Tumgik
#[just in case. for friends newer]
liquidstar · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media
a friend who'd wait :)
#im posting this very late because i was sort of weary of how it came out and ended up messing w it until it was like 4am oops.#and i have plans tmrw so... oh well! i did my best and ill put it out while i can!#and i tried to make the scene match barnard's colors lol#finn's ocs#finn's art#i know i said id do more sillay stuff with the simpler screentone only style but i had a couple more of these in me#and this is the first piece im making thats like an actual part of the story too rather than just setting stuff for fun#i wanna write something to go with it too but for now ill just sort of briefly explain the context in the tags here:#barnard has a pretty bad case of OCD and his compulsions have made it difficult to make friends in the past#he was never outright bullied or anything but people just didnt really have the patience to deal with it#he has compulsions that include stuff like walking through doors until it feels right and needing things to be perfectly aligned#which in group settings has lead to people having to wait for him to finish his rituals and join them#they might find it tolerable at first but eventually they grow impatient and hes just... not invited to stuff anymore#but juno is a newer member of the guild who ends up frequenting the same library. hes also kinda a little weird#and they dont become fast friends or anything but just sort of naturally spend time in the same place#though they never plan meetups they eventually fall into a routine. around the same time theyd just both be at the library#and read next to each other. and maybe talk a bit. and eventually they end up walking back to the guildhall together#since theyre going to the same place after all. and juno always waits for barnard outside the door#eventually barnard asks if this bothers him. juno kinda just tells him 'of course it does' without any malice or anything. just a statement#barnard is surprised and apologizes and juno says not to. but the next day juno doesnt show up at the usual time.#barnard assumes hes committed somekinda more by bringing it up. he ends up staying there late reading to get his mind off it & not ruminate#but when he leaves juno is in fact still waiting for him down the hall (see pic) having collected a bunch of books literally abt ocd#he fell asleep bc barnard stayed later than expected. and hes an eepy guy generally. and also one very bad at expressing himself#but now barnard gets that juno's 'of course it [bothers me]' had the implication of 'but its worth it' which no friend has previously done.#and from the interaction juno was also able to understand that this isn't something barnard just does for the hell of it so. he studies.#and checks a bunch of stuff out because he thinks it could help his friend too (theres ocd workbooks and such- i remember working w them)#and thats the point where they became more ''friends'' than ''pleasant library acquaintances''#from there on they also do get into juno's problems. whole other bag of worms. but this specific scene is more about bernard from his pov#sorry about when i said briefly explain. i lied </3#but compared to the whole sequence im picturing its brief so shhh
18 notes · View notes
fullcfphobias-a · 2 years
Text
Continuing from the tags of my last post!
Oz can't have kids of his own, so any child he could potentially raise would most likely be mortal! He just doesn't know if he could take raising a kid and then outliving them, thinking about it just freaks him out
8 notes · View notes
aibhilin-atibeka · 2 years
Text
Just in case
... people haven’t seen 2021′s Ryu to sabukasu no hime (Belle) yet and would like trigger warnings;
That movie? Warning for: found family, heartbreaking songs,  AMAZING COLOURS and glorious animation. Now that we established the important stuff, here’s the warnings for: child abuse, child abuse being openly projected via video online, child abuse as entertainment, child abuse unresolved, vomiting (short albeit very visual and with audio, with the aftermath still visible in scenes after), trauma, trauma resulting from child abuse, trauma resulting from someone leaving, grief, mourning, depressive themes, survivor's guilt and a partly open ending (specially concerning the child abuse, although it’s hopeful).
Just in case y’all have any history at all with any of the stuff above; take care, yeah? And go in with open eyes and an open mind. The movie is very respectful towards all of these things mentioned.
It is one GORGEOUS movie, don’t get me wrong (I’m on my second watching and planning yet another one next week - yesterday I sat besides a couple who wouldn’t stop talking during a cinema viewing, grml). I’m all for reccing it.
6 notes · View notes
bajibitch · 4 months
Text
Democratic Republic of Congo 🇨🇩 | Sudan 🇸🇩
Tumblr media
Links to help and learn more about what’s happening in the Democratic Republic of Congo. Also do NOT say free Congo 🇨🇬 when referring to the issues happening in the Democratic Republic of Congo 🇨🇩. They are two different places with different flags. Instead say free DRC.
Focuscongo.com • Friendsofthecongo.org
Don’t replace your electronic devices for newer versions and if you need to, you can buy a refurbished one. As someone who’s had the same refurbished phone for seven years, I promise you it isn’t bad. It works the same. Here’s a list of books you can read to learn more, recommended by Friends of the Congo.
Tumblr media
Here’s links so you learn more about what’s happening in Sudan 🇸🇩 Talk about Sudan.
Here’s people and organizations you can donate to:
Help Sudan Tarada Initiative • Help A Family of 11 Leave
Eyes on Sudan • Zubeyda Adam and Family
Tumblr media
The image says:
13,000+ people have been killed. 26,000+ people injured. 10M+ displaced, making Sudan the largest displacement crisis globally. 25M+ need humanitarian assistance and support, 14 million are children. 4M women & girls at risk of sexual violence. 1OK+ cholera cases with 275 associated deaths. 3.5M+ children suffer from acute malnutrition.
Tumblr media
As someone on twitter called out, since it applies here too. Do not say, free Palestine and then slap on free drc, free Ukraine, free list of other places… if you’re not adding ways to help, or providing information on their situation. It doesn’t help the other places because their tags just get filled with information on the genocide of Palestinians, when it should be sharing all of their problems. Don’t use their tag without talking about their situation as well.
Tumblr media
Last thing. Don't let the aesthetic of your blog be the reason you don't speak up about what's happening. You can make a post filled with links and add you’re little banners and whatnot while helping others. And don’t worry about your following count, if they leave then they aren’t worth having around. Also post ways you can help and don’t worry about what you aren’t able to do, negativity does nothing to help. Don’t tell everyone you’re not able to donate, just spread awareness so those who are able can provide.
Tumblr media
2K notes · View notes
flippedorbit · 1 year
Text
i’ve gained like three followers in the past 24 hours. where are you people coming from
1 note · View note
after-witch · 7 months
Text
Horrorfest: To Make me Fret or Make Me Frown [Yandere Scaramouche x Reader]
Title: To Make Me Fret or Make Me Frown [Yandere Scaramouche x Reader]
Synopsis: You bought a life-size puppet in terrible condition and restored it. But now it doesn't want to let you go.
For Horrorfest request:
Might be cheesy, but Scaramouche haunted puppet for horrorfest? Maybe reader inherits an uncannily lifelike doll, or finds him as an antique?
Word count: 1156
notes: yandere, puppet shenanigans
Tumblr media
“He’s creepy,” your friend says. Her nose crinkles and she puts a hand up as if she can ward away whatever haunting abominations she imagines must be inside the doll, waiting to slither through her nostrils. “And weird,” she continues. “And broken.” 
The doll has colorful blue hair and most of his strings are missing; one of his eyes is missing its pupil and an arm is cracked, a jagged wound that goes all the way to the fingers. If the doll were to be lifted, the damaged pinky on that arm would probably come right off--maybe the forefinger, too. He’s dirty and wearing only some cast-off shirt, itself probably too damaged to be sold by the secondhand store. 
Your friend moves on, eager to head to the second floor where all the nice, expensive secondhand goods are kept, often behind glass cases so they don’t get damaged by looky-loos.
But you stay where you are.
Because the moment you took one look at the damaged life-size puppet propped up at the back of the store, in the same pricetag-less limbo as piles of tupperware with no lid, ripped books and ugly dolls missing arms, and your heart swelled. 
“He’s perfect.” 
--
The pinky on the damaged arm did come off before you even left the store, but you were able to salvage the original forefinger. The pinky, sadly, couldn’t be repaired--but you made a new one using the original as a mold and unless you’re staring quite intensely (which to be fair, you often do, when working on the puppet) you wouldn't be able to tell that it’s not original to the hand. 
“I’d like to keep all your original parts as much as I can,” you murmur in the direction of the puppet, currently propped up on a chair you’d dragged into your workroom for the sole purpose of letting him have somewhere to sit while you worked. “You really are exquisite, you know? I can’t believe someone let you get into such rough shape.” 
You sigh, lamenting the treatment of such  a unique piece of craftsmanship, and place the finishing touches on the puppet’s repaired eye. The pupil needed to be filled in with new material but you went ahead and refreshed the iris of both eyes to make them look newer. 
“Good as new, see?” You hold up both repaired eyes to the puppet, but realize your mistake when you’re greeted with a prim looking puppet with two black holes where his eyes should be. 
“Oops.” You carefully slide the eyes back into the socket, fiddling with your finger until they slot right into place. “Sorry about that. I wasn’t thinking. There!” You grab the magnifying mirror from your desk and hold it up in front of the puppet. “Now, see? Much better.”
It took a few months of work, but the puppet was just about restored, in your view. You’d even bought a new outfit for him, a simple white blouse with ruffles and plain trousers. It wasn’t exactly what you imagined he might have worn originally, but that was fine. 
“I’m glad I found you,” you say, to the puppet--and to yourself. “I’ve had a really nice time working on you!” You hum to yourself and start tidying up your work bench. “Now all that’s left is attaching your new strings, and I can have you picked up.” You smile, to yourself, to the puppet, to no one in particular. “I can’t believe that antique shop gave you away for free--they had no idea they were sitting on such a rare item!” 
But you, who repaired dolls and the like for a living, immediately knew what the puppet was worth; and who to contact as soon as you were able to get it home, as you knew a friend with an antique shop that took special requests, and he had a particularly wealthy customer who was dying for one of these rare life-sized pieces. 
The puppet with freshly painted eyes stares back at you and says nothing.
--
Something is sitting on your chest. Something heavy and cool to the touch. 
Sleep paralysis?  It wouldn’t be the first time. You did sleep on your back, after all, and your nights were sometimes restless. 
But you open your eyes without trouble, and the sensation does not go away. It takes a few moments, blinking in the dark, to realize who (no--what) is sitting on you.
It’s the puppet. 
Freshly painted eyes stare down at you, a face framed by the carefully sewn-in hair. In the dark, you can’t see the wood grains of his skin or the repair marks that you’d buffed until smooth. All you can see is his human shape, the gleam of glass eyes. 
“What--” you say, before a wooden finger presses to your lips.
“You were going to sell me.” It’s the puppet--the puppet is speaking.
You nod, terrified, every nerve in your body inflamed.
This can’t be happening, and yet it is. 
“Why?”
Your lips are dry and you stutter out an answer, hoping to wake up from this dream at any moment. But the more time goes on, the more you realize that you’re living in reality. An awful one, but reality all the same.
“I-I needed the money, you… you’re worth a lot.”
There’s a sound that comes from the puppet’s wooden throat, but you can’t quite place it. 
“You can’t sell me,” he says, simply. If you weren’t sure that you’d lost your mind, you might say that he sounds upset. Not just angry, but--hurt. 
“I-I won’t.” You swallow. “Just um. Get off me and I can…”
“No.” The glass eyes bore down on you, and you wish your eyes weren’t becoming accustomed to the dark. It was better not to see the cool stillness in them, unmoving, unblinking.
It’s then that you notice the strings.
Not on the puppet--but on you. 
The strings are wrapped around your wrists, tight, pinching into the skin. When you look up you see he’s attached them not to a marionette control bar, but to his own fingers. To himself. 
He raises his repaired pinky and your wrist goes along with it--too fast and harsh, nearly flopping over your face.
”Ah.” He regards your flopped appendage with curiosity, before simply lifting it himself and placing it back on your chest. “Well. I’ll have plenty of time to figure that out.” 
He leans forward, pressing his weight down on you, until his face was close enough that you could spot your own work; spot the little fine details in the paint, the grooves of his wooden flesh, the way his hair fell in a certain manner thanks to the placement of your carefully created knots. 
Oh, you thought, as his face came closer to yours, as he kissed you with puppet eyes wide open and wooden lips stiff. 
The paint on his lips needed to be touched up. 
849 notes · View notes
morganbritton132 · 11 months
Note
Love the idea of Steve and Eddie being so sickening in love that Eddie calling him by his name makes Steve be like “why are you being mean”. Imagining how funny it would be if Steve was hanging out with a new friend or co worker or something at the house for the first time and Eddie comes in and is like “hey Steve” and kisses him on the cheek before introductions and obligatory “how was your day” and when Eddie leaves a couple minutes later the new friend is about to comment on how nice Steve’s husband seems when Steve turns to her and is like “I’m so so sorry you had to see that he is not usually like that he is just still pissy about (insert dumb funny thing here)”
This is cute and hilarious, and it’s so canon to this AU that it hurts. I love it so much.
I’m picturing Steve having a group of teachers over because they’re part of a committee and they’re planning an event at the school. Some of the teachers are people that Steve has known years, but the majority are people who don’t know Eddie outside of the guy that sometimes picks Steve up on bad brain days.
They’re in the thick of making posters and streamers when Eddie comes into the house, guitar case in hand from practicing at Jeff’s. He comes into the dining room where everybody is, plants a kiss on Steve’s cheek like, “Hey, Steve. Missed you.”
“Missed you more,” Steve hums back, sinking into Eddie’s side when he wraps his arm around his waist and pulls him closer.
Eddie rests his head on Steve’s shoulder and looks down at the poster he is making. It’s very glittery. He asks, “How’s it going?”
He listens attentively as Steve tells him of all they’ve accomplished and even reminds him of something that he said he wanted to do for the event and forgot about. He smiles and shakes hands when he’s introduced to other teachers and even recalls some of the things Steve told him about them.
At the ends of it, Eddie kisses Steve’s cheek again, tells him that they’re doing amazing work, and then says, “I’ve got a melody in my head, gonna go iron it out. Let me know if you need anything.”
He even says as he leaves, “Love you.”
“Love you, too,” Steve echoes back. Once the basement door closes, Steve just sighs and says so apologetically, “I’m so sorry you had to see that and if it made any of you uncomfortable. He’s not typically like that, you know. He’s just mad at me right now because I won’t walk a red carpet with him next week.”
At first everybody thinks that he’s joking but Steve looks so genuinely embarrassed that they have to believe him. Everybody is just like, “Excuse me, he’s mad at you?? He isn’t usually like that??? Meaning that he’s typically more loving and affectionate???”
Kathy, a seventh grade English teacher who shares way too much about her failing marriage, is just like, “Shoot, I can’t even get my husband to say he loves me half the time.”
“Kathy,” Steve says sincerely. “You need to divorce your husband.”
“I know.”
There’s a beat of silence before David, a newer teacher at the school, asks, “Red carpet? He is like, movie star or something?”
1K notes · View notes
theminecraftbee · 3 months
Text
okay so. hear me out. but. au concept--
joel is one of many people affected by a Vanishing. its a phenomenon sweeping the country--people simply not showing up for work, school, life one day, as though they've vanished from the face of the earth. it's almost possible to mistake for normal missing persons cases, if it weren't for the way a few of the higher-profile Vanishings have happened to people who shouldn't have been able to vanish at all, let alone in a way that wouldn't be noticed until too late. look at joel's hometown. the people monitoring the dam were supposed to be redundant, and yet--
anyway. not like he cares or anything, except for the fact this stupid disaster or whatever has left him without anywhere to live or anyone to live with, and he still has a year of high school left, so he can't just do whatever he wants. luckily there's this school in a town called new hermiton that agreed to give him a scholarship to finish his education in the name of recovery and solidarity or whatever, and it's kind of a shwankier school than he'd normally go for, but it's free and, more importantly, they're willing to pay for his lodging, and he can't really turn that down. and it's not like he has a choice but to upend his entire life now. so packing what few of his belongings survived into a bag and getting on a train and moving across the country to a new school it is, he guesses.
(he's been having nightmares that inexplicably feature swarms of blue butterflies. last time he checked, lakes don't have butterflies in them. although maybe it's a metaphor or something, on account of the butterflies saying stupid stuff about how people who are remembered can't disappear, and even a false world cannot be erased if it's watched over, and how fate depends on him holding people in his heart. thanks for saying the same stupid shitty platitudes his social worker told him, just more cryptically, butterflies. real cool.)
new hermiton, it turns out, is a small city. while new hermiton academy is a newer school, much of the city is older. he's moved into a nice enough flat in an older apartment building. he has another cryptic butterfly dream. he thinks he remembers someone trying to urgently warn him of something, but it's all... shaky. that morning, he goes to the school for the first time. he's greeted by a fellow transfer student, skizzleman, although apparently he already knows some of the other folks in town, and transferred here so he could stay with them. but it's at least someone else in a similar enough situation to joel, especially since joel can just tell by the way people are looking at him that skizz didn't have much of a choice but to be here, either, and best friends with impulse or not, he's on his own too.
so. a friend. maybe this school won't be that bad, even if joel keeps having nightmares, and even if the weather here is weirdly cold for july, and even if his new homeroom professor keeps on looking at him really weirdly. (aren't professors supposed to be better about stupid rumors anyway? what's that mr. hills's deal?)
and then, two days later, he waves skizz off at the end of the school day, and gets skizz's friend, impulse, at his door, desperate to hear that skizz had just come to stay the night in joel's shitty lonely apartment, because otherwise it looks like--come on man. joel's already having a shit time. the universe deciding to go after his one existing friend too? he promises impulse to help investigate that night, in the vain hope that Skizz isn't one of the Vanished. joel gets a splitting migraine trying to follow their path back, though, and they have to stop for the night.
skizz is reported missing the next morning. joel resigns himself to cutting himself off from the people around him, as per usual. then, strangely, mr. hills corners him as he goes home.
"you'll need this," he says, and shoves what feels like a cheap butterfly knife into joel's hands. "uh, remember, trust your heart! you'll know how to use it."
"what," joel says. "hold on. you're supposed to be a teacher. why are you giving me this. i know for a fact my file says i have like, ptsd or whatever, which is stupid, but you definitely aren't supposed to be giving me a knife, you weirdo?"
"you'll know how to use it," joe hills says again. "goodbye! believe in yourself!"
mr. hills sprints behind a building before he has to explain anything else. joel is left standing on the sidewalk holding a knife, staring after him.
so. that's weird as hell. joel shivers in the cold and continues on his way home. the butterfly knife feels heavy in his pockets. he should probably report that guy to his social worker or something, but actually talking to his social worker feels like conceding defeat. joel can take care of himself. he can prove he can take care of himself. just watch him. step one: go out to get ramen because he forgot to buy any food for his apartment.
he sees impulse putting up signs as he eats. impulse looks miserable. joel thinks about how skizz, just in the short time he'd known him, had sort of unintentionally given away that he felt isolated after his mother Vanished. that impulse was a great friend, but impulse didn't understand what it was like. he never really SAID as much, but--
it's not fair to impulse, for that to be the last thing impulse remembered of what was apparently a friend since childhood. and joel doesn't care about any of these guys, but he can still pay his check and go out and help impulse go looking. he's no good at comforting people and doesn't know this guy, but joel had been alone too, sitting on the roof and crying, when the helicopters came.
except when they go back to the path by the school, joel's head starts to hurt again.
he looks up and there's a butterfly.
"hey, impulse, are butterflies common here?" he asks, a little desperately.
"i mean, not really, why?" impulse says.
"uh," joel says, and gestures. the two of them stare as the strange yellow butterfly circles in place.
"okay, so that is kind of weird," impulse admits.
"right?" joel says. "the only way it would be weirder is if it were blue." impulse gives him a look. joel does not explain.
it starts to fly away.
"we should follow it," impulse says, his voice getting a little dull. "yeah. we should follow it."
"what? no! no we should not follow the haunted butterfly, are you nuts?" joel says, but it's a bit too late. (maybe this is what the knife is for: stabbing impulse. it would be an effective method of stopping him!) he chases impulse down, down to the river, where yellow butterflies are swarming. impulse, as though possessed, simply steps into the swarm and falls through them to the water.
joel's, uh, freaking out more than a little bit? he'll admit he's freaking out. he dives forward to try to grab him, only to realize that he doesn't see impulse anywhere.
a single blue butterfly lands on joel's shoulder. "do you hold his heart next to yours?"
"i'm going insane," joel says.
"no heart is meant to be completely alone. do you hold his next to yours?"
"this isn't happening," joel says. "this is like a stupid manga or something. it's not happening."
"there is still time to save them; you must hold your heart strong, or the consequences will be dire. i believe in you."
the butterfly vanishes.
"fuck it," joel says. "if i drown then it's nothing people haven't expected of me anyway."
he steps through the swarm of butterflies.
that night, he drags both impulse and skizz out of the river. they're all freezing cold. shadows and strange, yellowy liquid still cling to all of their skin. also, joel stabbed himself, which like, glad to know that's what the knife was for, apparently, and the scar is warm and comforting. he can feel his--persona, and don't ask him how he knows that--shifting under his skin, under the mark on his hand. it said its name is pygmalion; it says it is a piece of joel's soul.
this is all patently insane. but skizz and impulse are alive and NOT eaten by shadow monsters, so even if they're both a little unconscious, joel takes that as a win.
they lie on the ground outside the river. someone stumbles across them. "well give me some teeth and call me an alligator. you got out on your own," breathes a fellow student clutching a dagger. joel thinks he's in the class across the hall. also--
"what are you talking about," joel wheezes.
"you found it on your own. you can find them?" the student says. his eyes are wide. something in joel's soul recognizes something in the student's. something in joel's BRAIN puts two and two together and realizes why mr. hills gave him a knife.
"no. no, go away, i don't want to be involved in this," joel says.
"well, don't you think it's too late for that?" the student says, and joel passes out. he's pretty sure the butterflies have to be laughing at him. in fact, as though to mock him further, after passing out, he doesn't even get to avoid it forever, because he wakes up in a glowing blue boat. there is a man with white-blonde hair, blue eyes, and a blue outfit leaning over him, poking him.
joel takes no responsibility for punching him. he'd do it again, too, as the long-nosed man sitting next to the unmanned steering wheel welcomes him to the velvet room.
(this, joel realizes later, all rather sets the tone for what the next year of his life is about to become.)
337 notes · View notes
corroded-hellfire · 1 year
Text
Jack & Coke - Eddie Munson x Reader
Tumblr media
Collaboration with my darling @munson-blurbs
Summary: When your best friend Eddie betrays you, you head to The Hideout for a drink—and maybe something more.
Note: This is what comes from late night conversations and texts that say “I had another angsty eddie thought.”
Warnings: angst, family issues, smut, p in v, age gap but both parties are well over 18, oral, m receiving
Words: 4.8k
Tumblr media
“And then you put your middle finger riiiiight here,” Eddie explains patiently, tongue slightly poking out of his mouth as he adjusts your grip on the guitar neck. “Perfect. Now, give a little strum.”
The A-chord doesn’t sound as good as when he plays it, but it’s an improvement since you’d started this impromptu lesson half an hour ago.The fact that butterflies flapped their wings in your stomach every time he touched you didn’t help your concentration, either. 
“I still like it better when you play,” you tell him shyly, lifting the guitar and handing it back to him. “You’re, like, a natural-born rockstar.”
Eddie grins, leaning back against your bed. “Yeah, well, you can’t teach this kind of bad-assery,” he teases, booping you on the nose playfully and inadvertently sending a shockwave of shivers down your spine.
You’re about to muster up the courage to nudge him back when you hear the front door open.
“I’m home!” Andrea shouts obnoxiously, making you roll your eyes. You miss the initial flash of fear that washes over your best friend’s face, mistaking his grimace for a mutual dislike of your older sister.
You know that everyone has issues with their siblings; even ones that are close-knit still have their share of rivalries. But your relationship with Andrea goes beyond the usual bickering. Since you were very young, Andrea has bullied and tormented you incessantly. As kids, Andrea would break her old toys and tell your parents that you did it, that way they would buy her newer and better toys. From the moment that Andrea hit puberty, she was the “hot one.” Never mind not being the “pretty sister,” you had to deal with being invisible because all eyes were glued to Andrea. Then you practically were invisible when you started high school and Andrea pretended she didn’t even know you. It didn’t matter that you’d never ratted her out for all the times she snuck out of the house after your parents went to sleep. But any little thing you did wrong, Andrea went straight to your parents and snitched. It probably wouldn’t have mattered if you squealed on your sister anyway since she was quite obviously your parents’ favorite.
When boys did talk to you, it was because they wanted to get to your sister. Some of them thought treating the little sister as a charity case would get them into Andrea’s pants. The only time it was ever different was when Eddie Munson started talking to you your freshman year. He plopped down next to you at your lunch table and started talking to you about the copy of The Hobbit you had been reading. At first you thought this was another ploy to get to Andrea through you, but the longer he talked about things far nerdier than the book in your hands, you figured this guy might actually just want to talk to you. It was an odd and gratifying feeling. The first time you’d mentioned that you were Andrea’s sister, Eddie actually seemed surprised. “You two share blood?” he said. “She’s a goddamn tornado that destroys everything in its path. And you…you’re like a rainbow.” It’s the greatest compliment you’ve ever gotten. 
As your friendship with Eddie grew, you began to tell him more about how Andrea treated you. How she’d hurl the meanest, most vile words your way with no provocation. You didn’t need to provoke Andrea, she was constantly on the offensive. “Why does she treat me like shit all the time?” you’d ask, and Eddie would reply, “She doesn’t need a reason. There’s just venom in her blood.” 
Andrea was the walking embodiment of those luminescent fish that were so beautiful and shiny on the outside, only to lure the smaller, weaker fish in so that it could crush them. Her jet black hair was always shiny and never a strand was out of place. No blemish ever dared to appear on her skin, leaving her with the smoothest, most glowing complexion. Her curves seemed to be perfectly sculpted, defying anyone to not look at her and either want to be her or want to be with her. Obviously, it was impossible for you to keep up with her current flavor of the week. 
“Are you going to play for me?” you ask as Eddie just sits with the guitar in his lap. You scoot until your thigh is pressed up against his. It would be so easy to tilt your head and rest it on his shoulder. The comforting scent of cigarettes, Old Spice deodorant, and a hint of weed floods your senses as you try to be as close to him as you can—without being creepy about it, you remind yourself. 
“I, um,” Eddie mumbles, his eyes watching your bedroom door intently. “I thought you said your sister wasn’t going to be home?”
“I didn’t think she was,” you say with a shrug. “But you know Andrea, she does whatever the hell she wants. Maybe she met her quota for making children cry today and decided to come home early.” 
Eddie nods and looks back down to the guitar in his lap. He swallows so loud that you’re able to hear it, which has you raising your eyebrows. 
“Look, I know she’s demonic,” you say. “But she probably doesn’t even know we’re in here. Besides, if she was going to torture someone, it would be me, not you.”
“I don’t want her to hurt you. I’d rather she hurt me, actually,” Eddie says, still looking down at the guitar in his lap. More words rest on the tip of his tongue, but the bedroom door flying open stops him. 
“I said, I’m—oh, hi, Eddie,” she trills, giving a tiny wave. “Come back for round two?”
Round two? You glance over at Eddie, waiting for an explanation, but he just turns beet red and sheepishly drops his gaze. 
Andrea takes in the puzzled look on your face and laughs harshly. “Aw, did your best friend not tell you?” There’s nothing but malice in her tone, and you feel like a rock landed in your lower abdomen. “Well, let me fill you in.”
“N-No, I should…” Eddie starts, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “I swung by yesterday…I forgot you’d picked up that extra shift…”
Andrea rolls her eyes impatiently. “Write a goddamn novel, why don’t you?” she snaps. “I’ll summarize: you weren’t home, I was, and Eddie and I hooked up.”
“H-Hooked up?” The butterflies now have lead wings, and you feel the bile rising in your throat. 
“We slept together,” Eddie clarifies softly at the same time that Andrea quips, “we fucked.”
You try to blink back the tears that mist over your eyes. Your sister knows how you feel about Eddie; you weren’t naïve enough to tell her, she snooped through your diary and has been teasing you about it ever since. And while Eddie has no idea about the massive crush you’ve been harboring, he certainly is aware of how awful your sister is. His betrayal stings one thousand times worse. 
“Your bed is really great for sex,” Andrea sneers as you stumble to your feet. “Not that you’d know.”
This has to be a nightmare. You’re going to wake up at any moment, and the idea of Eddie and Andrea sleeping together will be a figment of your overactive imagination. It has to be, there’s no other explanation. But when you glance down at Eddie and see the shame that fills his face, you know. It’s real. Your best friend betrayed you in possibly the worst way he could have done so. All to get his dick wet.
“What the fuck?” It’s all that you can get out of your mouth. You suddenly feel like you’ve run ten miles. You’re lightheaded, your pulse is racing, and sweat is beginning to break out along your hairline. Eddie sets the guitar down and stands up. He reaches for you and you flinch away and pull back from him. The look of hurt that flashes in his eyes would normally make you want to wrap him up in your arms. But now? Now that you know that he fucked your sister in your bed, you don’t want him to ever touch you again. 
“Sweetheart, I’m—”
“Don’t you fucking call me that,” you snap. Looking past him, you can see your sister’s face is full of glee as a self-satisfied smirk settles on her lips. “What was in it for you, huh? Just to hurt me?”
Andrea scoffs and brings a hand up to her chest, reminding you of a southern belle clutching her pearls. “Are you insinuating that I don’t have feelings for dear Edward?”
Eddie rolls his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. Yeah, Eddie, you want to say, that’s the girl you slept with. 
“I would never insinuate that you have any feelings at all. Pretty sure you were born with a lump of coal in your chest instead of a heart. Come here, I’ll stab you with my letter opener and we’ll see the black blood come fucking rushing out,” you seethe. 
“Always so dramatic,” Andrea says with a sigh. “That must be why Eddie doesn’t reciprocate the silly little crush you have on him.”
Eddie’s eyes snap to you, and at any other time, you would’ve said him finding out is the worst possible thing to happen to you. But that’s been usurped now, so you really don’t care how he’s going to react. 
“Must be,” you retort, “or maybe he’s only into psycho bitches.” Clenching your fists, you turn to face Eddie. “I hope her pussy was worth it.” You storm over to your bedroom door, pushing past the both of them. Before you leave, you spin around to face the traitors. “I never want to see either of you again.” You don’t wait for either to respond; you just grab your bag and rush out to your car. 
You’re not sure why you drive to the Hideout; maybe it’s because you still want the comfort of Eddie, but you tell yourself it’s because the drinks are cheap and payday isn’t until next week. 
“I’ll take a Jack & Coke, please,” you tell Lou. The bartender nods, and you add, “you can put it on Eddie’s tab.” He is the reason you’re drinking, after all. 
The thought of their bodies melded into one, him holding her the way you’d only dreamed he’d hold you—it’s too much to bear. And now, like an idiot, you’d left them alone to do it again. 
Lou slides your drink over with a small smile, the most affection you’ve ever seen from the usually stoic man. You down the drink, and then another, frowning when you get the urge to break the seal. 
“Be right back,” you mutter to no one in particular, hoisting yourself off of the barstool and traipsing towards the restroom. You get a decent glimpse of yourself in the mirror: eyes still slightly puffy from when you’d been crying in the car, mascara smudged and smeared. A flick of the makeup wand has you looking a bit perkier already, and you practice your smile a few times before walking back out. 
Lou has another drink ready for you, cocking his head towards the other side of the bar. “Paid for by that gentleman over there,” he informs you, raising his eyebrows. 
You look to where he’s motioning and see a gorgeous older man giving you a little wave. His black t-shirt clings to his muscular frame, and you can’t help but notice the way his biceps ripple with each small movement. He looks to be in his mid- to late-forties, but his hair doesn’t show any signs of thinning. Short brown curls cover his scalp, cropped closely at the base of his neck. His upper body is covered in tattoos, and you immediately wonder where else he has ink. 
You saunter over to him, batting your eyelashes flirtatiously, just as you’d watched Andrea do countless times before. “I guess I should be thanking you for this drink,” you say, giggling and taking a sip. 
“Pleasure’s mine,” he offers, grabbing his green Heineken bottle and taking a swig. “Looked kinda sad, and pretty girls should always have a smile on their face.”
“It worked.” You rest your hand on his bicep, surprising yourself with your own brazenness. Or maybe it’s just tipsiness?
“You gotta name, pretty girl?” the mystery man asks, and you tell him. “Pretty name, too. Damn,” he muses. “I’m Jack. Just, uh, moved back to Hawkins a coupla days ago.”
“Moved back? So you don’t need the welcome tour?” you pout, earning a chuckle from him. 
“Pretty girl, I’ll take you up on anything you offer.”
You consider his proposition. “Let me finish this drink and we’ll see.”
His hand rests on your thigh as he tells you that he’s got a job lined up at the local power plant—immediately reminding you of Wayne, but you push the feeling down. You allow yourself to get lost in his sky blue eyes, somehow both haunting and comforting. 
You kill out your third drink, contemplating ordering one more. Either Jack was paying, or Eddie was, so all you had to worry about was how drunk you wanted to get. 
“What had you all upset earlier, hm?” Jack asks, running his thumb along the denim above your knee. “Don’t tell me it’s some stupid boy.”
“Fine, I won’t tell you then.” You giggle again—you can’t seem to stop giggling around him. “He’s not worth the time.”
Jack shakes his head. “He’s not. You don’t need to play his games. What you need,” he says seriously, “is a real man.”
“And where can I find one?”
His lips crash against yours hungrily, gently parting them with his tongue. He tastes like the hoppiness of beer and stale cigarettes, but you don’t mind. 
“That tour you mentioned earlier,” he murmurs in your ear, “can the first stop be my place?”
You give him a pout, leaning forward into his space, just enough for him to get a peek down your shirt. “I don’t know if I can wait that long.”
Jack looks around the bar, doing a doubletake when he sees the bathrooms in the back corner. He slides from his seat and takes one of your hands in his. There’s a smirk on his face as he walks backwards towards the bathrooms, tugging you along.
“Just as impatient as I am,” he says. “We shouldn’t wait any longer then.”
Without taking notice of if it’s the men or women’s room, you follow Jack in as he nudges a bathroom door open with his elbow. He’s quick to lock it behind you and his hands are instantly on you, grabbing at your waist as his mouth finds yours again. The kisses are urgent and sloppy, no teasing, just devouring one another. Your hands move down to his beltbuckle, making quick work of it and working on the button of his jeans. Strong, large hands grope over your chest as you shove his pants down, but just as you break from the kiss to get down on your knees, there’s a loud banging on the bathroom door. You’re startled and grab onto Jack’s arm, and he’s quick to wrap it around you reassuringly.
“Not in my bar!” Lou shouts through the door. 
Well, you think, can’t show my face at The Hideout again. Your face is burning in embarrassment as Jack huffs an awkward chuckle and resituates his belt. 
“I guess my place is the first stop on the tour then. That is, if you still want to?” Jack’s eyes meet yours, obviously wanting to convey that if you’re no longer interested, that’s fine. But a little embarrassment was nothing compared to how you felt earlier in the day.
“I want to,” you say. For emphasis, you grab the back of his neck and give him a kiss that proves how much you want him. When you pull away, there’s a dazed smile on his face that may be the most endearing thing you’ve seen all day. He takes your hand in his and slowly opens the bathroom door. Luckily, Lou isn’t standing on the other side of it, but you’re sure he’s not far off, watching to make sure the two of you leave. 
You force yourself not to look over at the bar as you and Jack head towards the door. It’s not like you think the bartender will tell anyone, but you can’t bring yourself to meet his eye at the moment. Jack’s car isn’t the nicest, but that’s not something you ever cared about anyway. If it gets you from point A to point B, that’s all that matters. The gentleman that he is, he holds the passenger’s side door open for you and you slip inside. He practically runs around to the driver’s side and it makes you let out a soft giggle. When’s the last time someone seemed this eager to spend time with you? And seem to be genuinely enjoying it?
The ride to his place is only about five minutes, and Jack makes sure you stay in the car until he can come around and open the door for you again. The apartment complex isn’t the nicest either, but what was in Hawkins? His place is on the first floor and you watch his hands as he fumbles with his keys. They’re large, calloused, from what you can only assume is years of work. Staring at them just makes you want to have them all over your body even more. 
As soon as he swings the door open, he’s all over you again. Frantic kisses keep his lips connected to yours as the two of you clumsily make your way to his couch. The material is worn, but not dirty, and you find yourself once again fumbling with his belt as he sits on the cushions.
“Picking up where we left off?” Jack teases, throwing his head back in ecstasy as you get back on your knees and take him into your mouth. The saltiness of sweat and pre-cum hits your tongue, his cock edging towards your throat when he brings his hands to the back of your head and helping you find the perfect rhythm.
“J-Jesus Christ,” he hisses, bucking his hips slightly and watching the tears involuntarily pooling along your lash line. “First time back in that dive bar in years, and I managed to find the girl who gives the best head in Hawkins.”
As if to prove his point further, you cup his heavy balls as you lick up and down his shaft. You keep at it for a few minutes, swirling your tongue around his overly sensitive tip before he pulls away.
“You’re good–too good; but ‘m not gonna lie to you,” he admits when you stare up at him with a puzzled expression, “I don’t bounce back as fast as those college guys you’re probably used to, and I gotta be inside your pussy tonight.”
You nod, tugging your shirt above your head as he helps you shimmy out of your jeans. “Like what you see?”
Jack doesn’t answer right away; just unhooks your bra and watches it fall to the floor. His gaze immediately snaps back to your bare breasts, beckoning you over to straddle his waist. His hard length presses against your lace panties, and the two of you moan in tandem.
“I don’t think you need these,” he mumbles, running his thumb over the lace before tearing them off completely. His middle finger easily finds your clit as he makes slow, deliberate circles.
You can’t help the way you grind against his touch, begging him to stretch you so good. The finger drags through your folds before he slips it inside you.
“So wet already, hmm? Pretty girl must need another finger.” You cry out in pleasure as his forefinger breaches your hole, pumping faster until you feel the familiar tension building in your core.
“N-Need your cock inside me,” you manage, barely able to formulate a thought, let alone a coherent sentence. 
He reaches into the pockets of the pants he discarded and fishes out his wallet to grab the foil-wrapped condom tucked away. Your eyes watch hungrily as he slips it over his cock, fucking his fist a few times to make sure he’s ready for you. His other hand grabs your waist and helps guide you until you’re hovering over his cock. Slowly, you begin to slide down, both of you letting out a groan as he first enters you. The stretch feels so good and from the way Jack’s squeezing his eyes closed and biting at his lower lip, you’d say it feels good for him as well.
“Shit,” he mumbles. “Gives the best head and has the tightest pussy.”
Your only response is a whimper as you lower yourself even further, letting more of his cock fill you up. Once you no longer need your arms to steady yourself, you brace your hands on Jack’s chest. When your hands meet the fabric of his shirt though, you frown. Unable to form words as he finally bottoms out inside you, you tug at the dark material of his shirt, hoping he gets the hint. Reluctantly taking his hands off of you, he maneuvers out of his shirt and tosses it on the floor with his jeans. Most of his chest is covered in ink and you find your eyes trailing the different designs as you rock your hips back and forth. You slide your hands down to rest on his abdomen, since there’s no tattoos there, and you can get a better view of the artwork above. A snake is curled near his right collarbone and a little beneath that there are some sort of wings, but you’re not sure if it’s meant to be an angel, a bird, or something else. On the left side of his chest there is a bird, and it looks like a crow. There’s also a small “E” down near his heart that you can only assume is for an old girlfriend. 
Jack starts rocking his hips up to meet yours and it has your mind completely forgetting about the tattoos as you close your eyes in pleasure. His hands feel rough where they rest on the skin of your waist, but it feels so good when he slides them around to the front and grabs your breasts. You give a particularly hard thrust of your hips when his thumb grazes over your right nipple. There’s a breathy chuckle below you as he sees how sensitive you are to his touch. 
“Feel good, huh?” Jack asks. Breaths becoming more shallow, you nod your head. That’s not good enough for him, though. He gently pinches your nipple, just enough to get your attention, not enough to hurt. “Use your words for me, pretty girl.”
“It’s good,” you say. “So fucking good.” 
“Tell me how it feels.”
“So deep,” you say through a moan. “You’re so big. I feel you everywhere.” It’s true. He’s definitely the largest you’ve ever been with, and in your position, it feels like he’s splitting you open. His arm wraps around your middle as he adjusts himself so he’s sitting up more, your faces closer together this way. As your eyes slip closed again, his lips settle on yours, licking into your mouth hungrily. His teeth graze your bottom lip and it causes you to moan into his mouth. 
“You’re close,” he says. It’s not a question, but a bonafide statement; he already knows your body all too well. “Cream my cock, pretty girl. Just let go f’me.”
The coil snaps as he thrusts into you harder and faster than before. He spills into the condom with a groan of your name but doesn’t pull out right away. You keep him inside you as the two of you catch your breath, coming down from your highs.
“I should go,” you murmur, realizing that there is no way in hell that Andrea won’t rat you out for coming in late and smelling of sex. “Could you give me a lift back to the Hideout so I can get my car?”
Jack nods, discarding the used rubber in a nearby waste bin as you get dressed. You start to look for your underwear before remembering how he destroyed it, and it has you getting wet all over again. 
He kisses you one last time in the bar parking lot. “Sorry I couldn’t stick around for round two,” you tease, “but maybe I’ll catch you here another time?”
“I sure fuckin’ hope so.”
Tumblr media
You’re in your bedroom a few days later, frantically searching through your cassette collection for your favorite AC/DC tape. It’s not in the “As” section, where it would normally be, and you realize with a sinking feeling in your stomach that you’d left it at Eddie’s a few weeks ago.
“Shit, shit, shit,�� you mutter. He was the only one allowed to borrow it–you’d gotten it signed by Angus Young when you saw the band in concert, and it meant everything to you. You needed it back.
The drive to Eddie’s trailer seems to fly by, now that you’re dreading facing him. You knock on the door once to no answer, but his van is parked in front, so you knock again, louder this time.
“I need my AC/DC tape,” you snarl as soon as he opens the door.
He rubs his face, combing his fingers through his hair. “Can I drop it off later? And then maybe we can talk?” he asks meekly.
“No.” You shake your head and put out your hand. “Go get the tape and give it to me now.”
Eddie glances around the trailer nervously, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Look,” he starts, “now’s really not a good time…”
You scoff. “Why? Are you fucking another one of my family members? A cousin or something?”
A brief look of hurt flashes across Eddie’s face. He shakes his head and looks down at his feet before meeting your eyes again. “No. No, I wouldn’t…” he trails off with a sigh, sensing it’s useless—and he’s right. “My dad’s here.”
That’s one of the last things you expected to come out of his mouth. Your eyebrows raise in shock as you stare at him. Eddie hadn’t seen his father in years. Didn’t want to, according to him, no matter how many times his dad reached out. The relationship was tumultuous to say the least, but you felt you never had the right to offer any advice since you couldn’t relate to his situation. And Eddie never asked, so you weren’t going to say anything. 
“Your dad?” you ask, just wanting to clarify. 
“Yeah,” Eddie says. He keeps speaking, but movement in the trailer behind him catches your eye. You blink a few times to make sure you’re seeing what you think you are. An airy giggle bursts out of you, drawing both the attention of Eddie and the man in the living room—Eddie’s father, apparently.
“What?” Eddie asks, brow furrowing in confusion. He looks behind him to see his dad, then back to you, unsure of what is making you laugh. “What’s so funny?”
Eddie’s dad stares at you, eyes widening as he comes forward to stand next to his son at the door. The shit-eating grin on your face must be confusing both of them, but it’s wholly impossible for you not to find this whole situation highly amusing. 
“Eddie?” his dad asks. “How do you know the pretty girl from the bar?”
Your ex-best friend’s gaze shoots to his father, head moving so fast that the curls whip around his head. Seeing them next to one another, you can see the resemblance. About the same height and build, same nose, and both covered in ink. Their curls are roughly the same color even if one has brown eyes and one has blue. 
“W-What?” Eddie asks, looking from his dad back to you.
“Hi, Jack,” you say, giving the older man a wink. 
“Wait, what the fuck?” Eddie asks, the color draining from his face. You wait a beat while the realization sets in. “She’s…he’s…” He turns back to you. “You fucked my dad?”
You laugh, shrugging as you reply, “Guess so.” You waltz past your bewildered friend–ex-friend– grabbing Jack’s hand as you lead him back to Eddie's bedroom. 
“Wanna help me look for my tape?” you ask, hooking a finger through his belt loop and you bring your lips to whisper in his ear, “and maybe we can see about that round two?”
Jack grins, grabbing a handful of your ass as he follows you. “Looks like we found the next stop on our tour.”
Tumblr media
1K notes · View notes
withahappyrefrain · 8 months
Text
Gin & Tonics (and Parking Spots)
Tumblr media
Summary: In which Venus finally meets the infamous Dagger Squad. The fourth installment of the Parking Spots universe
Warnings: Language, Venus being Venus, Jake being lovesick, suggestive language, Venus has an actual name but it's only used twice
A sea of khaki that reeked of testosterone everywhere one turned. 
It was Venus' worst nightmare. 
She made her way past the crowd of people, avoiding the stares. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know she stuck out like a sore thumb. A "civilian" is what Jake called it. 
Apparently "not a soldier" was too simple for the military. And "wasn't coerced by a recruiter to sell my soul to the US government" was too long. 
"If you get there before me or Javy, just sit by Penny. She's the owner. You'll like her a lot." 
Venus rolled her eyes at her fiancé, "I like anyone who can make a good drink, Jake." 
Jake smiled before pressing a gentle kiss to her temple, “Y’know what I mean. She’ll look out for you.”
“What can I get you my dear?” Venus looked up to find an older woman behind the bar. 
Her green eyes looked kind. She suddenly understood what Jake meant. 
“I’ll just take a gin and tonic,” She shrugged her shoulders, trying her best to appear indifferent, undeterred by the borderline lewd stares. When getting ready, she thought the yellow dress would be a great choice for meeting Jake’s friends. Not too formal, not too informal. It was flattering, but not too revealing. She even put thought into her hair, opting to style it in waves rather than the natural curls that Jake adored. 
“You wore that on our first date,” Jake said softly, a smile gracing his face. 
She lowered the hanger in surprise, “You remember that?”
“Of course,” he reached a hand out to cup one side of her sweet face, “How could I forget?”
She didn’t account for the fact she would be alone for a bit. No, she was far too busy freaking out about meeting her fiance’s friends for the first time. 
Fuck. 
“They’re gonna love you V.”
Perhaps if she had some experience of being in a serious relationship and meeting their friends, anxiety wouldn’t be coursing through her body. She had met a few friends of the person she was dating before, but it was usually at a party where after introductions, she was left alone to her own devices. 
The idea that someone would want to introduce her to other parts of their life, to become a part of them, was new. That they thought she was important enough to do so. Family? Sure. That was a given. But friends? The people you willingly chose to spend time with?
 A whole different ballpark. Though in this case, perhaps turmac was more fitting. 
“Since you’re new, I’m going to need to see your ID hun,” The woman, presumably Penny, said, pulling her out of her thoughts. 
"Of course," She held her head high as pulled her driver's license from her wallet, ignoring the stares, trying to play off her hands shaking. 
If they wanted her to move, they could fucking ask. 
The bartender, who had to be Penny, looked at the ID, a soft smile forming, “Well Danica, I can see why Jake calls you Venus.”
“You…. know who I am?” Great, there was already a preconceived idea of who she was. Before she even had a chance, her fate was sealed. 
What was she known as? The girl who yelled at Jake in a parking lot? The girl who threw bread rolls at him? 
Penny continued to smile, “Of course! Jake is always excited to show me the latest picture he’s taken of you. The flowers you two got from the farmer’s market are beautiful by the way.”
Heat rushed to her face while recalling last weekend’s adventures. Jake insisted on taking her picture by the flower stand. It was strange at first-still was-how his Instagram that had once been only thirst traps workout pictures were now full of her and their adventures together. 
As much fun as it was going through the older posts and giving him hell about it, she loved looking at the newer photos, the ones that showed their journey together. 
“He’s a good photographer, I’ll give him that,” A small smile began to form on Venus' face, her shoulders visibly relaxing. 
“Don’t give him too much. He needs to be kept on his toes,” Penny laughed in agreement, “I’m Penny by the way. So where is the man of the hour?"
Penny handed her a gin and tonic as she explained, "Had a last minute meeting with Simpson. He should be coming soon, as is the rest of the squad from my understanding." 
Penny raised an eyebrow, "So you finally get to meet them! They have been dying to meet you. Been asking Jake about it for months." 
The grip on her drink tightened. 
Jake had a reputation. And with that reputation, came preconceived notions of what kind of girl he would date. 
Venus was not what people thought of when it came to Jake's ideal type. While his family adored her, they all admitted they were surprised when Jake first called to tell them about the woman he met in a parking lot. Hell, even her family was surprised when she described him. They still adored him, loved him, and insisted on serving a traditionally prepared lechon at the engagement party.
But friends were a whole different breed. One willingly chose to spend time with them. Friends were honest, and more often than not, their opinion was highly valued. 
She had learned that the hard way. 
"I mean, she's nice but do you see it going anywhere? I don't." 
"She's really not your type, man." 
"She's kind of a bitch." 
A soft hand gently laid on top of hers, breaking Venus out of her thoughts. Was it motherly instinct or was her anxiety that plainly written across her face? 
She found Penny smiling, "They're so excited to meet you. They already adore you and ask about you constantly." 
They were looking forward to meeting you, she repeated in her head. That means they want to meet you. Adore is such a specific word, Penny wouldn't have said it if it wasn't true. 
She clung onto Penny's words. They were nuggets of truth, a shield against the negative thoughts that clouded her brain. The evidence that those shitty experiences were in the past, that the situation she was in now was entirely different, was better. 
Her therapist would be so proud. 
A more relaxed, genuine smile appeared on Venus’ face, the first one she could recall occurring since pulling into the parking lot of the Hard Deck. 
“I look forward to meeting everyone. I’ll take another gin and tonic when you get a chance!” 
“I got it covered Penny,” a smooth voice said. She turned around, half expecting (moreso hoping) to see Jake, despite the lack of Texan drawl. 
When she turned around, there was no tall blonde with sparkling emerald green eyes and a smile so white, she could see it from outer space. 
Instead, a Hawaiin shirt so ugly that no Dad at a BBQ would go near greeted her. 
Her lips formed a tight line, her eyes narrowing. It was the same look she wore when dealing with annoying patients or annoying men. 
“Welcome to the Hard Deck,” The man said with a wink. His eyes were nice, but the caterpillar that occupied the space between his nose and upper lip was what she noticed first. 
She recognized him immediately. Jake had given her plenty of information so she could recognize members of the dagger squad. 
Bold of him to assume she would just go up to them. But maybe she could have some fun with this. 
Penny gave her a look, one that silently asked Should I tell him? Venus just shook her head, turning back to face the infamous Bradley Bradshaw. 
“How do you know it’s my first time?” She asked coyly with a raised eyebrow before bringing the drink back to her lips. 
“With a face like that? I wouldn't be able to forget ya." Did he also get his pickup lines from the eighties, in addition to his shirts?
Bradlet leaned against the railing of the bar, bending slightly so they were at eye level, “So what brings you here? Besides fate.” 
Her eyes could not roll any harder. How many more lines would it take before he started singing Jerry Lewis? 
“Well, after hearing about it so much, I just had to see the mustache in person,” She responded, moving her drink to her left hand. 
If there had to be a sound that best represented Bradley’s face, it was a record scratch. The best he could respond with was a very confused “Excuse me?”
“I’ll give you credit, you pull off the look pretty well, despite it consisting of a pornstache and clothes from the part of the eighties that even Stranger Things won’t touch.”
“It’s not….it’s not a pornstache.”
A darked haired woman clad in a khaki uniform nearby snorted. 
Venus grinned, “It is absolutely a pornstache. But some people are into that. I don’t get it, but good for you Rooster.”
Bradley's eyes knitted together in confusion,“Do I…..do I know you?”
"I would hope you know of me. According to Javy, Jake talks about me a lot. Anyways, we should become best friends. Jake’s reaction will be hilarious.”
It was then Bradley finally looked down, seeing the huge emerald ring on her left hand.
And that's when it hit Bradley Bradshaw like a fucking train. 
"You're Venus?!" 
It was much louder than she would have liked, the statement causing several people to look at her with curious stares. 
Just play it cool, they all work for the military, you actually do important shit, she told herself over and over again. 
“In the flesh!" She flashed a smile before taking a huge sip of her drink, trying to ignore the fact that another pilot was now approaching her. 
She was going to need another drink to get through this. 
"You're Hangman's girl? The one who told him to fuck off when you first met him?"The dark haired woman asked, practically shoving Bradley out of the way. 
The infamous Venus shrugged, "I didn't exactly tell him to fuck off. I told him it made no sense why he could fly million-dollar jets but was a shit driver. Phoenix?" 
Natasha nodded, “Glad he’s no longer hiding you. I’ve been telling him to bring you around ever since he arrived late to a debriefing with hearts in his eyes as he talked about a woman who referred to him as Hangnail.” 
The comment brough relief. At least one person liked her, at least one person wanted to get to know her. 
Natasha grabbed her arm, “Come on. The rest of the gang is going to lose their minds when they learn you’re finally here.”
Through the throngs of pilots, Natasha led her to a table filled with other men who all looked vaguely familiar. The tight lipped smile remained on her face as she straightened her shoulders, ready to face the (multiple) men of the hour. 
“Hey guys, guess who I met?”
“V! You made it!” Before she could say anything, a pair of strong arms wrapped themselves around her waist, picking her up. 
“Javy, I swear to God if you don’t put me down-” She couldn’t help but laugh. Just like with Jake, Javy had become the older brother Venus never knew she wanted. 
Knowing Javy would be there was what made her feel comfortable enough to arrive without Jake. Winning over your fiancé's best friend was quite the confidence boost.
Maybe it was the fact he actually made an effort to get to know her. Maybe it was the fact he took all her digs about the Saints in stride. But with Jake, the three of them had become a trio and she didn't mind at all. 
"Hey guys! This is Danica! Aka Venus, aka the one who got Jake to settle down!"
"You really know how to build suspense Coyote," Nat deadpanned before taking a seat next to Bob. Javy lowered her down, her feet returning to the ground. 
"You're Venus? The one he proposed to after eight months of dating?" A man with shining brown eyes and energy that could best be described as a golden retriever asked. 
Her features softened as she looked down at her emerald ring,  "When you know, you know. I also take it you're Mickey?"
"Wow, I guess Hangman talks about us more than we thought," Mickey joked, earning the chuckles from others. 
She looked back up, that signature smirk having returned, "We're also having a long engagement, that was my compromise." 
"That's not what he said," Phoenix scoffed, recalling the different potential venues Jake had already shown her. 
She continued fidgeting with her engagement ring. It wasn’t a matter of Venus being unfamiliar to having all eyes on her. But with Jake's friends, it was different. Another layer of being official that she wasn’t used to. 
"Well, you deserve all the drinks for being able to put up with Bagman,” Mickey commented, as if he sensed her nerves.  
“Bagman?” she asked, a mischievous glint forming in her big eyes. 
"It's what we call him when we feel he hasn't earned being called his proper name, which I'm sure as you know, is most of the time," A man with glasses and a thin lopsided smile that was sweeter than sugar explained. 
Her eyes light up, "Oh, I am definitely using that. Also, are you Bob?" 
Without waiting for an answer, she walked over to the bespectacled WSO, “You’re so cute! I’m adopting you.” For added effect, she placed a hand on each of Bob’s cheeks. 
“Does that mean Bagman is my dad?" Bob asked with an almost grimace. 
"Yeah, but I'll make sure he chills out," She reassured him with a soft smile. 
“Wait, she’s actually nice?” Reuben whispered to Natasha and Bradley, “The way Jake describes her-”
“Look, if she can find redeemable qualities in Bagman of all people, she must have a lot going for her,” Natasha interjected. 
As time passed, Venus found herself more and more at ease with the group. Despite having heard so much, they still took the time to ask questions, to get to know her. They wouldn’t only talk about Jake (not that she wanted them to), and they actually tried to include her in the conversation, despite her lack of knowledge about their field. 
It was different. It was nice. 
Once drinks got low, Venus offered to go get the next round. Bradley followed her, still apologizing for the flirting earlier. 
She chuckled, “It’s totally fine. In fact, I think it’s hilarious that you and Bagman have a similar type,” Her eyes narrowed, “Which by the way, I know plenty of cute, spitfire nurses who are single.”
Bradley’s face turned bright red, “I’m uh-I don’t need any help with-”
“Look, I already plan to find Bob's future wife, might as well find yours while I’m at it. There are people out there who are into what you call a mustache,” She shrugged her shoulders, “I don’t get it, but I’m willing to find them for you.” 
It was the way she mixed sweetness with snark that confused Bradley, as well as everyone else. 
“Can I ask you something?” Bradley finally asked. 
“I’m not going to tell you his dick size,” A devious smirk adorned her face, causing her to resemble the image the squad had conjured in their minds when Jake first told them how the ‘future Mrs. Seresin’ referred to him as a knockoff Ken doll. 
“That’s not what-”
“But I will say-”
“Please don’t.”
“You could have named him Hungman and it still would have been accurate.”
“I really, really don’t need to hear this.” Bradley’s face was now bright red, whereas the woman next to him casually ordered the next round of beers and a lemon seltzer for Bob with a grin on her face. 
“You’re telling me the men in the navy don’t talk about their dick sizes? Least of all, the person whose call sign means cock?”
“It’s a bird-”
“That also means cock.”
Bradley stared at her, quite frankly afraid that if he said another word, he'd have to hear about Hangman’s dick. 
She stared right back, able to hold off the impromptu staring contest for a few moments before erupting into a fit of giggles.
When Jake first rambled on about the beautiful woman he had met at a coffee shop, who he insisted was his future wife, Bradley (and everyone else) thought the blonde pilot had lost his damn mind. 
But after seeing her truly smile, Bradley could understand why Jake became so smitten. 
“How….do you two work?” It was an honest question. Javy asked the same thing the first time he went out with you and Jake. She even wondered about it herself when they first got together. 
She shrugged, fingers fiddling with Jake’s class ring that was on a silver chain around her neck, “We just….do. He calms me down. I remind him sometimes it’s better to be quiet and just listen. We both make each other smile and laugh. It’s nice. More than nice. It’s wonderful.” 
Bradley noticed what she was fiddling with, "So that’s where it went.”
“He has a ring of mine that he wears with his dog tags. We traded before he went on deployment.” She shrugged again, as if to suggest it wasn’t a big deal. 
The soft smile on her face suggested the exact opposite. 
Bradley grinned, “Do you know he also wears one of your hair ties around his wrist?”
Her smile only continued to grow, "He says the more pieces he has of me on him, the luckier he is in the sky."  
Truthfully, Venus wasn't sure what to expect when she began dating Jake. Certainly not him being such a romantic. It was strange at first. Why would someone go through so much effort to bring flowers, to make dinner reservations, to plan dates when they already had you?
When Jake scoffed at the very idea of not needing to impress it was the first time she truly reflected on previous relationships and just how shitty they were. 
"Baby, they were awful," Jake pressed a chaste kiss to her shoulder, "You deserve so much more than what you've gotten." 
A hand on your shoulder broke you out of your thoughts. 
"I think I just saw that Jeep Wrangler you love so much just pulled up," Natasha teased. 
She rolled your eyes, despite a small smile remaining as you shook your head, "I hate that fucking car." 
"I'm glad someone else agr-"
"Bradshaw, don't get me started on your car choices." Her eyes narrowed as she shot him a look. 
Only she got to insult that hideous car. 
Bradley promptly closed his mouth, not wanting to face her infamous wrath. 
He was still reeling from the Pornstache comment. 
So instead, he simply helped her carry the round of drinks back to the rest of the squad. 
"So Venus, what does the woman who made Jake Seresin lovesick do?" Payback asked. 
"I'm a level three neonatal nurse at the local hospital," she explained, "Which is partly why it's been so hard to meet y'all. My schedule can be pretty irregular." 
The table was quiet as they processed this new piece of information. When they first heard about her, they couldn't help but imagine a cutthroat business woman, a manager, a consultant. 
Not a nurse. Particularly one who dealt with children. 
"So you um, you-" 
She set her glass down with force, "I do not play with babies and change diapers all day. My job is to keep premature babies alive and ensure they're able to go home with their family and live as healthy of a life as possible." 
Her voice was tense, no doubt due to past dismissive comments regarding her job. 
Bob shifted closer to her, "I think that's amazing. One of my sister's kids was born at 28 weeks and she still swears to this day that if it weren't for y'all, she would not have been able to keep it together." 
Her shoulders visibly relaxed as a smile formed on her face, "I like you Bob. I'm going to keep you." 
Mickey spoke up, "Hey, wait a second. My girlfriend Cielo and I have already put in a request to adopt Bob." 
She put an arm around Bob's shoulder, shaking her head, "Nah, I call dibs." 
"We knew him first!" If one didn’t see the gleam of playfulness that laced Mickey’s amber eyes, his tone would sound completely defensive. 
Bob finally spoke up, "Just a friendly reminder that I'm thirty one years old." 
She turned to the soft spoken WSO, "Which is why I am determined to find you your Missus." 
"Get in line, Cielo and I have been working on that." 
Natasha snorted, "We've all been working on that." 
Bob signed, putting a palm to his face. 
"Hey V, I think your man just walked in." Maybe it was fate, maybe the universe took pity on Bob. 
But when Venus looked up upon hearing Reuben's words, her heart skipped a beat. 
There he was. 
Jake was over at the bar, waiting for Penny to take notice of him. No doubt ordering gin and tonic, along with a basket of fries for Venus. He always made sure she had something to snack on. 
"Wanna see something?" She asked the gang. 
Without waiting, she put two fingers to her mouth, a loud whistle coming out. The noise caught the attention of several people, including a blonde man with eyes greener than the emerald that adorned her engagement ring. 
When Jake's eyes met hers, her heart skipped a beat. His eyes lit up, a smile overtaking his face. 
"Hi loverboy," she called out with a wave. Oh she tried to smirk, try to play it off as if she was indifferent to the sight of her fiancé. 
But Danica's eyes told a different story. 
"Venus!" Jake called out, getting even more attention. Not that he noticed. He was too busy practically shoving folks out of the way to get to the table. 
Maybe she picked up her pace to meet Jake. Maybe Jake knocked a drink over as his hands placed themselves underneath her thighs, allowing him to pick her up in one swoop. 
It’s not like either of them were paying attention. 
—-----------------------------------------
To say Jake Seresin was annoyed was an understatement.
His day had started out so well. He got to wake up not on base in a small, old twin bed, but instead in the arms of his fiancé. 
Then he had to go to work. 
Jake loved his job. He was damn good at it- one of the best, in fact. He enjoyed being at work, which was something many couldn't say. 
But not when his job caused him to be late, unable to be with the woman he loved, especially on a night where she needed him the most. 
Normally, she would have already met his friends before Jake proposed to her. But thanks to the nature of his job, which involved spur-of-the-moment missions, he had done things a bit backwards. 
If it weren't for the nature of his job, Venus could have met the squad back when she only had the title of girlfriend. 
Sure, she still would have put pressure on herself, as was in her nature. But decidedly less pressure. 
Jake wanted to be there for her, to reassure her that she was in fact, the most incredible person he had ever met and that his friends would see that immediately. To put a hand on her shoulder whenever he saw that smile begin to fade, self doubt creeping into her mind. 
Which was why he was all but running into the Hard Deck. His meeting with Cyclone lasted much longer than intended. Normally Jake wasn’t super concerned about showing up late to the Hard Deck, but today was the worst day it could happen. 
Deep in his heart, he knew she would be just fine. At worst, she wouldn’t approach the squad until Javy arrived and would stick by Penny. 
Jake just wanted her to feel comfortable, to feel at ease. He wanted to support her, like any decent husband would. 
So yeah, maybe he was taking advantage of his status, knowing that no one would say anything if he pushed past them without a single excuse me. Jake knew his great grandmother was rolling in her grave, but he hoped Mimi would understand all in due time. 
“Hey Penny, have you happened to see an absolute goddess with an affinity for gin and tonics?” Jake asked once he arrived at the front of the bar, ignoring the glares. 
Penny simply smiled, "I think your friends found her. She was also pretty low on her beverage last time I saw her." 
"Well, we can't have that. I'll take a Miller Light, along with a Gin and tonic with a basket of fries." Jake recalled that she had texted him around two that she was on her lunch break. He doubted she had much time, if any, to eat when she got home from work. 
Order fries first, then find the love of his life. 
If only the bar wasn't slammed. 
He was trying his best not to be impatient. It wasn't Penny's fault, the Hard Deck was always like this when a new class arrived to base. 
But damn was it frustrating. The minutes seemed to tick away. Jake looked around, unable to spot his fiancé amidst the sea of khaki. 
Until he heard that whistle. 
He looked around, Bradshaw finally moving his bigass head to reveal the person that made his heart soar. 
She was sitting with the rest of the gang, smiling. She looked at ease, as if she had always been a part of this crew. 
Jake knew this was possible, that she had it in herself to open up and connect, rather than sit at the bar and wait for him to come. 
But sometimes she forgets that she can. 
So when Jake doesn't need to remind her, he can't help but beam. 
"Hi loverboy!" His heart fluttered when she sent him a wink, along with her smirk that he fell in love with the first time he saw (it also made him hard but that's neither here nor there). 
So yes, he did gently push some people out of the way to get to the table. And he did knock a drink over when he went to pick her up. But in Jake's defense, he hadn't seen her since seven-thirty in the morning and it was only Bradley's drink. 
"Hi baby," He said as he pressed his lips to her cheek. 
She rolled her eyes, though the smile still remained on her face, "You act like you haven't seen me in forever."
"Because I haven't," Jake murmured against her skin, "It's been ten hours." 
"Ten hours?" She repeated, her tone teasing, "You're incorrigible." 
"I don't know what that means, but thanks V," He said before pressing his lips against hers.  
Before Jake, she wasn't used to PDA. It wasn't a matter of not desiring it, she did. But none of her past relationships were into it, so it wasn't something she pursued. 
And then she met Jake. Jake, who would just grab her hand without saying anything. Jake, whose natural inclination was to wrap his arms around her. Jake, who would make the effort to kiss her, even if he was just passing by to get a drink or to unload the dishwasher. 
She liked it. She couldn't stop the smile that spread across her face as his lips moved to her nose, then forehead. 
"Can you put me down? You're looking a little desperate GI Joe," She teased, quickly placing a chaste kiss on his jawline. 
"You like it," He whispered in her ear, gently setting her back down. 
"Debatable," She rolled her eyes, trying to fight back a smile as Jake pressed another kiss against her cheek. 
"Debatable?" He questioned, "The ring on your left hand says otherwise sweetheart." 
Venus looked down at the ring, "I guess." 
"You guess?" Jake hummed, his arms now wrapped around her waist, his chin resting on top of her head. 
The noise and chatter of the Hard Deck slipped away when she looked up, meeting his emerald eyes. She bit her lower lip, trying to hold back a lovesick smile. 
It was no use, as it came out anyway. 
"Oh my God they're adorable," Bradley whispered to Natasha, stunned. 
"What the hell is happening?" Natasha whispered back, equally as stunned. 
"I think they're…in love?" Mickey didn't sound too sure of himself, if at all. 
"Of course they are, is it not obvious?" Bob practically scoffed. 
"Careful," Natasha teased, elbowing Bob playfully, "Think she still wants to adopt you. Remember who your dad would be." 
—------
The rest of the night wasn't anything unusual, save for Natasha, Bradley, Mickey, and Bob asking Venus questions while Jake, Javy, and Reuben played a round of pool. 
"So he listens when you tell him to shut up? Like deadass?" Mickey asked. 
She raised an eyebrow, "He listens to me regardless of what I say." 
"I don't believe it," Bradley started, "We can barely get him to listen to us and-" 
"Hey Jake?" Venus called out, remaining in her seat. 
Jake looked up from the angling his pool cue, his eyes lightening up when they met hers, "What's up darling?" 
"Do you think Sammy and Jess deserved to win Love Island?" Bradley couldn't help but scoff at Venus' question, there was no way- 
"Jess did, because she had the best personality of that season and was actually likable. She would have won regardless of who she coupled up with," Jake explained as he briefly looked back to his aim, "Unfortunately she was stuck on Sammy, who did not deserve to win, dude's a fuckboy if I've ever seen one. Is your drink empty?" 
The squad wasn't sure what was more shocking, the fact Jake had been able to make a perfect shot without looking again, or how focused he was on another person's needs. 
Venus, oblivious to this confusion, raised her empty drink, "I am! Can you get me another gin and tonic please?" 
Jake immediately set his pool stick down, ignoring the confused cries of Javy and Reuben as he went to Venus to give her a kiss on the cheek and pick up her glass. 
"What did you just do?" Mickey asked as soon as Jake headed over to the bar. 
Venus shrugged, "I asked him for another drink. I got his last drink, it's only fair." 
"But he was in a middle of a game-" 
"The less you think about it, the less confused you'll be," Javy explained, cutting off Reuben. 
Javy had long since learned that Jake's focus was now all things Venus. He was pretty sure once Venus became pregnant, she would be able to pry Jake away from a Texas football game. 
"How do you get him to listen to you?" Bradley asked, stunned. 
"I love her," Jake scoffed because wasn't it obvious? The only people who didn't seem confused by all this were Javy and Bob. 
Jake now understood why Venus wanted to adopt the bespectacled WSO. 
"So what are we? Chopped liver?" Natasha remarked, a teasing glint in her eyes.
"He just loves y'all a little less," Venus teased, taking her drink from Jake's hands. 
Bradley scoffed, "Dude, I was your bunkmate." 
"Yeah but did you give him blowjobs frequently?" Venus asked, unaffected by the number of aviators who nearly choked on their drinks. Jake could feel the tops of cheek heat up. 
"Well, depended on-" Bradley started, much to the delightful shrieks of Natasha, Javy, and Reuben. 
"Alright, it's time for us to go pick a new song," Jake stated loudly, practically pushing his fiancé to the jukebox. 
"You're finishing that story later!" Venus called out, pointing to Bradley. 
"Only if you convince him not to play Free Rider!" Bradley called back.
Jake dragged away his fiancé, who was now laughing at the antics of his coworkers. 
He couldn't help but smile at the sight. She was beautiful like this; eyes squinting, cheeks round as she smiled, skin glowing,  not having a care in the world. 
Jake would do anything to keep that smile on her face. 
"I get to pick," She said, taking the quarter out of Jake's hand. 
"Why do you get to pick?" Jake teased before placing a kiss against her temple. 
"Because it's my first time here," she started, because wasn't it obvious? "Plus, I want Bradshaw to finish the story."
"You're really about to give Bradshaw what he wants?" Jake put his hand over his heart, "V, that's the most offensive thing you've said to me." 
Venus simply raised an eyebrow as she scoffed, "That's the most offensive thing I've said to you? Compared to all the other stuff? Compared to what I said when we first met?" 
"I thought it was charming," Jake was completely sincere, which Venus didn't know if she should find that cute or concerning. 
"I think you liked being called a Ken doll," she muttered, looking through the list of songs. 
Jake wrapped his arms around her waist, nestling his head on her shoulder, "I liked the woman who called me a Ken doll. So much so, I plan to marry her." 
Her teeth tugged her bottom lip, a tall-tale sign that she was flustered. She didn't blush, but Jake had learned the signs; she would bite her lip, her lashes would flutter. Her hand that wasn't pressing buttons on the jukebox drummed against the machine, looking for something to do. 
"I love you," he whispered. The declaration made her head turn, allowing Jake to steal a kiss. 
"Could have just asked."
"Where's the fun in that?" He pressed his lips against a heated cheek, leaving tiny kisses. 
Her eyes softened upon looking up at Jake, "How did the meeting go?" 
He squeezed the soft flesh of her hip, "Cyclone thinks I have a decent shot at the instructor position. And that I would be a good fit." 
The statement caused her eyes to light up. Jake could see that she was trying to hold herself back, trying not to get her hopes up. 
"So he'll write you a letter of recommendation?" 
He grinned, showing off his pristinely (and blindingly) white teeth, "Him and Mav." 
"We stan a short king." She said it half in jest, purely to see Jake's brows knit together in confusion, the five year age difference showing. 
"Is that a Tik Tok reference?" 
She stifled a giggle as she shook her head, "No. But you're getting there!" 
"You make me feel so old," Jake sighed. He thought he was doing so well, until Venus informed him that Instagram reels were just Tik Tok videos shown two weeks later. 
She pressed a kiss to his cheek, "So you think you have a shot at it? The position?" 
Before meeting her, Jake would have scoffed at the suggestion he wouldn't get something. He knows who he is, what he's capable of. 
But he doesn't want to let her down. To disappoint her. They both know what this position would entail; permanence. Not having to be deployed on missions. Not having to be away from her for months at a time. The ability to settle down with her. 
"I think so. Cyclone says I have the track record to prove I know the material and I now have the temperance to show I can teach it well." 
She grinned, "that's the most polite way to say you're no longer a cocky asshole." 
Jake wiggled his eyebrows, eliciting another soft giggle from her. 
"Are you sure you're okay with this? If you get the position?" She asked, biting her bottom lip in an attempt to hide her nerves. 
When Jake first brought up the idea of applying to the instructor position, she thought he was joking. Why would someone give up the chance to travel around the world, playing the role of a real life superhero? 
But then he kept bringing it up, announcing he was going to apply. When questioned, Jake said it was simple.
"Getting that job means I get to stay here, with you." 
That's what he said then and it's what he said now. 
"Besides," he added, "the chances of me becoming an ace are low. I'm more than happy to be the only one with two confirmed kills in my generation." 
Venus' eyes narrowed at him and without breaking eye contact, she pressed a button on the Jukebox. 
The notes of Queen's I Want to Break Free filled the Hard Deck, which was followed by the sounds of the squad clapping and thanking Venus. 
"Babe!" Jake nearly whined, putting his hand on his heart, "Really?!" 
"Oh please, you absolutely deserve that." Venus stated before walking towards the bar. 
Jake all but ran after her, grabbing her closest hand. 
"So is now a bad time to tell you that today I parked within the lines?" 
Venus stopped, her eyes slowly turning towards her fiancé, "Both lines?" 
Jake nodded, a proud, albeit cocky smirk adorning his face. 
She took a step forward, her face now inches apart from Jake's. 
"You know," her voice was low, "If you want me to fuck you, you can just ask." 
Jake visibly gulped, the smirk fading as heat rushed to his face, "I mean I, uh, I always want you to-" 
"Did you take a picture of it? Your parking job?" She rested her chin on Jake's head, wrapping her arms around his waist. To others, the gesture was very sweet. 
But Jake could see the desire in her eyes and it was making his knees weak. 
"It's um, how I parked outside of here-" 
"I want to see it. And then I want to go home and fuck you," with that, she was walking towards the door, her fingers hooking themselves around one of Jake's belt loops to ensure he followed. 
Not that he needed encouragement, he was already trailing right behind her. 
517 notes · View notes
Note
Hi! What do you think would happen if there was a disease that turned people into yanderes and the reader is immune? So she’s the only sane one, which everyone around her falls in love (romantically and platonically) and turns obsessive?
Hrmm I'd like to take a different approach to this than the original *yandere apocolypse* of which I was thinking. Just wrote down some odd thoughts for this one!
Perhaps two thirds of the world has been inflicted with this specific disease-- making this new population become violent, deranged and utterly--obsessively, in love.
There's the beginning stages of violence and death of course, causing a great chunk of the world to go mad as some yanderes who must share a darling cannot do so. Celebrities, idols, and your local barista who's friends with everyone in town, are constantly in a tug of war battle between their yanderes.
But life seems to somewhat settle down. Everyone still functions as they would in society-- going to the bank and paying their taxes, remaining at their 9 to 5 jobs. But there are far more murders, laws are no longer followed; the daytime has become just as dangerous as the night.
Our dear reader, a cashier for a chain grocery store, has so blessedly not been affected by this newfound disease. They know their residence in a large city and with a social job would not leave them unharmed by this new change to the world. So, they begin to attend support groups for 'darlings,' the victims and (mostly) sane population that has been left. At first the other victims were people they had never seen before, seemingly innocent and normal people who just wanted to go on with their lives. They all seemed to lead a much harder living, with their unending stalkers and vicious pursuers that made them sob for hours as everyone else listened to their woes.
Reader had yet to be targeted, of which offers them a sliver of relief-- until they fear perhaps they have been affected by the disease. But their life continues, without any impulse or desire to snatch anyone up, and without any stalkers or murderers on their trail. Life is almost, weirdly, normal.
They don't watch the news anymore, they go home before it gets dark, and refuse to take any extra shifts with anyone who's been affected by the outbreak. They continue to go to the meetings, out of solidarity and precaution in case they begin to hear footsteps behind them when walking from home or find eyes peeping behind their curtains. However, the support group seemed to have slowly begun to change. Its regular members were beginning to dwindle, less and less showing up regularly. And, there seemed to be an addition of.... hostility, amongst the newer members.
The support group "leader", a man who has thrown reader off since day one, seemed to be far more invested in hearing their experiences with these "attackers" as he called them. As was everyone else, of which were slowly becoming vaguely familiar faces. Not familiar enough to mention it, but to the point where it was beginning to get eerie.
It wasn't until they went to their next shift for work, did they realize why everyone seemed so odd. Customer after customer came up, all purchasing odds and ends that could be suspicious if one paid close enough attention. But all that reader could focus on, was how the eyes of each person seemed to linger upon them, taking notice of their loose work shirt and unkempt hair. It was a common sound to hear heavy breathing from the other side of the counter, odd compliments on how beautiful their eyes were, or deafening silence from customers that didn't utter a word but stared in complete captivity. The next support group meeting, those nameless faces seemed to be far more recognizable. At this point, the original members of which reader had originally met, were nowehere to be found. All that remained, were the uncomfortably familiar customers, and the oddly charismatic leader.
Every eye seemed to be on them, each waiting for them to speak on their experience. But despite the creepy, lustful gazes and hateful glares at one another, there was some form of supportiveness that came from the group. They gave reassuring pats and squeezes, some getting a little handsier than others.
There were a few that reader recognized more than others: the silent, dark haired man that came to their register everyday, the businesswoman who always seemed to loosen her scowl once she saw them, and the couple who seemed a tad more than "friendly." Out of all of them though, reader felt the most reassurance from the group leader-- the man who seemed to dote on them like a parent would, though there was still fear over his constantly nagging questions and downward stare behind his glasses.
It was once reader decided to stop showing up to the increasingly more recent group sessions, did things start to turn sideways. There would constantly be a knock at the door, asking why they weren't there, if something was wrong, if a stalker had gotten to them. But it wasnt until recently did they feel they were being watched, followed, stalked.
Things started to go missing, from their favorite pair of underwear to little knickknacks kept on their desk. Reader had never felt the effects of the disease and its victims, but ever since the uncomfortable shift in the support group, life hadn't been the same.
One fateful afternoon, there came another series of knocks. Reader couldn't take it anymore, and had long given up on answering the door. The knocking continued, however. Thered be a pause, a moment of hesitation, before the pounding began again. Muffled voices could be heard outside readers front door, and suddenly there grew a great fear in their chest.
Not long after, the knocking seemed to occur in other areas around the house. The backdoor echoed as glass was banged on, the windows of their bedroom seemingly pressured by fists that begged to be let in. Their name was called from outside, small and booming voices all begging to be let in, promising that they were only there to help.
Reader covered their ears, crawling under the blankets and rocking themselves to the hope that the noise would go away. And eventually, It did-- only to be replaced with the sound of shattering glass and rushed footsteps.
2K notes · View notes
rabbitblackx · 1 year
Note
Alright so can I have headcannons for Ghostface, Jason, Michael(Rz or 78) and Freddy when their s/o calls them a baby girl? Like one day their s/o just says “ Hey baby girl” Thank you so much
Yeah sure thing! And ur welcome xx :)
Slashers when Reader calls them ‘baby girl’
Includes: Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Freddy Krueger and Ghost Face (Danny Johnson)
Michael Myers
You were watching tv one day when you decided to grab a little snack. You pulled yourself off the couch and trudged over to the kitchen
Lo and behold, there stood Michael. You didn’t even hear him come in! He was getting good at that. Michael stood like a statue by the counter, where one of your snacks sat
“Oh, hey, baby girl.” You deadpanned
You gave him a small smile before snatching the snack and walking back to the living room
What
That was all? No kiss or anything? How dare you? Also, huh? Baby girl? No, he was a man
Michael’s head cocked to the side, before he slowly followed after you. You were a weirdo like him. That was why he spared liked you. He shouldn’t of been surprised that you called him such a thing
Michael didn’t think anymore of it. He simply sat down on the couch next to you, and watched you watch tv
Jason Voorhees
You walked out of your cabin to find Jason setting a trap by some bushes. There were some unwanted teens nearby that were causing a ruckus, so he was just doing what needed to be done. You approached the crouched man, squinting your eyes from the sun and shielding them with a hand
“Hey, baby girl.” You greeted casually
Jason stood from the set trap and whirled around to look at you. You could see his wide eyes from behind his mask
“Whatcha doing?” You asked, gazing about the woodsy scenery instead of him
He was very confused that you called him that. Sure, his mother had called him baby boy before, but never—girl. It was weird to him
Over the next few days, Jason would continuously try to act big and strong around you. He was almost worried that you saw him as a softie or something (which was definitely, one hundred percent, not the case)…🫣
Jason made sure you were watching when he chopped down that huge tree, and carried its thick logs with just one arm. See? Look how strong he was! He was no baby girl!
Though I don’t think he would mind if you called him baby boy instead…
Freddy Krueger
After drifting off to sleep, you found yourself in a reddish boiler room you knew all too well. You rounded a corner to be met with your burned boyfriend, none other than Freddy Krueger
You placed a hand on the wall while the other rested on your hip. You two were always messing about and playful with each other
“Hey there, baby girl.” You grinned, rising your eyebrows jokingly
Freddy wheezed out a chuckle that echoed throughout the boiler room. He strode over to you with a toothy smile on his own scarred face
“Hey there, sweetcheeks.” He flirted back
Sorta like Michael, Freddy didn’t think much of it in the end. It was just how you were with each other. You flirted, joked and were downright goofy
Freddy wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close while in his little dream world. He smirked before pressing his chapped lips onto yours
He didn’t mind at all being your baby girl
Ghost Face (Danny Johnson)
You were on trial with your fellow survivors like normal. Luckily for you, the killer was none other than your spooky boyfriend. You saw him earlier, but lost track after he got caught up in a chase with your poor friend. You were just repairing a generator by yourself when you saw a white blur peeking behind a tree in your peripheral. You quickly realised it to be the Ghost Face’s forever screaming mask
“Hey, baby girl!” You called out with a playful smile
The Ghost Face couldn’t help but chuckle behind said mask. You were from a newer time than Danny here. You had gone on about other random, strange things from the future before. He had no idea, but thought maybe this pet name was an inside joke from the 2020s or something
“Hey, handsome.” Danny played along
You let out a loud laugh before rising to your feet. The Ghost Face slinked away from the tree to stalk over to you. You giggled together as you wrapped your arms around each other.
Though he still didn’t really understand it, it soon became a reoccurring pet name you called him. Danny didn’t mind. It was different. You were different. Fun too. He couldn’t ever think of a scenario where he would hurt you. He liked you too much
You literally made Danny into a baby girl🫠
2K notes · View notes
bruhstation · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
steam team's seniors during their baby years
A friend group so weird and toxic to people they dislike it could rival It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia’s. They're not immune to the "I came to Sodor to avoid my problems and wanted a fresh start" trope many Sudrians also follow
Edward Pettigrew
Age: 31 as of 1984
A kind, friendly NWR railwayman who didn’t mind a lot of things and was popular amongst younger folks for his looks and demeanor. He likes showing newbies the ropes of the NWR and Sodor as a whole because he just loves infodumping. Despite being made fun of by some railwaymen for his “weirdness”, Edward worked hard and was known as the jack-of-all-trades by his peers, usually treating younger and newer railwaymen to drinks after work to get them accustomed to Sodor (he did this to Henry, then Gordon, then James). Originally from the village of Pezë in Tirana, Albania, 1940s. Due to his beginnings in a small rural village and the Albanian government’s censorship of outside influences and heavy restriction of traveling outside the country, Edward’s hunger for knowledge about the world grew more and more. His family had connections to the Lëvizja Nacional-Çlirimtare and Edward’s particularly bright and good at talking, so he became a diplomat to travel outside Albania – a step into his plans of learning more about the world. After landing himself in the United Kingdom and studying everything he wanted, he believes it’s still not enough. He found out about an island infamous for its supernatural occurrences and cases of people missing just off the coast of the UK – Sodor. Being the curious man he is, he discarded everything that’s needed for the LNÇ to locate him and landed on Sodor, gorging himself with every mystery the island has to offer. Impulsive? Yes. But for the first time, Edward felt true freedom. However, Edward got too curious and nosy and became a casualty in an accident fueled by supernatural hysteria related to Lady of the Legend and was transported around 40 years into the future, landing in 1983 with his memories all over the place. Despite losing his sense of self and having no idea what he is, his thirst for knowledge still lives on inside his head. His cheerfulness, amicability, and kindness are extensions he formed to make up for the hole inside his heart. Edward does love his friends, but he believes that if he can withhold information from them and make them all live in blissful ignorance, they can be truly happy – this all stems from his fear of exceeding his limits and being discarded (which he later copes by being a typical wise friendly old man in 1999). He often sees visages of Lady in his dreams.
Gordon J. Gresley
Age: 26 as of 1984
Joined after Henry. Looked like he was fresh out of a funeral. A young hotshot who was more polite, quiet, and reserved compared to his 1999 counterpart. Gordon started out as an apprentice fireman for the Wild Nor’Wester’s previous driver. He treated his arrival on Sodor as a desperate last resort to escape his issues and grief and pitifully believed he was “lumped with the social pariahs in the boonies”, but he’s gotten better and believed that this is where he can truly outshine everyone, much to the annoyance and chagrin of his seniors. Gordon acts like he knows what he’s doing in order to build up his image as someone who’s dependable and strong and revels in small basks of limelight. However, he was constantly uncomfortable with how Edward treated accidents as normal due to their survivors being in tip-top shape the next day and how Henry is so distrustful of and odd about everything and everyone and sweats 24/7, but he’s been masking and convincing himself that he’s not like the rest of them. He’s normal. He’s normal! Let’s all hold hands. Don’t be fooled by his sad face. Young Gordon can be arrogant and think he knows everything for being a youngin.
Henry Stanier
Age: 27 as of 1984
Joined after Edward, so he’s quite close to him. Gordon’s “senior” by 6 months. He’s always, ALWAYS scared endlessly about anything “out of the ordinary” and beats himself up over it, much to his own disgust. Henry had a deep rooted hatred and jealousy towards his peers for pitying him after a coworker revealed to other railwaymen that he’s narcoleptic without his permission. He’s been masking his disabilities despite it being detrimental for his well-being, but as long as people treated him “normally”, Henry would endure (dreadfully). He did this especially with Gordon, the newest addition to the Northwestern Railway at the time, because he didn’t want anyone else to treat him differently when they find out about his health issues. As an extention, Henry developed a vitriol towards Gordon too – he’s particularly jealous about how he’s so “ungrateful” of everything’s given to him like his fair looks, clothes, and position as the to-be face of the Wild Nor’Wester. They did become friends though despite the process not being easy. It’s okay. They became besties that were mean to old nosy folks. Initially wanted to pursue arts, but due to circumstances from his past related to his health and paranoia fueled by his past failures and “jinxes”, he came to Sodor as a half-hearted last resort to get a job. He wasn’t hopeful of having anyone respect him for who he is, but things do get better, much to his surprise.
James A. Hughes
Age: 25 as of 1989
Joined the NWR 5 years after Edward did. At that point, Gordon already discarded his GNR Green look and went for the blue attire (minus the big coat). Flaunts his beauty almost at any given time, especially when someone mildly complimented him. He’s more of a nerd (word used loosely because he acts like a know-it-all when he actually has no idea what he’s doing) compared to his canon, 1999 counterpart. James came to Sodor for a fresh start and believed he deserves more than what he’s given. He thinks he’s so tough and hard as nails – in fact it became his source of hubris because he gets into accidents and was scolded by his seniors for being so vain and stubborn. He doesn’t want to get dirty, he doesn’t want to shovel coal, he doesn’t want to get wet from the washdown suds – he only wants the good out of the work and doesn’t want to accept the “bad” sides as well, so James was branded as the “problem kid” of the NWR by older folks. James, who can’t handle harsh criticism and labels well, grow even more distant with them. He primarily hangs out with the RWS trio because they seem to understand his situation and the feeling of being “outcasted” (despite Gordon’s annoyance at his boastfulness). 
329 notes · View notes
grapehyasynth · 5 months
Text
non-royal au where simon and wille are regular teenagers who become friends at university. their group regularly goes to a neighborhood pub's open mic nights, where simon will occasionally perform original songs and covers. one night he asks wille to record his set, in case he wants to upload some of it to youtube or instagram. afterwards, as he's sitting back down at their table to the usual raucous applause, one of the newer additions to their friend circle teases wille that he'd looked like an eager rock star's girlfriend, moving around the room with his phone to get simon's best angles. wille snorts. "i wish," he says. "i'm just a groupie he'll never notice." they all laugh and move on, but later that night, alone in his room, simon watches back the videos wille took. like an actual grandfather, wille had filmed the whole thing on front-facing camera, so while it captures how great simon had sounded, it only shows wille's face as he's watching simon perform. simon laughs about it at first, but then he notices wille's expression. it staggers him, the way wille is looking at him. he's not sure anyone's ever looked at him like that, like he hung the stars.
he hesitates, and then he swipes out of the video and sends wille a text.
what did you mean when you said 'i wish'?
326 notes · View notes
circeyoru · 3 months
Text
Gone Too Young = Collab
[Human & Demon!Alastor x Male BFF!Reader] - Platonic
Part 1 (here) — Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4
I am SO excited to share this story with everyone! It’s like a first (successful) collab for me, very accidental start but love the progress we had! (hopefully not the end) There’s gonna be more parts to this. 
Tumblr media
You don’t recall your parents. You knew you had them but their faces were blurry. All you remember was darkness, then there was warmth around you and voices so soft and caring that was directed at you. Your hands reached out and held something, it was warm too. Looking back, it was your small child form grabbing onto whatever affection sent your way
At the orphanage, you were one of the eldest. As a big brother, you cared for the little ones and the abandoned. You would wake up early then help set up breakfast with everyone and clean a little, after that it was school time, do a bit of helping out in town here and there for some food or penny or anything, then return home to where your brothers and sisters were waiting
It was a normal day at school where you were surrounded by friends that didn’t care about your orphaned background, friends you were grateful for. Just as they left early to grab a good spot for your lunch break, you stayed behind to help the teacher organize the homework that was handed in a messy pile
When you were done, you took your paper bag with your lunch sandwich inside and headed to your usual spot that you knew your friends were waiting for, as you saw them waving from the windows. You wanted to wave back, but your head turned in another direction to sounds of shoving and muffled hits. Your eyes widened at the sight. A group of bullies ganging up on someone smaller and weaker
“Hey!” Your serene and carefree expression turned to a scowl, taking heavy steps to the group. “What do you think you’re doing to him!?”
The bullies waved you off, threatening to hit you if you interfered. Even if you were the popular kid and liked by the teachers, you should not be sticking your neck in others’ business. Your eyes turned to the boy on the floor, even though his head was tilted down and his hair covering his eyes, you knew he was looking back at you with plead
You didn’t say anything and left the scene, ignoring how the bullies laughed and taunted the boy even more, saying that no one was going to help him. You returned quickly, this time with the disciplinary teacher next to you. You pointed at the group of bullies and told everything, coming to the boy’s aid to have him stand instead of staying on the floor
As soon as the teacher brought the group away to punish them, you brought the boy to the nurse’s office. In silence, you cared for the boy’s wounds on his exposed arms and legs. You noted him flinching with each touch and figured he wasn’t one for physical touch, so you made quick work. This scene was so familiar to you. When you were smaller, you wanted to help and got hurt then the staff would scold you while tending to your wounds, now you were caring for your little brothers and sisters in case they got hurt
“I would have helped you earlier, but it was better to get a teacher. Sorry for leaving you.” You apologized, you had noticed the newer wounds that weren’t there when you first saw him. He shook his head. Shy, you observed. You whacked your head around as you tried to remember which class and level he was from. Oh, that quiet kid at the back corner. “You’re… Alastor?”
The boy, Alastor, nodded. Before you could continued, the nurse door opened and your friends were rushing in. All asking you question after question, showing their concern to you after seeing what happened in the hallways from the outside. You reassured them you were fine, even introducing Alastor to the group
So began a wonderful friendship
To you, Alastor was like a hidden gem, he shined so brightly under the right conditions. He had a nack for speech, he was comfortable with expressing himself through art. He was even a fast running and knew all sorts of interesting facts about the forest near town because he frequents there
Everyone took a liking to Alastor just as they did you. Most would even joke that if one of you were a girl, then the two of you would be the perfect couple. You and Alastor both laughed it off, seeing it as silly
Though you did notice how Alastor was more clingy and close towards you. Sure the two of you were surrounded with friends and by now the two of you were the popular kids, but there was this unspoken close friendship that the two of you share. It was a good feeling, a form of affection that was only between the two of you
“I want to be the town mayor! Oh, or a doctor! Or a lawyer! They make so much money! When I do, I can give it all to the orphanage and get everyone a new place to live and new clothes to change too! Wait, but doctors and lawyers need to read alot… I prefer working, those are easier…” You paced around, your hands waving all over the place as you thought it over, the blank piece of paper flying around at each of your wave
Alastor chuckled, watching you with a soft smile while leaning against the tree. His own blank white sheet of paper next to him with two pens. “You can only pick the one job, silly. And you don’t have to think hard anyways, it’s just school work.”
You turned back to him, glaring down at him with a pair of narrowed eyes. “Well, I’m not wasting time thinking later! I want to help out now! Everyone takes care of me, I want to do something too.”
“But you are doing ‘something’, you’re the only kid that help out this much and not play.” Alastor noted out, rolling his eyes. He groaned as he slide down a bit, “I’m just gonna write whatever comes to mind, a hunter maybe? Or librarian? Something… I don’t know.”
When he looked up, his gaze was immediately met with yours, deep in thought. “Why not a radio host?” Alastor blinded, wondering why silently. “Did you know? You enjoy the spotlight and you strive in it. Plus your voice has this… Uhh… allure? That the right word? Yeah. Allure to it. I think you can hook anyone listening to your attention.”
It was Alastor’s turn to think as he mumbled, “A radio host. I don’t know. It’s a big deal and everyone listens to the radio.”
You sat next to him, careful to avoid getting into his comfort zone. But you don’t notice him shifting closer as you waved your hand once more while talking. “Exactly! I think you’re perfect for the job, just think Alastor, New Orleans’ new rising radio host! Loved and envy by all the enchanted listeners!” You smirked at your friend, “Has a nice ring to it, yeah?”
Alastor though it over again and shrugged, saying that he wouldn’t be able to make it anyways. Your chatting was cut short when the homeroom teacher came over the whack you both on the heads, lightly scolding you two to work on your assignments and not chat
The teacher even brought you away from Alastor to another tree so you wouldn’t interrupt him and he wouldn’t sidetrack you. You sat under your tree glaring at the piece of paper before asking the teacher if you could write a list of jobs you wanna do instead of doing just one, the teacher denied your request and firmly told you to pick one
All the while you were negotiating with the teacher, you didn’t catch Alastor giggling to himself at your childishness. He looked down at his paper and took the pen, in a neat cursive, he wrote, “Radio Host. The best in the state.”
Tumblr media
Note: So this is labelled as collab cause ideas were joint and discussed~ Plotline and what to write has been decided, I just need to write them out in more detail.
My lovely collaborator is @blubugg13
Circe Y.
Taglist: (if you want to be added, specify if you want to be tagged for this series only or all my works)
@aconfusedwonderland
155 notes · View notes
midnightsunnyday · 4 months
Text
In a way, Mephistopheles' character is a bit tragic when you think about it. His family has served the royal family since the first demon king, meaning that he's technically been subservient to Diavolo since birth. Imagine the sole purpose of your existence being raised to be someone's best friend, only for that friend to completely "abandon" you for a newer, shinier version of yourself lol.
They didn't even try to hide the Lucifer comparisons. Mephistopheles is just Lucifer but with purple hair, browner skin, and different colored eyes. His mannerisms are similar. His tastes are similar. Yet somehow, your doppelganger's name is in constant utterance.
Mephistopheles has an obligation to both the Devildom and Diavolo, something he takes very seriously, but sometimes I wonder if he subconsciously holds some kind of resentment towards it all? Even if just a little? Beyond the petty "I hate Lucifer" rants, maybe who he truly hates is Diavolo? It'd be interesting if that were to be explored, but that's just a headcanon.
Frankly, I don't blame Mephistopheles for being angry, even though I feel a lot of that anger is misplaced on Lucifer instead of Diavolo, who seems to have played more of a role in breaking their friendship apart than Lucifer, who for already stated reasons, feels indebted to Diavolo due to his sacrifice and honors it by being overly sacrificial.
But Mephistopheles is even worse. He's too loyal and subservient, even more than Lucifer, and even he has gone against Diavolo on more than one occasion. And honestly, I really hate that for him.
Another interesting point is that outside the Obey Me! canon, Mephistopheles entire literary origin is acting as a stand-in for the devil, in some cases, his lacky. Very interesting.
201 notes · View notes