body stays tense, still bracing yourself for the inevitable blow, but it never comes. Not only has Frankie taken his finger off the trigger, he’s put away the gun all together. You’re so stunned you’ve made it out of the question alive, you aren’t quite sure how to react.

“O-oh. I uh- I didn’t know.”

“Are- are you? S-seeing anyone?” He stutters, the words heavy in his throat as he gulps.

“No. After how things ended with Liam, I just- I haven’t either.”

It’s uncomfortable, the silence that fills the car and seeps between you. Not quite awkward, not quite upset, not quite relieved, either. It’s heavy, like a backpack full of bricks you’ve had strapped to your shoulders that you refuse to put down- you’d rather keep burdening yourself with the weight than just take it off, too used to the ache it spreads to every inch of your body.

Maybe, the silence is so uncomfortable because you’re starting to realize how stupid it is to let these types of things keep weighing you down.

Holding a grudge won’t make you any happier. It won’t change what happened, either.

You’ve been so lost in your own head, you’d barely even realized the car had come to a stop, the soft orange and pink glow of The Parrot’s Nest sign illuminating the inside of Frankie’s truck with muted neon snapping you back to reality.

Your hand wraps around the door handle, ready to break free into the parking lot before Frankie’s voice stops you.

“What time are you done?”

You look back over your shoulder, taken aback.

“Why?”

“So I can pick you up.”

It’s so matter of fact, like he had never contemplated any other option from the moment he’d offer to drive you, his soft, brown eyes sinking as you shake your head at him.

“Frankie, it’s fine. I can have someone else drive me ho-”

“Please?”

Your head wants to say no. It wants to push open the door with a half hearted “thanks for the ride” and pretend like the past 15 minutes had simply never existed, wiping the strange pang in your chest and swirling in your stomach from its memory.

Apparently, your heart’s decided it has other plans.

“I’m done at ten.”

“Then I promise to be back here at ten.”

Frankie Morales is a man who’s broken many things.

Your heart, your trust, your friendship.

But out of all the things Frankie has broken, he’s never broken a promise.

And that’s how you know at ten o’clock sharp, you’ll find his beat up Chevy in the parking lot of The Parrot’s Nest, waiting for you.

@chaotic-iguana @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @raspberrybesitos

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @vee-bees-blog @itsokbbygrl

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @jolapeno @ovaryacted

@amanitacowboy @mystickittytaco @anoverwhelmingdin @greenwitchfromthewoods

@witchofthedeepwoods @ericamarie093 @readingiskeepingmegoing @whimsiwitchy @whoaitspascal87

@vickie5446 @katw474 @ravenpoe67 @inthedarkestnight @brittmb115

@harryscherrysugar @wonderpillar @sunnytuliptime @pasc4lfuzz @yesjazzywazzylove-blog

@kungfucapslock @vannabanana1995 @beezusvreeland

@javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

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generalsmemories · 1 year ago

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HELLOO THEREE!! i love how dedicated you to jing yuan!! Can i have req for 1k event???

Fluff sentences "8" + fluff scenarios "4"!!

Thank you so much!!

I keep looking forward to your JY work!!

Bedrest

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader

✧ prompts: Not letting the sick one move an inch + playing with their hair until they fall asleep & "You're going to get sick if you keep coddling me." "And you're just going to get worse if I don't" || 1k event also requested by @/thetwinkims

✧ content: fluff, established relationship, i swear it's just fluff like for once there's no hidden angst over here.

✧ a/n: hello fellow jing yuan lovers, i'm still alive. this was once again written at 1 AM and not edited at all so if there's any writing mistakes, no there isn't. the initial plan was to keep this one in the drafts while I also write other WIPS to feel productive but i have honestly starved ya'll for months at this point i'm so sorry i'm back with milk.

have soft jing yuan just giggling, is he delirious, sleepy or just in love? we don't know.

If you could describe Jing Yuan in one word other than mischievous, it would be stubborn. The General of the Xianzhou Luofu is too stubborn for his own good, you don't know if this stubbornness of his is rooted in his desire to protect Luofu from danger, or from the fact that he just dislikes when people wish for him to do something in particular.

In any case, his stubborn and mischievous nature could very well be linked to that of a feline - which he himself has been told that he share similar traits of, despite being fully human.

You just wished that he would be less stubborn when it also came to his health.

"Jing Yuan, how many times have I told you to just lay down…!" you say whilst gritting your teeth, using almost every ounce of your strength to push the general back down on the bed. Jing Yuan merely lets out a quiet chuckle, still trying "playfully" wrangling with you. "I'm injured, not sick, dear." he says, to which you merely roll your eyes in exhaustion.

Jing Yuan truly loves it when you finally forego your usual gentle demeanour to a more brazen one. It's usually a side of you that only he can see, more so because he's the only one who can annoy you enough to make you realize that gentle words and probing won't get you anywhere.

"I don't think someone with a temperature of 40 degrees is only injured, darling. Now can you please just lay down before you reopen your wounds?" you plead once again, pressing the heels of your palms further down Jing Yuan's broad shoulder which shook in quiet laughter at your desperate struggle.

"I'm wide awake after having taken numerous naps because per your request though?" he informs, finally settling back down on the bed which finally allows you to lean back to sit on the edge of the bed again. "Last time you insisted that you were fine, I had to get Mimi to help haul you up the stairs because you could barely move." you remind him with a huff, Jing Yuan turning over on his side to face you, his already messy bangs sweeping over to the side to almost cover his right eye.

He didn't say anything, his arm was still laid behind his head to act as another form of cushion while the other rested lazily over the bedsheets. You could however see the golden eyes peering deeply into your own between the grey strands. A silent request that he didn't dare utter to you.

Jing Yuan rarely requested things from you after all.

With a sigh, you turn your body over and hoist your knees over the bed. Nudging Jing Yuan's arm aside with your hands, "Move them." you quietly demand, the same golden eyes that were peering at you blinking in slight confusion. "What for?" he questions softly while moving his arm upwards.

You don't reply, merely raising the thin blanket up to lay down beside Jing Yuan - making sure that you were hoisted a bit higher up than he was. You snake one arm around Jing Yuan's neck, a silent request to make him scoot closer to you.

When he's close enough, you hook your chin over his head while pressing his face towards your chest, the other arm wrapping around his hair. "There we go."

A few beats of silence passes by, you can feel Jing Yuan take in a few more breaths than normal whilst his eyelashes brush against the material of your shirt, the material thin enough to feel every movement of his face that's pressed against the upper part of your torso.

And then he's shaking in another quiet chuckle, "You're going to get sick if you keep coddling me at this point, darling." he says, and yet the arms that snake around your waist and the way he snuggles deeper into your chest indicates that he won't let you go now that he got you within his grasp.

He can tell that you're rolling your eyes yet again. You decide to answer his jab with a small peck on top of his head, mostly focusing your attention to the locks of hair in between your fingers, curling a particular strand around your finger whilst your other thumb is busy rubbing soothing circles at his hipbone. "And you're just going to get worse if I don't."

The general merely huffs out a laugh, replying to the peck on his head with kiss against your shirt. "You spoil me way too much." is the last thing he whispers, before he quickly falls into a deep slumber.

Because you both know that Jing Yuan truly never sleeps unless you're near him.

#honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail imagines #honkai star rail x you #hsr x you #hsr x reader #hsr imagines #star rail x reader #star rail x you #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #x reader #reader insert #generalmemories 1k event

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rencantstopfalling · 7 months ago

Text

Jschlatt x Fem!reader NSFW A-Z

I'm so sorry I wrote this at 6 am, with zero sleep so please bare with me

18+ MDNI

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

After he cums, Schlatt is knocked out. Doesn't even bother pulling out, he will just collapse right on top of you.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On you, he loves your boob's and thighs. Both are so squishy and soft, he likes anything he can just grab.

On him, he likes his hands. He likes what he can do with them, finger you, hold you, have you suck them. Very versatile

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He likes it messy, although hates the cleanup. Would only cum all over you if he knew he had the energy to clean you up. I also think he's very paranoid on getting you pregnant so to be safe he cums in the condom a lot

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Is down to be pegged. Dude can't say he likes water squirted up his ass and doesn't want a strap!! He's just to humiliated to ask

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He's had a few girlfriends and sexual encounters in the past. He doesn't peg me as the one night stand type so all of his past partners have been from relationships. Safe to say he knows what he's doing, isn't an amateur

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary. I think he said it on the SDP but even so, he likes the intimacy that comes with it. He gets to kiss you, look into your eyes, hold you, just very sweet

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

It depends on the mood. He can definitely be silly but for the most part, sex is usually serious, not the type to just crack jokes during

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He's got hair, but he keeps it maintained. He's a pretty hairy person, so trying to keep it complete bare would just be a hassle, so it just trims

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

I think he's rather intimate. Sex isn't something he just throws around, if he's doing it with you it's cause he cares. Not to say all encounters are long drawn out acts of passion, but he shows his love through small acts and service

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Before you guys started dating, he would jack off about once a day, but now he's with you, maybe only once a week. He only does it when he's up really late from editing and needs to blow off steam, but doesn't want to wake you up

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Tbh I don't see him being into to many kinks. I think he's a pretty vanilla guy. Maybe a little degradation, and chocking but nothing crszy

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Almost ways at home. He doesn't like the risk of getting caught so he will usually save it for when you guys are in the safety of your home, but once behind those doors all bets are off. Every surface has been tainted

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You doing mundane things turns him on BAD. doing the dishes, folding laundry, scrolling on your phone. Dude just wants you bad

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He absolutely will not put his hands on you. No slapping on your face, he finds it so dehumanizing, he is willing for a few soft spanks on the ass but nothing that will ever leave a bruise

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

BOTH. he's such a munch dude can eat you out for HOURS. It's a stress relief for him. And he can skullfuck the shit out of you, use that mouth to good use (I'm so sorry for that phrasing it's just so funny to me)

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He pegs me as the kind to do slow deep thrusts in the beginning, but the closer he gets the faster and rougher he will go

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He's usually down for a good quick, bit never in public. Only down if it's right before he has to record or before you guys have to leave the house.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He's willing to try anything you want to try, as long as it doesn't cause you any harm. He is OK with rough things, but wouldn't forgive himself if he went to far

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He's a one round guy. I'm sorry he just seems like once he cums dude is done. You gonna have to give him maybe 10 minutes before another round

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Not really. He's got a cockring, but for you he just prefers to do the work himself. He has gotten you vibrating underwear and sometimes makes you wear them around the house to see you struggle cause he's such a tease

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He likes to tease. Will finger you, then eat you out. It's mostly because he knows once he cums he's tapped out so he tries to satisfy you as much before he enters you

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He's a moaner, very vocal. He's a little ashamed so ge tries to hide it but the longer he's with you he opens up more and you get those delicious. Moans in your ears

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He sniffs panties. No further elaboration

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

6 inches, a little thick, curves to the left. Pink tip

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Its pretty high but he can control it. He's always down for sex but won't pursue every urge

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Right after cumming, dude dies

#hc alphabet smut #jschlatt x reader #jschlatt smut #jschlatt x y/n #jschlatt #schlatt

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dollyichi · 7 months ago

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I saw that you wanted thirsts so I'll give this a shot 😖. I really liked the way you wrote Rin in "We Listen We Don't Judge: Blue Lock Edition". That part about him crying because of overstim... AGHHHHH

Maybe virgin Rin is written a lot here I dunno 😓 But if it isn't too selfish to request, could you elaborate?

Sorry if this was too formal, I'm new to these kinds of things. Love you and your writing lots! Take care of yourself honey 💞💞

hi hi love thank you for reading my works 🥹i appreciate it a lot! you’re not being selfish you’re so sweet omg i love uu!! i ended up rambling i hope this is fine :3

edit: ALSO ANON I TALK ABOUT HOW HE FELL FOR YOU AND ALL THAT BUT I decided to write how he ended up confessing here in this small drabble lmk what you think too if you get to read it >< i got inspired hihi

when i was writing it, i thought him crying meant a lot of things. he says he doesn’t cry but you were just so different to him that it felt overwhelming. it’s more of an unconscious crying, not too much, not too subtle—it really wasn’t on purpose but he let go. i mean come on, he came when he put it in and still was hard he wants you so bad!!

rin loves you too much, more than you know, more than you do him (the reoccurring topic during your typical play fights by the way) but it’s the truth—a series of denying himself, then denying himself to you till he eventually just bursts and he’s got you finally even when he’s the one wrapped around your finger.

he prepared a lot, mentally, physically—he wanted it to be perfect. while you just wanted it to be a time for the both of you to finally be the most honest towards each other. (i am a big fan of writing them in love it’s important to me!!)

his emotions were really stirred up when you he realizes how bare the both of you were just for each other and it’s adding onto that emotional aspect so i think it’s mainly just a tender moment. got really into overstimulating himself cause it’s just him being greedy to get more from you. rin messy sex lover too!!

for rin’s first time it has to really be handled with care and guidance (don’t worry he’s a genius after anyway). i wasn’t sure exactly which part you wanted me to elaborate on, but he’s patient and eager to learn from you. because he feels so good it’s important you feel 10x more than that even if it was a moment you’ve given him for him to enjoy. had a few rounds, you already know what happened so i wont repeat (😝), second round you were teaching him how you can feel good while he did. letting you know which spots felt the most sweet. third round you were already losing your mind but you loved it so much you were already getting hooked on him.

that gentle affection from you is just so touching to him and that’s why he fell for you in the first place. and i guess from there you experimented a lot… even letting him watch you pleasure yourself so he gets even better! kinda like it when reader has a bit more experience but, them sharing a first time together is like the cherry on top of a triple sunday for me yk? and that’s like three cherries so it’s even better but either way you both wanted to spoil each other despite being intimidated by the thought of it ‘being a first’ but that’s why you’re together to have your firsts and lasts and that is so romantic to me ><

#ᡣ . .ྀི 𑁩ཾיִ 💌#blue lock smut #bllk smut #itoshi rin smut #rin itoshi smut #itoshi smut #rin smut #ᦾִ⁠❤︎ by cola #anon i am kissing u #bllk thirsts

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imliterallyf7ckin9crazy · 5 months ago

Text

“ℑ’𝔩𝔩 𝔤𝔢𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔶𝔢𝔱, ℑ’𝔳𝔢 𝔤𝔬𝔱 𝔱𝔬 𝔪𝔞𝔨𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔢”

Squid game season 2

In-ho x f!reader

Warnings: in ho is obsessive, stalking, poverty, cannon violence, manipulation, Stockholm syndrome, loss of sanity, reader is an absurdist, childhood abuse, obsession, sad stuff.

NOT PROOF READ OR EDITED. This will also be a THREE PART SERIES bc quite honestly I can’t write much at one time smh. Also do not take reader too seriously she crazy as hell.

Also sorry reader and in-ho barely interact this chapter bc I needed to set the scene so you know what I’m talking abt. Pls read still tho bc I think it’s cool :3 you’ll need it for part two and part three.

TLDR: this is gonna be long af. So basically the reader is previous winner like gi hun only she went kinda crazy after her first game. So she gets like mentally locked in the games so to speak and so after she wins she doesn’t pay any of her debts and actually tried to accumulate more so she can be recruited again. She gets her card and when she talks to in ho he is like “why would u do this” and she’s like “bro bc i think I understand you and shi” and he’s like “if you can win again we can talk lol” and she is like bet. Only he tries to rig it against her. But she is dead set on winning.

A/N: am I projecting? Maybe. Also this shit is LONG sorry it took so long

————

Sometimes, when you find yourself winding through random back alleys or when you lie your head to rest at night, you can still hear the screams..

You can still feel the reverberation of each gunshot fired into the innocent flesh of desperate people. The wetness of the blood that splatters your face as others die before your eyes and you can’t quite tell if the screaming your were hearing was theirs or yours.

And sometimes you can still make out all the promises that were made in the dormitory. The faint memories of the voices of friends you made. The exact sound of their voices lost to time, but the faces of their lifeless bodies remained unchanged in your mind. Some of them were at the hands of players and some of pink soldiers.

And one at your hands.

Life had been cruel to you long before being convinced to risk it all. To say your early life was messy would be an understatement. Years of falling to sleep bloody and bruised, countless hours of begging for basic needs, and endless attempts to run away and make it better. Trying anything to make you feel whole. Like nothing ever happened at all. Once you got a job your parents kicked you out and left you to fend for yourself. At first it was great, you didn’t feel like you were being suffocated anymore. Until you got fired.

The place you worked at was shut down due to the owner embezzling the money and getting caught. The business soon went down at for lack of funds. And the reality of life became clear to you once again. Over time the hope you had to escape your parents and live the life you dreamed of as a young girl was drained from your soul. Ever since then you’ve been doing this. Wandering the streets aimlessly, almost as if you had never been in your home city a day in your life. You can’t even see the faces of those around you. Every face is replaced by one of four faces… ever since then that is.

The first face is younger you, battered and bruised to all hell. You see her face on usually younger people. No matter what they’re saying or doing the expression she gives is always the same. Glosses over eyes and facial features set in a way that screams both “why would this happen to me” and “what the hell became of us”. You cant even begin to answer those questions.

The second is the face of your father. Almost every man looks like him now. Though you haven’t seen him in years, since the game he’s come back to haunt you. To remind you there’s more wrong with you than what happened in those couple days. That there’s more broken about you. His expression stays angry. Tense like he’s going to hit you. For this you almost never interact with men and if you do it always end poorly.

The third is the one drives you insane most.

There was this beautiful, kind girl you once knew. Growing up she was the only thing that made living worth it. You were picked on quite a bit at school, be it because you never really spoke or because you had to be such a goodie two shoes to stay out of trouble at home. But she always stepped in at just the right time to save you. Even though her own home situation was much less than desirable she still found time to comfort you when you were in shambles or got into trouble to defend you. You both told each other everything, both pillars in the other’s lives. But after being kicked out you were forced to lose contact, solely because you couldn’t contact her or get to her part of town. That was until you joined the games at your lowest possible time to try and get some money to keep your loaners from finding you and gutting you for profit. Guess who you saw.

The girl that meant everything to you was suddenly standing before you. Deep You both scolded each other for getting into so much debt you had to meet here. Giving each other shit, like you used to. Looking back you almost chuckle at that for the nativity you both had. You watched people die together. Sprayed and stained with so much blood you didn’t now who’s it was. She kept you alive in there, with out her keeping you calm you probably would have died or quite frankly killed yourself. Against all odds you made it to the final three together against a man who needed the money for his family. She told you it was “okay “to take his life in his sleep after the final dinner because he would have done the same if either of you if you had fallen asleep. That morals in this situation would only get you both stuffed into a gift box. And so you both took his life for the sake of yours. You can still feel your stomach dropping as he pleaded for his life while you and your friend stared down at him cruelly, begging falling on deaf ears as you tore him to shreds with dirty steak knives.

Of course after that it was final two. When the last game was revealed, squid game, you remembered only one could leave. Actually, the both of you used to play squid game in school. Even if it’s typically a “boys game”, she was great defense and you were quick enough for easy offense. Genuinely, those were one of your fondest memories. Of course you’d be pinned against each other for the last time. Though you didn’t know it, the VIPs plans were to be able to watch an animalistic death match. However, you and your friend came to an agreement. No weapons, no fist fights to the death. You both knew you couldn’t kill each other, so you decided to simply play the game for the last time. The loser would take their lives themselves, with honor. And so you did. It became your last good memory. You were laughing for the last time, giggling like you were back to being school girls beating the popular boys at their favorite game. You still roughed each other up, nearing the end you both couldn’t ignore you were fighting for the death. That one of your lives hinged on this moment.

At the end, it was you who had won. You told her that you could both just back down and go home. You tried to convince her but she was set on this being the end, regardless how much you cry. You still remember what she told you before she slit her own throat clean open with her steak knife right before you, blood mixing with the mud and rain of the arena.

She said “I can’t go back there. Not without that money. I’ve had more fun here with you than I ever did my whole life. I got to be a little girl again with you. I can’t go back. This is the way I want to go, y/n.” And gave you a smile with tears turned invisible because of the rain. But you knew she was crying. “I love you”

then she was gone. As you rushed to her side, screaming her name until your throat was raw and starting to bleed you noticed her face. This look of bliss on her face, this twisted look of satisfaction graced her features as she bled from her self inflicted wound and stained your clothes and soul forever. You see that face on almost every woman. Eyes wide in ecstasy, faint smile and whole face covered in bright red blood. How badly you wished it was you instead of her, how badly you wanted to feel the contentment in life she had in those final not. That day you decided when you died it would be like her on that day.

Lastly, the fourth one you weren’t sure if it really counted as a face. It was the black geometric mask of the man who supposedly put you there. After you won you got to speak with him on the way home. Blindfold sure, but you found a tiny sliver where you were able to make out what he looked like. It was less soulless than the pink guards you had seen. It actually looked like a face, only it was made of many shapes. No one ever has his face, but you see him everywhere, more than any of the others. He’s always in the corner of your eye, you can make out his mask in the shadows of buildings, swearing you can see him watching you through your house window at night. No matter where you are you feel him watching.

For those reasons you almost never go out during the day, preferring to slink around and waste your hard earned murder money on stupid shit or alcohol. After all, why not? It goes without saying you were never the same after the games. It became all you thought about, every waking hour became ‘how was that possible? Who was really behind it? Why would they do this?’ So many questions swirled in your mind. You had theories for each of those questions already sure, but physically no way to know for certain. That not knowing sunk so deeply into your blood and poisoned your mind you came up with a new question to silence the voices that screamed at you and the faces you saw.

‘How do I get back?’

You became obsessed with many insane schemes and ploys to get yourself back in. Countless hours poured into the optimum plan to weasel a way inside the game again and truly figure this shit out. So you went back to the basics

Question: how where the games possible? Answer: clearly it was a high budget operation, meaning the money was coming from somewhere. But I mean come on-that’s too much money for just one person not even including the cash prize! So it has to be multiple people funding the whole thing. Thats theory #1

Question: who is really behind it? Answer: Ties into previous theory. If it’s multiple people, then who? Who’s setting it up and then who’s paying? Clearly that masked man is the leader or else he wouldn’t be so reclusive… but who is he throwing these games for? He said it’s just to give people a second chance but that just can’t be true but it can’t be just for him. There has to be people watching, that’s theory #2.

Question: why would they do this? Answer: clearly it’s not just for helping the poor- that much is obvious. Now here’s the theory you have that will be impossible to prove without going back. You were thinking about the games…. Kids games and team games. Like ones you would see on tv. Then you remembered how many cameras were everywhere. LITERALLY everywhere. Could just be security but it feels like more. Then the amount of cash and not everyone has that much money. What if there was a couple people paying to watch? Honestly you couldn’t tell if you were onto something or on something but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched by something bigger. Theory #3

And lastly and the most important question.

“How are you getting back?”

Why did they pick everyone? Because you had crazy amounts of debt. How did they get you there? Played games in train stations, then got picked up in a car and gassed out.

After months of speculation and planing this was what you could come up with. You had already paid off all of your debt and had so much left over money. You started spending recklessly, at one point just handing out money. People looked at you crazy but you didn’t even know it. You were in your own world let alone had the courage to look at their faces…

You began taking out extremely large loans with no intentions of paying anything. You were going out of your way to accumulate as much debt as possible. Consciously double crossing dangerous people. You kinda hoped sometimes that all these people would be able to find you and put you out of your misery but you were just too good at playing life threatening games. As the year went on you continued to pour so much money into the drain in hopes to be put back on the list for the games. Until that fated time of year came, when you remember being kidnapped.

You eventually realized no matter what you did you’d probably never run out of cash. One very late night after a particularly rough day you decided to gather all your money and dump it into your fire pit and set it all on fire. The tears running down your face contrasting with the wide smile on your face. It was a very bittersweet feeling to watch all the money you killed and almost died for burn in front of your eyes. The money 455 people fought and were slaughtered like animals for being reduced to ashes. But it also felt so good to lose it all and return to at least one about your old life. The time of recruitment was drawing near. You kept wasting money and hiding for your life until you gained even more debt than you had the first time. Honestly you were kind of impressed with yourself- think about it! You were able to accrue more debt in one year than you did your whole life up to this point.

It did briefly cross your mind that if this doesn’t work you literally burned all your money and multiple gangs and organizations wanting to harvest your organs for a quick paycheck. If you don’t get back in this year the chances of you trying again next year before one of many catch and kill you are extremely low. Oddly enough you didn’t mind living on the edge anymore, living within an inch of losing your life daily became so normal to you it almost felt fun. You started to see the world much differently the closer it came to hunt for that elusive recruiter. You think you’re starting understand the whole point of the games themselves.

The more you lived the way you did the more of humanity you saw. The lows of the human experience and the ugliness that controlled the heart of every person alive. And you noticed that the grand majority of these horrors revolved around money. Now that money had lost all value to you it became silly to see all these people just like you were so desperate for just enough money to save them to come along. To be fair it gets to a point where all you can do is pray it will work itself out.

But you watched people run themselves in circles for cash. Kill and be killed for cash. Lie, cheat, betray all for money. You see that no amount of money can take away the wrongs you did for it. All it really is is paper with no actual value. That money doesn’t really mean anything, it’s all an imaginary system people made themselves. All people do to become rich means nothing but they are greedy enough to put money before life. The money means nothing, the actions mean everything.

So then what’s the point of living? If it’s all based off a make believe value system built to extort and corrupt. If everything is rendered meaningless because people put values in the wrong things. If humanity is rotten to the core and unable to see what really matters then what the fuck is the reason to exist?

There is none. Isn’t that beautiful? All that you strive to do in life will not matter once you die. At death a successful man is as poor as a homeless man. In 100 years whatever you did in your small, insignificant life will be forgotten. There’s no point!! You could go and burn all your money, kill someone, lie and cheat and you’d STILL be on the same level as the richest person in the world. That revelation changed your whole view of the world and yourself.

Then the same day came again. The same exact day a year ago when you were suddenly approached by a man with a suitcase full of money and two pieces of paper. You went to the same train station at around the same time as you did before. Your mind was completely fogged with anticipation as your heart raced. You could barely walk straight or hear anything. You had to actually look at people to see if you could see that man, and every face was one you always tried to run from.

You breathed heavily and tears started to prick your eyes as they darted from person to person. You, your dad, your friend. You, your dad, your friend. They were everywhere. You felt as though you were going faint or throw up or both? You knew the people in the station had to be judging you even if you couldn’t quite see them. You felt like a fish In the ocean wandering without a reason. Eventually after you didn’t even know how long you chose to sit down on a bench and you just started to cry into your hands. You heard people mumble about if they should help you or not. Unsurprisingly no one did.

This wasn’t working and you were so fucked. But even as you cried you still believed this suffering was just a drop in the bucket. It didn’t really matter. Not anymore

Just as you were about to call it quits and go back home and hide until you couldn’t anymore you heard a voice so familiar it sent a shock through your whole body. Your head snapped up and a gasp was ripped from your throat

“Ms.(last name). I hoped we’d never have to meet here again”

Your eyes widened as you saw his face. It was the same man who came to you a year ago. You could actually see his face, the first real face you’ve seen on a person since you’ve gotten back since the game. All you could do is look up at him from your spot on the bench with wide delusional looking eyes.

“May I sit here?” He asks politely, to which you responded with a fast nod. He looked at you with this look of… pity? You figured you must look pretty pathetic nowadays. You have maybe 3 outfits total and you really haven’t been eating well. He smiled. before speaking again.

“Your debt has increased since the last time we met, but you knew that correct?” He asks. You nod again. You planned everything but what to say. “Why haven’t you payed it off?”

“Well I uh… kinda did? Most of it now is all new” you said with a shaky voice. He raised his eyebrows and chuckled a bit, finding it at least amusing. You knew it was an impressive feat. “I also set all my money on fire maybe a month or two ago? I’m actually not sure when…” you trailed off, trying to pinpoint the time when it dawned on you that you actually have had no true concept of time. You just know it’s been a year since you returned home. You can only really remember events but the time not so much.

“Ah, grown bored have we?” He mused. You knew that wasn’t quite it but seeing as you didn’t really know what’s made you do everything you have so far, only you knew you had to do it. You gave him another nod. He kept the same customer service type smile as he reached over and opened his case. It was set just as you remembered with the money and the ddakji. You sighed a bit before speaking “do I have to play again? I already know what happens and I don’t really want to be hit right now” you said, not really thinking. You didn’t know if you were in a place to be making requests but here you are.

You got another laugh from him, you didn’t know you were just so passively comical. “You dont have to, no. But maybe it will bring you back to your senses and you’ll live life how you were supposed to”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. ‘Live life like I was supposed to’. Is there any way someone is supposed to live? You didn’t think that way. You weren’t supposed to live any type of way, you should have died in that arena and-

“Are you sure this is what you want to do. What are you trying to gain?” His voice sounded pressed now, clearly trying to guide you into walking away. But if that was going to work you would have kept your money and moved far far away. You didn’t like being talked to like you didn’t know what’s made you were doing. You knew better than anyone you had lost your mind. You knew the things you were thinking, feeling, and thinking were most likely wrong. But you had no other option. No treatment for whatever illness is controlling your life.

“Im not trying to gain anything. I lost what I lost and I want it to stay gone…Please, just give me the card” your eyes were looking dead into his, voice wobbly with both terror and excitement. You held your hand out and you couldn’t even tell it was shaking. You couldn’t tell anything from anything. He lightly shook his head before reaching into his suits breast pocket and pulls out a brown business card. Upon seeing it you almost felt as if you were going to throw up right there. Your throat itched to scream and your legs twitched as if you were about to run away.

However when he placed the card into your hand all you did was close your fingers around it. Whole body shaking as you thanked him for the opportunity, just as you did when he gave it to you the first time. You both stood up and got ready to part ways for the second time. Right as you were about to bow your head he stopped you.

“Don’t become too full of yourself. Just because you won before means nothing the second time. I’ve seen many winners over the years, you will be no different than the other pieces of trash when you die in there. Is that really what you want?”

You opened your mouth to retaliate when he lifted his hand to stop you. “Have a great life, young miss. I hope you make the right decision” he says with his signature smirk and bow he walked in the direction opposite of the way you had to go. Presumably off to recruit more clueless individuals down on their luck. You had to hurry home now, you’d been out far too long and you knew people had people looking out for you. Waiting to catch you and make you pay. You quickly got out of the train station and started on your way back to the shitty, cheap hotel you’ve been hiding in. You’d been in that danm station for so long the sun had began to rise. The sky looked more pigmented, the air felt cleaner and you could actually think without hearing stray gunshots or phantom screams. You looked down at the small card in your clutches and flipped it over, revealing the number you had to call.

For the first time you hesitated in your plan. You were really about to go back to the place that ruined you. You missed the old version of you, when your real personality existed and you had a life. All you do all day is cry and shake and bang your head until you can form a thought. You were nothing like you remember being.

Maybe that’s what pulled you back there. The old you bringing you back to the last place she existed. A part of you actually did die in there, the part that still believed in people. She died right there with your friend, you left your soul in that dirt plot. And maybe you could find her again.

Once you got to the door of your room and got yourself inside you dialed up the number on your card and hit call. It rung a few times and when it picked up the automated voice command the same statement as before.

“If you wish to participate please state your full name and date of birth”

The words got stuck in your throat as you held the phone up to your mouth. This was your last chance to find something within you to back away.

“Y/n, D/O/B” you barely got it out fully as your stomach sank. This is what you wanted. This is what you asked for. Nothing matters. Nothing matters. Nothing-

“Player 444.” That’s him. That man with the black mask, that’s his voice. Hearing your number made you hold your breath and lose your balance. It’s been so long since you’ve been called that name. You knew it was him because his voice changer was a slightly different pitch than the other workers. “What is the point of this?” He asked with a serious voice, bordering threatening. You had an answer for this. “There is none. Get it? If there’s no reason to do it there’s no reason not to.”

He only hummed in response. Seemingly understanding at least a bit of what you said. “I have questions for you” you continued. This is what you’ve been waiting for. This was the point. You just needed to know

“questions?” He repeated. You guess he’s never been pressed by someone before. Small amounts of amusement was in his voice as if shocked anyone would speak to him like that

“Yes questions that’s what I said. Who are you and how are you able to get our information. Where did you take me. What is the point of-“

“I’ll tell you what” he cut you off in the middle of your frantic questioning. It’s probably for the best of you would never had stopped talking for him to even answer. You waited on bated breath, hanging on his words as you kept the phone pressed flush against your skin. Compartmentalizing his voice and how he talks into a file in your mind. “You want to play again because you want to know if your right, is that correct”

what he said caught you so off guard you didn’t even reply when he gave you a chance to respond. Every word got stuck in your throat to the point all that came out was strangled starts of a sentence. “You must have many theories in that little mind of yours. You’re coming because you think you’re smart enough to figure everything out, don’t you?”

Well… like kinda yeah that is what you think. You didn’t really know what to say, he hit it right on the head. You did think you could figure it out, actually you think you already have most of it. Not even his taunting could pull you out of that.

“Let’s play a game. If you can win again we can have a talk and I’ll tell you all you need to know. Only if you’re the last one standing.”

You knew it could never be that easy. With an operation of this scale and price you knew you would never get an offer so open. ‘If you can win again I’ll tell you anything’ they must believe you lost your brains when you lost your mind. Suddenly you did feel like you really didn’t know what you were getting into. It feels like a trap has already been set for you, it feels like they knew you were going to return all along. You struggled to breathe until you manged to force out a “okay”.

There was a muffled chuckle you could barely hear. There was something different now. You weren’t so sure about your plan anymore. He hadn’t said anything out right threatening or scary yet you knew he had something in store for you or else he never would put so much on the line. You just made a deal with the devil.

The original phone opera voice came back to tell you where to be picked up and that it would be this night. The phone hung up after that. All that remained was a deafening silence. It was done. You got what you had so badly wanted. But why doesn’t it feel as good as you wanted. Why don’t you feel fixed? Why hasn’t the old you come back to fix everything? That sinking feeling started bubbling over as you stood there with your phone in your hand. Beginning to hyperventilate you make your way to the crumby hotel bathroom and splash water in your face. You keep from looking in the mirror because you know what you’ll see. It will either be your friend or younger you. It used to be a huge problem when you first got out. Every time you’d forget and see them staring back at you you’d have another break down. Now it just puts you on edge, but it would be best if you just refrained from looking. You keep telling yourself that you can figure it out, you keep telling yourself it doesn’t matter if you live or die in there, you keep believing there’s no point in running from what would free you of your pain. Something deep inside tells you that you are close to seeing what the people who run this game do. That the epiphany they had to come up with this would make it all worth it. All you wanted was to see the bigger picture.

You could die happy and content dying just like your dear friend if it meant you could understand what it was all for. It’s on the tip of your tongue waiting to said and recognized.

You spend hours mulling over thoughts similar to these ones while you counted down the time before being relocated to what might as well be hell. You knew at this point you were walking into a death trap made just for you. You were going to either be granted the privilege of seeing the greater purpose of your suffering. You believed there had to be a reason, someone had to have figured out something huge to make them come to this.

Finally the fateful time reared its ugly head and you tugged on your coat. You looked at your room for the last time. You stood in the door way as your eyes brushed over all you had been. Papers scattered about, bottles of alcohol strewn about and random belongings resting in odd spots. It was time to say good bye once again. You are willing to leave it all behind and relive everything if it meant finding a purpose.

Eventually you arrived to you meet spot, an extremely expensive looking limousine was parked and waiting for you exactly where the phone operator said it would be. It was shiny and black with completely tinted windows. The anxiety you felt caused you to raggedly pant as you approached the car with unsteady steps. You gently opened the car door and stepped inside. The interior was white and luxurious and in front of your seat laid a golden pig. You sighed and closed your eyes waiting for the gas to kick in and claim your consciousness. Tears rolled slowly down your face as every even that happened in the games flash before your eyes. The blood, the screaming, the bits of brains and guts dried onto your clothes, and most of all the severed neck of the only friend you ever had. And to even your surprise you began to smile and giggle as you saw what happened to you play out like a movie in your minds eye. The gas started to be deployed into your enclosed car as your giggles became louder and more deranged. Sobs and laughter being mixed together as everything became hazy and burred.

Right before you black out you hear the masked man’s voice come from the little pigs speaker, loud and clear

“Welcome back, player 444. I hope you are happy with your decision”

_______

Sorry the friend is gonna remain nameless so you can imagine whoever. But next chapter when you get in the games there will be named characters. Again sorry you and in ho barely talked I just needed to get the exposition out before writing the main bits. Thank you sm gang and the next part will be out soon.

Also sorry end is kinda rushed I’m tired

#squid game #squid game season 2 #squid game x reader #squid game x you #x reader #in ho x reader #front man x reader #front man #in ho squid game #player 001 #squid game 2 #this is so shit #hwang in ho #you x squid game #001 x reader

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cowgurrrl · 1 year ago

Text

Sleeping on the Blacktop

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author's note: guys we did it i wrote smut i actually like (ps this was edited but also not reread because I’ve been trying to write it for five hours so if you see any mistakes no you didn’t)

Summary: The Land of No Return [4.7k]

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR MEDIA CONSUMPTION, platonic expressions of love, the mortifying ordeal of being known, sexting, we finally get to know about reader's secret tattoos, smut, Joel the Menace makes his long awaited return with that dirty fucking mouth, mutual masturbation, phone sex (??(sure)), protected sex (no Miller babies for them) p in v stuff, June being indulgent with describing Joel Miller, anxiety, I think that's it??

Music floods the kitchen as you and Andie work on making the best "last supper but with women" possible. The lamps glow orange on the walls and create funny shadows when you dance together, pulling each other in and out to old jazzy tunes. You laugh when she throws a string of spaghetti at your fridge to test if it's ready a little too hard, and it splatters water everywhere. You, honestly, might be a little delirious. You're both in your pajamas, and you've been watching movies all day. You exchange what you remember from New Year's Eve and cringe at what the other fills in. You drink cheap wine from plastic cups and snack on chips as the food cooks.

It feels like high school again, with all the girlish giggling and inside jokes you trade back and forth, except this time, instead of her going back to her house ten minutes up the road, she's going back to her apartment half the world away. No matter how long you get with her, it's never enough. Thousands of miles and different schedules will do that. Keeping long-distance friendships as an adult is just as hard, if not harder, than making new ones.

When dinner is ready, you fix your plates and sit next to each other at your messy dining room table— the IKEA one she helped you build when Henry walked out with the first one— and eat. Paint stains the wood of the table, and half-finished works are scattered around the dining room, but you barely notice them as you talk. She tells you about the things waiting for her in Vienna: work, her cat, Oslo, and piano lessons. You don't have to pretend to be envious because you are. You have to go back to school and the Real World once you drop her off at the airport in the morning. You wish you could go with her.

"Alright, c'mon. Spill it. What's going on with you and Joel?" She asks in between bites of garlic bread. You laugh and shake your head.

"There's nothing to tell."

"Bullshit. Tommy told me he saw you guys."

"Speaking of Tommy," you pivot. "What's going on there? You two seemed pretty chummy." You raise your eyebrows at her, and a big smile takes over her face. She takes another bite of food to buy herself some time, but there's no way you're letting her off the hook, especially after all her teasing about Joel.

"Nothing. We were just… talking." She finally says, and you give her a look.

"Talking?"

"Yes. People talk. You should try it sometime."

"Was it talking like we are now or talking like Joel and I talked?" You hum, and she kicks her feet as she leans forward.

"So you and Joel did talk."

"Well, we probably would've if somebody didn't come barging in."

"Goddammit, I told him to wait," she groans. "Sorry, girl."

"Yeah, me too," you say, and she laughs. You bump her knee and give her a look. "Alright, your turn. What's going on with Tommy?"

"Nothing that could actually turn into anything."

"Aw, c'mon. Don't count yourself out so early."

"It's not counting myself out. It's being realistic. I live in Vienna. He lives here. I'm not ready to come back to the States, and he seems content, so there's nothing that can happen," she shrugs. "It was a fling. A very nice fling, but a fling nevertheless." She seems a little too sad for it to have been just a fling. They exchanged numbers, and you've caught her texting him several times. She said she did kiss him on New Year's Eve (before she threw up), but they didn't go any further besides flirting the next morning. You watched them test each other at breakfast, and he seemed just as interested in her as she was in him. They'd be cute together. She sighs and pushes her pasta around in her bowl like a dejected character from a period piece.

"Tommy is very handsome." You comment, and she grabs your arm, animating all of a sudden.

"Dude, I've been dying to talk about it. What the fuck are they putting in the water here? It's insane."

"It's annoying, right?"

"So annoying." She agrees. You laugh about it together and, finally, give her the details she's been waiting so patiently for. When you finish your story, her hands are over her mouth, and her eyes are wide. "Oh, my God. You have to get him back."

"I know, I know! He's driving me up a fucking wall." You say, taking a bite of food. It will get cold if you don't stop talking, but you also don't care.

"You could surprise him with some lingerie or something." She suggests, and you groan.

"God, I don't even remember the last time I bought lingerie."

"All the more reason to buy some."

"I don't know. I feel like I could just show up naked, and he'd be happy with that."

"He sounds like a keeper then."

"Yeah, I don't know," you shrug. "I like him a lot. I just… don't know if it's sustainable."

"Why?" She asks. You almost want to gesture around your messy apartment and half-put together life as if it will answer her question.

"I mean, he's a good guy, and we're having fun, but for how long? His kid's gonna be in at least one of my classes until she graduates. Not to mention, he has another daughter who is in medical school. We both work full-time. And then there's the whole having to keep it a secret thing. It could get really old really fast." You sigh.

"What if it doesn't?"

"What?"

"What if it doesn't get old? What if it ends up working out?" She asks. You take a deep breath. "You didn't even think about that possibility. Did you?"

"I just don't wanna get hurt."

"That's a very real possibility. Things could go wrong. He could break your heart. You could lose your job. Society as we know it could come crashing down, and you know what? The sun's still gonna come up the next day. The birds will still sing, and I will still be here," she says, putting her hand over yours. You purse your lips as you process her words. "You deserve nice things, kid. Don't count yourself out so early." She echoes your earlier sentiment, and you smile.

She's right. Of course, she's right. You don't let yourself think good things could happen because you're so focused on all the bad. She's known you for so long she can read your thoughts and know your habits before you can. What a horrifying and beautiful thing it is to be known inside and out like that.

"Maybe you should've been a writer instead of a musician," you say, and she laughs. You squeeze her hand and sigh as you look at her. "I'm really gonna miss you."

"I'm really gonna miss you, too."

"I wish you could stay."

"I know," she says. "But you need an excuse to come to Vienna, and I need an excuse to come to Austin, and if I stay, we lose that."

"I guess that's true."

"Besides, if I stop making trans-Atlantic calls, I think my phone company would be concerned." She points out, making you laugh. You know she's telling you what she's told herself this whole time. She loves Vienna, but you know she gets homesick. You know she's trying really hard to convince herself to get back on that plane. You don't push her about staying again. You just indulge in her presence.

"I love you." You say softly, and she smiles.

"I love you, too." She says.

It means so much more than just "I love you." It means, "I love you, and I want us both to eat well." It means, "I love you, and I can't imagine doing this life without you." It means, "I love you, and I know you have to go." Never any buts. Always ands, because love like this knows no bounds. Not borders, not time zones, not lifestyles.

You finish the dinner you made and clean the kitchen side by side before climbing into bed and staying up as late as possible to try and get Andie back on Vienna time. In the morning, you drag yourselves out of bed and sing in the car on the way to get coffee, and when the time comes for you to get her suitcase out of your backseat and watch her disappear behind glass doors, you hug her tight and tell her you love her again. She repeats the sentiment with another squeeze and deep breath that tells you how close to tears she is. Then, she turns around and doesn't look back to prove she's strong enough to leave. She doesn't need to prove anything to you. You always knew she was strong enough to do this.

The car ride back is emotional and lonely and tinged with the bass line of Ribs by Lorde, but your phone buzzes as you pull back into your apartment complex with tears staining your cheeks.

Thanks for letting us meet Andie. She's a really sweet person. I'm sorry she has to leave today.

You don't remember telling him what day she was leaving, but she might've told Tommy, and Tommy told Joel. You smile and text him back.

Thanks for taking care of us. She only had good things to say about you and Tommy. We'll have to all hang out again the next time she's home.

And then.

Thanks for checking on me. I really appreciate it.

Of course. I'm always a wreck when I have to drop Sarah off at the airport. I'm around if you wanna talk. Ellie's hanging out with some friends, and Tommy's on-site today.

You stare at the messages and debate your options. He basically just told you he's home alone and has nothing to do for the rest of the day. And yes, he is probably being sweet and really offering to talk if you're feeling lonely, but you also know how talking usually goes for you two. You smirk as you type out a message.

Just talk?

It seems like he can't type fast enough.

What else would you wanna do?

I think you made some promises you need to follow through on, Miller.

I guess I did.

Come over and I can do just that.

Actually, I have some work to get done :( maybe next time?

You lock your phone and bound up to your apartment, conscious of the sudden lengthening of time between messages. It's fun to imagine him trying to come up with a response that respects your boundaries but also lets you know how needy he is. He may have started this little game, but you're gonna be the one to perfect it. Thus begins the days upon days of not sexting, but not not sexting.

At first, it's just messages about how you miss him and wish he was around. He tries to find an excuse to come over, but you effectively cockblock him at every turn. Your response times get a little slower the more worked up he gets, so he has to figure it out on his own. You never would've thought Joel Miller, a man with gray in his beard and wrinkles lining his face, could be such a fast texter, but you figure there's nothing more desperate than a horny man.

Messages quickly escalate to pictures. They start off innocent enough: a picture of the painting you're working on, but your bare legs give away the fact that you're not wearing pants, a picture of him stepping out of a hot shower, his bare chest slightly red and glistening from the water, a picture of you wearing the burnt orange shirt he sent you home in New Year's Day with no bra on underneath. Then, you get a little bolder. After a quick trip to the mall, you pose in front of the mirror in a short delicate white night down with pretty lace details on the top, the hem barely hitting the tops of your thighs and showing off the large tattoos hiding there. You look hot, and imagining Joel's reaction to you makes you flush and rub your thighs together to get some relief.

It's true that Joel would've been happy if you showed up to his house wearing (or not wearing) anything, but when the photo pings to his phone, he's never been more grateful for Victoria's Secret in his life. His breath hitches in his throat, and he quickly tucks his phone into his chest like someone is gonna come up behind him and see what he's looking at. He's barely glanced at the photo and he's already straining in his jeans.

Goddamn, he texts back. You're so fucking pretty, baby.

You like it?

It's a dumb question, but you really don't care.

It's perfect.

What do you like about it?

Besides the fact that you're the one wearing it? I like that it makes you look like more of an angel than you already are, and I like that I can finally see those tattoos you've been hiding from me.

Bingo, you think to yourself. He was able to catch glimpses of the large pieces hiding on your back and shoulders at the art gallery, and when he picked up on New Year's Eve, you caught him staring at them each time. You thought he was following the inky lines up your body, but you couldn't be sure. Now, he's giving himself away, and you're practically buzzing with excitement.

You turn around in the mirror and arch your back, perfectly showing off your ass and the intricate tattoo lining your spine, and snap a picture. It's one of the largest ones you have, and it's also the easiest to hide. Besides, you definitely didn't get it for your own enjoyment. You live for moments like this. You send him the picture and smile as you type.

Like this one?

Your phone rings not even two minutes after he reads the message. You giggle when he groans into the receiver instead of greeting you.

"You're gonna fuckin' kill me, baby." He says, his voice so deep you can practically feel it rumble against your ear.

"I told you I'd get you back." You say it like it's obvious, but he just hums. There's shuffling on his end, and all you can do is wait for him to say something else.

"What else have you been hidin' underneath all those little dresses, hm?" He asks. "Tattoos. The most fuckin' perfect tits I've ever seen. Anythin' else I should know bout? 'S your pussy as pretty as the rest of ya?" You didn't mean for him to hear you gasp, but he seemed pleased that he could pull such a sound from you without even being in the same room. Just like that, any doubt or reservation you had left flies out the window. You finally cave and slip your hand down your panties to glide your fingers through your folds. "Am I makin' you wet, sweetheart?"

"Fuck," you mumble. It's absurd how turned on you are by this whole thing. Your fingers slowly circle your clit, and your head gets so fuzzy you almost forget to respond to him. "Yes, Joel."

"Are you playin' with yourself?" He asks, and you nod even though he can't see you. "Poor thing. I wish I could be there to help ya. I'd have you spread open for me so I can touch you however I want. Figure out what you like and what makes you cry for me." You put him on speaker and throw your phone down so you can focus on gliding through your wetness, your middle finger pushing into you slowly.

"What... what would you do?" You ask, breathless.

"I'd start by usin' my fingers just to feel you out, and I bet you'd feel so fuckin' good. I'd play with your clit until you're beggin' me to put a finger inside you, and I'd slip two in slowly while kissin' your inner thighs and watchin' you squeeze my fingers," you moan as you listen to his raspy voice and fuck yourself to his words. You try to imagine what his fingers would feel like inside of you. How different compared to yours, how much better they'd feel. Goddammit. "Then, I'd use my mouth on you while my fingers move in and out. I'd lick you all over and feel you soakin' me when I suck on your clit." He says, and you return to rubbing said bundle of nerves, faster this time, as you become acutely aware of his labored breathing over the phone.

Is he touching himself? The idea of him holding the phone with one hand and fisting his cock with the other sends a wave of heat down your spine, and you keen into your own hand. A shaky breath and muttered curse leave his lips, and then you know for sure what he's doing. Your head spins, and you'd be embarrassed by how close you are just from his voice if you weren't entirely focused on the pleasure clouding your brain.

"Fuck, Joel-"

"I know, baby, I know," he coos sympathetically. Another lewd moan leaves you as you get closer and closer to the edge, stars threatening the corners of your vision. "Are you gonna come for me like this?" He asks, and you hum in the affirmative, not trusting yourself to form words. "Come on. Let me hear you. I wanna hear what you sound like when you fall apart." His voice is coming faster and breathier, a light growl at the end of his words. How are you to deny him that?

The speed of your fingers on your clit increases, but it's his own broken whimpers that finally do it. Your back arches as the waves wash over you, and noises you didn't even know you could make escape your lips. You can vaguely hear a broken sigh accentuated by a particularly hot whine from Joel's end. Henry was never as vocal or talkative as Joel is. None of your past partners have been. In the aftershocks of your orgasm, you have a quick passing thought that he might ruin dating for you. You might never want to see anyone else who doesn't treat you like this. You might be fucked.

"Joel," you say when you have control over your thoughts again. He takes a deep breath and clears his throat.

"Yeah?"

"Get the fuck over here now."

Joel's house is on the other side of Austin. With traffic, getting to your apartment can take anywhere from twenty to forty-five minutes, depending on how fast you're willing to go and how many red lights you can pass under. Joel gets there in fifteen. You're still in the flouncy dress you bought specifically to torture him, but by the time you open the door for him, you're much less interested in making his life any more miserable than you already have over the past week.

He doesn't hesitate to charge into your apartment, grab your face, and kiss you like his life depends on it. His tongue sweeps over your bottom lip, and you open to him, clinging to him as his hands move from your face to the backs of your thighs to pick you up. You squeal in surprise and lock your legs around his waist to bring him closer and keep yourself from falling. Even though he obviously came over the phone at the same time you did, he's hard again and pressing against your bare pussy. He hisses when you grind against him, and his jaw clenches as he pulls away like he's in pain.

"Where's your bedroom?" He asks, wide eyes searching the hallway behind you.

"First door on the left." You say as you duck your head to kiss his neck. He sighs and indulges in the feeling of your tongue against his skin before he finally finds his feet and stumbles into your bedroom. You're halfway through marking him before he lays you down and immediately rucks his hands up your thighs, spreading them apart and making you whine.

"You okay?" He asks, stopping all movement to scan over your face for any signs of discomfort. You nod and reach for the buttons of his jeans.

"Yes. Just need you." You say.

"Are you sure?"

"Joel, I just came from the sound of your voice. Yes, I'm fucking sure." You say, a little frenzied as you pull at the hem of his shirt. He laughs as he pulls it over his head and quickly unzips his jeans.

"Feisty."

"Can you blame me?" You ask, and he shakes his head. He tugs his jeans and his briefs down at the same time and unveils all of him to you in one go. He's beautiful. You knew he would be, but seeing the graying chest hairs and the pretty happy trail leading down to his hard cock in between his strong, tan thighs is an entirely different thing. You reach for him, desperate to feel the weight of him in your hands, but he stops you by slipping the tiny straps of your night gown down your arms.

He carefully pulls the fabric down your body until it's pooled next to his clothes on the floor. His eyes fall to the black lines wrapping around your shoulders, and he draws his eyes to your collarbones and sternum, his breathing stuttering at the sight of you laid out under him.

"So much prettier than I imagined." He murmurs as he ducks his head to kiss the valley between your breasts. You smile and run your hands through his curls as he mouths at your chest, leaving red marks in his wake and making you press him closer.

"How many times have you thought about this?" You ask. Has he always wanted you in the way you've wanted him? You're almost positive he has. There's no other way to explain the reverence with which he's looking at you. He's so wrapped up in you it's almost suffocating. Every time you glance at his face, he's staring at you with soft eyes and blown pupils.

"Lost count." There it is. The confirmation. You grab at his ribs to bring him closer, pulling him over you to kiss him slow and deep. Despite the heat of him against you and the ache between your thighs, you both take the time to savor it. That is until his overthinking takes over. "I didn't bring a condom. Fuck, I was in a rush. I didn't think." He says quickly, like he's waiting for you to back out or push him away. You bring your thumb up to the worried wrinkle between his eyebrows and smooth it away, kissing his jaw.

"You think I would get you all worked up to not be prepared? C'mon, baby," you turn the nickname around on him, and he leans into your hand like a cat. "Top drawer." You say. He scrambles to your bedside table and grabs the first one he can find as you move onto all fours while he's distracted. You listen for the foil ripping and the subtle sound of the latex fitting over him. You can't stop the smirk from forming when he looks up and sees the sight in front of him.

"Fuckin' Hell," he mutters. Your back is arched perfectly, your hair gathered over your shoulder, and the tattoo you got done so many years ago is on display for him. "You are so goddamn perfect." He says as he presses his chest into your back and kisses your shoulder. He plants a few more kisses across your neck and back, making you wait longer than you already have, and just when you think you're going crazy, he slowly pushes into you and punches all the air from your lungs.

He's big. Bigger than anyone you've been with before, and he seems to know that. He rolls his hips, and you moan, gripping at the sheets under you for stability as you adjust. His breathing is ragged behind you, and he groans when you involuntarily clench around him. "You okay?" He asks, his voice straining. His patience and self-control should be fucking studied.

"Yeah, I'm okay." You assure him, and he nods. He starts to move slowly at first, but when you start whining and shaking under him, he snaps. You're both impatient. Months of following the rules and caring about what other people could think or say tumble out of your heads as he sets a rough pace. You've been dreaming about this and pushing it away since he walked into your classroom that day, and now that it's happening, you can't hide how desperate you are for him. You cry his name as he fucks into you deeply, no part of your bodies not touching, but it's still not close enough.

"You're so fuckin' good for me, baby. Jesus fuck," he moans into your ear, his uneven breaths echoing into your skull. "You feel so good."

He sits back and brings you with him, changing the angle and forcing him deeper inside of you as his hand snakes around your waist and dips to play with your clit. You curse loudly and dig your nails into his forearm as bright pleasure courses through your veins. "'M gonna come if you keep doing that," you warn, your voice high and strained as he adds a little more pressure.

"C'mon, honey, come on my cock for me. Please, I want it." It could be the slight whine in his voice or the fact that he's begging you for it, or the fact that the tight circles he's rubbing into your clit are making you see stars, but you come hard. You rely on him to hold you upright as he fucks you through your high, the slick between your thighs growing as his own orgasm washes over him, and he moans directly in your ear, an unexpected but not unpleasant gift. You think you could get off again just to the sounds he makes when he's coming.

You stay like that for a second, wrapped up in each other and breathing hard with him still inside you, before he finally finds the courage to slip out of you with only a tiny pained moan. He carefully guides you onto your back, your bones jelly, and kisses your cheek before he pads off to the bathroom to throw away the used condom.

It's quiet again in the apartment, but it's not lonely anymore. He makes himself at home in your space, asking if he can get water and snacks from your kitchen and walking around naked as the day he was born. "I wanna make sure you've got enough energy for round two." He says, making you laugh.

"Are you finally gonna make good on your promise to take your time with me?"

"Fuck yeah." He says, coming back to kiss your lips one more time before walking to the kitchen. It's like if he goes a few minutes without tasting you, he can't function, or at least, that's what he makes it seem like. You're more than receptive to the attention and can only watch as he walks around. Your trust in your legs is not strong enough to get up just yet.

In the domestic silence, it would be easy for your mind to run rampant with rogue thoughts and anxieties, but when Joel returns to the bedroom with snacks, bottles of water, and those stupidly sweet eyes, they get pushed to the back burner. He gets under the covers and pulls you into him, his warm body grounding you to this moment and not letting your thoughts stray. He presses kisses to your hair and your face every so often as you talk about everything and nothing.

Somehow, it feels natural, like you've been doing this the whole time or like everything was leading up to this. Maybe it was. Still, you'll need to talk about this. You know you will.

Just... not yet.

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3 @ignorethisplz2004 @buckyispunk @d1lf-loverrr @vee-bees-blog @moel-jiller @anoverwhelmingdin @casssiopeia @maried01

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waitmyturtles · 1 year ago

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I've Caught Up With Wandee Goodday, and here are some cons and pros (aka, am I ever burnt out on GMMTV)

HELLO. I'm back temporarily from my summer travels (before I travel again!). I was in Thailand! I should have brought a box of chappals to chuck at the GMMTV building for where Wandee Goodday has gone. Anyway, I need to process my thoughts on this show, so here we go. (And I apologize, I have NOT looked at the tag for this show, so I don't know if I'm repeating what other people are saying here.)

PROS

CONS

1) This show had so much brainrot potential! Remember the first, like, four episodes? Potential homophobia in multiple workplaces? Delicious bisexuality? Ace storylines??? Wandee's PUTZ deception and manipulation? Yak going along with it, why?? There was a lot going on here, a lot we could have chewed on.

I've been sitting on my historical review of Golf Tanwarin's The Eclipse for my Old GMMTV Challenge for about two months now because I can't get over how pissed I was that that show took some unnecessary, and frankly insensible, turns in part to showcase the damn center ship of First and Khao. I don't think Golf's WG has taken similar turns specifically to center the GreatInn ship, per se -- I just think the writing got messy and lazy right before WG's midpoint in general, and punched a lot of the excitement I had about the show right before I paused around episode 8.

Wandee Goodday is an EXCELLENT example of how Thailand's hourlong QL dramas could be made INCREDIBLY more impactful, by way of forced editing and clarity, if Thailand could follow Japan's suit by making 10- to 12-episode series with 30-minute episodes.

The Dr. Ter storyline was over before it actually, really ended, in, what episode was that, 9 or 10. It was over! Why drag it out? In Japan, that storyline would have been two episodes, mayyybe three, MAX. Shirasu Jin was barely in Kieta Hatsukoi for an episode before he was banished. Takeda Kouhei barely made it through two episodes of Minato's Laundromat 2 before he went bye bye! We don't need these middling dudes. There was enough happening with Dee and Yak to not need this Ter shit! Sorry, LOVE YOU PODD, but Ter was made irrelevant so early on, and then they actually had to work together on a huge case?! And NOW HE'S CHEESING ON TAEM? Like, no. We don't need this.

2) There's still a lot of confusion and conflict between Dee and Yak by last week's episode 11. Dee's got issues receiving love! This is big.

(By the way. Showing Dee ONE video of his parents cheesing on him as a newborn is NOT THE WAY to explain away future parental neglect as an older child. YIKES.)

I love that Yak wants to invest in Dee, and we do see Dee doing a lot of reciprocating there to Yak, but this parental neglect reveal, along with still not knowing enough about the back story of Dee's parents dying, is out of order and not helpful to me getting enough knowledge about Dee for me to feel a holistic sympathy towards him. This makes me wonder if romance is really Golf Tanwarin's bag: if Golf didn't have to focus so much on the DeeYak/YakDee romance, could we have gotten better emotional representations of these guys, gotten a better picture of WHO THEY ARE, before they got into each other? Maybe? I dunno.

3) Considering that homophobia in systems seems to be a theme that Golf is interested in, why did the show drop Yak's concern about being out vis à vis his boxing career? Showing up at the hospital early on, in front of Ter's people, was already a big risk that wasn't given consideration; and now Dee's gone ahead and put the big pre-match smooch on full display by episode 11! I know Yak's gone full tilt for Dee, but I think we needed to put a bow on Yak's early macro-level concerns about being out for that loop to be closed.

[I feel like I have similar concerns here about 23.5 as well, so I'd like GMMTV to know (REMEMBER BAD BUDDY????) that you can have romance and big social commentary in a show at the same time without sacrificing lovely, intimate moments. Neither 23.5 nor Wandee Goodday needed to scrap heavy emotional moments for social media memeable clickbait.]

TL;DR this show, this script, could have been so good, there was so much there by way of storylines.

ANY FUCKING WAY.

PROS

I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS SHOW WENT HERE WITH THOR. THIS IS DISSONANCE, THIS IS CONFUSING! THIS IS MAGNIFICENT.

And the follow-up scene with the FABULOUS Fluke Nattanon. Fucking Thor. He's so good. They're so wasted in this show!

2) Great Sapol and Inn Sarin. There's a con here: the elephant pants do nothing for Great's butt. But otherwise, Great, and Inn as well, are DELIGHTS. THEY ARE GOOD ACTORS. They are wasted on this script. I hope they never work together on a GMMTV show again. If they're ever paired again (which I hope they're NOT, down with the ships), I hope they can get cast in a big ol' queer lakorn, à la JamFilm, and escape the need for the meme moments.

The thing is, about Wandee Goodday, is that if you admit you're into the show FOR THE DUDES, then I get why this show is watchable (AND IT'S WHY I'M FINISHING IT, GODDAMNIT), because the actual intimate moments ARE lovely. They're just not coherent with everything that we should know about these guys by the end of a series, and that makes me sad.

Anyway, this show ends this week, and that's it! I wish GMMTV's shop had had the WG items in stock when I was there in person; fuck these shipping fees, I want the Phadetseuk shirt so bad! If I had known this would be a kind of light and fluffy watch, I would have set my expectations WAAAYYY differently, and I would have likely had a better time watching this. As it stands now, I'm better suited to enjoy the finale, so I'm glad I got these complaints out of my system, and I'll say sayonara to all these dudes in full ogle mode later this week.

#wandee goodday #wandee goodday the series #greatinn #great sapol #inn sarin #yak x dee #dee x yak #yakdee #deeyak #thorfluke #thor thinnaphan #fluke nattanon #golf tanwarin

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hellfire--cult · 2 years ago

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Baring Teeth {Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader} - Ch. 13

Edit of Eddie: pitifulbaby

Chapters: Masterlist (Go here to see list of chapters, plotline and general warnings.)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers, Non-Traditional Omegaverse, Slow burn, Modern!AU, Mechanic!Eddie

⚠️This chapter contains: Angst, billy x reader, nervousness, allusions to homophobia, hurt

wc: 6.4k

A/N: Sorry for taking so long. I took a little break because november was a pretty messy month for me. I had complete writer's block, and I am slowly coming back to writing.

Anyways, Enjoy! ❤️ And don't forget to always support me by hitting the reblog button or leave a comment!

Taglist is closed

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CHAPTER 13

“Am I interrupting?”

Your eyes snapped open as you turned to look at Robin who walked right into your office with a smirk to her face. You rolled your eyes, turning back to look at your phone with a shake of your head, the male on the other side laughing.

“You know what Buckley, you are.” Eddie said and you saw his smile spreading as he also earned another roll of your eyes.

“Eddie is just showing me what else needs replacing in my car.”

“Cause you took it to Rick’s all this time, and everything in it is garbage–”

“Don’t insult my car Munson.” You glared at the phone this time and he raised one hand up in defense.

It’s been two weeks since you talked with Eddie… And since then, you two have grown close… Very close. How you didn’t talk to Eddie before? You had no idea. When you all get together at the bar or at someone’s house, you two always end up in your own world. You assumed that you were both trying to catch up on eachother, learning about one another still, and you were surprised each day by how easy and normal it was to talk to him.

“To me, it sounds like you are replacing me.” Robin pouted as she walked over to you to come into frame and glare at Eddie through the camera and the man only smirked at her with a playful glint in his eyes.

“Aw, you’re scared I’m going to steal your best friend status Buckley?”

“That’s never happening.” You said in a deadpan expression which made Eddie pull an offended frown on his eyebrows.

“Seriously? I give you friendly discounts at my shop!” He yelled at you and you couldn’t help but snort at how he tried to sound hurt from it, but it only came out as a comical act.

“You can’t buy my friendship Munson, and even if you handed me a billion dollars, Robin will always be first.” At your words, Robin blew a raspberry towards the phone, throwing a fart sound at Eddie. Robin’s arms wrapped around your waist and she rested her head on your shoulder while looking at Eddie, a grin to her face.

“You wish this was you, huh.” For some reason, those words Robin let out of her mouth gave you a feeling of embarrassment? They just simply made your belly twist in a way that wasn’t comfortable but it wasn’t unpleasant.

Eddie on the other side shook his head, yet he felt his jaw clenching slightly, which he dismissed immediately.

“Sure. Anyways, I gotta go, the new brake discs are coming in next week. We really need to put those in at least before you cause an accident.” You rolled your eyes at him and before you could say anything against that, “No comebacks. I am surprised you didn’t die yet.”

“I drive safely.” You retorted, almost offended, but Robin was amused and let out a snort out of her mouth. Your head snapped to look at her with a death glare and she backed away from you with her hands up in the air in defense.

“I’ll believe it when I see it. Talk to you later.”

“Sure– Oh, about the payment–”

“Next month is okay.” You sighed at his words and you shook your head at him.

“I can do a check.” It was his turn to snort.

“No, it’s fine, seriously Peach.” Eddie sucked in his right cheek as he looked at you and his brows twitched slightly when you sent a smile his way. It was still new, this friendship you two have, and it seems he is still a little weirded out that you smile at him so easily. Not that he is any different.

“Alright, if you insist, I will take advantage of your kindness.” You heard a commotion behind him as he squatted slightly as if ducking and he just yelled at someone before turning back at you.

“I gotta go before these fuckers do something– FUCKING CHRIST, GARETH–!” And then the call ended. You were left laughing at the whole ordeal, putting the phone down to go back to your laptop, only to feel a presence behind you and you remembered your best friend came into the room a few minutes ago. You turned your chair to look at her, and Robin had her arms crossed over her chest as she looked at you.

“Well, I see you’re slowly changing me.” Robin has always been known for over exaggerating things, and this was one of them. You rolled your eyes and turned again to type on your computer.

“I am not Robs.” You defended yourself but it was true you and Eddie had become very close, but it wasn’t as nearly as how you and Robin are.

“You talk to him everyday, be it because of a TikTok or a Reel, or just simply messaging.” Robin walked towards you and leaned her butt against the edge to rest there as she looked down at you.

“We just… We clicked. Putting the past behind us.”

“Which still sounds fucking crazy to me. To everyone really– I mean, you two really hated each other.” And you didn’t need a reminder of that.

“It was very pitiful. We were hurting each other when we could have helped one another. I hurt him and he hurt me, and all for nothing.” Robin nodded at you, and she agreed with you on that. You had told her about what you and Eddie talked about, and you even bared to her how guilty you felt about so many things you said to him.

Robin explained that everyone’s stories are private, so you didn’t really blame her for not telling you stuff about Eddie’s life, just like she didn’t tell Eddie anything about you.

“I know… I am glad though. You two seem to be enjoying one another’s company so… that’s good.” Robin said sincerely and you smiled up at her. “And what about Billy? How do you think everything will go once they meet?”

“Well, I think they will hit it off instantly.” In all honesty, you didn’t know if that was true. Eddie and Billy had different yet alike personalities in some sense. Aloof, cheeky, yet attentive if needed. It would be the first time you were going to introduce Eddie to him, and Billy only knows Eddie as the friend who sends you memes all the time.

He doesn’t even know his name is Eddie. You will introduce them tomorrow night.

And you were hoping everything turns out okay.

Things with Billy have been…

Normal.

Ever since meeting your friends, your boyfriend has been a little bit weirder than usual. You wanted to have an all together with his friends and yours, so that the two groups would collide and meet, but all you received from your boyfriend was a talk on how his friends are known figures, and they cannot be seen going out at all.

That felt weird in some sense because you distinctly remember them saying something about going out to a club whenever they get a chance to do so. They didn’t look like the type of people that would avoid the public eye, but rather, seek it. Always seeking it.

Today, you and your boyfriend would go to Robin and Steve’s home, get some drinks, spend time with your friends, but sometimes now you just want to be alone with them. Your boyfriend, even if at the beginning was not very friendly with your group, he now seems to want to be included at every gathering.

You didn’t want to be a bitch about it, cause maybe he does like talking to Argyle a lot. But, they can just message each other to get together by themselves, right? No need for Billy to always be on an outing with you, yet, he sticks with you like a leech.

You wonder how tonight everything will go with Eddie. Hopefully, he is the one that makes your boyfriend finally have some fun inside the group. You’re pretty sure they will get along nicely… hopefully.

You were in the bathroom, throwing the curtain to the side in order to open it as steam floods the entire tiled room. You step out of the tub after turning off the scorching water, just how you like it. Hot showers always help with your nerves, they never miss it. You sigh in contentment only to be struck with the fact that you didn’t bring a towel inside.

You groaned as your body started shivering slightly as the air hit your wet skin. You didn’t want to yell so much in respect for your neighbors, so you leaned and opened the door, opening your mouth to call out to your boyfriend, only to stop when you heard his muffled voice behind the bedroom door.

“I told you I don’t want to do it!”

Silence.

“I don’t want to be part of something I don’t see right.”

Silence again. What is he talking about?

“I know it’s for publicity, I know, and I don’t care what the voting polls in social media say, I won’t stand for something I don’t believe is right.”

Polls? Social media?

“Okay, okay, fine. Fine. I will say I stand by it.”

You were blinking, trying to understand what your boyfriend was talking about just now. A publicity stunt? Agree to what? A belief of his? You heard footsteps and immediately closed the door of the bathroom as quietly as possible and you felt your heart beating loudly in your chest. You jumped in your place when he knocked on the door.

“Baby? You okay in there?” Fuck, he can��t know you were eavesdropping.

“Y-Yeah! I was calling you to get me a towel but you weren’t listening to me Billy! I am freezing over here!” You tried to put on that whiny voice he loves when you get a little bit angry at him. You heard him chuckle but wince at your tone.

“Shit honey, I’m sorry. I’ll get it for you!” You heard his steps walk away from the bathroom and you let out the air you were holding in.

Something’s not right.

Something is definitely not right.

You don’t know what it is, but there is just this feeling in your gut that something will happen, that something is not what it seems, that there is this idea in your head you are afraid that is true but you don’t want to believe it. Not from him. Not when you started to feel more and more for him each day.

Only to be starting to wash away the more and more you learn from him.

“Billy!” You yelled again and the door opened completely, revealing a smirking Billy Hargrove on the other side while holding a white towel in hand.

“You want it?” He aimed to hand it to you, but as soon as you were going to catch it, he snatched it away with his teeth showing. “Come get it.”

And that’s how you end up chasing your stupid boyfriend through the whole apartment, completely naked while he runs around, laughing in delight, towel in hand.

You didn’t want to believe it.

So when you finally get to dry yourself off, and get some clothes on for tonight is when your nerves start settling in, harder than before. Something in your gut was turning, uncomfortably, nervously, knowing that something was not right, that something was going to happen, that something had been happening all this time that you decided to simply look away from.

You looked at him, at your splendid boyfriend and you still don’t know how he chose someone like you. How he decided it was you the one he was going to risk his fame for. He was choosing a red button-up shirt today, his hair in a small ponytail in the back. You don’t know how you two came to be.

And yet, you still haven’t told him your story. You haven’t told him a few parts of yourself you didn’t feel ready to tell him, but will that time ever come? Why is it so hard to open up to him?

“You ready to go?” Billy asked you as he walked towards you after checking himself in the mirror one last time. You smiled up at him and gave him a nod.

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

“You finally made it, Jesus.” Robin greeted you as she opened the door for you, and you rolled your eyes at your friend’s comment. You were late, yes… but it was because Billy took his sweet time always getting ready. You scolded him a few times for it, but he always tells you he has to keep his skincare routine intact.

“What a greeting.” You heard Billy mutter under his voice as you two walked into the house, music already invading your ears and the chattering of your friends, making your nerves go away a little, only for confusion and disappointment to fill your gut. You turned your head as Robin came back from closing the door behind you both.

“Where’s Eddie?” You asked, and your boyfriend’s head snapped to you and then back at Robin.

“I think he is running late! What, already missing your NEW best friend?” Robin answered with a huff, and you could only giggle at her jealousy, not noticing the storm that was brewing inside your boyfriend’s chest.

“Quit that Robs.”

“Who’s Eddie?”

Robin looked at your boyfriend for a second with a confused frown on her face and then back at you. For some reason, there was a turn in your stomach because you realized you never told Billy about Eddie. He just knew there was a friend missing from the group he still hadn’t met yet.

“Um, the last friend you don’t know.” You looked at him and his blue orbs were not very helpful. You couldn’t quite read his eyes as they looked at you, but a twitch in the eyebrow told you he was thinking.

“Why did she call him your best friend?” And Robin was looking panicked between you and your boyfriend, and you simply smiled at Billy, shaking your head.

“It’s Robin being dramatic.”

“Why did she call him that? I mean–” And you could see the moment Billy’s head clicked, an eyebrow raised up. “Is he the one you’ve been talking to for the past few weeks?”

“Okay, you say we talked, we mostly sent memes to one another.” You tried to defend yourself, but against what? You didn’t do anything wrong. So why do you feel the need to explain yourself?

“Right.” You could see the change in mood in Billy’s body language. This night was already turning in a way that you didn’t expect, or you wanted to avoid. Robin shot you a look with a worried frown and you turned to go into the living room where everyone else was.

“Billy! My man!” You could hear Argyle yell and god fucking bless Argyle. You saw how he rushed towards you both as Robin walked towards Nancy and whispered into her ear. You knew she was going to tell Nancy about what just happened at the front door with Billy. There is an uneasiness in your throat as Argyle hands you a beer and Billy another.

“Hi, Argyle.” Billy spoke and you took a sip out of your beer as you felt Billy’s arm wrap around your waist, pulling you close. You raised an eyebrow at that, looking at him. Why did he trap you with him? You wanted to go say hi to Steve and Jonathan, but you guessed you could do that in a few minutes.

“I have so much to tell you Billy man, I tried that shampoo and conditioner you recommended and it left my hair perfectly smooth, but curly man!” You couldn’t help but giggle at Argyle’s commentary and Billy followed through, shaking his head at your friend.

“I told you to get that brand but for straight hair. Not curly.” You looked at Argyle’s hair and sure enough, there were some waves at the end of his long hair. Billy smiled but there was a hint of something hidden behind it as he talked to Argyle once more, “Who is this Eddie guy?”

“Ah, my brochacho, we met way back in California, and then I followed him here.” Argyle replied with a genuine smile and Billy for some reason let out a sigh of relief, making you frown in confusion.

“Oh, that’s nice. You two are close then.”

“Yeah, very!” You felt the tightness on your waist loosen up, and Billy shot a smile your way, kissing the top of your head. You blinked in confusion and you stepped away to finally go greet Steve and Jonathan who were looking at you with worried faces.

“What was that all about?” Steve asked and you shook your head, taking a long sip out of your beer. There was a pit in your stomach, a nervousness you couldn’t quite describe, a sense of deja vu of some sort.

“I have no clue, but…” You didn’t want to worry your friends with these things going on inside your head. They would question your boyfriend and you don’t want that but at the same time, you want to tell someone about these feelings you’ve been having lately, or the realization of these feelings.

It’s not like you didn’t notice the drastic changes in Billy over the past months, and it all started when he met your friends, but it got better… Yet, you couldn’t help but notice certain aspects and your feelings started swaying from side to side. A sense of dread, of being afraid to know the truth.

“But?” Jonathan asked and you opened your mouth to then close it once again when the doorbell rang, making your head turn to the direction of the door. You were feeling your heart in your throat, and excitement grew in your stomach.

Nancy was the one who walked to get the door this time, and you looked over at Argyle and Billy talking excitedly. You saw how Argyle was gesturing as he talked, and you saw how your boyfriend laughed at his commentary. Maybe he and Eddie will get along. You were worrying about nothing.

And then Nancy stepped aside to let Eddie walk in.

You felt some heat coming up on your cheeks, across your body, but you shook it off as the beer kicking in your system. Your eyes scanned his outfit now. Dark jeans, ripped in some parts, a tight Slayer T-Shirt with a jean vest on top. His hair was in a low bun like always, and the stubble was neatly done.

You wondered what cologne he was using today.

Your mind was snapped back in reality when Eddie approached you, putting the six-pack on the table. He had a warm smile on his face as he flicked your forehead with his middle finger. You winced at the sudden pain, rubbing your skin while glaring up at him.

“What was that for!?” You whined at him and he raised an eyebrow at you.

“For making me watch the stupidest movie ever.”

“Did you just call ‘When Harry Met Sally’ stupid!?” You couldn’t help but be slightly upset by that. It was one of your favorites, and you also liked watching Eddie’s movie suggestion, ‘Armageddon’.

“I am not a fan of those kinds of movies sweetheart.” He was looking at you as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, but there was a sly smile in his lips, tugging up, making you smile at him.

“You’re a lying piece of shit. You liked the movie.” He chuckled and shook his head at you, but you knew he liked it. He was just messing with you to get a rise out of you.

“I’m not lying.”

“Yes you are! You loved that cheesy crap, admit it.” You poked his side, which made him chuckle, moving away from you.

“This is still too weird.” You heard Jonathan talk and you lifted your head to ask what he meant only for your waist to suddenly be grabbed, fingers digging into the skin making you wince just slightly. You turned your head to see Billy looking at Eddie with a grin on his face.

“I don’t think we’ve met.” The voice your boyfriend let out was not friendly. It was strained as if it pained him talking right now. Eddie glanced at you for just a second, and you cleared your throat as your nerves tried to get the best of you.

“Right, Billy, this is Eddie.” Eddie gave your boyfriend a forced smile, and you could feel the tension in the air as the light blue eyes clashed with the brown ones.

“Yeah. You’re Argyle’s boyfriend, right?”

Oh. Oh god. It’s happening again. Eddie’s eyebrow twitched and gave you a questioning look and he could see the confused frown on your face. He looked at his friend and sighed, knowing that Argyle probably made it sound that way. Just like he did last year with you and you mistook it all as well.

“Fucking christ– No. He is just my friend.”

“Oh?” Billy’s eye twitched as he kept looking at Eddie, and you could feel him tugging you closer to him as he kept looking at the dark-haired man. “Then you aren’t dating?”

“No. I am straight.”

And for some reason, you felt the whole air shift. Eddie’s face suddenly fell into a confused frown, and then into an annoyed one instantly, as Billy’s gaze hardened.

“Right. He is the friend you’ve been messaging all the time?”

Billy’s eyes now landed on you and you looked at him to only have a sinking feeling in your stomach. You felt your throat closing up at his gaze, and you knew. You simply knew what was going on in his mind. Eddie was looking back and forth in between you and Billy, and he could see how your boyfriend’s jaw clenched.

“I– um–”

“Billy! You promised to help me with the drinks!” You heard Argyle yell from the kitchen and Billy groaned as he closed his eyes in annoyance. You felt a slight grip on your waist again and then he let go of you, almost unwillingly, giving Eddie one last look before he left. You were staring at his retreating back as he headed to the kitchen, with a confused frown on your face.

“He’s… charming.” Eddie said with not an ounce of likeness in his tone, almost in disgust. He had a bad feeling in his stomach, but he wasn’t going to tell you that. He didn’t want to alarm you in any way, but you looked already confused and nervous. He didn’t want to add more wood to the fire.

“I– I need a smoke.” You stated and immediately rushed out to the backyard, fumbling with the pack of cigarettes in the pocket of your purse. What was going on? Why did Billy’s demeanor change so suddenly? You never told him it was Eddie the one you were messaging, but did it really matter?

You put the cigarette in your mouth, and now you were fumbling to get the lighter out, but you couldn’t find it. Billy doesn’t like it when you smoke, but he smokes as well. You don’t understand that train of thought, but you don't care right now. A flame appeared in front of you from a red lighter and you knew who it was without even looking at him. You leaned forward and lit the cigarette, taking a long puff.

“You look nervous.” Eddie lit his own stick, mimicking the long puff like you did, and you both let out the smoke out of your lungs.

“I just… don’t understand why he is being… this possessive?”

“Well, he might be overwhelmed by how much more of a man I am.” He joked and you snorted, shaking your head at him. He gave you a small grin and took another puff of his cigarette. “You also look pretty today, people tend to become protective when their partner shines.”

You were taken aback by his response. Did you hear him right?

“Oh Munson thinks I am pretty.” You joked, taking another swig of your stick, turning to look at him, but he wasn’t laughing as he looked to the distance.

“No denying there.”

Thump.

He was just being friendly. Steve complimented you before, Nancy did too, so it should be fine. He was just being a nice friend, telling you that you look nice tonight, that is all. So why do you feel your hands sweating?

“Uh–”

“Are you not going to say I look pretty too? C’mon, I even put a red shirt on today, not a black one.” He chuckled to lose the tension but inside, Eddie was a little nervous. The compliment slipped out of his tongue with ease, too much ease. You giggled, the tension going away, and shook your head at him.

“The red and the black go hand in hand with you, it’s not new.”

“What do you want me to wear? A pink shirt? A baby blue crop top?” You exploded with laughter at the image that came to your head, making him face you with a smile to his face.

“With the care bears at the front!” At that, he too let out a laugh. It was easy being with Eddie, carefree, natural even. You were still amazed by that fact, and cannot even remember how you two disliked each other before.

You both smoked your cigarettes, sharing jokes with one another, laughing, making the nervousness in your belly leave to a faraway place.

“It’s crazy to think I almost beat the shit out of you out here and now we are laughing together.” You put the cigarette out in the small ashtray that was on the garden table and Eddie followed suit with a chuckle.

“You? Beating the shit out of me? Are you sure about that Peach?” He stood in front of you, crossing his arms over his chest as he inspected you with a squint of his eyes. You copied his stance, and his eyes diverted for a second to your cleavage and went back up to your eyes.

“You think I can’t?” He barked out a laugh at that.

“Sweetheart, if I wanted to, I could pin you to the floor using only one hand.”

And oh, that didn’t cause the reaction you thought it would. It was friendly, it was him telling you he is stronger than you… Yet your stomach did a flip at the thought. He could definitely pin you down, and you know that because of his height and the arms that are big and filled with tattoos.

He looked at you when you didn’t answer him back, and he noticed the look your face had as if processing a thought, and he felt a shockwave run down his spine. His thoughts were cut off when he sensed a pair of eyes looking his way, and he raised his head up to see Billy glaring at him as he leaned over the doorframe of the sliding doors with his arms crossed over his chest.

You blinked and quickly turned around to see your boyfriend with a stern look on his face. Now you realize how fast your heart was beating into your chest, and now you felt the nervousness creep up on you again as you stared at Billy’s piercing gaze.

“Billy–”

“Can I talk to you for a second? Privately?”

You slowly nodded at that, giving Eddie one look telling him sorry you’re leaving, and turned to go with Billy. He didn’t grab you or hold your hand, simply turned away, guiding you toward the kitchen. You could sense your friend’s eyes following you as you walked into the kitchen, Billy closing the door behind you.

“Um… is everything okay?”

“You think everything is fucking okay?”

You were stunned at his aggressiveness, never had heard him this way before. You didn’t know what could have possibly happened tonight, but you might have just a slight idea of what and why.

“What is wrong with you?”

“You fucked him, didn’t you?”

And your mouth fell agape at that. Did you hear him right?

“Sorry, what did you say?”

“For fuck sake, you fucked him, didn’t you?”

So you did hear right. Was he talking about Eddie? Why would he come up with that conclusion? What made him believe such a thing between you two?

“I was hoping I heard wrong William, what the fuck are you talking about?” Billy only scoffed with a fake smile on his lips as he leaned against the counter.

“Don’t you dare lie to me! I know you fucked him. That is not just a friend, calling you 'sweetheart'? Giggling together like middle schoolers?”

Was he serious right now? You were feeling your heart breaking, thrumming in your chest in an aggressive manner, and you wanted to run away, you did, but you had to face him. You had to talk to him, once and for all.

“He is my friend! I act that way with Steve, Jonathan!”

“Yeah, well, they’re gay! I don’t care about them!” You could hear the anger in his voice, the way the vein in his forehead was popping out. Your throat was trying to close as a lump was beginning to form, but you weren’t going to back down from this.

“What about Argyle!? He is straight and my friend!” You yelled back at him and he ran a hand through his hair as his nostrils started flaring up from anger.

“I don’t buy for a second he is straight. He is all over me, all the time.”

And the reality of it all hits you like a brick to the face. You remained quiet for a second, feeling your past months with him slip away from your fingers. The image you had of him had been tainted for a while, but this completely smeared the picture.

“And is there a problem if he is?”

And that made Billy look at you, defying you to keep going, almost warning you to shut up, but no… not with this. You liked Billy. You really did.

“What are you saying–”

“You do know that I’m bisexual, right?”

And silence fell in the kitchen. And you saw it. You saw how his eyes turned from anger to complete confusion, to then frown as he looked at you. It was your turn now to scoff, tears filling your eyes as you started pacing around the kitchen, trying to gather your thoughts.

“You…” He couldn’t even speak, and you didn’t want him to. He shouldn’t speak now.

“I thought I was fucking wrong, I seriously didn’t want to believe it. I didn’t want to believe that my boyfriend… that my boyfriend is–” You cannot even say the word. You can’t. You choked on your own sob as you covered your mouth with your hand. Billy’s face softened and he walked towards you, trying to put a hand on your shoulder.

“Baby–”

“Don’t fucking touch me!” You swung his hand away with the back of yours and you stepped away, your face displaying the rage that your heart wanted to let out. “Let me ask you a fucking question, Billy. Are you for or against same-sex couples adopting?”

And he realized it. You saw how his face turned into an angry one again, his eyes squinting at you as he remembered earlier today.

“You eavesdropped.”

“You bet the fuck I did. And you, Billy Hargrove, are a homophobic asshole.”

Silence.

It was like a knife. Those words coming out of your mouth were stabbing you more than they stabbed him. You should have realized it when some of the dark jokes he and his friends did involved… you can’t even think about it. How could he? Why?

“Just because I do not share the same ideals, doesn’t make me homophobic. If I were, I wouldn’t be able to even talk to your friends for fuck sake!” He defended himself but what was the point? There wasn’t any, your heart couldn’t take it anymore, it really couldn’t. You could feel the tears sliding down your cheeks, shaking your head at him, taking a step back from him.

“I want you to leave.” Your words came out like venom, and he frowned at you, shaking his head.

“If I leave, you are coming with me, we need to talk this out–”

“There is nothing to talk about! Fucking leave!” Your voice was loud, his voice was loud, and everything was static around you, your vision clouding as he came close to you once more, trying to get hold of your hands.

“Baby, baby, come on, don’t be like that… We’ll go home and we’ll talk about this–” His voice sounded desperate now, and your tears were still running down your cheeks, your mind shutting him out completely as you shook your head again, desperate for him to leave. You didn’t want him near you. You were disgusted, completely disgusted.

“N-No!” Billy’s face crumbled into a stern look once more and he quickly got hold of your bicep in a tight grip, snapping you back into reality as he glared down at you.

“I am not leaving you alone here, with him. So if I leave, you are coming with me.” You tried to yank your arm away from his grip but he kept his hand tight on your arm, and you were feeling his digits digging more and more onto your skin, making your fear grow at each second.

“Let go of me Billy!” You tried again only to be pulled against him and you felt as if your heart were in your throat, his touch completely burning you, wanting it away from you. He wasn’t physical, never, and this is the first time he ever touched you in this way.

“Please sweets, listen to me!” He was desperate for you, trying to get you to talk to him but you shook your head again and as he tried to move you once more, he felt the back of his shirt be yanked harshly, making him let go of your arm as he stumbled backward.

“What the actual fuck do you think you are doing?”

Your eyes widened as you saw a broad back stepping before you, and the smell of wooden cologne immediately invaded your nostrils. You rubbed onto your arm as you straightened up to take a step to the side to see Billy looking at Eddie with a glare in his eyes.

“This doesn’t concern you. It involves me, and my girlfriend.”

“From what I heard it seems she doesn’t hold that title anymore.” Eddie was almost snarling at Billy, completely blocking him from you in a defensive stance. Billy’s eyes caught yours, shaking his head.

“You– You’re still my girl, right?”

You felt the lump in your throat again, memories of the good times you spent with him flashing in front of your eyes. Memories that made you want to go around Eddie to get to him and hug him and kiss him. But then you saw your friends, looking at the scene at the doorway. Your friends. The ones who wouldn’t hurt you, and if they did, never intentionally.

And even if your heart breaks, even if your body trembles with need of him, with the need of his lips, with the need of his eyes on you…

You slowly shook your head at him.

“Bye Billy.”

The room fell silent, and you could see Billy’s eyes filled with tears as he looked at you. What the both of you had was genuine, and it was growing to something even more beautiful, but this is not something you can accept from him. Ever. No matter if he tells you he can change because an ideal never changes that easily.

But his saddened frown turned into a sour one, rage filling his features as his gaze turned to Eddie and then back at you.

“You didn’t answer my first question, but I guess it was true then? You remain friends with guys you fuck darling?”

Your heart shattered at his coldness, at him insulting you this way, almost as if he were calling you ‘slut’ in a very indirect way. A tear rolled down your cheek as you looked at him with shock filled eyes.

And it all happened too quickly. Suddenly Billy was face to face with Eddie, as the dark haired man gripped the front of his shirt while he glared down at your now ex-boyfriend. Ex. Another ex.

“Get the fuck out or I will ruin your only source of income pretty boy.” Eddie growled at Billy and pushed him away roughly, making Billy tumble slightly, almost hitting the counter behind him.

His eyes searched for yours one last time, and you could see the hurt in them, reflecting your own. You didn’t doubt his caring for you, not even a second. It was genuine, all of it, but you cannot forgive him for what he did, and does for publicity. You looked away from him and you heard him sigh, followed by steps that were going towards the doorway where all your friends moved away from so he could go through.

“I’ll get my manager to pick my things up from your house. He’ll return yours.”

More steps. More. The front door opening. And then, a slam.

And you broke down.

You were hurt, disgusted, in pain, feeling helpless because of this situation that couldn’t be fixed now. Never. No matter if you have feelings for him, if you will miss the days and nights spent with him. Tears ran down your cheeks as you sobbed into your hands, two arms wrapping around you as a lavender scent filled your nostrils.

Robin was cooing at you, rubbing your head, holding you like a baby to her chest. Your hands gripped her shirt as you cried onto it. Yes… Even if you are hurting you would never choose someone that hates your friends for their orientation.

You wouldn’t choose them over Robin who is holding you tenderly and has held you this way many times before. You will hurt. You will cry. You will need time alone and space to gather and piece yourself back together again.

But they will all help you through it. Even Eddie who is behind Robin with a frown in his face, Steve next to him with the same look but his hand was on Eddie’s shoulder, pressing on it.

It will be okay.

End of Chapter 13

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lazy-ahh · 2 months ago

Note

Thinking abt the mark variants and i started licking my hungry chops ANYWAY what do u think Mohawk mark would listen to music wise? Im confident it has to be loud and in your face, personally I think it would have to be a combination of lyrics AND sound you know? It can’t just be noise and it can’t just be emotional with a terrible backing track.

I’m thinking shit like: minor threat, The Ramones, Dead Kennedys, She wants revenge , Rob zombie. You know things that would absolutely piss off his mom from playing it far too loud far too late in the night.

he’d def listen to some 80s-90s rnb things his mom grew up on (which she turned around and raised him on) and he stubbornly can’t let go of: New edition, Micheal Jackson, TLC, destinys child, Brandy, Aaliyah

I also think he has a secret playlist with “girly” pop songs Sabrina carpenter, Taylor swift etc etc (can u tell I don’t listen to a lot of pop lol) ALSO he’d totally be a physically media kinda guy right? Like he’d need something tangible something he can grab on to and FEEEEELLLL: CDs, cassettes, a Walkman, vinyls ANYTHING like that.

He’d be the type of guy to burn you cds with shitty love songs on them. The only reason he’d have something like Spotify would be for convenience during fighting, flying or (not) listening to Cecil.

I personally believe b4 he got his powers he had a shitty car that can barely get him two and from school and his job. that’s he’d sleep in whenever he’s fighting with his mom with the WORST speakers know to man he’d drive out to an old abandoned parking lot and he’d just blare his shitty music and let it wash away all of his feelings. after they developed he’d still use the car just whenever he didn’t feel like flying (or had to keep a low profile)

He 100% frequents his local underground club to listen to new bands in his area and to mosh with other angry people (he unfortunately has to hold back as not kill his fellow moshers ) this is also wear he got his first piercing ( an industrial which then preceded to tear bc he started headbanging in the middle of it) (do u also think all of his piercings have to be glued on after he got his powers bc he heals so quickly lol)

ANYWAY sorry for the rambling I’m actually so normal abt this guy I need someone to talk to abt him and you #get #it LOL have a good rest of ur day

-MM anon

NOOO please don’t apologise, i literally live for talks like this—hearing people’s headcanons and deep-cut thoughts about mark and his variants is my favorite thing. and this guy? mohawk mark? oh, he’s easily in my top five because of you, so PLEASE ramble about him whenever you want. i will always be here to scream about him with you <33

personally, i love the idea of mohawk mark having mommy issues (thanks to that one fic that lives in my brain rent-free), and it makes so much sense that he’d still cling to the music debbie raised him on—new edition on lazy sunday mornings, tlc blasting during road trips, brandy and aaliyah playing while she cooked dinner. it’s nostalgic, it’s comforting, but it also hurts because now he’s older and everything’s messy and sometimes he just wants his mom to hug him like she used to. so yeah, he’ll 1000% blast dead kennedys at 3 AM to feel something (and maybe lowkey piss her off), but then there are nights where he’s alone in his shitty car, listening to some obscure punk song that mentions the singer’s mom, and suddenly he’s aching, missing the way debbie would hum along to 'silly' by deniece williams while brushing his hair as a kid.

and even though he’s all 'rawr, loud music only', he absolutely has a soft spot for pop and love songs—whether it’s mariah carey’s ‘always be my baby’ or some taylor swift song he’d never admit to knowing all the words to (don't even get me started on sabrina carpenter LOL oh my god and tate mcrae). and OH MY GOD, the way he’s a physical media freak… cds with scratches he refuses to replace, cassettes he bought from a gas station for $2, a walkman held together by duct tape and sheer stubbornness. he’d spend hours curating the perfect mixtape for you, agonizing over every track, and then scribble some unbearably sweet title like ‘for when we flew over the city at midnight’ or ‘songs that remind me of your laugh’. and yeah, he claims spotify is just for convenience (and yeah you're right hahahah also for ignoring cecil), but really? he’s obsessed with the playlists you make for him on the app (even if they’re messy—he’ll teach you how to make a proper mixtape, and he’ll do it with so much fondness and patience it’ll make your chest hurt.

his fingers will brush yours as he passes you the blank cd, his voice soft when he says, "listen to the last three seconds of this one—that’s where the magic happens." and when you finally finish it, when you scribble his name on the front in your handwriting and hand it over like it’s something fragile, something precious? he’ll keep it forever. he’ll memorize every song, every pause between tracks, the way the third one skips just a little because you burned it too fast. he’ll play it until the cd wears thin, until the sound is fuzzy with love.)

little angst note here: and here’s the thing—when he’s dying, when his vision is blurring at the edges and his body is giving out, it’s those songs that play in his head. not the punk anthems he screamed to, not the angry shit he used to drown out the world—just your mixtape. just your voice in his memory, humming along to track seven, the one you said reminded you of the way he smiles when he’s tired. his last thought isn’t fear, isn’t pain. it’s you. it’s always been you.

i can see him so clearly—nodding along to minor threat like some brooding punk, but the second an rnb beat or a pop hook comes on? oh, he’s swaying, he’s belting the lyrics like his life depends on it, he’s grabbing your hands in his car and pretending you’re on stage together. and when the ‘hardcore’ songs hit? you two are air-guitaring, fake-drumming, passing an invisible mic back and forth like you’re headlining some dive bar show. those moments? they’re everything to him. it’s the closest thing to peace he’s ever known.

okay full disclosure i know jack shit about piercings but industrial ripped out mid-mosh is ABSOLUTE canon—like picture this: blood dripping down his neck, some crust punk yelling 'sick battle scars bro' while mark's just standing there holding his torn earlobe like 'fuck. again?' now he's gotta choose between supergluing that shit back on (gross) or repiercing it every damn week like some kind of self-punishing ritual. (regular earrings? those stay put. nose ring? gone before he even leaves the house. he's got a whole drawer full of clip-ons that he pretends to hate but secretly thinks are kinda cute.)

i'm obsessed with the idea of him rocking double eyebrow piercings—like little silver studs that catch the light when he scowls and furrows his brows. and YES those mouth corner studs! they're called side labrets i think and they'd look so good on him, glinting every time he smirks or laughs in that wild, chaotic way. imagine how they'd feel when he kisses you—cold metal brushing against your skin, warming up slowly as he gets more into it... don't even get me starting on a tongue piercing-

literally everything you said fits him perfectly—the shitty car, the underground mosh pits where he has to hold back so he doesn’t accidentally send someone into orbit. thank you so much for sharing your thoughts, MM anon! you get him, and that makes me so stupidly happy. i hope your day is as awesome as this take! <33 which is very awesome :]

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mattsturniolosswife · 8 months ago

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<*♰ A VAMPIRE'S LOVE <part two>

summary - when you find a boy stumbling outside your house, your kind heart just needs to let him in and help him, but you'd soon find out that this night wasn't the end of your interaction with him, but the beginning of something, even if it becomes messy.

warnings - nothing really

a/n - sorry I didn't post this yesterday like I planned, I was really busy and didn't get to edit it but now it's good to go . I hope your enjoying this series so far!

this fic is inspired by @samandcolbyownme 's vampire matt fic.

The house is quiet, and you’re curled up in bed, your mind still spinning from the events of last night. Despite the impossible things you’d learned, despite the frightening reality of Matt’s existence, you’d fallen asleep thinking about him, replaying his haunted look, the sadness in his voice. You told yourself it was a one-time encounter, that it would take him a while to trust you enough to come back.

So when a faint sound—something like a soft breeze—makes you look toward your window, you’re surprised to see a shadowy figure there, illuminated only by the pale light of the moon. It takes your brain a moment to register who it is.

“Matt?” you whisper, pushing yourself up onto your elbows.

The figure steps closer, and when his face comes into view, he’s watching you with a small, amused smile. “Mind if I come in?” he asks, as if standing outside someone’s second-story window at night is the most normal thing in the world.

You nod, stunned, and within a second, he’s slipped inside, moving with a fluidity that leaves you momentarily breathless. He’s dressed in dark clothes, blending seamlessly into the night, but there’s something lighter in his expression—a warmth that wasn’t there before.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, voice still hushed with surprise. “I didn’t think I’d see you so soon.”

Matt leans against your wall, hands in his pockets, his gaze meeting yours with an intensity that sends a thrill down your spine. “I figured I owed you a little more than a quick explanation and an apology. Thought I’d show you more of what I am.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words, both anxious and intrigued. “More?” you ask, pulling your blanket up around you like a shield.

He smirks. “You look scared. I thought you said I wasn’t a monster.”

You swallow, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. “I don’t think you are. But that doesn’t mean I know what to expect.”

Matt chuckles softly, pushing away from the wall and walking over to stand by your bed. “How about this?” he says, and before you can blink, he’s across the room again, his movements so quick they’re a blur.

You blink, mouth falling open as you process what just happened. “Did you… just use super speed?”

His smirk widens, and he shrugs as if it’s nothing. “One of the perks. I can do a lot of things, see things from far away, hear sounds most people can’t hear.”

You watch him in awe, your curiosity overtaking any lingering fear as you get up out of your bed and stand at the side of your bed. “Can you show me more?”

He hesitates for a moment before nodding, glancing around the room. “Alright,” he says, “but only because you asked.” In a heartbeat, he moves again, so fast that it feels like he’s vanished. Then, he’s right beside you.

The sudden proximity leaves you breathless. You didn’t even see him move, and yet here he is, his face inches from yours, his gaze intense.

“See?” he says, his voice soft, barely a murmur in the quiet room.

Your heart pounds, and without thinking, you reach out, resting a hand on his arm to steady yourself. His skin is as cold as you remembered, but now, it feels almost comforting, a strange reminder of everything he’s revealed to you.

But then, your balance shifts, and before you know it, you’ve slipped forward, falling against his chest. He catches you, his hands gentle but firm as he steadies you.

“Easy,” he murmurs, his voice low. You look up, feeling the press of his chest against yours, the coolness of his skin contrasting sharply with the warmth rising in your cheeks.

And then, without fully realizing how it happens, you’re closer than before, your eyes meeting his as an undeniable tension fills the air. His gaze shifts to your lips, and before you can second-guess yourself, you lean in, closing the gap.

The kiss is tentative at first, soft and exploring, as if you’re both testing the waters. His lips are cool, yet there’s an intensity behind them that leaves you dizzy. You feel his hands settle at your waist, steadying you as you lean into him, your heart racing as the kiss deepens.

After a moment, you both pull back, breathless, the weight of what just happened settling over you. Matt’s gaze is still intense, but there’s something darker there now, a flicker of doubt.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” he asks quietly, his voice barely a whisper. “I’m… not human. I’m a monster, Elliana. I don’t think I belong in your world.”

The words hang between you, a painful confession that cuts through the charged atmosphere. You see the self-loathing in his eyes, the belief that he’s something to be feared. But you can’t help the overwhelming feeling that, despite everything, you trust him.

Reaching up, you gently brush a strand of hair from his face, looking into his eyes with all the sincerity you can muster. “Matt, you’re not a monster. I wouldn’t be here if I thought you were.”

For a moment, he just stares at you, his expression unreadable. Then, as if your words have broken through the walls he’s built, he leans in again, capturing your lips in another kiss, this one filled with a deeper passion, a fierceness that takes your breath away. His hands pull you closer, and you feel yourself getting lost in him, in the strange, exhilarating sensation of kissing someone who’s both familiar and otherworldly.

You don’t know how much time passes before you pull back, your face flushed, your breaths mingling in the space between you. You look at him, seeing a vulnerability in his eyes that wasn’t there before, a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, he’s not as monstrous as he thinks.

And for a long, quiet moment, you sit there together, savoring the connection between you, a fragile yet undeniable bond that neither of you can ignore.

The quiet moment between you and Matt stretches, a delicate connection humming in the air. His cool fingers linger at your waist, and you almost forget where you are, lost in the look in his eyes. But then, his gaze sharpens, his head turning slightly, like he’s listening to something far beyond the walls of your room.

“Your mom’s awake,” he murmurs, voice so low it’s almost a whisper. “She’s coming this way.”

Your eyes widen, and you pull back slightly, glancing nervously toward your door. “How did you—”

“Heightened hearing,” he explains, smirking a little. “It has its perks.” Then his expression softens, and he reaches up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I should go.”

Before you can respond, he leans in, pressing a quick, gentle kiss to your lips—almost too fast to register. His cool breath tickles your skin, and then he’s gone, slipping out of the window with supernatural grace, leaving you feeling like you’ve woken from a dream.

Just as you’re catching your breath, the door creaks open, and your mom pokes her head inside, her eyes scanning the room.

“Honey?” she asks, sounding slightly puzzled. “I thought I heard something in here.”

You force a smile, doing your best to seem casual despite the way your heart is still racing. “Oh, um… it was just me moving around. Knocked something over.”

Your mom narrows her eyes slightly, as if trying to gauge if you’re telling the truth, but then she shrugs, her expression softening. “Alright, as long as you’re okay.” She pauses, glancing around the room one more time. “But try to get some rest, okay?”

You nod, mumbling a quick “Goodnight,” and watch as she finally closes the door behind her, leaving you alone in the quiet.

Once she’s gone, you lie back in bed, staring at the ceiling, a small smile tugging at your lips. The room feels a little colder, a little emptier without Matt there, but the memory of his kiss lingers, warming you from the inside out.

As you close your eyes, you can’t shake the feeling that tonight was only the beginning—and that whatever comes next, you’re ready for it.

𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 < @sturnobsessedwh0re @etherealval @stvrnmc @matts-myloverboy @hellokittylover4life

@s1ut4chris @gwennybenny >

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agathawellbelov3d · 2 days ago

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Pt 40 for like the 3 people who read this lmfaooo. Wrote this WEEKS AGO. I ain’t editing it.

Simon Snow is twelve minutes late.

That's progress, then. He’s usually at least half an hour behind, dragging some apology that’s barely coherent and somehow still makes sense. But twelve minutes? That’s practically early for him.

Not that I was counting.

(Obviously, I was counting. And it wasn’t twelve, it was fifty-two. He was already forty minutes late when I started the clock.)

I tell myself I stayed because I didn’t want to waste a perfectly good table. For the essay I need to get done. To study my Greek.

But the truth is, I waited like some lovesick fool in those paperback romance novels you find at grocery stores. The ones with the stupid titles and shirtless men with glistening chests on the cover. The kind that you hide under your pillow, even if you’re reading it just to laugh.

I even let him buy me coffee.

As if we’re on a date. (We’re not). As if he’s my boyfriend. (He’ll never be).

We’re just roommates.

This is temporary.

I’m pathetic.

I should be mortified by the texts I sent him this morning. And I am. I think.

I was teasing him; I didn’t mean for it to go that far.

It doesn’t matter. He’s acting like it doesn't matter.

Then again, he’s also acting like crawling into my bed last night was no big deal. Just curled up next to me like some lost dog, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

And it was fine.

I slept. He slept.

(He drooled on my pillow. And I didn’t even mind. I thought it was endearing.)

I woke up before him and spent at least twenty minutes frozen in place. Trying not to wake him, or think about how peaceful he looked. Resisting the impulse to smooth the gold curls on his face.

I’m hopeless.

He’s making his way to me now through the library doors. Stupid grin, backpack slung over his shoulder. His hair is wet, messy at the top and flat on his forehead. He looks ridiculous. He’s got my coffee in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other.

(I hope it’s not food. I’m not eating in front of him.)

“Hey Baz,” he says, breathless. His face is flushed, as if he ran to get here.

He drops his backpack on the floor with a loud clunk—much too loud for the library. A group of students two tables over shoots us a dirty look. I pretend not to notice. I should scold him for it, but I don’t.

“I got you that coffee you wanted.”

“I didn’t ask for a coffee.”

“Yeah, but I offered. Here.”

I take it from his stupid hands, our fingers brushing.

It sends a jolt through me, which is humiliating.

I stiffen. It’s just coffee. It’s just fingers.

I hate how warm they are. I hate that I noticed.

I take a sip as he sits down across from me, trying not to meet his eyes.

It’s ridiculous. He didn’t even make the coffee himself, and I’m spiraling like I’m stuck in some poorly written romantic comedy.

For someone who prides himself on being so stoic, I’m an absolute mess.

“Sorry I was late,” he says, taking out his laptop.

“You already apologized.” I keep my eyes on my cup. “We’ve been over this.”

“I know. I’m still sorry.”

There’s a pause. I think that’s it, that we’ll settle into silence until Snow inevitably asks me some ridiculous question regarding his Greek homework.

But of course not, Simon doesn’t do silence.

“Oh,” he says, like he just remembered something. He pulls the brown paper bag onto the table and nudges it towards me. “I got you a muffin.”

Then, quickly, like he’s trying not to make a big deal of it, “You don’t have to eat it. There was a deal. I already ate mine.”

For one horrifying second, my brain tries to convince myself it’s a metaphor. An offering. Like he thought about what I might like.

It’s just a muffin. The cafe’s two-for-one offer.

I don’t even like muffins. I don’t think I do.

I don’t like much of anything.

I stare at it like it’s some sort of trap. I think I’m scowling.

Part of me wants to shove it away and pretend it never happened. Pretend that Simon didn’t show up late and flustered, clutching his pathetic offering like it means something.

But another part of me, the pathetically love sick and hopeless part, wants to take it. Maybe have some of it. Or share it.

I picture him splitting it in half, crumbs scatting across the table—onto our textbooks. He’d hand me the bigger half like it's nothing.

I’d take it, trying not to touch his fingers, even though I want to. We’d eat quietly, like this is normal for us. Like I split muffins with Simon Snow every afternoon across textbooks and coffee and unspoken feelings.

And for a moment, I let myself believe it’s real. That maybe, this is something we’d do if we were different people, or in a different timeline. Maybe there’s a universe where Simon and I split muffins after class and don’t ignore whatever it is that’s going on between us.

But that’s not something that could happen. Especially giving who I am. Or what I am.

And the gnawing hunger inside me that never stops. Because I don’t act on it. Because I don’t want to be a monster.

It’s not the demanding kind of hunger, but the quiet kind. The type that gnaws at your stomach, a constant reminder that you’re not quite full. A dull ache that reminds me that I’m still alive. Partially.

Because if I’m not, I normally did something wrong.

If I feel alive, I took it from something else.

So it’s better to stay hungry. Let the emptiness be my shield from feeling fully alive.

I don’t care what it is. If it’s blood. If it’s a goddamn pastry. As long as it’s enough to keep my heart pumping, but not enough to dull the constant clawing sensation in the pit of my stomach. Hunger Is the only thing that makes me somewhat human.

And then, there are my fangs, of course.

If I eat, they’ll slip out.

He’ll be disgusted—or horrified.

I’m not sure which is worse.

He won’t want my help studying anymore.

Stop talking to me altogether.

He might even ask to transfer dorms—or schools.

What if I never saw him again?

I’m catastrophizing.

Over a muffin.

“A muffin?” I say. Out loud, I think.

“What? You think I poisoned it?”

“You probably spat on it.”

“You’d probably like that.”

I almost choke on my coffee. He says it like it’s a joke. I think it is.

His bright blue eyes flick up to mine, then away. Like he’s testing me.

I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with that. To laugh or blush or throw my textbook at his head.

I should say something, probably.

Anything, really.

He’s watching me like he’s waiting for a reaction. Or a tease. Or maybe he’s just being Snow. Thoughtless and unintentionally devastating.

“Stop flirting,” I say, but my voice doesn’t carry the bite I want it to.

He leans forward in his chair, nearly closing the space between us. His wings twitch slightly, settling, like he’s comfortable here. With me.

“Who says I’m flirting?” he says.

And that’s the problem. It doesn’t sound like he’s denying it. It sounds like he’s daring me to believe it.

“You bought me a muffin,” I say. Like that will help anything.

He shrugs. “Yeah, well, are you going to eat it? Or will I have to feed it to you?”

I’m blushing now. I think. I’m not sure. I haven’t fed in two days.

I don’t think he notices. (He doesn’t notice much of anything.)

Then again, I think I’m also more obvious than I think. He probably noticed.

“I haven’t fed in two days,” I blurt.

“So?”

“So? What if my fangs slip out?” I hesitate, trying to avoid his gaze. “I don’t want you to have to see that. It’s disgusting.”

“Baz,” he says slowly, like I’m stupid. But there’s an unexpected fondness in his voice I don’t expect. “I have wings. And a tail. Do you think I give a shit if you’re a vampire?”

I freeze, my heart hammering in my chest—stupidly human. Did he just say that out loud?

I know he’s already noticed. I said it out loud. We’ve roomed together for over two years. I leave at odd times at night. I have nightmares—they’ve probably slipped out before. He wears a cross.

I glance at his neck briefly.

He’s not wearing his cross.

For as long as I can remember, Simon never leaves the dorm without that cross.

Not even to class. Or the library.

I don’t even think he’s religious. I’m pretty sure it’s just because of me.

And I hate it. It makes my skin itch, smells sharp and bitter.

But he’s not wearing it. I’m actually not sure when the last time he wore it was.

He used to wear it to bed, even. And it would keep me up at night, a strange rattling, buzzing sound in my ears.

But now, there’s nothing there.

No silver glint, no familiar chain around his neck.

Is it because he knows? Or he doesn’t care?

I catch him watching me out of the corner of my eye, his usual grin softened, maybe even a little unsure. For a moment, I wonder if he’s been waiting for me to say something about it, or if he’s even noticed that I noticed.

The silence stretches, thick and heavy, filled with all the things neither of us dare to say.

Maybe he’s trying to show me something without words. Maybe this is his way of showing me that he trusts me. Or maybe he just forgot to put it on. Maybe he took it off in the shower. Maybe the chain broke.

But I don’t think he was wearing it last night. I would have noticed. He was right next to me. I would have tasted the metal—sour on my tongue.

I stare at the stupid muffin like it’ll give me the answers I’m looking for. The idea of eating it feels wrong. Too soft, too crumbly, too unpredictable. It might not fill me up. My fangs could slip out. I might realize how hungry I actually am. And then I’ll need to feed, right here, in a library full of people.

My mind stuck somewhere between panic and hunger, thoughts racing with all the things that could go wrong.

Snow’s voice cuts through the noise before I can spiral any further.

“Are you going to eat that or what?” he says, tone firm but gentle. “Because I’m not letting you starve yourself again. I’ve only seen you drink a smoothie in the past few days. And you’re pale.”

I blink, caught off guard. “Why do you care?” I snap.

His tail flicks impatiently.

Because we are roommates? Because of our friendship? Because you've been helping me study for midterms, and I've noticed you haven't eaten properly in days?”

The word friendship makes my stomach twist.

I grip my coffee cup harder, thumb worrying the lid. I try to look distracted, staring at my laptop screen, but it’s off. He won’t buy it.

I don’t respond. I don’t trust my voice.

He watches me for a bit, then settles back into his chair with a sigh. He’s given up. I think I’ve won, for now.

Then, he speaks, “Fine. But you’re eating it later, just so you know.”

I nod. Just once. That's all I can manage.

“And you’re finishing that coffee,” he adds with a smile.

I glance at him, feeling a flicker of warmth under his teasing concern.

“You’re not my parent,” I say flippantly.

He shrugs, still smiling.

“Maybe not, but I still care,” he says, like it’s not a big deal at all. Like him caring for me doesn’t flip my entire worldview.

#snowbaz #carry on #simon snow #baz pitch #snowbaz au #snowbazmidtermau

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legolasbadass · 11 months ago

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Italian Holiday, Part III

Summary: A few weeks before Richard leaves for Boston, he and Lorelei go on holiday in Italy to make the most of the summer and the time they have left together.

This story takes between the penultimate and last chapter of Office Hours and contains major spoilers for that story, so make sure you read it first!

Relationship: Richard Armitage x OC (Professor AU)

Word Count: 1.3K

Rating: T

I am sitting on the balcony, wearing shorts and one of Richard’s t-shirts, my knees tucked under my chin, when he finally returns to me. His hair is still wet and unruly from the shower, and his white shirt clings in places to his damp skin, but none of that is as enticing to me as it usually would be. Right now, I can only watch his face, which is still clouded in frustration and hurt.

“I’m sorry,” I say hesitantly, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry I snapped at you like that. I didn’t mean to.”

Richard remains silent, his eyes fixed on some dehydrated potted plant in the corner of the balcony.

“I’ve just been so stressed lately. You know what the pressure is like, especially when you’re just starting out. And you’re right—I do need a break. I desperately need a break. But when I allow myself one, I just start to feel like I’m at risk of falling behind and missing out on opportunities, and I can’t afford that. I mean, even when I’m giving my research my full attention, it doesn’t always turn out the way I want it, like with this paper…”

“What paper?” he asks, and I look up, almost surprised to hear his voice after his unbearable silence.

“I submitted a paper for this edited collection on maps in contemporary fantasy, but it got rejected. I just got the email about it today.”

Understanding dawns on Richard, and his eyes soften as he takes a seat next to me. “I didn’t even know you’d submitted a piece for that.”

“Well… at first, I didn’t tell you because you were so busy preparing for Boston. We were both so busy. And then I started to feel more anxious about it as time went on but… I don’t know… you already had so much on your plate—I didn’t want to bring this up when it’s so minuscule compared to you working with Stanley Griffin.”

“Sweetheart… you have to tell me these things. I want you to tell me—no matter how busy I might be.”

“I know—I’m sorry,” I sigh, running a hand through my messy hair. “Honestly, I feel so stupid for not telling you after making such a big deal out of us needing to share everything with each other.”

He reaches out to gently squeeze my thigh. “I just want to be there for you, like you’ve been there for me,” he says softly. “I would hate to think you’re not sharing things with me because you think I’m too busy.”

“You’ve never made me feel like that, Richard, I mean it. You’re always so supportive,” I hasten to reassure him, and his shoulders slump in evident relief. “This was all in my head and—and I’m sorry. I promise I’ll talk more. Because I really don’t like it when we fight, and you don’t deserve me snapping at you like that.”

He offers me a soft, crooked smile. “I don’t like it when we fight, either.”

I smile back at him hesitantly, the tightness in my chest slowly dissipating. Then he lets go of my thigh and, leaning back into his chair, opens his arms in invitation.

“Come here.”

My smile widens as I eagerly take refuge in his awaiting arms. Once I am comfortably settled on his lap, he wraps his arms around me and presses a series of tender kisses into my hair as I rest my head on his chest, comforted by the steady beating of his heart and the smell of rosemary and sandalwood from the soap he is so fond of. We remain in this embrace for a long while, basking in the sun’s rays. In the streets below, the city is alive with tourists and locals enjoying the warm summer evening, the gentle hum of their voices and laughter rising up to us, blending with the distant sound of music. But up here, it is just the two of us, sitting in comfortable silence, wrapped around each other. As it should be.

“Do you want me to just keep holding you or can I offer my opinion on the situation?” Richard eventually asks.

I pull away from him just enough to meet his eyes. “Your opinion?” I respond, raising a hand to brush one rebellious strand of hair away from his forehead.

“I really do think you deserve a break. I know how stressful those first few years after you get your PhD are, especially when you’re trying to secure a permanent post at a university. But overworking yourself will just hurt you more in the end. And, sweetheart, you’ve accomplished so much in the past year alone. You started working at Exeter, your first monograph was published, and you organized an incredibly successful conference, at which you also presented an amazing paper. I didn’t even do half that the year after I got my PhD, and I turned out alright, didn’t I?”

I chuckle, feeling so grateful to have him by my side, yet still unable to completely shake off the knot in my chest.

Sensing my discomfort, Richard presses a tender kiss onto my temple. “What’s really worrying you?”

I take a deep breath as I snuggle deeper into his embrace. “I just… sometimes I worry—what if I don’t get offered a permanent post at Exeter? What will happen with us then?”

“Oh, sweetheart…” he breathes out, squeezing me tight. “Firstly, I think, if somehow, the college were to not offer you a permanent post, they would be making a terrible mistake, and it would make me question if it was really the right place for me,” he says playfully, causing me to chuckle. “Secondly, I think, if it came to that—which I really doubt it will—then we will just figure it out. We’ll make it work just like we’ll make this year apart work.”

“Really?”

He offers me a tender smile. “Really. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m quite mad about you, so trust me, I’ll do everything to ensure I get to kiss you, hug you, and make you smile and laugh every day.”

I smile, his tender, honest words, combined with the love shining in his eyes, making my heart swell tenfold. “I love you.”

“I love you more,” he responds before kissing me softly.

“No, I love you more,” I whisper against his lips, giggling.

“I fear this could go on for quite some time,” Richard chuckles as he pulls back, gazing lovingly into my eyes. “How about we just have dinner here tonight?”

“I’d like that.”

“I could go to the shop and get some ingredients while you take a shower.”

“You take such good care of me,” I say as I press a lingering kiss onto his bearded cheek, feeling so much happier than I was earlier.

After exchanging a few more kisses, I stand up, glancing at the pastel-coloured houses on the other side of the street as I stretch, but before I can open the French doors leading inside, Richard rests a hand on my back, urging me to turn around.

“I don’t remember packing that t-shirt,” he says with a frown, clearly amused.

I bite my lower lip. “Oh, er, I brought it, actually. In my own suitcase.”

“Oh?”

“Well, you see, I knew I would end up borrowing a t-shirt from you to sleep in, but I wasn’t sure if you would think to account for that when calculating how many t-shirts to bring, and I also didn’t want you to use up your limited luggage space with clothes I would be wearing so…”

Richard laughs before leaning in to capture my lips in a deep, languid kiss, and all I can do is wrap my arms around him, the sparks he ignites in me letting me forget about the strain in my neck from tilting my head up so much.

“Have I mentioned how much I love you?” he muses after we pull apart eons later, breathless, our cheeks warm and our lips slightly swollen as we stand under the golden evening sun.

Tag list: @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @i-did-not-mean-to @xxbyimm @middleearthpixie @swoopswishsward @quiall321 @dianakc @sazzlep @albionscastle @evenstaredits @mistresskayla-blog1

If you want to be added to or removed from my tag list, let me know! 💙

#richard armitage #richard armitage fanfic #richard armitage x oc #richard armitage x reader #richard armitage x you #professor au #office hours

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cherrychapstick54 · 8 months ago

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Amnesia Was Her Name

Chapter Six: North

Title from “Amnesia Was Her Name” by Lemon Demon

Synopsis: Tommy finally goes home, but meets someone new along the way. She’s nice and all, but…she’s also kinda a bitch…

This chapter was written by @genderlessbleach and edited by me.

Trigger warnings: Suicidal ideations, mentions of gore/blood, attempting suicide, and asking to be murdered

Tommy finally feels himself snap back into reality, but still feels as if he was unconscious, as he was earlier, and he forces himself out of the bed he doesn’t remember making. Though, he can’t remember much of anything so it doesn’t make a big difference anyway.

Tommy works his way slowly out of the poorly constructed shelter he made, trying to figure out where his home would be from his current spot. Knowing it would be generally north of where he was, he looks up at the sky, searching for the sun, easily finding which direction North was. Now all he needs is a boat. The Brit sighs at the realization, not wanting to do all of this work while in pain.

"Psst! Hey you, Blondie!" A voice had called out to Tommy, making the boy's head spin trying to figure out where the voice had come from. "In the tree dumbass!"

Tommy cranks his neck backward to look up at the feminine voice, nearly falling from the whiplash he feels. There is a young feminine person in the trees, wearing a long green dress with messy patchwork and sleeves that fall off their shoulders, a brown cloak that just covers their bare shoulders and head, and lastly, a mask with a '; )' engraved in it. The mask seems familiar, yet Tommy can’t tell if it’s in a good or bad way. The mask seems friendly enough. It even has small blush marks etched into it.

The girl drops down from the tree and seems to almost float onto the snowy floor of the tundra. The Brit takes a closer look at them. They have a belt snug around their waist to probably keep the items hanging off of it in check, and they have a satchel slung over their shoulder, but it doesn’t hold arrows. In fact, the quiver was empty.

"Tommy, right? I'm Drista! I'm the girl sent to your rescue. I'm gonna get your amnesia-having-ass out of this freezing place!" The way Drista speaks sounds young and happy, like if anything bad or traumatic was to happen to her, it would roll right off, like a raincoat. Tommy finds that strange. Anyone can experience bad situations–surely she has at some point in her life–but something about her vibrant voice and eccentric body language makes it seem like she may not even be alive. Tommy shakes his head at the idea. He has no reason to assume that this person isn’t just happy–but really, who’s that happy??

"How do you know my name?" Tommy questions the young girl.

"Red and white shirt and messy blond hair, everyone knows your name!" The girl states, as if it was obvious. Tommy just stares at her in disbelief. How did everyone know who he is? What has he done that made everyone know him? "When you could remember shit, you were the star of the whole SMP, y’know." Tommy just blinks in disbelief. Is she reading his mind? "Yeah, so what?"

Tommy’s eyes widen and he screams out, "WHAT THE FUCK?!" The girl just laughs at him, far more than amused by Tommy’s reaction. “You can’t just fuckin’ say that shit!”

“Sorry man, but you're so confused, it’s actually kind of funny.” The girl giggles at him, “But, what do you need, Blondie?”

“I need to get back home and to know who I fucking am.” Tommy pauses for a moment before turning to face the girl. “But, if you really want to help, I think it would be easier for the both of us if you just killed me.” He looks at her, his blue eyes riddled with exhaustion and sadness, dark bags underneath them, showing proof of his lack of quality sleep recently. Drista actually feels a little bad for the kid. He’s already been through a lot for being a teenager. “If you could just put me out of this hell, please. I don’t even know how I got here, but I’m like 90% sure that it was not by my own means; I don’t think I’m supposed to be alive right now. So, just fix it, please?”

The girl only looks at him in disappointment and sadness. “Tommy, this is your second chance at life. I’m here to guide you, not kill you.” The girl floats upwards into the sky, taking a look at their surroundings. “Do you want to do this the easy way or the hard way?”

The girl floats elegantly, her dress floating around her, revealing some pants with more items stuffed in the pockets. This girl is clearly some type of deity, but she doesn’t seem to be as mature as one would think an all powerful being would be. She seems more relaxed and like she’s just here to have fun and mess around. Wait, Tommy just yelled at a Deity. Oh shit, he’s actually fucked.

“The easy way, kill me.” He sticks to his word, which seems to annoy the goddess.

“Tommy, Tommy, I don’t think you understand, you wanting me to kill you is the hard way. The easy way is me giving you a boat and moving the tide with you, but it appears you’d rather fight with me about this.” The young deity floats down so she’s able to look the Brit in the eyes. “So do you want the hard way or the easy way?”

The blond glares at her. “Kill me, fucking do it! I don’t want to live like this, so just do it, kill me! Put me out of my misery like a sick dog! Shoot me in the head, stab me in the gut, slit my neck! Please, do anything, please, please!” He’s crying–not a cry of grief, but rather a cry of anguish and greed. Drista thinks for a second that maybe she should just put the poor boy out of his misery, but she’ll be damned if she’s not someone who sticks to their word.

So, Drista still doesn’t kill him.

A small sigh falls from the girl's mouth; she isn’t giving in. “Tommy, I’m not killing you, but I will bring you back home, even if I have to drag you there myself.” She grabs the boy by his shirt collar and flies them up over the water, getting tired of his attempts at death. “So I’ll say it again, Tommy. Do you want the hard way or the easy way.”

The Brit is too stubborn to listen to her, struggling, trying to shake from her grip so he can at least die here, but the deity isn’t going to let that slide, lassoing him to her like he is some pig she decided to keep as a pet.

“Let me go!” Tommy screams at her, desperate to die in the moment. “Drop me! Kill me! I don’t deserve to live. Can you not fucking see, bitch! Let me die! For XD’s sake, kill me!” He’s screaming like he’s being murdered, when it’s entirely the opposite.

“My brother wouldn’t care. Quite frankly, he didn’t take a liking to you, Tommy. He much prefers the brunet mushroom boy to all of his people.” She speaks calmly, dragging the struggling boy over the vast freezing ocean. “So shut up, and let me save you for your mother’s sake.”

“I don’t have a mother, you fucking idiot!” Tommy is aware she most likely knows more than him, but he doesn’t remember having a mother, so he should be right compared to this prick who's dragging him by a rope over an ocean.

“Tommy, shut up or I’m knocking you out.” In Tommy’s mind, the girl seems to care about him, just not so much as a friend, but more so like she wants something from him, or maybe she was forced to help him from someone else. She doesn’t seem to actually want to help him. Whenever Tommy tries to ask for the sweet release of death, she just looks at him in pity and disappointment.

Tommy finds himself just screaming at the goddess, much to her dismay, so she hits him over the head and knocks him out.

-Timeset sunset-

Tommy wakes up in his bed, groaning from a raging headache. “What the fuck happened?”

“I knocked you out cause you were being an annoying bitch when I was doing you a favor.” a voice spoke from across the room, causing Tommy to scream. The girl only sighs at his stupidity and rolls her eyes. “I’ll say it again if you need me to, Tommy. I’m Drista and you have amnesia. We’ve already met, so please shut up for the sake of my ears.”

“Why would you do that!?” Tommy sputters out, shocked that that could even happen.

“Like I said, you were annoying me, so I shut you up by knocking you out!” The girl just smiles at him sweetly. “But that’s the least of our worries right now, m’kay? Let's just get you out of this shack and get to know each other!” The masked girl's energy quickly changes from serious to playful.

“Why should I? I don’t…” Tommy pauses, remembering the girl's entrance from earlier that day. “I barely know you.”

“I got you off that island. It’s the least you could do for lil’ ol’ me, Tommy.” The girl, Drista or was it Amnesia? flashes him a playful smile. “So come on! Let’s go!” The goddess grabs his arm firmly before flying them out of the house.

Tommy shrieks from being flown out of the house by the young girl. “YOU’RE FLYING TOO LOW!” He tries to pull himself up more, wrapping his arms around her in a panic so he doesn’t scrape up his knees more. “Not everyone is as short as you bitch!” The comment only causes the girl to get lower to the ground.

“Don’t insult my height, Blondie. I’m trying to have fun with you!” She flashes him a mischievous smile before launching them straight up into the air. The blond screams loudly from the sudden speed of her movements while she laughs at him. “I’m not going to drop you Tommy, don’t get your panties in a bunch!” She finds herself laughing more.

“Oi, you fuckin’ cunt, I’m not scared of you dropping me,” He looks down at the clouds, finding himself gripping a little harder onto her. “I was just shocked at how fast you fucking brought us up here, you little shit!” Tommy feels them lowering to the ground slowly.

“Fine, I’ll let you down–”

“That’s not what I–” He cuts himself off with a scream as they’re now rapidly falling.

“Gotcha, bitch!” The girl screams over him as she adjusts the way they’re flying so she can land them safely, or that’s what she thinks before they land on a poor bystander. “OH FUCK!” She drops Tommy and goes to check on the person they just hit. Tommy lies dazed on the floor by the other dazed person Drista is checking on. “Are you alright dude? I didn’t see you there!”

Tommy sits up to look at the person they hit. They’re rather weird looking with half-black and half-white skin and hair. The darker skin tone reminds Tommy of an enderman, along with the strangely shaped mouth and abnormally long limbs.

“I’m-I’m alright just uh confused, like…” The poor dude is shaking while trying to form a sentence. “Wh-Who are you, um, p-people?”

Drista speaks up for the both of them. “I’m Drista and this fuck is Tommy.”

“WHAT THE FUCK MAN?!” His screaming scares the other dude and causes Drista to burst out laughing.

The anxious boy speaks shakily, “I’m-I’m, um, Ran-Ranboo.”

“Well, Ranboo, you must be new around here cause I know everyone, and I’ve never heard of you!” Drista speaks confidently, standing up to help the other two up. Tommy, once stood up, stares upwards at Ranboo, just taking in his existence. Ranboo looks away from Tommy, avoiding eye contact. Tommy feels himself growing curious on who this new guy was, causing him to look over Ranboo’s entire body, looking at their belongings. Tommy notices a book Ranboo is holding close to his chest. It appears to be important to the tall man.

“What’s that?” the Brit asks as he points to the book.

Ranboo looks at the book, then at Tommy, speaking yet again with a shaking voice. “It’s, uh, my…well, diary? I just write important things in it, I guess…”

The taller person's words spark an idea in Tommy’s mind. A book he can write in. Maybe he can keep his own. If his memory ever gets worse, he can look back on it! With the new idea fresh in his head, Tommy runs home to go and make himself a book.

“D-Did I scare him?”

“Nah, he’s just an idiot.”

- Divider credits to @issysh3ll -

#AWHN #awhn ch6 #cherry-sfw #dsmp #dsmp drista #dsmp angst #dsmpblr #dsmp fanfic #dsmp tommy #dream smp #dsmp dreamxd #dsmp tubbo #dsmp ranboo

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