#So how do you go about trying to make amends? to righting your wrongs?

[sammydem0n64]

I love lingering when it comes to introducing oc story and lore because ohh oh ohhhhh it’s fun seeing reactions to plot points and discussing them and what not. But it’s also scary because I won’t like it if I’m judged for a story direction because people don’t like a character or smth. But also who caresssss I call it a jumpscare to see horrible people fully comprehend that they’re horrible and try to fix themselves and build themself from the ground up. I call it that fucked up people can realize their wrongs and change themselves for the better. I call it nuance. I call it look at these ocs boy

[criminalamnesia]

ending 2 for tolerate it! this was my original idea for the ending!

I just wanted to clarify that I’m writing these two endings bc of the feedback I’ve received. The first ending is for those who wanted them to reconcile/make amends, and I wanted to give those readers some closure.

this ending is for those who want reader to be happy without him (which was my original idea lol). anyways I know a lot of people didn’t like ending 1 and that’s okay!! but here’s ending two, I hope you like it better :)

[ also, this takes place in between the time that reader leaves simon/price and the last line of part two! ]

part one here, part two here, ending 1 here

your friend graciously let you live with them for a few months while you got back on your feet.

you went to therapy. stopped crying whenever you thought of him or even his name. started taking care of yourself again.

you move out and find this cute little house. it’s small, cozy. you adore it, and your friend helps you move in.

you make it your own with colors and trinkets and pictures. there’s nothing in that house that serves as a reminder of your time with him. you’d gotten rid of all the pictures, all the gifts he’d bought you before things turned sour.

fuck him. he didn’t deserve to see your growth and your happiness. he didn’t deserve anything from you.

you get used to being on your own again. it’s nice. you don’t worry about a man who is halfway across the world. don’t worry about baking a cake for his return or setting up streamers. don’t worry about how damaged he’ll be when he walks through the door.

you’re happy. you love your job, your home, your friends. you treat yourself to coffee every wednesday afternoon, and that’s when you meet him.

you’ve ordered your coffee and are sitting at one of the cafe’s little tables, scrolling on your phone, when a man clears his throat.

you look up, and he’s got the kindest smile you’ve ever seen.

“hi,” he says, and you give a small smile as you click off your phone.

“um, hi?” you say, a little unsure of why he’s speaking to you.

“not to sound weird or anything,” he begins, and you give a small laugh.

“y’know, whenever someone says that, whatever they say next does tend to sound weird.”

he nods, that smile on his lips growing a smidge wider. “right. so, I guess this will be weird then, huh? but I’ve noticed you here every wednesday, and I just wanted to tell you you’re beautiful.”

you blush. you don’t think a man has ever been so straightforward with you, and although you do think it’s kind of weird, you try to just focus on the compliment.

but your guard is up. you don’t know him.

“oh, thank you. that’s sweet,” you reply, and he’s still looking down at you.

“can I sit?” he asks, which takes you by surprise.

“um, sure? I guess?” you say, and it sounds more like a question than a statement, but he’s sliding into the seat across from you.

he introduces himself, and you tell him your name. he says it’s pretty. you’re starting to think he’s coming on too strong.

but as the two of you begin to talk, you start to realize that’s just who he is. he’s a flirt, a flatterer, but it’s good natured.

it’s easy to talk to him. he keeps the conversation going, and he seems generally interested in what you have to say. it’s a stark difference from your last relationship.

but then he tells you he’s military, and your heart nearly stops.

“oh,” you say, a small frown on your lips.

“that an issue?” he says, and his tone is teasing. he doesn’t know— how could he? but your face says it all.

his brows furrow, and he gets serious for the first time since he’d sat across from you. he starts to reach for your hand, but decides against it. again, the two of you don’t know each other, and he’s aware of that.

“I don’t have a good track record with men in the military,” you tell him, trying to lighten the mood. he can tell something’s wrong, but he doesn’t push. he takes the bait, and you’re grateful. it makes you like him even more.

that’s why you end up talking until the place closes. the employees are practically shooing you out as you and the military man apologize profusely.

you’re on the sidewalk now, and he’s smiling at you. you find yourself smiling back.

“d’you mind if I get your number?” he asks.

as much as you enjoyed talking to him, you’re still unsure. you just recovered from everything that happened— are still recovering. you don’t want to rush into anything. so, you shake your head.

“if you’re serious,” you begin, looking up at him. “I’ll see you on another wednesday.”

he nods, a mischievous smile on his face. “im up to the challenge.”

you give a small laugh, then tell him goodnight. you turn and begin to walk towards your car, and you’re smiling like an idiot.

you don’t want to get you hopes up, but that little naive part of you— a part of you you’d thought was dead and gone— is making you. you try to stamp it back down.

next wednesday, you don’t see him, and you’re a little sad about it. you don’t see him the wednesday after that, either.

you don’t see him for a few months, actually. and after a few weeks, you’ve stopped thinking about him.

but then one wednesday, you’re sitting in that coffee shop, and there he is.

he’s wearing a short sleeve shirt, and you can see fresh cuts and scrapes along his arms. he asks if he can sit, and you oblige, gesturing to the seat across from you.

“sorry for disappearing on you,” he says, and you shake your head. he doesn’t owe you anything. you barely know each other.

“that day we talked, i ended up gettin’ deployed a few days later. didn’t have your number, so…” he trails off with a cheeky smile, and you grin as you roll your eyes.

“so im to blame, hm?” you say, and he nods.

“oh, absolutely.” he’s teasing, and you laugh.

“then let’s amend that.” you hand him your phone and he lights up. he taps his number in quickly before handing the phone back to you. you send him a quick ‘hi’ so your number will pop up in his phone.

“didn’t forget about you, though,” he says, and you blush. this man certainly has a way with words. “that’s why im here. glad to see you’re still a creature of habit.”

“is that a bad thing?” you ask, and he shakes his head.

“nah, I don’t think so.”

your phone chimes then. it’s one of your friends, asking you if you can come over. you type a quick reply and start to gather your things.

“leavin’ so soon?” he says, and you give a small nod.

“friend emergency.”

he nods. “understood. well, I’ll see you around then, yeah?” he smiling as he pushes himself out of his chair.

“you do have my number now,” you remind him. “we don’t have to wait on chance encounters.”

he hums in agreement. “that’s true, but I prefer face-to-face, y’know? especially since yours is so pretty.”

“you’re a flirt,” you tell him, but you’re blushing, and he chuckles.

“guilty.”

you bid him goodbye and walk towards the exit, your mind instantly shifting gears to your friend. you don’t think about the military man again until he texts you that night.

‘friend okay?’ he types.

‘all good.’ you respond.

he’s typing back for a good minute. the bubble disappears, then reappears.

‘if there are no more friend crises for the foreseeable future, and im not shipped off to fight bad guys, how about a proper date?’

you smile as you read the message.

‘sure.’ you respond, and he sends back a smiley face.

a first date turns into a second, then a third, then a fourth. they’re spread out over a year because of his job, but you don’t find yourself minding that much. he treats you so much differently than the last man did.

he eventually asks you to be his partner, and you say yes. of course you’re a little hesitant— things with your last military man started off good, too. but you feel like it’s different this time. he’s different.

you don’t know it, but every time he’s deployed, he talks his squad’s ear off about you. tells them you’re the most beautiful person he’d ever seen, and that you’re so funny. tells them he’s gonna ask you to move in with him.

but he never mentioned your name. maybe he forgot, or maybe he just didn’t want to share that piece of you with them.

“you never shut up about this lover of yours,” simon/price says one day while they’re eating in the mess hall. although they’re not in the same squad, they’re friends, and they happen to be on base at the same time. “no way they’re real.”

your man just grins and holds out his phone, showing off his lockscreen. it’s a picture of you with your head thrown back in laughter. he’d taken it on one of your dates.

simon/price’s face darkens almost imperceptibly before he masks it. that’s you. he hadn’t thought about you in ages, but he knows that’s you in that picture. now everything comes rushing back.

your lover doesn’t notice the other man’s expression shift. he doesn’t realize that the man across from him knows you.

you had told him more about the man who broke your heart, but you’d never mentioned his name. you didn’t want to risk him knowing him.

it’s a good thing you’d never mentioned the name, because if your lover knew, he’d punch him in the jaw.

the conversation eventually shifts away from you, and simon/price is grateful. your man is none the wiser.

when he gets back home, he asks you to move in. you tell him no at first. you’re still a little broken. he understands, and doesn’t hold it against you. he takes it in stride, and you’re grateful.

you don’t know how you got so lucky this time. you don’t know how this man, who was so understanding, so kind, so caring, had practically fallen into your lap. maybe it was karma from your last relationship.

the universe crushed you once, and to make up for it, they dropped this man into your life. whatever it was, you were thankful.

the second time he asks you to move in with him, you say yes. he helps you with everything, and the whole time he’s smiling like an idiot. even when you almost drop a shelf on his toe, or when you argue with him about where to hang a picture.

you two end the night eating take out on the couch and watching trashy tv. he decides right then that he’s going to marry you one day.

a few months after you move in, he tells you he wants you to meet his friends.

you’re nervous, but he reassures you it will all be fine. tells you that they’ll love you. so, you get yourself ready and then he’s helping you into his truck, and your leg is shaking the whole way to the bar.

he puts a comforting hand on your knee. gives you a dazzling smile.

“they’ll love you,” he tells you. you nod.

when you get to the crowded bar, he leads you by the hand inside. you’re towed along behind him, so you don’t see his friends until you’re standing right in front of the booth they occupy.

you scan their faces, and you don’t recognize any of them. you’re thankful— a huge weight has been lifted off your shoulders. he introduces you to them, and you fit in easily.

the night is going well until your man mentions simon/price’s name. he couldn’t know, you’d never told him. he was telling the story of how simon/price hadn’t believed him when he was talking about you.

the rest of his friends were laughing, but you were tense. he noticed immediately, shoulder nudging yours as he leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“you okay?” he murmured, and you nodded.

he could tell you were lying, but he didn’t push it. didn’t even bring it up again until the two of you were home.

“how do you know simon/price?” he asked you as you hung your coat up on the rack. you frowned as you turned to face him.

“he was the one I dated before you. the guy who broke my heart. the one I told you about, remember?”

your man goes silent. he’s looking at you, his fists clenched at his sides. he believes you. there’s not a doubt in his mind, even for a second, that you’re not telling the truth.

“I didn’t want to tell you his name,” you admit, taking a step towards him. “in case you knew him. didn’t want to make things complicated.”

he’s still silent, his eyes trained on you as you slowly approach. an expression you can’t name paints his face.

“I understand if you want to end things,” you tell him, and that gets him moving again. he’s shaking his head. “I don’t want to come between you and your friends.”

“fuck him,” he spits, and he reaches his arms out to you. you step into his embrace and take a shaky breath. “fuckin’ bastard. I showed him a picture of you, and he didn’t say anything. I was gonna invite him tonight, but he’s on assignment, and—” he inhales sharply as his hands rest on your back. “and now im gonna break his fucking jaw.”

you push yourself back, your eyes finding your lover’s. you shake your head. “it’s not worth it. besides, don’t make any enemies within your base. you’ve got enough of those already.”

you can tell he wants to argue, but he doesn’t. he nods after a moment. silence fills the room.

“we don’t run in the same circles, usually,” he tells you, his voice quiet. “known each other since enlistment. got assigned to different squads. kept running into each other, though. kept in touch.”

“you can still—” you begin, but he interrupts.

“no, fuck him. I can’t be his friend when he’s treated you like shit. fucker will be lucky if I don’t blacken his fuckin’ eye.”

you don’t say anything. you pull yourself back towards his chest, and he holds you tight.

you don’t say anything, but your heart swells. this man, the one in your arms, is everything that he wasn’t. he doesn’t tolerate you, he celebrates you. loves you unconditionally. communicates and compromises. doesn’t pull away.

that’s why, when he asks you to marry him a month later, you say yes without thinking. because you don’t need to think.

the ceremony is small. friends and family gather and celebrate the two of you. you laugh and dance and drink the night away with the love of your life by your side.

and you don’t think of the man that broke your heart anymore. don’t give him the time of day, because you’ve moved on to something far greater. you’ve moved on to what you deserve.

a few years down the road, when your husband has finally retired, you’re making your way down the road to meet him at the coffee shop that brought you together.

someone calls your name, and your blood runs cold. you know that voice, and although you haven’t thought about who it belongs to in years, you doubt you’ll ever truly forget it.

he’s calling your name from somewhere behind you. you don’t turn around.

instead, you pull open the door of the coffee shop, step inside, and smile when you see your husband sitting at the same table you’d met him at all those years ago.

——————————————————————

author’s note:

ending 2 is finally here! while writing this, I originally pictured the reader getting with Gaz/johnny; however, I wasn’t sure how that would turn out.

how would they still work with simon/price after knowing everything? how would you go so long without hearing about/meeting gaz/johnny’s squad mates?

I didn’t know, and that’s why I scrapped the idea. You can still picture them, though! but I thought it best to have the love interest someone kinda detached from the 141.

anyways, hope you enjoyed :)

[miupow]

⋮ ♯; ⤷ SILENT TREATMENT W/ TXT .ᐟ

how tubatu reacts to you using the silent treatment on them after an argument!

★ ── ot5 x gn!reader ⸝⸝ fluff, slight angst, suggestive in soobin’s, arguing and making up, pouty yeonjun lol, petty gyu, serious bf tyun, kais is genuinely kind of sad

੭ ⭑ 𓂃⠀⠀⠀ [ m. list ] ⭑ [ reblogs and feedback appreciated! ]

. . . SOOBIN !

originally acts like he doesn’t care

thinks the silent treatment is childish and gets kind of spiteful about ignoring you back

but he hates you being mad at him more than anything in the world and he breaks pretty fast

being without your love is unbearable for him :’( he can’t stand staying away from you

and the more he’s left to stew about your fight the more guilty he feels about hurting your feelings

gives you a big, heartfelt apology with gifts and cuddles and sweet kisses and hot rough makeup sex

. . . YEONJUN !

gets so pouty omg

he will actually die and wither away from lack of attention you don’t understand this is the end for him

follows you around like a lost puppy begging for attention and kisses </3

literally whining like a big baby

genuinely doesn’t know what he did wrong

but would do absolutely anything you wanted to fix it

and you just won’t tell him what he did!! and it’s driving him insane!! just tell him what he did wrong so he can fix it and make everything right again??

will just pester you until you break

. . . BEOMGYU !

oh you wanna play games now?? beomgyu won’t talk to you either.

will make it a big competition on who can keep it up for longer or who will get sick of it first

he’s so petty it’s not even funny the silent treatment is like a warzone with him

you’re the one to break first lmao

he’s lowk even better at it than you are and it drives you insane like you’re not even the one that’s mad???

so after a while you’re just like fine ugh lol

will stop when you stop tho, ready to talk it out and apologize and make amends ^^ never holds any grudges or hard feelings about silly fights

. . . TAEHYUN !

honestly kind of pisses him off

he’s very big about open communication in your relationship so he would be irritated that you wanted to be petty about the fight instead of talking it out with him

tyun hates arguments more than anything and he will not let any dumb silent treatment last longer than an afternoon

he will get you to talk to him dammit!

but tyuns just so gentle with you, he doesn’t want to upset you any more than you already were by getting angry

 gives you your space for a bit and then will sit next to you and get you to talk with him regardless of if you like it or not

and you will make up. he will make sure of it.

he will talk to the back of your head for hours he doesn’t care try him

. . . HUENING KAI !

literally devastated

like genuinely it hurts his feelings really bad pls don’t do that to him :’(

literally pleading for you to talk to him

you being upset with him makes him physically ill actually like nauseous with distress because you got into a fight

will say he’s sorry a thousand times even if he’s not sure what he’s sorry for

you can’t keep it up with kai so vulnerable

no matter the fight you always forgive hyuka quickly because you just can’t stay mad at him

clings to you and won’t let go for the rest of the night

[void-wolfie]

I Can't Live Without You

summary: you and Jenna get into a fight, you get into a car crash before you can make amends [request]

pairing: Jenna Ortega x fem!reader

tw: swearing, arguments, drinking, a car crash (i'm probably missing something so let me know if i need to add anything)

words: 2.33k

a/n: one of my longest posts yet, sorry it took me so long to get to this request and even longer to post it. anyway, enjoy the angst :)

You stood there, frozen in place, watching the pair through the windows of the coffee shop. As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from them.

His hand was up her thigh, shoulders brushing with every passing word, her smile brighter than all the stars in the midnight sky. But that’s not what held your attention. No. The thing that held your attention the most, was the kiss. 

You had no right to be jealous, it’s not like you were dating her. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

You liked Jenna, you really did… maybe even loved her… And you thought, or at least hoped, maybe she liked you back. But the scene in front of you told a very different story.

The couple sat towards the back of the café in a small corner booth, just against the windows. You probably wouldn’t have even noticed them if you weren’t about to head into the shop yourself. And yet, there they were. Hidden away like two lovers on a secret rendezvous.

You backed away, back in the direction you came from. You had plans for today, but those could wait. Right now, you needed to get away… anywhere far away from that.

Jenna saw you. She saw you turn and walk off in the other direction. There was something about the way you stormed off that caught her attention, it put a knot in her stomach.

Something was wrong, very wrong.

You wiped your eyes, hoping no one would notice if they saw you. You hated crying; it made you feel weak.

You patted down your pockets, looking for your car keys. Fortunately, it didn’t take long to find them, and it took even less to unlock the car door.

“What’s wrong?”

Of course… You closed your eyes, wanting nothing more than for the ground to swallow you whole right then and there.

 You didn’t want to talk to her, not after what you just saw.

“Not now, Jenna. Please.” 

You didn’t turn around, keeping yourself facing towards the car. You didn’t want to see her, and you sure as hell didn’t want her to see you like this. 

Jenna was taken aback. You told her everything. When something was wrong, you’d always go to her first. And now you were pushing her away? She couldn’t understand it.

The sound of footsteps echoed in the empty parking lot. Gravel crunched under Jenna’s feet as she got closer. You didn’t move though, you refused to let her see you like this. 

“Seriously, Jenna, I’m not in the mood.” You tried again to get her to go away. But her footsteps didn’t falter or change course… Nope, Jenna was going to give you a piece of her mind, whether you liked it or not.

You wiped your eyes again and took a deep breath, trying to pull yourself together. You didn’t want her to notice what a mess you were… Not like it would matter though, Jenna noticed everything.

Her footsteps stopped next to you. You could feel her eyes boring into you, her concern practically radiating off her. You didn’t budge though. You couldn’t. It almost seemed like the closer she got the faster your tears fell.

“Hey, talk to me. Whatever’s wrong, maybe I can help…”

Fuck… You hated the world. You hated yourself, you hated that boy, you hated everything. Everything but her… How do you even tell your best friend, the girl you’re in love with, that the reason your entire world is falling apart is because of her? She was your everything, and she destroyed you.

But worst of all, she didn’t even know it.

You still had your eyes closed, praying that by some miracle she would go away.

She reached out to hold your hand, anything to try and comfort you. But you pulled away.

Jenna tried to ignore the pain in her chest as you pulled away, the feeling of your fingertips slipping past hers was almost foreign. She knew you were hurting, but it didn’t make the ache in her own heart go away.

“Did I do something wrong?”

You wanted to laugh, you wanted to tell her it was all just a big misunderstanding, that you were fine. But you couldn’t. Instead, more tears fell.

Jenna would never be yours. Never anything more than a friend… The longer the two of you stood there the more the realization crushed you.

“No, Jenna. You didn’t do anything wrong.” The words came out soft, muffled by the air caught in your throat and the weight of the world slowly suffocating you.

“Then what’s wrong? Why won’t you talk to me?” She was getting frustrated now, evident by the tension in her voice and her rising volume.

“Because I can’t!” You snapped, “Because for fucking once, you’re the only person I can’t tell!”

“Why not?!”

“Because it’s not your fucking problem!”

The second the words left your mouth you wanted to take them back. You didn’t mean it.

You never thought you could see someone’s heart break. You always thought that was the stuff of movies and shows. And yet, that’s exactly what you saw looking at Jenna. You saw her heart shatter. You could see the tears welling in her eyes, her hands looked like they were shaking, and her face twisted in anger and hurt. She seemed…

broken.

“Sorry I even bothered then.”

You didn’t even have time to interject before she turned on her heel and stormed off. And even if you did, you weren’t sure you would’ve said anything anyway. What do you say to fix a broken heart? What do you say when your own heart is crumbling to pieces?

You finally got into your car, practically throwing yourself into the driver’s seat.

You took a second to breathe and digest whatever the hell just happened.

You ruined it. You just ruined the only relationship that ever mattered to you…

fuck.

You slammed your hand against the steering wheel. You did it again and again and again, beating the crap out of the poor thing. You kept going till your hand was purple and blue and all the anger had finally faded away. All that remained was your shattered soul and bruised hand.

You’d give anything to take back what just happened…

You stumbled out of the bar door, your eyes struggling to adjust to the pitch-black sky after sitting under the tavern lights for so long.

After your fight with Jenna you decided to turn to the best distraction you could think of; crawling into the bottom of a bottle. All things considered; you’ve been worse off. You weren’t seeing double yet and you hadn’t fallen on your face. Both of which were good things considering how much you had to drink.

You fumbled for your keys, dropping them as you pulled them from your pocket. You bent over to pick them up, your stomach churning as you did so. You heaved, silently begging your body not to barf. It churned again. You nearly lost it, but the feeling seemed to pass as quickly as it appeared.

You looked down at the keys in your hand, quickly shoving them back into your pocket. If the way you nearly puked two seconds ago told you anything it was that you were too drunk to drive home.

You pulled out your phone, trying to think of someone who’d be willing to drive you home this late at night. You clicked the first contact you could think of.

You listened to the dial tone. Once, twice, three rings. Then to voicemail. You didn’t bother leaving a message, instead hanging up. It was crazy to think she’d pick up anyway.

You clicked a different contact, your brother. Once again, it rang only to go to voicemail. You tried your sister, but once again, no answer.

You looked over at your car, contemplating just how drunk you were. Your house wasn't that far away, maybe you could drive?

No. It wasn't worth the risk. You only lived a few blocks away, you could walk. You weren’t gonna be one of those idiots on the news who got a hundred years in prison for killing someone because they drove home drunk.

You headed towards the street, making sure to keep on the sidewalk. You didn’t want to stumble into the road like some drunk idiot, even if there weren’t any cars around. You decided to put on some soft music while you walked, the quiet beginning to make you uncomfortable.

Somewhere behind you could hear the rumble of a car. It was getting close and fast… definitely too fast to be safe. You turned behind you to try and get a look at the car, only to be met with bright headlights right in your eyes. It almost seemed like they were swerving but it was too hard to tell.

“Hello?” Jenna answered the phone with a sigh.

She’d been halfway through pouring herself yet another glass of white wine when her phone started to ring. She was just going to ignore it, but it kept ringing. Eventually, she decided to pick it up and tell whoever it was to call back tomorrow.

She couldn’t stop thinking about the fight from earlier. In fact, it was all she could think about all day. And the more she thought about it the more her chest ached. And the more her chest ached, the more wine she found herself pouring.

“Jenna! Are you okay? Please tell me you’re okay?”  It was her mom; she seemed worried, frantic even. She wasn’t sure why she was so worked up, but it couldn’t have been good.

“Yeah, mom, I’m fine. What’s wrong?”

There was a pause. A moment of silence. The tension that seeped into the air sent chills down Jenna’s spine.

“Mom?”

“You don’t know?”

“Know what?” Now she was even more confused. Did something happen? “You’re scaring me, Mom. What’s wrong?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, hun. I was worried, I thought you might’ve been with her when it happened and- ”

“With who? What happened?”

“Oh,” she could hear her mom’s voice cracking from the other side of the phone, it only made her more worried, “Sweetheart… There was an accident, a bad one.” Her mom didn’t need to say your name, Jenna already knew exactly who she was talking about.

Her mom kept rambling, but she was hardly listening. Jenna made out some words; drunk driver, life support, critical condition… but all she could think about was you.

“What hospital?” Jenna interrupted. She loved her mom, but the conversation at hand was far from her mind. She needed to see you, she needed to know you were going to be okay. You had to be okay… she wasn’t sure what she would even do if you weren’t.

“The hospital just off of thirteenth street-”

“What floor?”

“The ICU-”

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” She didn’t care how many stoplights she had to run or what laws she had to break. She’d be there in fifteen minutes, damn the consequences.

Before her mom could get another word in, Jenna hung up the phone.

True to her word it only took her fifteen minutes to get to the hospital, a feat which should’ve been nearly impossible given how far away she lived. 

Jenna ran up to the nurse’s station, frantic and out of breath, “Where’s-”

Before she could finish her question alarms started blaring. Rapid beeping shot out from the computers, lights began flashing outside one of the rooms, everyone jumped out of their seats. All Jenna could comprehend from the chaos was ‘Code Blue’ and ‘Room 143’.

She watched the nurses rush down the hall towards the flashing lights, she noted doctors and other nurses rushing towards the same room as well. One of the nurses closed the blinds while another closed the door to keep the family from watching from the hall.

It took a few seconds before she realized she recognized the family. She noted your brother, looking pale and emotionless. Your mother, tears streaming down her eyes and holding onto your sister, who was crying herself, for dear life.

The alarms, your family, the term ‘Code Blue’… the realization of what was happening hit Jenna like a freight train.

“No…” Jenna didn’t want to believe it, she couldn’t. “No… No, no, no, no -”

Her legs were carrying her before she even realized what she was doing, her body acting off instinct.

She nearly tripped as a pair of arms latched onto her, holding her back from storming into the room. She tried pushing the arms off, her sights still set on the door in front of her, but it was pointless. Whoever had her wasn’t letting go.

Tears clouded her vision, but she could hear the doctors inside your room clearly; demanding voices talking about drugs and techniques, the sound of the defibrillator going, different nurses and doctors all talking over one another.

She needed you to be okay. You had to be okay.

Then, just as quickly as it all started, everything went quiet.

Jenna’s pleading had stopped, lost to her hoarse voice and sobbing cries. The doctors had all gone quiet, there was no more talk of treatments or drugs. The familiar tones of the defibrillator had stopped, no more sounds from charging or discharging. All that remained were the normal sounds of a busy hospital.

The loudest sound of all though, was the one sound that was missing. Your hospital monitor had gone silent, most likely turned off by one of the doctors or nurses. No alarms, no ticks or beeps, just cold steady silence.

“Time of death, twenty-three fifty-seven.”

Jenna heard one of the doctors say it, almost as clear as day. She never thought one little sentence could hurt her so bad, and yet, having her heart ripped from her chest would’ve been less painful.

You were gone.

Not just gone…

Dead.

[fangirl-dot-com]

🎩Track 7 - Look What You Made Me Do

*this chapter was sweet but fun to write! I hope you all enjoy!!*

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Max thought that apologizing to Logan would have been easy. He’d just go to their hotel the morning after when everyone had had a chance to cool down. What he wasn’t expecting was to learn that you, Logan, and the whole Lamborghini team had packed up and left in the early hours of dawn. 

Oh well, the Dutchman thought that Jeddah would be a good time to truly apologize. 

But, Jeddah came and went and the drivers were still given the cold shoulder. 

During the weekend, Max could see how, well, cocky the two Americans had gotten. But they had a reason to be. When Logan and you were finally put in the interviews together, you shied away from the others. 

Even the podium of a second 1-2, your first win of the season and the first shared podium with Max, was cold. The two of you paid no attention to the Red Bull driver, only seeking out to spray your race engineer Lyla and then the team below. 

Charles had another try in Australia. Another 1-2 and no amendments. At least Logan was currently the championship leader. If he wouldn’t talk, he could at least enjoy the joys that came with being P1. 

Japan ended with Logan in P2, surrounded by Max in P1and Charles in P3. This time, Max had made an executive decision to corner the blond on the way out. He had put his hand on Logan’s shoulder, only for the latter to reel away like Max’s hand burned him. 

Max looked at him with sympathy. “Logan, come on. Please let us apologize.” 

Charles had stood behind Max in some weird moral support. However, that was the wrong choice as Logan now felt trapped. 

With fire, he was able to spit out, “I don’t like your little games or the tilted stage that is supposedly supposed to be yours. I got on that podium and made it mine.”

The Monegasque huffed. “Logan, you’re being unfair.” 

Logan responded with a sarcastic laugh. “You made me play the role of the fool. Just leave me alone.” 

Logan brushed past the two of them and was able to get out with no one else coming up to try to apologize. 

Max sighed, defeated once again. Charles could only offer a hand of comfort, also feeling the hole that you and Logan were supposed to take up in his life. But Max wasn’t about to give up. If there was one thing his dad taught him, it was to keep pushing until you got what you want. 

China also came and went. No progress was made. And yet another podium shared. Logan was back to being P1, then you in P2, and a surprise P3 of Lewis. How the dumpster fire of a Mercedes was able to stay ahead of Max? No one knew. Turns out, Max’s throttle was stuck and he couldn’t overcome it. 

To your surprise, Lewis didn’t push trying to talk to the two of you. He knew first hand that talking in a crowded space wouldn’t work. 

When it was Miami time, the group was still sulking. Their paddle games weren’t the same without Charles making fun of your black and yellow clothes or Logan learning some new Dutch sentence from Max. 

George was thankful to be on the receiving end of a handful of texts from you and Logan. Just mundane things that he was actually relieved to get. Because you or Logan weren’t talking, no one knew really what the two of you were up to. It seemed as though the two of you only posted after races. 

Lewis sighed as he looked at his teammate. “Any news from you know who?” 

It was as if saying your names would cause another blow up to happen. 

George only responded in small grunt. “Looks like they’re back home. Logan texted me that they’re in the same press conference as us, Max, and Charles. It’s going to be like a bomb waiting to go off.” 

The smaller Briton put his head in his hands. “We really messed up.” 

George snorted. “Yeah. But Logan will forgive us. I can feel it.” 

Well, Lewis was right. The tension in the room was so thick that a mere kitchen knife would not be able to cut it. It looked as though you had taken the inside seat, almost protecting Logan from having to sit anywhere near the others. 

Charles felt some hope when you shot him somewhat of a sad smile. But to him, it was progress. Logan, however, looked miserable. George wanted to cry when he resembled the 2023 Williams version of himself. He wanted to lean over you to talk to him, but the questions began to start. 

A woman raised her hand first. 

“Question for Logan. We’ve seen a dominant Lamborghini in the past opening races and we’ve seen that your driving style has changed a bit. Can you tell us a bit about your mindset and how you decided to go about the new car?” 

Logan licked his lips as he brought the mic to his lips. A small smile made its way to his face. 

“I got smarter and I got harder, in well, the nick of time. In December, Lamborghini reached out with an offer than had to be decided quickly. There really wasn’t time to think about it. So, I just went with it.” 

This time a man raised his hand. 

“A question for Y/n. We saw that you and Logan had completely blacked out your social medias. And during that time, some fans thought you had died. Thankfully you didn’t.” 

A few laughs arose from the crowd, you and Logan included. 

The journalist continued. “Can you maybe give us a comment on how you went from, well, your career dying to becoming what it is today?” 

Your quirked an eyebrow and smirked at the man. “I rose up from the dead. I tend to do it all the time. People put me down until I feel like I can’t get back up, and then somehow, I always get back up and then just do my thing. That’s mostly why my nickname is Phoenix for people close to me.” 

Another man raised his hand. “A question for the table. We haven’t see any paddle matches between the six of you in a while. Do you think that this weekend there might be some friendly competition back in the paddock?” 

Beside you, Logan inhaled sharply. 

George took the initiative for this one. “We’ve been very busy with the first few weeks. We all have gone separate ways between weekends. But maybe Charles and Max just got tired of losing to us.” 

Lewis snorted while Max and Charles gawked at the tall Briton. The snort, in turn, made you and Logan chuckle a bit, which was caught on the mic for everyone to hear. Charles rolled his eyes. 

“I am actually a good paddle player. Just someone seems to not want to go for the ball.” 

He was currently giving Max a bombastic side eye while Max narrowed his eyes back at his rival. On the inside though, they were buzzing at the fact that you and Logan had joined in on the banter (even if it was just a few laughs). 

While they were having a stare down, you chose to raise the mic. 

“Like George said, we’ve all been busy. Logan and I fly back to Milan almost every week when we can to keep the car up to the standards that it needs to be.” 

Logan nodded before continuing. “If we want to stay on top, then we have to put in the work for it.”  

The press for the drivers rounded up quickly after a few more questions. The tension was still there, but a few answers of praise for the two from the four lightened things up. 

You and Logan watched as they left, but the two of you took spots in the back to watch the team principals’ conference. You smiled and pointed out how they put Michael right in the middle of James and Zac. Logan could hardly keep his snort in. 

He leaned over and whispered, “Is it bad I want to see him drag James?” 

You shook your head and whispered back, “I want to see it too and Zac.” 

Michael adjusted his shirt and looked out to the crowd. He smiled a bit when he saw you and Logan laughing in the back, shoulder to shoulder. He knew he had one of the best driver lineups of the grid, and he wasn’t about to let them go. Right now, he had some teams contacting him about the length of your contracts. However, he left them unanswered. 

With a clearing of a throat, the journalists settled down as someone asked the first question. 

“For Mr. Vowles, Williams haven’t been doing too well this season so far. However, Alex has mentioned that most of the upgrades from the car had come from Logan himself. Do you think that if you kept Logan on for another year, things might be different?” 

James ran a hand through his hair. “Well, all we can do is throw ‘ifs’ around and speculate a reality that might have happened. I wouldn’t be able to answer that.” 

“Another question for James. How does it feel seeing Logan on the top step almost every weekend so far knowing that he could have had that with Williams?” 

“I personally don’t think Logan would get on the podiums in our car. He got lucky with Andretti and Lamborghini. Honestly, if any of the drivers had the car that they had, they’d probably get the same results.” 

Michael rolled his eyes a bit, knowing that the gesture would be caught on some camera, but he really didn’t care. 

“A question for Mr. Brown. Y/n L/n brought a 75 percent win rate to Arrows’ wins last year. Why did you and McLaren decide to terminate her contract?” 

Zac grunted as he shifted in his seat. “Well, like with all drivers, we just have to look at who is on the market. And going with Alexander seemed like the right choice.” 

The journalist took a breath before continuing. “Do you feel the same after Alexander and the team have failed to obtain points? And Alexander has DNF-ed in the past three races?” 

The McLaren CEO shook his head. “We took a gamble. But I have no doubts in the team. Like I said, we had to keep our options open. Keeping L/n would have just set us back.” 

The same woman who asked Logan a few questions now gestured to Michael. 

“Mr. Andretti, first congratulations to you and your two drivers for leading the championship. I know you must be very proud.” 

Michael smiled as he spoke into the mic, “Thank you very much. I couldn’t be prouder of Logan and Y/n. They both put in so much work during the winter break. I am just glad that we can give them a car that they deserve. They’re both good drivers, and I don’t believe that it was just luck that got them here.” 

The woman smirked, knowing that she was pushing buttons, but no one seemed to mind. 

“Following up with that, how what was the decision like to bring Logan and Y/n to the team after two failed campaigns in both Formula 1 and IndyCar?” 

You leaned over to Logan. “Ooooo it’s about to get good.” 

Your boss smiled as he thought over his question. “Well, we knew that we needed two drivers who were already comfortable with each other. We’re a team first and if our drivers can’t get along or their driving styles aren’t compatible, then we don’t have a firm base. Mr. Tonino and I had a few drivers that we’d be willing to talk to.” 

“And were Y/n and Logan on that initial list?” 

He nodded. “I had a list of names and Logan’s and Y/n’s were in red and underlined. Mr. Tonino was very adamant about the two of them. Because he is the big boss man.”

That made people laugh, including the two of you in the back. 

Michael continued, “He had full say of who he wanted to drive his cars and that happened to be our duo. Looking at the analytics of their driving, they were almost identical. It would have been a shame to let them slip through our fingers.” 

He looked out beyond the crowd at you and Logan. You two were looking back with wide but thankful smiles. He knew that you had given up on your careers in motorsports. He just hoped that he was giving you everything that you could ever want. 

The press conference wrapped up quickly after that. You and Logan found yourselves going over some last minute details before the day was done. Logan sighed as he put his head on the halo of his car. 

Your eyes help sympathy for your boyfriend. You walked over and placed a hand on his back. 

“Come on Logs, talk to me.” 

He turned his head, cheek still pressed against the carbon fiber. 

“I miss them, but they hurt me so much. And I don’t want to be hurt like that again. I don’t trust no one and no one trusts me.” 

You bent a bit to get closer. 

“Listen to me baby. They treated you terribly, but I’ve also seen how happy they are that you gave them a second chance. I really think that they want to be genuine, it all just went a bit too fast. The world moves on, another day another drama, but not for us. We’re still stuck in the mindset that if we mess up, we’ll get booted immediately.” 

Logan sighed as he stood upright to take you in his arms. He kissed the top of your forehead and rested against your hair. 

“I understand. All I’ve been thinking about it karma. It feels like the world moved on, but not me. Like, maybe I got my karma when Williams dropped me, but I feel like they haven’t gotten theirs yet.” 

You snorted and pulled back to look him in the face. 

“Baby, I think Max’s karma is that you’re going to take the championship away from him this year.” 

He smirked down at you. “Oh yeah sweetheart?” 

You leaned your head up to look him in the eyes. “Most definitely. Now, let’s go. We have a sulking rival pair to talk to.” 

Logan went back to his hiding place in your hair. 

“Do we have to?” he whined, really not wanting to talk to them now. 

Your hands went up and ruffled his hair, making him huff. 

“Fine. We can do it after you win your home race.” 

Logan smiled. “But it’s your home race too.” 

“May the best driver win?” 

“May the best driver win.” 

“AND IT’S LOGAN SARGEANT ACROSS THE FINISH LINE IN P1 AT HIS HOME RACE HERE IN MIAMI! Y/N L/N BRINGS IT HOME SECOND, WITH LAMBORGHINI’S FIFTH 1-2 FINISH! GEORGE RUSSELL FINISHES IN P3 WITH MAX VERSTAPPEN ON HIS TAIL!” 

Logan breathed a sigh of relief as he climbed out of his cockpit. As he stood tall, he look around at the screaming crowds. They were all for him and you. You tugged on his sleeve to bring him down into a hug. 

On the side, George stood next to Max and Lewis and just watched as you two bounced up and down in each other’s arms, ecstatic about a home race win. When Max and Lewis left, Logan turned around and headed straight to George. 

The tall Briton was not expecting a hug, but his arms immediately wrapped around the shorter blond. He could feel Logan shaking, maybe signaling that he was crying, but George didn’t say anything. He remembers that he was always the crier during his first points and his first win. The two pulled apart. 

“I’m going to talk to the group later tonight if that’s ok?” Logan asked, wanting to heal his aching heart. 

George nodded and patted his arm. “We’ll talk. Go get your interviews done winner.” 

Logan smiled before giving him one last hug. He jogged over to get weighed and then went to talk to Jensen Button. 

Jensen was happy to see a very smiley Logan, something he hadn’t seen since Bahrain. The older man put a hand on Logan’s shoulder. 

“So Logan, congratulations on bringing Lamborghini’s fifth 1-2 finish this season. How are you feeling?” 

Logan laughed before answering in the mic, “I feel so light, it’s unreal. I just finally feel like I can do my job and do it well.” 

“If you could have a phone call with the old Logan, what would you say or vice versa?” 

“Oh, the old Logan couldn’t come to the phone because he’s dead. I’m really a new person and version of my best self this season and I don’t want to dwell on the past anymore.” 

Jensen chuckled. “Good man. Now go get your trophy.” 

Up on the podium, you, Logan, and George were a stark contrast of the past few races. This time, the two of you interacted with George and sprayed him back. 

When you and Logan changed, you were surprised to see Max, Charles, and Lewis waiting in your garage. Logan looked down at the floor with a guilty expression. He had tears in his eyes when he went to apologize. 

“I am so sorry for how I have acted. I-” 

Lewis held out a hand to stop Logan from talking. The Briton sighed before he spoke. 

“There’s nothing to apologize for.” 

When Logan and you went to retaliate, Max cut you off. 

“If there’s someone who needs to be sorry, it’s us and the entire grid. I know we can’t talk for them, but we can talk for us.” 

Charles took a tiny step forward. 

“Looking back, we should have formally apologized before jumping into some pseudo-friendship that was built on a bad past. We should have treated you better last year and we have no excuses.” 

Lewis took over. “But now we have a chance to do better, to ask for forgiveness. I know the whole saying is ‘forgive and forget’ but there really is no true forgetting. It’s always going to haunt you and us for a while. But we want to start again.” 

Max looked down at the floor. “What we’re saying is that we miss you and we’re hoping that you’ll forgive us.” 

You and Logan shared a quick glance before smiling. 

You turned to Charles. “We’ll take all the ice cream that you can give us and we want to spend time with Max’s cats.” 

The three’s heads shot up and they looked at you with wide eyes. 

Charles gawked. “That’s it?” 

Logan raised an eyebrow. “I mean, we can think of other things if you’d like that. I’ve been wanting a few new cars and a yacht.”

Max winced. “No we can do a cat playdate.” 

The Ferrari driver pulled out his phone. “Getting the ice cream sent now.” 

Lewis looked at them with narrowed eyes. “What do you two want from me?” 

You and Logan smirked at the Mercedes driver. 

“We want Roscoe.”  

venus2 has posted

venus2 oh, look what you made me do

liked by maxverstappen1, sargeantgirlie, lamboduo, and 1,204,294 others

f1_grid_gang dare I say my family is back together??

my_goat_logan OH YEAH THAT'S MY CHAMPIONSHIP LEADER

ferrari&lambo we're looking Logan 👀

lewishamilton yes, I've seen that you and your teammate have kidnapped my dog 🤨

venus2 all for a good cause

phoenix95 he's fine with his siblings and yes all vegan treats ☺️

lewishamilton fine.

logan.nation these are the type of posts I missed

phoenix&venus they got the band back together 😭

nomoreloscar now we just need other drivers to apologize as well

phoenix95 has posted

phoenix95 I'll be the actress staring in your bad dreams ���

liked by charles_leclerc, Dior, paddlesixtet, and 2,305,869 others

beelamborghini my queen bee 🐝👑

y/n.nation ok but the helmet slaps

lambo_duo nothing is better than seeing those two on the podium

usaF1 that and hearing the star spangled banner almost every week

wtf_isa_km AMERICAAAAA RAWWRRRR 🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅

charles_leclerc was the sparkle necessary petite abeille

phoenix95 better watch it leclerc or Leo is next 🙂

maxverstappen1 Charles, you better run and hide your puppy in those massive pants of yours

phoenix95 🫵🤣

charles_leclerc I thought you liked the cloud pants ☹️

maxverstappen1 wait I do!!

venus2 simp.

rariferrari her lap pace is just 🤌

lambof1 this is just a proper racing team

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlm @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicore @skepvids @sunrizef1 @stan-josie @fanficweasley @hiireadstuff @barcelonaloverf1life @c-losur3 @graciewrote @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @tallrock35 @ashy-kit @kat-su @minkyungseokie @lozzamez3 @leslieis-crying @adventuresofrose @lighttsoutlewis

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!Reader Series

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14

Summary: Will's birthday party brings back some familiar faces and gives Eddie the perfect opportunity to make amends with Corroded Coffin, but an unexpected interruption might have him hurtling towards his old ways.

Warnings: some dirty talk (18+ only just in case), drinking/drunkenness (everyone is over 21), pregnancy and labor complications, mentions of past bullying

WC: 8.2k

Chapter 14/20

Divider credit to @saradika Special shoutout to @storiesbyrhi and @corroded-hellfire for helping with the fluffy sections and making this piece strong.

--

Afternoons at Hawkins Preschool are predictable: storytime on the carpet is followed by the kids’ pack-up routine, and once all belongings are shoved into their proper backpacks, they file out the door to go home. 

Predictable is good. It’s safe. And it certainly doesn’t include a fire drill half an hour before dismissal. 

Herding nine children through the bustling hallways and trying to ensure no one is left behind is overwhelming enough. Factor in the ear-splitting alarm and the surge of adrenaline pulsing through your students once they re-enter your classroom, and you’ve got the perfect recipe for chaos. 

Instead of fighting a losing battle to keep the kids calm and quiet, you’d opted to plunk them down with myriad art supplies and called it a day. 

Now, after the last student had been picked up, you and Will are left cleaning the mess they’d made. Broken crayons are scattered across the tabletops, there’s Play-Doh of various colors stuck to the floor, and gold glitter—when did you even acquire glitter?—dusts every surface. 

“Seriously…who thought that that timing was a good idea?” Will grumbles, tossing a Crayola stub into the crayon basket. He adopts a nasal, mocking tone. “‘What would help out our teachers? Oh, I know—let’s interrupt their dismissal routines!’”

You laugh despite your own exhaustion. Somehow, you’ll have to muster up the energy to tutor Harris tonight. 

Will reaches into the cupboard to grab his car keys, turning back around with a smile that he only offers you when he needs something. “Could I ask you for a little favor?”

There it is. “How little?” You cock one brow as you clip a stack of papers together.

“Eensy weensy. Miniscule. Microscopic–”

“The more you say it, the less I believe you.”

“Okay, okay,” Will acquiesces, twirling his keyring around his forefinger. “So, for my birthday thing on Saturday…a bunch of my childhood friends are gonna be there. Mike, Dustin, Suzie, Lucas, Max, Jane…” he lists them, ticking off each name on his fingers. “Anyway, I was hoping that maybe you could talk to Eddie about a Corroded Coffin reunion? I know they’re on a hiatus or whatever, but if anyone can convince him to play, it’s you.”

He’s not wrong; you’re the most likely person to get Eddie to do, well, anything. But asking him to make amends with Danny and Gareth and getting their band to play a gig three days from now seems like a mountainous task.

Will is staring at you, hands clasped together pleadingly. He’s too optimistic for his own good, and you can’t help but give in.

“Fine, I’ll try. But–hey, don’t get excited yet,” you warn when he pumps his fist in celebration. “‘Try’ is the key word here. I’m not making any promises.”

Your admonition goes unheeded as Will already considers it a victory. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” You give him a small, tight-lipped wave as he dashes out the door. You and Eddie were already planning to attend the party; you’d spent part of last night scouring an art store for the perfect gift. And he and Jeff were back to being thick as thieves…maybe this could work. 

“All right, Mr. Harris,” you say with a laugh, hurriedly placing tiles of various shapes in front of him. You need to make the most of the few minutes you have left until Eddie arrives. There’s a soft, familiar flutter in your stomach as you think about seeing your boyfriend, but you know you can’t compete with him for Harris’s attention. “Can you find the…trapezoid?” The inflection in your voice makes it sound like a much more exciting task than it really is, and you hope it’s enough to wrangle his focus. 

Harris pokes out his tiny pink tongue as he assesses the tiles. He initially reaches for the blue rhombus, but as soon as his little finger touches it, he pulls away as though it’s on fire. “No…that’s not it.” You tuck your lips into your mouth to suppress your amusement as he thoughtfully taps his forefinger on his lips. A solid ten seconds pass before he triumphantly snatches up the correct tile. “Got it!” he beams, showing off the red trapezoid in his hand.

“You did! You got the trapezoid!” You hold up your hand for a high-five, frowning when he shakes his head. His overgrown curls brush along his eyebrows, and you wonder if it’s your place to suggest that Eddie take him for a haircut. “No high-five?”

“Nuh-uh,” Harris protests, now swiveling his whole body in defiance. “I want…tickles!” He holds his arms out, leaving his torso wide open.

Lips pursed in faux consideration, you lower your voice to a hushed whisper. “Hmm…I think that warrants a visit from the Tickle Monster!” You flex your fingers so they resemble claws; he instinctively scrunches up in anticipation, arms tucked into his stomach. You let out your silliest wicked cackle as your fingers dig mercilessly into his sides in pursuit of his most ticklish spots. Delighted peals of laughter emanate from his chest, and you don’t stop until the buzzer rings, signaling Eddie’s arrival.

Harris’s eyes get wide, mischief dancing behind his pupils. “Do you think the Tickle Monster should get Daddy?” he asks, keeping his voice low despite it only being the two of you. 

“Oh, absolutely.” You buzz Eddie in while formulating the game plan aloud. “I’ll grab the pizza and you go on the attack. Once the food is secured, I’ll join you.” You stick out your pinky, and he wraps his own around it. 

“Ms. Sweetheart?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

His words turn your heart into a chocolate chip cookie fresh out of the oven, ooey gooey and destined to crumble if handled too harshly. “I love you, too, Harris,” you manage, blinking back embarrassing tears. The flood of emotion is absurd; he probably tells his stuffed animals that he loves them with the same fervor, but you can’t deny the adoration with which he looks at you.

He flings his arms around you in a hug, squeezing tight. Face pressed to your ribs, his words are muffled but still audible when he says, “I don’t know why Daddy says it’s hard to say ‘I love you.’”

He doesn’t have time to further elaborate before Eddie’s knocking on the door. “Special delivery for my two favorite people!” Your heart beats faster with the knowledge that he’s on the other side, that you’ll be able to sneak in a kiss or two. 

You and Harris share devious grins, the little boy emulating your monster-esque stance from earlier. He creeps behind you on his tiptoes, and bites back a giggle when you slowly open the door, counting down from three under your breath.

“Hi–whoa!” Eddie stumbles back as Harris barrels into him, little fingers dancing across his lower stomach. You quickly snatch the pizza box from Eddie’s grasp and place it on the table before darting back to where his son has ambushed him. You start on his bicep and let your nails travel upwards until they reach the crook of his neck. 

“I’m under attack!” Eddie yelps, twitching this way and that way in a meager attempt to protect himself. “I bring you pizza and this is how I’m repaid?” He easily scoops Harris into his arms, flinging him over his shoulder. Harris lets out an exhilarated squeal, carelessly kicking his sock-clad feet into his dad’s chest. “Jesus, little dude. You’re getting too strong.” Wincing slightly from the pinch in his back as he places the boy on the floor, he gives his tush a little pat and tells him to wash up for dinner, reminding him to use soap and water.

As soon as Harris scampers off into the bathroom, Eddie’s grabbing you by the belt loops of the wide-leg jeans you’d changed into when you got home. One hand slides around your waist and the other finds purchase on your cheek as he kisses you deeply, keeping a listening ear out for the telltale pitter-patter of Harris returning. 

“Missed you,” he murmurs into your mouth, and you shiver at the intimacy this closeness brings.

You laugh quietly, biting your lower lip. “We just saw each other this morning,” you remind him, sneaking in another quick peck.

Eddie shakes his head. “Y’know what I mean. Can’t do this while you’re on the clock,” he counters, shifting his grip so both hands rest on either side of your face. You think he’s going to kiss you again, but he just gazes into your eyes. “Shit, you’re so fuckin’ pretty. Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you today.” He rests the slope of his nose on yours, only snapping out of his trance at the sound of Harris rapidly switching the faucet on and off. “Let me go check on him before this place is underwater,” he whispers, giving your own ass a smack as he shuffles towards his mischievous son, a cheeky grin deepening his dimples.

You do your best to compose yourself, heat creeping up your neck and into your face. Busying yourself by placing pizza slices onto paper plates does little to distract you; it’s as though every neuron is dedicated to flooding your brain with Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. 

The way the pads of his fingertips brush against your cheeks when he holds your face. The plush moisture of his lips when he kisses your forehead. The tickle of his brown tresses when he nuzzles into you and takes a deep breath, finally able to relax after a long day. 

“Are you expecting a guest?” Eddie pipes up from the kitchen entrance. A perplexed frown overtakes your lips until he gestures to what you’ve laid out in front of you: four slices of pizza, two plain and two with olives, on four plates. 

Your vision gets a bit fuzzy with tears when you realize what you’ve done. “No, it’s, um…” Nostrils flare as you huff out a short puff of air, hot under your nose. “Force of habit, sorry.” You’ve been so diligent about only serving three slices, but your preoccupation with his touch had your mind drifting from the task at hand.

It takes him a moment to process what you mean, but when he does, his face falls. It was for Grandma. “It’s okay,” he says, cringing as the words leave his mouth. Because it’s not okay that you’re sad; it’s normal, but frustration still tugs at his heart that he can’t take it away.

It feels wrong to return the slice to the box, so you leave it where it is. Eddie balances the three plates, sliding a plain one in front of Harris. The boy digs in hungrily, sauce caught on the edges of his smile.

“How was work?” you ask Eddie, grabbing a napkin from the pile in the center of the table. It’s a simple question, one that people ask each other all the time, but it stirs up a warmth inside of him. It’s you asking him, fostering a domestic routine that he could follow for the rest of his life. He’d walk through the door of your house, wiping his shoes on the welcome mat you two had picked out together. The kids–Harris, plus another Little Munson or two–would practically knock him down trying to greet him, and he’d engulf them in bear hugs before reaching out to you, kissing your forehead with a murmured, “there’s my girl.”

“Eds?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, it was good.” He stumbles over the words, trying to clear his head of the fantasy he’d conjured up. “Lotsa paperwork, y’know.” He takes a bite of pizza, chewing thoughtfully. “What about you?”

You shrug, watching amusedly as Harris sinks his teeth into his slice and manages to pull all of the cheese off of the crust in one fell swoop. “The usual. The kids are learning about springtime, so Will decided to do a craft making flowers using finger paint and their handprints.”

“Sounds messy.”

“Oh, absolutely,” you agree with a weary grin, “but it was super cute, and Will is great with all that art stuff.” You excuse yourself from the table to get the water pitcher and three glasses, stopping when you remember your TA’s request. “He also asked me if a certain local metal band could play his birthday party on Saturday…?”

Eddie pauses mid-chew, nearly choking on his food. The cheese seems to congeal in his mouth when he tries to speak. “Um, I don’t know about that,” he finally manages, nervously massaging the back of his neck. “I haven’t talked to Danny or Gareth since…”

“I know, but you said you wanted to make things right with them,” you point out. “Maybe Jeff can test the waters? See if they’re ready to talk to you?”

“Maybe.” He averts his gaze, staring at the pizza slice without taking another bite. 

You don’t want to further push the subject in Harris’s presence; instead, you turn your attention to the little boy. “Anything fun happen at school today, Har?”

“Nah,” he responds automatically just a half-second before his eyes light up. “Actually, yeah! My friend Charlie ate a bug at recess today!”

“Ew!” you exclaim, wrinkling your nose in pure disgust, as Eddie simultaneously poses the question, “what kind of bug?”

“An ant,” Harris answers his dad nonchalantly, as though ant-eating is an everyday occurrence. Perhaps it is, which is even more unsettling. 

“Did you eat any bugs?” You’re afraid of his response; you’re unsure why you even asked in the first place. 

To your relief, he shakes his head, a forlorn look on his cherubic face. “No, I couldn’t catch any in time.”

“Thank God for small miracles,” you mutter, turning back to your original task of getting something to drink. Though if the topic of bug consumption continues, you’ll need something much stronger than water. 

Could Corroded Coffin play again?

It’s a thought that consumes Eddie for the entirety of his drive home, barely able to listen to Harris yammering about how there’s a coin in his jacket pocket that he doesn’t remember putting there. He throws a few lackluster mhms his son’s way and hopes he’s too distracted by the mystery coin to catch on. 

We’re getting the band back together. Well, if Jake and Elwood Blues could swing it, maybe he could, too. 

He waits until Harris is asleep to call Jeff. Getting his son to do his bedtime routine is easiest on Wednesday nights; he’s usually exhausted after a full day of school and tutoring. The one time that Eddie could use an excuse to procrastinate, Harris is out like a light. 

Go to voicemail go to voicemail go to—

“‘Lo?”

Shit. “H-Hey, man,” Eddie begins awkwardly. “How’s it going? Viv doing okay?”

“We’re good. She’s ready to have this baby already. I reminded her, ‘just two more weeks,’ but then she told me to ‘fuck off’ until I’m the pregnant one, so…” he chuckles, more nervous than amused. “Everything good with you? Harris?”

“Yeah, we’re fine. Just, um,” he struggles to find the words, blurting out the first ones that enter his brain. They come out in a rush before he can stop them. “Do Gareth and Danny still hate me?”

Jeff takes a sharp breath in; his reaction does nothing to temper Eddie’s nerves. “They never hated you. They were just…disappointed? Jesus, I sound like my mom.” 

Eddie misses his friend’s anecdote, too wrapped up in his head to fully pay attention. Somehow, disappointed stings worse than the prospect of being hated, especially when the people he’s let down are ones who used to idolize him. “Do you think there’s a way they could be…undisappointed in me? Like, enough to forgive me and maybe play a gig this weekend?”

There’s an extended pause, and then a one-word response: “Christ.” 

Eddie can picture Jeff rubbing his eyes in exasperation, and he scrambles to explain. “Will Byers–you remember him? He was in Hellfire; had that weird bowl cut thing going on?”

“Mhm.”

“He’s having a birthday thing at the Hideout on Saturday and asked if we could play. Just a coupla songs.”

Jeff thinks for a moment; Eddie can hear him drumming his fingers on a nearby surface.

“Why don’t you come over tomorrow night around…6?” he ventures. “I’ll invite the guys and we can…I dunno, figure something out.”

“Thanks, man. I owe you.” He’s about to hang up when he remembers to ask, “Can I bring Harris?”

“Of course.”

“Har, slow down!” Eddie’s barely unbuckled his son’s car seat before Harris has wriggled out of the sedan, bolting straight for Jeff’s door.

“But I haven’t seen Uncle Danny and Uncle Gareth in forever!” he laments, reaching the house far faster than Eddie. He stands on tiptoes and rings the doorbell like a madman, forefinger jamming into the button at warp speed. “Uncle Jeff! It’s me!”

Jeff opens the door with a huge smile. “Mini Munson!” He scoops the boy up into a hug. “What’s new with you, little dude?”

“I got a wiggly tooth!” Harris exclaims, jutting out his jaw and pressing his tongue against the front center of his mouth. Sure enough, the baby tooth moves slightly forward, and he giggles. “Daddy says the Tooth Fairy’s gonna come and leave me a dollar,” he matter-of-factly reports. He peeks his head over Jeff’s shoulder, squealing and squirming out of his grip when he spots the two men sitting on the couch. He flings himself onto the sofa and plunks himself down into Gareth’s lap. “Hi!”

“Hey, kiddo!” Gareth chirps. “You’re getting so big.”

“‘M five now. I had a birthday party because I turned five.” He splays out his palm to offer five fingers. 

“Did your friends go?”

“Yup!” Harris beams at the memory. “An’ Daddy an’ Grampa Wayne an’ Ms. Sweetheart.”

Danny furrows his brows. “Who’s Ms. Sweetheart?”

“She’s my almost-mommy. Daddy has to fall in love with her first.” 

“Is that so?” Gareth smirks at Eddie. His teasing look is the first crack in the wall that has separated the men for the last six months, and though Eddie is thoroughly embarrassed, it alleviates some of his anxiety.

“Uh, Har Bear, why don’t you go hang out with Auntie Viv while I talk with the guys?”

Viv holds out her left hand, looking utterly exhausted. Her right hand rests on her bump, eyes sending a telepathic message to Jeff that they have five minutes—ten minutes, if Harris behaves well—to come to a solution before she needs a break. 

Silence filters into the room as Eddie fumbles to address the mess he’s made. If Danny and Gareth are here, they’re at least willing to listen to him, which is honestly farther than he’d assumed he’d get. 

He remembers what Harris said about apologizing; technically, what you’d taught him about apologizing: the act of saying sorry, not merely implying it, makes a world of difference. 

“I was an asshole,” he starts. It’s not his most eloquent statement, but it certainly gets the point across. “Not just that night at the Hideout, or at our last practice. I was an asshole for a long time before that. And…I’m sorry.” It feels good to say it; it feels even better that they’re nodding, seeming to believe him. “You guys didn’t deserve to be treated like that.”

Of the rest of the band, Gareth is the one to speak first. “I guess I’m just wondering, why? Why be an asshole to us? We’ve always been there for you.”

“I know.” Eddie fiddles with a thread hanging from his t-shirt, pulling on it until it snaps off. He shoves it in his jeans pocket, not wanting to mess up Jeff and Viv’s place. “Honestly…I’m not sure, but I think it’s because you guys are everything I’m not.”

“What are you talking about?” Danny asks, tone heavy with disbelief. 

“In high school, I was the one you looked up to. The person you wanted to be like. And then I had a kid with some random chick I thought I knew but barely did, gave up my dreams of being a musician, and started selling weed again just to scrape by. And here you guys are. Jeff,” he motions to the friend leaning against the sofa’s arm, “you have a baby on the way with the love of your life. And all of you have goddamn college degrees and jobs that you don’t despise and don’t require you to hide from the law.” He shoves his ringed fingers into his jacket pockets, lowering his voice to barely above a whisper. “And I was nothing.”

Gareth scratches at the upholstery with one finger, absorbing everything he’s just heard. “You know we never stopped looking up to you, right?” He gives a short laugh when Eddie’s eyes widen. “Yeah, man. Leaving Chicago so you could take care of Harris? Putting your kid before yourself? That’s pretty badass.”

Danny nods. “Ed, if there’s someone here to look up to, it’s you.” Both he and Eddie visibly relax. Shoulders drop from their hunched positions, thin lips unfurling into smiles. “No matter what you went through, you never gave up. Even if it almost killed us,” he adds wryly, referring to all of the sleep-deprived Corroded Coffin practices fueled by black coffee and pure adrenaline.

“No fancy diploma can teach us how to stand up for ourselves, or how not to take shit from people, or how to be a dad,” Jeff pipes up from where he’s standing. “We learn from you, man.”

Eddie’s cheeks burn at the compliments, unsure how to accept them. He’d walked in expecting to have to beg for forgiveness, and they were the ones reassuring him. It’s now or never, and he forges ahead while he still has the courage. “Do you…can we get the band back together?” Can we be friends again is the underlying plea, but it’s too vulnerable a statement to make. “We’ll keep it low-key, I promise. Work, family, anything comes up…we can cancel or reschedule. And I won’t be a dick about it.”

The three other men look at one another, nod and turn back to Eddie with smart grins and mischievous glimmers in their eyes.

“On one condition.” Gareth crosses his arms over his chest, smirking as he sinks back against the couch. “You tell us all about this ‘Ms. Sweetheart.’”

The Hideout, normally dingy and coated in a film of sticky ale, has been decked out for Will’s birthday party. Helium-filled balloons in every color bob along the low ceiling, vibrating with the thumping bass of the old sound system. Crepe paper streamers–purple, Will’s favorite color–sway gently with the air that rushes in from opening the door. This has to be Marshall’s handiwork, and it brings a smile to your face. If anyone deserves a partner who fawns over him, it’s Will.

You spot him surrounded by a group of people as the bartender slides a row of tequila shots across the bar and into their eager hands. While they’re distracted by alcohol, you take the opportunity to dart towards the backstage area.

Eddie’s there, digging around for his lucky pick. You wrap your arms around his waist, fingers pressed into the soft dough of his tummy.

“Hey, Rockstar,” you murmur against his neck, kissing just below his earlobe. 

He turns around, jaw dropping when he sees you in a maroon slip dress. The heels on your feet have you two inches taller than usual, and he has to shift where his gaze normally lands to meet your eyes.

“Fuckin’ Christ, baby,” Eddie practically growls, kissing you deeply. One hand presses against the small of your back while the other grabs the plush of your ass, kneading it in his palm. “You’re so fuckin’ sexy. How’m I gonna go out there and play with you looking like that?”

“I’ll make it worth your while.” You giggle when he offers up a bemused smile. “If you do a good job tonight, I’ll give you a reward.” You let your fingertips graze over the metal teeth of his pants zipper, feeling him twitch at your light touch. 

“You’re dangerous,” he winks, delivering another kiss; this time, he gives your lower lip a little bite when he pulls away. His kohl-rimmed eyes draw you in just as they did that first night you’d met, but now you dive into them without the fear of drowning. 

A tactful “ahem” from the now-open doorway startles both you and Eddie, having been floating in an embrace that’s equal parts comfort and desire.

“Sorry to interrupt the lovefest, but we’re on in five,” a man’s voice calls from the doorway. You turn around to see the other three Corroded Coffin members standing there, amusement evident in their expressions.

“You must be Ms. Sweetheart,” one of the guys, soft curls resting atop his head, pipes up. His tone is teasing, but not mocking; the nickname is said with admiration and affection. “I’m Gareth, by the way.” 

“Danny,” the one with tight, wiry curls offers, giving a small wave.

Jeff just shrugs. “You know me.”

Eddie grabs his guitar, slinging the strap across his body. His pants’ fly is tight, and he wills himself to calm down before it’s time to perform. He hasn’t worried about being hard on stage since he was nineteen, but thoughts of your bodies perfectly melding into each other has him subtly adjusting himself as he turns his back to his bandmates.

“See ya out there, baby,” he says before pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. The brief contact between you has you biting your tongue in self-beration for suggesting that the band play tonight. All you want is to dance with him, allowing the steady flow of alcohol to dull your inhibitions as you pull him impossibly close. Not caring who sees or what they think. 

But this night isn’t about you or Eddie. It’s about Will, your TA-turned-friend who has kept you sane amidst your adorably chaotic students and their decidedly less adorable and more chaotic parents. He wanted Corroded Coffin to play his party, and that’s the least you could do for him. 

Will’s already teetering between tipsy and inebriated, breath tinged with the scent of tequila as he introduces you to his friends.

“This is my amazing boyfriend, Marshall.” He smacks a wet kiss to the man’s cheek. “And these are my friends from growing up: Dustin and Suzie, Lucas and Max, and Mike and Jane.” His face melts into a sappy grin as he leans on Marshall to hold him up. “You guys! We’re all in looooove!”

“Jesus Christ,” Dustin mutters, rolling his eyes and shaking his head before turning his attention back to you. “Can we get you something to drink?”

Will raises his empty glass. “I’ll take another–”

“Not you.”

You manage to sneak in a quick conversation with Max, Suzie, and Jane before Corroded Coffin starts their set. Max is finishing up her Masters in English literature at New York University, set to graduate in two months. Suzie programs for NASA, and though Florida is a far cry from her home state of Utah, she loves her job. And Jane is a social worker at a local adoption agency, the cause close to her heart, as she was adopted by Chief Hopper years ago.

“Damn,” you laugh, taking a small sip of your vodka soda. You’re having so much fun that you don’t even care that it’s been watered down. “You’re all such badasses!”

Your admiration of their collective girl power is cut short by the sound of Corroded Coffin taking the stage. It’s as though they’d never taken an extended break; just picked up right where they left off. You cheer so loudly that there’s a pinch in your throat, but you push past it. It’s more than applause. There’s so much tucked away in your yell: I’m proud of you; you’re a rockstar; you’re my person forever, if you’ll have me.

“Hello, Hawkins!” Eddie bellows into the mic. There’s no missing the grin on his face. He’s happy. He’s in his element. He’s where he belongs. 

“No way!” Lucas exclaims, awestruck as he turns to Will.

“Dude, you got Corroded Coffin?” Mike mirrors his friend’s excitement. He slings an arm around Will’s shoulder and pulls him in for a side hug. “This is fuckin’ awesome!”

“The first song of the night goes out to our guest of honor, Will Byers!” Everyone hoots and hollers as Eddie plays the opening chords to The Clash’s Should I Stay or Should I Go. Eddie told you he remembered that the song was one of Will’s favorites growing up; his older brother had gotten him into the band. Sure enough, Will’s bopping to the rhythm, singing every word, albeit quite off-key. 

Corroded Coffin plays a few more songs from their usual setlist, nerves dissipating with each note, before Eddie speaks into the mic again. 

“This next one is for my beautiful girlfriend,” he announces, eyes gazing into yours. “Baby, if my teachers looked like you, I actually would’ve gone to class.”

He nods at Gareth, who starts playing an incredibly complicated beat. As soon as you hear it, you feel your cheeks heat up. The rest of the guys join in on their own instruments, and Eddie oozes bravado as he sings. 

“T-Teacher stop that screamin’ Teacher don’t you see Don’t wanna be no uptown fool.”

Max leans in to you and whisper-shouts, “I’ve known Eddie for years, and I’ve never seen him so…happy.”

Lucas overhears his girlfriend and adds his two cents. “That’s because we’ve never seen him in love.”

Warmth spreads all over your body, but it’s not from embarrassment. Allowing yourself to believe that Eddie loves you—is in love with you—opens a door you’d deadbolted until the time was right.  You hadn’t wanted to rush things, but the jolt of exhilaration following Lucas’s statement means you can’t deny it any longer: you love Eddie Munson. You’re in love with Eddie Munson. 

“Got it bad, got it bad, got it bad I'm hot for teacher I've got it bad, so bad I'm hot for teacher.”

Will takes the opportunity to twirl you around, and you laugh as you spin amongst new friends, your drink threatening to spill over the sides as he turns you faster.

“Hey! Thank you, by the way!” he shouts, probably a bit louder than he needs to.

“For what?”

“For getting Corroded Coffin to play!” He jerks a thumb towards the stage, stumbling a bit as he does. He’d managed to sneak another tequila shot when his boyfriend left him unattended to use the restroom, and it definitely shows. “And for, like, being there for me.”

You give him a hug, immediately understanding the full implication of his statement. “I’ll always have your back,” you promise, filled with the mingled buzzes of alcohol and belonging.

“I think of all the education that I've missed But then my homework was never quite like this!”

Eddie jumps off of the tiny stage and into the crowd of nine twenty-somethings, each at various levels of tipsiness, and reaches for you to pull you close to him. He’s sweating from constantly moving around and the stage lights, his fingers slick with perspiration as he laces them with yours. Jeff picks up the rhythm for the lead guitar while Eddie kisses you, soft and slow and sensual. He loses himself for a moment before hopping back up to join the rest of the band.

As Corroded Coffin wraps up their Van Halen cover and stops for a quick sip of water, there’s a small commotion behind the bar.

“Is there a Jeff Reynolds here?” the bartender calls out, phone receiver in hand.

Jeff gives a little wave, eyebrows raised in surprise. “That’s me.”

“Someone named Jess on the line? Says your girl is in labor and you need to get to the hospital.”

“Holy shit!” Danny claps a hand to Jeff’s back and grins. “C’mon, man! Let’s get you outta here!” 

Jeff freezes up; hands clammy as he grips the guitar’s neck. “Can you drive?” he asks Eddie. 

Eddie recognizes the fear in his friend’s voice. The selfish part of him wants to refuse to take Jeff to Hawkins General. He could easily plant his feet on the stage and keep playing, claiming that ‘the show must go on.’

No, he silently chastises himself, Jeff needs me. He needs me and I’ll be damned if I let him down again. 

“Of course,” Eddie says, trying to force a relaxed disposition. It doesn’t matter; Jeff is too overwhelmed to notice the obvious effort. 

“Take my car,” you offer, keys already dangling from your fingertips. “Eds, I can take yours and pick up Harris from Wayne’s tomorrow.” It’s easier to swap rides than to uninstall and reinstall the carseat, so you’re perplexed when Eddie shakes his head. 

Two words slip through his lips, soft but pronounced: “Need you.” 

Dustin catches wind of the situation and insists on watching Harris until you and Eddie can come back home, claiming he needs to squeeze in as much uncle-nephew bonding time as possible before returning to Florida. 

“Henderson, it’s late; don’t let him stay up,” Eddie warns as he tosses over his car keys. 

Dustin tries catching them in one hand, but they hit the center of his palm and fall to the ground. “But the best part of being an uncle is breaking the rules!” he laughs as he scoops the keys off of the floor. “By the way, I’m not drunk; just a shit baseball player.” Still, Eddie’s sigh of relief is audible when Suzie plucks the keyring from Dustin’s hand. 

With Harris taken care of, you turn your attention to your boyfriend. Eddie’s face is flushed pale, and you’re worried about him behind the wheel. “Want me to drive?” 

He nods and grabs onto your hand as you lead the two men to your car. Eddie’s doing his best to keep Jeff calm, reminding him that the doctors and nurses have everything under control until he gets there. 

“I’m gonna be a dad,” Jeff murmurs, a disbelieving chuckle permeating the otherwise silent car. “Holy shit.”

Eddie can’t help but smile back. “It only gets crazier from here.”

The bright lights of the hospital’s waiting room are anything but soothing, especially compared to the dimly-lit bar you’d just left. You speak to the receptionist, an older woman with a tired smile and red-rouged cheeks, explaining the situation as she pages Jess while Jeff and Eddie take a seat. 

Jeff’s voice is nearly impossible to hear despite the stillness of the room. “The baby was breech at Viv’s last appointment.” He clocks Eddie’s confusion and elaborates. “Feet first, instead of the head. If they didn’t get into the right position and the doctors can’t, I dunno, flip ‘em around? They’ll have to do a c-section.” Long overdue tears spill over his lash line, and he makes no attempt to swipe them away. “I just wanna fix it and I can’t.”

Helplessness. It’s a feeling Eddie knows all too well. He spins a ring around his finger, exhaling softly as he considers a response. He can’t say it’ll be alright, because he has no idea whether or not it will be. He and Jeff both know that. 

“No matter what, I’m here for you.” Eddie’s gaze flits over to the receptionist’s desk, where Jess has now arrived and is waving her brother-in-law over. “You’re up.”

But Jeff remains in his chair, hands shoved under his thighs as though they’re glued to the seat. “I…I don’t know if I can do this. What if something happens to Viv or the baby? How can I…?” He doesn’t allow himself to complete the sentence, to finish the thought.

Instinctively, Eddie puts his hands on Jeff’s shoulders. He can feel them trembling slightly as his friend heaves another shaky breath. “Listen to me. You’re gonna do this. You’re gonna go in that room and watch your girl give birth to your baby. Because if you don’t, you’re gonna regret it for the rest of your fuckin’ life.” He glances around and lowers his voice. “I know you’re scared, okay? I get it. And once your kid is safely here, we can talk about it. But right now, you need to pull it together and go be a goddamn dad.”

Jeff nods, finally acquiring the physical stability to stand. “Thank you,” he whispers, clearing his throat and wiping the wet stains from his cheeks. He starts towards Jess before turning back to Eddie. “Could you stay until the baby’s born? If you have to get home to Harris, I understand…”

There it is: his out. He can easily use his son as an excuse, despite the fact that Dustin and Suzie were perfectly capable of babysitting him. He can hightail it out of here and never look back. He can crawl into bed and feel sorry for himself for having to step foot in a godforsaken maternity ward again.

“Yeah. I can stay.”

Nearly an hour passes with Eddie’s head resting on your shoulder, relaying what Jeff told him. Identical knots form in your stomachs as the seriousness of the complications sets in. You don’t say a word as he speaks; you just try to shift without disturbing him. The cushion on the chair back, worn thin, digs into you uncomfortably, but you don’t dare move too much. His vulnerability is a deer that will scamper away at the slightest startle.

You think he’s fallen asleep until you feel his soft lips on your cheek, a muffled, “mine?” against your skin. You note his phrasing; it’s careful and unsure, a symptom of being in his own head for far too long. 

“Of course I’m yours,” you whisper back, pressing a kiss to his scalp. “What’s got you asking such silly questions?”

“I don’t like this.” It’s an answer and non-answer all in one. 

“Being in a hospital?”

He shakes his head, frizzed curls tickling the crook of your neck. His forehead is sticky with cooled perspiration. “Waiting to see if the baby is okay.”

The realization hits you like a punch to the stomach, immediately hollowing you out. The last time he went through this, it was when Harris was being born. You can’t think of anything to say, so you just nuzzle in closer to him and exhale.

“Why do I feel like this?” Neither of you are sure if he’s asking you, himself, or the universe. “‘S not the same. Viv’s not using drugs; Jeff stuck around the whole time…”

“Doesn’t matter. That’s not how this stuff works, y’know?” You adjust your position so you can look into his eyes. The whites are stained red with worry and exhaustion. “Your gig got interrupted, just like when Harris was born. And there's uncertainty now, too. It’s normal for these kinds of memories to get dredged up.” Your palm rests on his cheek, thumb gently stroking the skin as you ask, “can you try to get some sleep?”

“But what if Jeff needs—”

“I’ll wake you up if he needs you,” you reassure him, settling back into the chair. You lean your head against the wall; the heaviness in your eyelids battles the anxious fluttering in your stomach, but it seems as though sleep is winning. 

Eddie’s hand finds your forearm, rubbing up and down the gooseflesh that has appeared courtesy of the air conditioning blasting through the building. Shrugging off his jacket and resting the leather fabric over your shoulders, he can relax once he’s reassured that you’re comfortable. He assumes his previous position, using your shoulder as a pillow and falling asleep gradually, body jostling itself awake from the unfamiliar sleeping arrangement. Eventually, you can hear his soft snores; for the first time tonight, he’s peaceful. 

You could tell him now, a whisper under your breath that he’s unlikely to hear. I love you, Eddie. I’m in love with you. Your lips part in anticipation, but you snap them shut. You’re delirious and overwhelmed; Lucas’s throwaway comment about Eddie being in love is rattling around your brain. If you say it and Eddie hears you…

You keep it to yourself for now, letting your body rest while still supporting Eddie’s head. Tomorrow is a new day, with a new life brought into the world. Love—if that’s even what this is—will have to wait until then. 

The soft pink of breaking daylight streams through the windows when Jeff wakes Eddie up six hours later, shaking him by the shoulders. 

“What the fuck?” Eddie grumbles, wiping the sleep from his eyes. When he registers where he is and the potential urgency of the situation, he sits up straight, head filling with fuzziness from the sudden movement. He wouldn’t call the evening restful, but he’d managed to doze off for longer than he’d expected.

“It’s a girl!” Jeff announces, beaming from ear to ear. He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, bursting with enthusiasm and emotion. 

As soon as Eddie’s vision clears, he’s on his feet and pulling his best friend in for a giant hug. When he steps back, he realizes that he and Jeff sport matching misty eyes. “Dude, you’re officially a dad now. You have a daughter!”

“I have a daughter,” Jeff repeats incredulously. His eyes cloud with tears, and he blinks them away as he peers over at the empty seat next to Eddie. “Did your lady go home?”

Eddie swivels around, so caught up in the moment that he hadn’t realized he was alone. She left. She left without me; she didn’t want to stick around and deal with–

“Did Viv have the baby?” Your excited voice penetrates through his intrusive thoughts as you stroll in from the hallway. The makeup around your eyes is smudged; you’d tried to wipe some of it off in the bathroom, but water and thin hospital paper towels are no substitute for makeup wipes. “Sorry, I had to pee.”

Eddie smiles at the sight of you, still wearing his jacket. He hopes his sigh of relief is concealed by Jeff’s exuberance. “A girl. Six pounds, ten ounces.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Wanna meet her?”

“Of course!” You and Eddie begin following him down the corridor. “Wait, is Viv feeling up to having visitors?” You’re mildly ashamed to admit that, in your eagerness, you’d forgotten about the baby being breech and the possible c-section.

Jeff nods. “I think my daughter’s gonna be a gymnast, ‘cause she’d flipped herself back around between the appointment and last night.” 

There’s no masking Jeff’s pride when he says my daughter, and it makes Eddie want to hug him again. “That’s amazing,” he murmurs. There’s a small pang in his heart, a bead of resentment that Harris’s birth didn’t go so smoothly, but it’s unimportant right now. His best friend just became a father, and he refuses to let his own hang-ups take away from this moment. 

“Hi,” you whisper when Jeff opens the door to room 1007. Viv is propped up against pillows, exhausted but happier than she’s ever been before. Your gaze is immediately drawn to the hours-old bundle in her arms. “How are you?”

“Sore,” she replies truthfully, brushing her forefinger against her baby’s closed fist, “but the epidural was a lifesaver.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you tease, unaware that your words have Eddie’s heart skipping a beat at the idea of you bearing a little Munson. “Is it okay if I hold her?” You don’t want to intrude on the new mother’s bonding time, but your insides turn to mush when the baby opens her tiny lips and yawns. 

Viv carefully places the newborn in your arms, and you gingerly adjust to support her head. Eddie swears that you holding a baby, in that dress, wearing his jacket, is the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. “Did Jeff tell you her name?” Viv asks, stifling a yawn. When you and Eddie both shake your heads, she smiles and glances at her partner. 

He clears his throat, suddenly bashful. Eddie forces himself to tear his gaze from the way you smile and coo at the baby and look over at Jeff. “Her name is Nicolette,” he starts, “but that’s a big name for a little girl, so we figured we can call her Ettie, and she’ll kinda…share a nickname with you.”

Eddie’s eyes go wide, convinced he heard incorrectly. “You…I’m her namesake?”

“Mhm,” Jeff confirms, the grin never leaving his face. What neither you nor Eddie know is that they had had a different name picked out, and had fully intended on using it until the first time Jeff held their daughter. It filled him with a feeling of wholeness, of being complete, and it strangely had him thinking of his best friend. Without Eddie taking him under his wing, he might not even be here to experience this. 

It was only by chance that he had stumbled upon Hellfire Club during his freshman year. He was running from Billy Hargrove and his posse, who were determined to beat the hell out of him simply because they could, and had ducked into the drama room to protect himself. Eddie had taken one look at his face and immediately recognized the expression of fear and defeat from being incessantly bullied. “You know how to play Dungeons & Dragons?” he’d asked, and when Jeff had managed a nod, he’d pulled up a chair and motioned for him to sit down.

Being Eddie’s friend, being part of something, gave him a reason to keep going. To live. And in that instant, he vowed to teach his child to extend kindness toward any misfits who need a place to be themselves.

“What about Nicolette?” he’d asked Viv. “Ettie for short.”

You turn to Eddie now, continuing the steady rocking rhythm that keeps Baby Ettie calm. “What do you say, Mr. Namesake? Wanna hold her?”

There’s a brief flash of panic that floods through his veins; he hasn’t held a newborn since Harris. He’d always worried about dropping him or tripping and falling. Truth be told, he was terrified until his son could hold his own head up.

It’s similar, but not the same, he reminds himself, shuffling even closer to you so you can safely transition Ettie into his arms. She stirs slightly in her swaddle but doesn’t cry.

“Hey, little lady,” he says, a delicate smile dancing on his lips. “I’m your Uncle Eddie. The coolest uncle you’ll ever have, for the record.”

“Harris is gonna love her,” you add, heart swelling at the imagery of him cuddling up to his newest cousin.

“Babe?” Viv pipes up from the bed. “Can you grab me something to eat? ‘M starving.” 

“Yeah, of course.” Jeff turns to Eddie. “Come with me? I think Viv needs to feed Ettie, anyway.”

Viv extends her arms and Eddie begrudgingly hands the baby to her. Ettie’s so adorable and small, and it makes him yearn for the days when Harris was that little. Maybe not the sleepless nights or the lack of head control, but the scent of baby powder, the toothless smiles, the way he would fall asleep in Eddie’s arms to whatever song happened to be on the radio. Harris Munson might have been the only infant to be soothed by Twisted Sister. 

The two men make their way to the hospital cafeteria, sneakers squeaking along the freshly-waxed linoleum tiles.

“I, um, I’m really proud of the way you stepped up for Viv,” Eddie says, eyes trained on the floor. “You’re a great partner. I feel like I should be taking notes.”

Jeff laughs, shaking his head. “That's where my expertise ends. I have no idea how this whole fatherhood thing works.” 

“Wanna hear a secret?” Eddie leans in, shifting his weight onto one foot. He doesn’t wait for his friend’s response to divulge, “none of us do. We’re just…” he waves his hand aimlessly, “…figuring it out as we go.” And making plenty of mistakes along the way, he silently adds.

“I don’t know how you did this alone,” Jeff puffs out an incredulous breath. “I mean, I know you had Wayne’s help…” he trails off, not needing to further elaborate on the missing parent. 

“Yeah, me either, man. I’m just glad I’m not alone anymore.” 

Jeff stops walking, turning to face him. There’s the unmistakable look of pride that manages to make itself prominent despite his evident exhaustion as he says, “You really want this with her, don’t you?”

“Yeah, man,” Eddie chuckles. “It’s like, for the first time, I’m not just thinking about just me or just Harris. I’m thinking about us as a family.” The dinnertime conversations, the gentle ribbings, the tenderness that seamlessly weaves itself into vulnerable conversations. 

“She’s good for you,” Jeff agrees. “And you love her.”

“I mean, I—”

“That was a statement, not a question. You love her.”

And in a single breath, Eddie lets go of the fear he’s been clutching to like a life preserver. The one thing he hasn’t allowed himself to say aloud because it makes it so real, so fucking real.

“I love her.”

--

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[thewritetofreespeech]

May I request Nanami and Gojo finding out their s/o got disowned by her father, who is one of the higher-ups, because she showed mercy and defended Yuuji?

Nanami Kento

It was late at night when he got the knock at the door. So late, in fact, that Nanami was just about to go to bed, already in his pajamas with his teeth brushed, when he heard it.

“[Y/N]?” He asked curiously when he saw them there. Standing in front of his door, looking a mixture of distraught, sad, and just hopeless. A strange case given that they were usually so confident and strong as a Special Grade Sorcerer. “What’s wrong? Has someone died?”

“No. No one has died. I guess that’s the problem.” Nanami arched a brow at their cryptic comment, before they let out a shaky sigh. “Can I stay here tonight?”

He of course let them in. Offering tea or some kind of comforting drink, although they don’t take him up on the offer. “Will you tell me what’s wrong, please?”

They eventually break down and tell him everything. About the boy that ate one of Sukuna’s fingers. How he was slated for execution, which was cruel but reasonable in their world, and how that idiot had them stick their neck out to vouch for the boy’s hold even though they didn’t know a thing about him. Of course, Nanami knew that they would speak up for him. They had an incredible sense of morality and standing up for the weak. ‘That’s the job, isn’t it?’ They had told him that more than once.

Apparently not everyone shared their noble heart, it seemed. Not even those in her own family. For standing up to the higher ups and ‘embarrassing’ the family her father kicked her out with threats of disownment and banishment. Whether or not he meant to follow through would be a problem for tomorrow, but right now she was out on the street. Which in his opinion was unforgiveable already.

“You can stay here as long as you like.” Nanami told them. Amending their original request from earlier to stay the night.

[Y/N] sniffle once, but seem hell bent on refusing to cry. Nanami told them to take a shower if they wanted and he would find them some clothes to sleep in. They literally had nothing on them. So they would have to make do.

Both of them now in pajamas with their teeth brushed, [Y/N] curled up beside him and tried to get some sleep. It seemed a struggle, but the emotional exhaustion took hold, he thinks, and they both try to get the best night sleep possible for the hell that was to greet them in the morning.

Gojo Satoru

Gojo whistled down the hall as he made his way from one part of campus to the other. He was quite pleased with himself.

It wasn’t every day he got to ridicule and humiliate the higher-ups; despite his attempts and life’s goal to make it an everyday occurrence on his part. Those old fools didn’t know what hit ‘em when Gojo plead his case and told them what happened. He might not have gotten this Yuji kid off scot-free, but he bought him some time. That’s all he needed for Gojo’s master plan to come to fruition (whatever it was).

He passed a familiar doorway and saw a light was on. Thinking it had been left on by mistake, he invited himself in and was surprised to see [Y/N] there. Boxes on their desk as they were throwing things into it.

“Hey, isn’t it a little early for spring cleaning?”

“Not for me.” They told him. “I have to be out of here by morning.” Gojo tilted his head to the side, so they explained further. “I’ve been sacked.”

Gojo’s face was one of alarm. “Wait. What are you talking about?” They couldn’t have been fired. Really? For what??

“Apparently my behavior at the council meeting was ‘unbecoming of an educator at this institution’.”

Gojo growled in his throat. “That’s bullshit! I was there too, and it was my idea! I did all the talking!”

“Yes, but I don’t have the Gojo name to defend me.” His ire and shoulder fell. Oh shit….

“They seriously fired you?” [Y/N] nodded. He clicked his teeth. “Can’t you do something? Your dad maybe?” He’d hate to ask him for any favors, but if it kept [Y/N] here they should take it.

“Who do you think signed my ‘death warrant’?”

He wanted to say he was surprised, but he wasn’t.

“I’m sorry [Y/N]. I didn’t realize that you might –“you did the right thing Satoru. Even if it was originally for selfish reasons.” He sighed. So he guessed they knew that the only reason he initially did this was to piss this old coots off. They lifted the box and put in on their hip. “I’ll be fine. I’m not exiled entirely. Not yet. I’m still a Special Grade. Still can go on missions.”

“Yeah. Ones that will get you killed.” They all knew what happened to people who weren’t Gojo that stood up to the council. They were given mission in far off places and then ‘died under mysterious circumstances’ while in Brazil or Cameroon or something.

[Y/N] let out a bitter chuckle. “They’d have to catch me first. For now, I need to find a place to stay. Get an apartment. They took away my professor housing too, and I obviously can’t go home to dear-old-dad.”

“You’re staying with me.” Gojo cut in quickly.

[Y/N] seemed surprised, but quickly schooled it into coy. “Ooo….I never thought we’d be in a point in our relationship where we were moving in together.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

Gojo grabbed the box they were carrying and helped carry it out. “I really am sorry.” He apologized on the way.

“I know.” They told him. But that was all they said this time. No ‘you had a good reason’, ‘you did what you could’, ‘it’s not your fault’. He suddenly felt all the more guilty. He had to remember more often that just because things couldn’t touch him, that other people weren’t as lucky. Collateral damage was something he never thought of. He’d need to think about that more in the future. Especially with his new student.

[erwinsvow]

i feel like pogue!reader with rafe would have an interesting dynamic with barry. like, he doesn’t particularly like her - knowing her connection with the pogues, especially jj but at the same time he’s dealing with rafe and pogues as a collective have gotta stick together. he’s also just morbidly curious about how she and country club have became a thing.

barry laughs when he sees you walking into his place, attached to rafe's side.

"ain't that-"

"that's my fuckin' girl. so watch your mouth." rafe cuts him off before he can finish the rest of his sentence, which is sure to have something to do with the fact that the few times barry's seen you before, you've been with the pogues that rafe supposedly hates so much.

"your girl? is that right? well, pleasure to meet you again, m'barry-"

you look up hesitantly at rafe, wondering if you should say something back, and you briefly reflect for a moment just how different things used to be. with your best friends, with jj and john b and pope at your side, the group of you would go and make yourselves comfortable anywhere. they'd charm their way into the good graces of the host and you never felt like you couldn't just speak your mind.

rafe is different. you don't know if it's bad, if he's bad for you, or not. talking to someone when you know he doesn't want you to feels wrong, feels bad. and you like him taking lead, him showing you the way and calling all the shots.

so you smile at barry but don't engage, looking up at your boyfriend instead. he looks down at you for a second, but you can tell you did the right thing.

"sit down and shut up. c'mon, we got shit to discuss."

"tells me to sit down. in my own fuckin' house. i gotta tell you princess, you picked a real winner here in rafey boy-"

"did y'not hear the shut up part?"

a laugh escapes, though you try to keep it quiet. they go on discussing something that doesn't mean much to you, while you go on your phone and text your friends. rafe's phone rings, and he just steps away for a minute to answer. barry doesn't hesitate a second to get the answers he needs from you.

"so. you and country club. how long's that been goin' on?"

"um, a couple months."

"your boys know 'bout him?" you bite your cheek. they don't, yet.

"not yet. but, soon, i guess. waiting for the right time.." you mumble, playing with a loose stitch on your skirt.

"yeah. i'd get on that. not gonna be too happy, are they?"

"maybe."

"don't they hate your boy as much as he hates them? ain't that.. awkward?"

you think you should be offended by the line of questioning, but rafe talks about barry often enough for you to know that he's not a snitch, that he doesn't care. he's just curious.

and he should be. up until a few months ago, you were never seen without your boys, as barry put it. you used to be attached to jj's arm, permanent passenger princess in pope's truck and the twinkie. it all feels like a lifetime ago.

"i'm hoping we can all make amends," you finish softly, fresh waves of guilt washing through your body. it burns where it goes, a stinging similar to what your friends are gonna feel soon, when they find out you've been dating the boy who's been terrorizing them.

"for your sake, i hope so too."

"what're you two talkin' about?" rafe asks, coming back inside and taking his place next to you. he puts his hand on your knee, brings you in close without having to ask.

you hope it's all going to be worth it.

"nothing."

[loquora]

I'd like to take a couple of minutes to talk about NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writers Month) and their terrible, very bad, no good stance on genAI (generative artificial intelligence) and why I won't be writing anything for this challenge again.

I'm very aware that I am an active and vocal genAI hater. But I am willing and open to hear about positive and useful things LLMs (large language models) can do. There are valid scientific uses for the technology and some really fascinating medical and academic breakthroughs that come from LLMs. But the use of genAI in creative writing context is complete bullshit.

Come with me for the breakdown.

The first part of their statement:

NaNoWriMo has made it clear they are not just tolerating genAI in their month long writing challenge, but that those of us who don't are 'classist' and 'ableist' because we don't.

The post was later amended with a list of reasons why they make each of those claims. We'll start from the top.

GenAI uses the technology in a way that is morally, ethically and environmentally bankrupt. See, all LLMs have to train on something. When you're using it to, say, detect cancers you can feed it images of cancer scans so that it builds up a dataset of what those look like to predict future scans. But when you want to generate text, images and video you have to feed it text, images and video. Those things came from people, actual people and actual artists who overwhelmingly did not agree to train anything with their work and can no longer wrest their work from the machine now that it's been stolen from them.

It also isn't 'intelligent' at all, considering it has that word in the name. Think of genAI like an alien learning our language with absolutely no frame of reference for what it's learning. It can predict that the letters "w-e" and "c-a-n" often come after the letters "y-e-s" because the phrase "yes we can" will come up often in training data, it's a common phrase. But it doesn't actually understand what any of those words MEAN. Just that they often follow one another so that when prompted it will, statistically, try put those letters and words together again.

So when it comes to actually writing or responding to prompts what you're getting is the most likely outcome based on a massive amount of data input. It is not actually giving you feedback on what your writing looks like, it's giving you the most statistically possible response based on input. It's fake feedback, a thousand other feedbacks crammed together and extruded into a goo that looks and sounds like feedback but is actually meaningless. ChatGPT doesn't understand your writing sample anymore than a phone tree understands your anger and desperation when you continue to say "OPERATOR" as clearly as you can to try to get through to a real human. Both understand you input a word and will output based on that, but context, emotions, cultural mores etc. are all beyond it.

This is why AI is so absurdly shitty at things like math, counting letters in words and identifying words that start with the same letter. It's mashing together a million math problem answers betting on the likelihood that statistically someone has already answered that question enough times in the training data that it can spit the correct answer out at you.

TLDR: If you're using genAI to get feedback on your writing you're not actually getting feedback on your writing at all, but the most statistically probable set of words that relate to feedback. So right off the bat the idea that genAI is going to help you be a better writer is just flat wrong. It doesn't know how to write, it doesn't even know how many Rs are in the word 'strawberry'.

Second point has the same issues as the first:

I actually agree with them on the point that if your brain doesn't handle certain writer activities well it's perfectly okay to use an outside source for help with it. GenAI isn't actually helping you be a better writer, though; it can't. It doesn't understand anything you write nor can it provide meaningful feedback when it's just spitting out statistically probably words to you based on your input. So while the point here is actually good on the surface, the solution of using genAI to help people who have trouble with certain aspects of writing is still not correct.

The final point:

Again, this is a very good point... if it wasn't being made in conjunction with a defense of generative AI WHICH DOES NOT HELP OR SOLVE THIS ISSUE. In fact, because of the known issues of bias in how genAI LLMs are built they can make issues for marginalized writers worse.

I genuinely have no idea how this very true paragraph about people who are routinely pushed out of traditional writing spaces is helped by genAI. Their entire point thus far seems to be that genAI is a 'cheap' alternative to some traditional writing aids but considering genAI doesn't work like that it's all dead in the water as far as I'm concerned.

If NaNoWriMo was actually concerned with solving these access issues to things they consider critical to writing in general, why not offer a place for real people to read and critique one another on their platform? There are myriad other technological solutions that don't cost huge amounts of water AND actually help aspiring writers!

All of this to say that you should write for yourself, write what you enjoy and get better the same way generations of people before you have: by reading other people's work, talking to and exchanging time with other authors and writing and rewriting in your own words until you're satisfied.

Wasting water asking genAI to do things for you that would make you a better writer to do yourself or with trusted allies is just that, a waste.

[theycalledhimastar]

I demand your take on ABO 141 with a male reader PLEASE, there's never any good male stuff

Bestie do NOT give me this kind of brainrot, but also I accept the gift graciously-

Also, I had no idea what you wanted the male reader to be so there's a bit of everything so everyone's happy :) They come off a little oc-ish to me, the way I did the reader but oh well, I like it.

Forgive me for anything I got wrong, I'm not an A/B/O master guys. This was way longer than I initially planned, lol. Enjoy!

Omegaverse!141 x Male reader!!!

I'm not the most bright brained alright, I agree with literally everyone else and I think Price and Ghost would both be Alphas with Gaz and Soap being betas, it just makes sense in my mind. The two Alphas need the cool-headed inbetweens to keep them from toppling everything and/or butting heads from too much hormones going around.

They're all fairly skeptical about yet another person joining them for any given reason, four people is plenty and having yet another person in the fray, while it might be helpful sometimes, is a bit of a balancing act to fit into their already perfect schedule. Changing things to accommodate you, while not the worst thing, isn't the most easy feat for everyone. Especially depending on what you are...

☄. *.

You were an Alpha, purebred, built like a brick wall and about as stubborn as one too. Although you weren't loud about it, you weren't going to let people forget tat you were not to be messed with. Raised with a bit of an ego as most purebred Alphas were, you knew you were destined for greatness from the moment you presented. Started physical and mental training as soon as you were old enough, the goal had always been the military for you, no doubts about it. But you had never imagined, in all your wildest dreams, that you would be a part of the task force.

Most people, upon first glance, would likely assume you fit right in, but shoehorning you in with two other alphas was way harder than anticipated, seeing as you immediately began trying to prove yourself before you had gotten settled in. Which, would have been adorable if you weren't so damn stubborn about it.

Ghost is working out? You join him without a second thought, attempting to lift twice as much as what he's doing. Of course, his numbers were already nothing to scoff at, so all you truly succeeded in, was nearly dropping the weight on your foot and damaging your precious alpha pride. "You alright there tough guy?" Ghost seemed amused by your ambitious failure.

"Shut up." Was all you growled in retaliation, storming off to go sulk elsewhere.

Soap is practicing at the range with Gaz? You grab a pistol and try to show off just how capable you are with it, easy right? Not really. You fumble in a way you weren't even sure you understood, and to put it simply, you missed the target significantly and blew an entire round trying to make amends. By the time you had finished it, the sergeants were trying not to lose their composure and die laughing at your cockiness despite it all. Damnit, you could normally do this all so easy, what the hell was wrong!? You set down the weapon with a nearly frightening calmness despite the seething rage in your chest that demanded respect as an alpha. Your self-righteous upbringing had done you no good now as you stormed off to go beat the shit out of the next inanimate object that pissed you off.

"How exactly did he make it here?" "Eh, cap says he's good. Let 'im cool off, I'm sure he knows what he's doin."

There was no cooling off, of course, as you ended up nearly punching a hole in the wall as you had graciously slammed into the doorway in your blind rage, smacking yourself square in the nose and nearly toppling over in pain. That was, quite honestly, the last straw for your dignity as you snarled something ferocious. Not caring that it had been rather close to the Captain's office until you were unceremoniously yanked back by your scruff, held face-to-face with the unamused John Price. Although you were an alpha, even you couldn't quite deny the effect his scent had on you now. Not one of anger, but certainly not a playful one either. He was projecting his authority, silently telling you to quiet down a little and stop being such a loudmouth showoff. Shame and something akin to an excited fear sparked briefly in the pit of your stomach before you cleared your throat and swallowed hard.

"Captain." You nodded shortly, not missing the way his hand tightened around the back of your neck.

"Heard you've been causing a bit of a ruckus for the others, been busy?" He raised a thick brow, making you swallow back your nerves. You attempted to shoot back some of your own alpha scent, but it felt puny and overpowered entirely by his.

"Not intentionally, sir."

"Let's settle down a little, you've barely been here a week, quit causing trouble or I'll have to take care of your behavior myself. Got it?" He leans close, you could swear he was breathing on the back of your neck now and you know for a fact your heart is racing for reasons you don't think are fear.

Not wanting to find out what he means by that just yet, you give a quick nod that seems to satisfy him enough to let you go. Allowing you to scamper back to your room, the adrenaline cushioning what was going to be a very hurt ego when it settled in that you had been grabbed by the collar and scolded like a child. Damnit, you would prove yourself one way or another...

☄. *.

You were a Beta, always being told you were unremarkable, nearly always forgotten in the squabble between Alphas and Omegas. So, in an effort to at least be something impressive to yourself, you took to bulking up. Genetics and luck both seemed to favor you as you certainly bulked up. To the point where you were constantly mistaken for an Alpha by anyone that didn't truly know you. If they did, they would know that you were far more of the beta disposition in reality. Laid back, cheerful, extroverted enough to make friends, but not gratingly so. The perfect addition to the task force at first glance...

Minus the fact that you were both clumsy, and a little bit ditsy from time to time.

Sure, you weren't incapable, you could definitely hold your own in battle. But it seemed that when the adrenaline wasn't pumping through your veins, you were a tangle of long limbs and jumbled thoughts. It was obvious that you weren't trying to be a mess, but the others seemed to assume you were up to something. Surely, a mountain of a man like you, such a capable Beta on the battlefield, can't be such a... dolt in real life, right?

The same man they had witnessed absolutely nail a small squadron all by his lonesome, had momentarily forgotten how to lace his boots after unlacing them entirely to replace them. And had practically tied his feet together.

"You think he knows he's doin' it wrong?" "Oh he has to by now... right?" "Guys, did I get it? I'm so confused, why is this so weird!?"

Not to say you were entirely unaware of yourself, you knew you were scatterbrained at times. But you didn't know that they had assumed you were taking them for a fool sometimes. The sergeants decided to confront you about it, with Soap cornering you after a particularly amusing incident.

"Mate, ye know we've seen ye on the field right?" He sighed, running his fingers through his overgrown curls. "uhh, yeah?" You kind of stared between the two of them, completely confused as to where the conversation was going. Gaz snuck behind you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder in a friendly manner. "Right, so you don't have to act like a total numpty off the field, you aren't foolin' anyone anymore." He chuckled, nudging your head with his playfully. It would have been a comforting thing, except for the fact that you had no clue what they were on about. "What do you mean?" "Stop acting like such a hare-brained dingus. Just be yourself, mate." He shook your shoulders gently, the two staring at you so earnestly, just trying to convince you to just be yourself around them. "Oh... About that..."

Of course after that, they both felt really bad and you had to explain for over an hour that no, it wasn't on purpose, yes, you were that messy sometimes, and no, you weren't mad for their assumption. Although Ghost certainly seemed to find it hilarious that you were such a gentle giant, and a total hot mess express. Not that he told you that, truth be told, he didn't feel the need to talk to you much off of the field. Not because he didn't like you, he simply felt you fit in so well with the betas and he didn't want to throw off things. Although he did want to know how you had gotten so huge naturally.

Price thinks you're downright precious with the stark contrast between on and off duty with you. It's like you become a completely different person and he can't help but smell the scent of a content beta every time he tells you that you've done him good. He was certain that everyone could tell just how excited you were when he referred to you as "his good lad". It was a simple nickname, rolled off his tongue before he could stop it, but you nearly lit up in elation. So now not only him, but everyone else makes an attempt to give you subtle little praises like that just to see you get all giddy, and to this date you have yet to notice, or at least say anything about it.

☄. *.

You were an omega, not what any of them expected when they were told that someone would be joining them, as omega were notoriously... well... Violence avoidant to put it simply. But you were not the type that wanted to feed into stereotypes. You wanted any excuse to not become some boring old stay-at-home omega that took care of children and housework. The parts of the world you had grown up in were very traditional and expected just that of you. "Settle down with a nice Alpha, have babies, live the peaceful life." Yeah right, it was like they didn't even know what you wanted.

So, in an effort to escape that life, you decided to enlist, and it turned out that you were... actually kinda good at it despite it all. Your fight or flight chose to flee more often than not, but that meant you were quick on your feet despite the stomach churning levels of anxiety that pulsed through your veins at any given moment. Your adrenaline raced and kept you moving before you could chicken out, and that made you a damn good soldier.

Off field was a different story but that didn't really matter seeing as you liked minding your own business and having your own space more often than not.

When you first met all of them, the aura of two alphas was quite a lot, especially as it seemed at least Ghost was projecting a little bit more than he needed to, getting across the point that there was an order to the way things were and you needed to not ruin that. (He's just nervous having an omega around as he isn't used to it and he isn't sure exactly how to act around you.)

Gaz is rather quick to step in and soothe you with his beta scent, like warm coffee and vanilla and something distinct that you hadn't ever smelled before. But it soothed your racing nerves and made you feel a little less alienated. Although with a nudge from John, Ghost realized he was only successfully scaring you, and he cut it out just as quickly.

Johnny is excited to have an omega around, although he doesn't really treat you any different than Gaz. It's the equivalent of short people acting different when they're around someone shorter than them, yknow? Like he doesn't see you as beneath him, he just knows you're different than anything he's been around and he's nosey about absolutely everything.

"Do all Alphas scare you?" "No... why would they?" "I dunno, it seemed like every omega I met before was either addicted to Alphas or terrified of em." "Uh, no, I think you just knew weird people before."

Another thing, is that Price seems to view you as a sort of stray cat. Skittish if anyone approached you a little too loudly or excitedly, but plenty sweet if they got to know you. At least, that was how it was in his head. In reality, you were just an introverted guy who wanted to at least get along with his teammates and they thought you were the cutest thing ever. Sometimes, John would call you into his office just to tell you that he noticed your hard work and he was proud of you. He loved the way your cheeks flushed whenever he got close or projected his scent a little extra, filling the room with the scent of expensive cigars and warm, woody cologne. It made you a little fuzzy int eh head and he could tell, so he avoided using it. But the face you made when you got all spacey and distracted during meetings because you were sandwiched between him and Ghost, it was just too good to resist.

"You alright there sergeant?" "Yes sir, all-all good." "You look a little flushed, you sure you're not coming down with something?" He pressed the back of his hand to your forehead, trying not to smile wider when your eyes widened just slightly. "Positive, Captain..." You squeaked.

[ddarker-dreams]

The Good Ol' Days.

Yan Alhaitham x F Reader x Yan Kaveh.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships and implied kidnapping. Word count: 2.1k.

The sweeter the past, the more bitter the present.

“Seriously, this isn’t fair! Let her roll again!”

“I’m not sure what you expected from a game that revolves around chance.”

You've heard this before, you think. Not the exact verbiage, no, but the sentiment strikes a chord. Plucks at your heartstrings in a familiar melody. 

“Well, fine, let me lend her some of my money then.” 

“First, we both know that’s against the rules; and second, even if you sold your single Mondstadt property, you wouldn’t have enough to cover the charge. Your strategy of holding out in case you land on a Waypoint is as brilliant as ever.” 

The hot passion met by cool indifference that leaves you forces you into the mediator role. This position was specially formed for you, shaped in such a way that no one else could ever fit. Consequently, it adheres to your person too well, you can’t go forward or backward. You’re stuck. The more you struggle, the tighter your restraints become. 

“You…! I won once, when I got all four Waypoints. It’s a viable tactic. Right, [First]? Don’t you remember how huffy he was the night he came in last? … [First]?”

When opposing temperatures meet, condensation forms. 

“... You’re crying,” Kaveh sounds as if he’s seen a ghost, but it’s only you. “Is something wrong?” 

The better question would be what isn’t wrong. He won’t ask that, though, so you’ll never get to properly answer. You sit as still as a statue on the couch. From your display stand, you sense you’re being stared at by two sets of eyes, one distraught, the other scrutinizing. The former comes from your left and the latter from across the table. 

Kaveh’s hands cup both sides of your face. He wipes away the few wayward tears with the pad of this thumb, his eyebrows pinching together. Wordlessly, Alhaitham gets up from his cushion on the floor and takes his place by your right side. Their towering forms seal you in place. 

“You made her cry,” Kaveh accuses, his eyes narrowing. “You should’ve just let me go bankrupt for her.” 

“For someone who claims I have the emotional intelligence of a rock, you can be rather dense yourself. I sincerely doubt that has anything to do with this.” 

“Then why is she—” 

“I remember,” you somehow manage to squeeze the words out of your tight throat. Their attention returns to you. Your next words come out quietly. “That game, I mean. When you won. You had another glass of wine to celebrate, and… kept drunkenly throwing your victory in Alhaitham’s face. You slept through your alarm the next morning and missed a meeting with a high-profile client.” 

“Oh, yeah, that’s right,” Kaveh nods along slowly. He’s using that gentle, soothing tone from when this nightmare began and he didn’t want to upset you further. You can tell he’s trying desperately to follow along despite not having the directions necessary.

“After that, you started a campaign to not speak to Alhaitham until he apologized, but he didn’t even realize you were ignoring him,” the sound you let out is in between a choked sob and laugh. Kaveh’s arms fall limp as if they’ve lost all strength. “He told me… ‘Lately, Kaveh is more tolerable to be around’, or something like that.” 

You hug your knees to your chest. “Since you weren’t willing to talk to Alhaitham, you’d have me relay messages. It was silly. Eventually, I got you guys to make amends. It was like pulling teeth though. Heh. Thinking about it now, I can’t help wondering how many times I dug my own grave.” 

Kaveh softly speaks your name, but Alhaitham finds words before he can.

“So that’s what this is about,” Alhaitham notes. When you first met the brilliant Scribe, you mistakenly interpreted his rationality for apathy. You know better now. If he were truly disinterested, he wouldn’t bother stringing words together, curt as they may be. “Dwelling on the past only leads to unnecessary grief.” 

Kaveh sends a halfhearted glare in Alhaitham’s direction. “What he means to say is that you shouldn’t blame yourself.” 

“Because it wouldn’t have changed anything?” You question, staring deep into Kaveh’s eyes, their color reminiscent of the burning sun setting over the desert. 

He averts his gaze and swallows thickly. “Well…” 

“What he wants to say is that yes, it wouldn’t have mattered,” Alhaitham chimes in where Kaveh is hesitant to. Such is the nature of their dynamic when you’re involved — barbed truths or coddling lies. “The future we were envisioning had already been decided.” 

“The condemned can’t condemn themselves, huh?” You chuckle mirthlessly. 

They both frown. 

“You aren’t condemned, you’re— you’re free from having to worry about those things you used to stress over. Rent, bills, deadlines, you know. The worst parts of life. You can focus on your passions without any restraints now,” Kaveh reasons. Or so he tries. 

You gnaw on your lower lip. It’s been a while since you’ve bothered arguing with either of them on the subjects that truly matter, those topics have been deemed taboo. You can complain about Kaveh’s clinginess when he’s drunk or how tight Alhaitham holds you at night, but should you try to steer the conversation toward your captivity, it’s shut down. Kaveh makes you wish you never brought it up whereas Alhaitham instills regret that you dared to try. 

They’re both bracing themselves, you can feel it in the air. Sitting and awaiting a tempest of emotions that one will try to soothe and the other wave away. 

You think about fighting then remember why you stopped, falling into this limbo of existing without living. 

You could challenge Kaveh’s weak point. Demand to know why he doesn’t do the same then, never leaving the four walls of Alhaitham’s house, committing himself wholly to drawing up blueprints. Alhaitham might make some dry comment that he wouldn’t allow Kaveh to leech off him, or maybe Kaveh would apologize, and say that he didn’t intend to upset you. He would mean it too. You’d cry, beg, scream until your throat was raw and your voice scratchy, but in Alhaitham’s own words, it wouldn’t have mattered. 

Their minds are made up. Their resolve is an unshakable foundation upon which your gaol is built. In the same way they soundproofed the house, so too are their hearts insulated from any argument that’d champion your cause. You tried and failed and tried and failed again. 

At least if you don’t try, you won’t experience failure. 

“... Alright.” 

They exchange brief looks. 

“Alright?” Kaveh parrots the word, but without matching your listless tone. “That’s— oh. Huh. Okay.” 

He mumbles the last few words to himself, as if trying to process them aloud. You can’t fault him for his confusion. 

It’s silent then, the kind that holds weight. You uncurl yourself from your protective shell. You feel like a specimen being subjected to naturalistic observation, neither researcher willing to interfere, lest it negatively influence their data’s results. There’s a lot you can get used to — you had no other choice, really — yet that never fails to make you uncomfortable in your own skin. Unwilling to endure it any longer, you quickly form an escape plan. 

“Well,” you start, earning their rapt attention, “I think I’m going to, uh, call it a night.” 

You stand up as you say this. There’s a light pressure on your wrist, chaining you in place. 

“Stay,” Alhaitham’s voice urges. Your muscles go taut, then you hear a subdued sigh. “If you don't mind.” 

Kaveh must’ve given him quite the nasty look for Alhaitham to get that close to saying please. You sit back down, almost in a trance, as if the Scribe had cast a spell. Glancing down, you realize it’s Alhaitham who grabbed your wrist. He doesn't let go when you situate yourself back into place. 

Kaveh takes his chance to tether you as well. Lithe arms encircle you, gently pulling you into him. The side of your face presses against his chest, his bare skin exuding copious amounts of heat. He smells familiar, for this scene is familiar. Desperation with a hint of citrus and spice. He cradled you a lot in the beginning, shushing your sobs and drying your tears. At first, you’d resist, flailing your limbs wildly like you were a feral cat. Inevitably, his strength and stamina outlasted yours. 

His nose brushes against the crown of your head. “I care about you more than I could ever properly convey. Whatever you’re thinking, I can take it. Er, we can take it. I’d prefer that over you blaming yourself for anything.” 

Dazedly, you nod. He goes quiet, then, preparing himself for an onslaught you can bring yourself to unleash. Seconds bleed into one after another. You hear the furious pounding of Kaveh’s heartbeat. How if you twist your body, his breath hitches in his throat. It’s nice to know that at least his body will always be honest with you where his well-meaning words fall short. 

“You’re trying to regain a semblance of control by thinking ‘had I done this, or had I not done that, it wouldn’t have ended up this way.’” 

Kaveh exhales sharply through his nose. “Alhaitham, that’s enough.” 

“Let me finish,” he continues. His fingers creep onto your chin and take your face captive. He peels you away from your position against Kaveh, who stubbornly refuses to relinquish his grasp on your torso. Alhaitham’s countenance is close to yours so as not to leave any room for you to cower away. Those analytical eyes that can pick apart the world have you in their sights. “Do you know why you’re here, [First]?” 

In the past, when you struggled with an assignment or class, the infamously disinterested Alhaitham would take it upon himself to tutor you. He was a fair yet strict teacher. On those long nights spent hunched over a messy desk, he’d have a different air about him. He stretched you. In the moment, it felt like he was demanding more than what you could provide, but upon further reflection, he just knew what limits you could be pushed to better. 

“I’d like an answer.” 

You take a deep, shaky breath. “Because you both claim to hold some sort of affection for me.” 

Kaveh would look like a kicked puppy if you said this to him. It’s Alhaitham, though, and his composure is infallible. 

“Word it however spitefully you want, you get the gist of things,” he drawls. The intensity behind his gaze is enough to make you shiver. “If nothing you’ve been able to say or do has changed our mind now, why would it have back then? It might feel good to sulk, but your logic is erroneous. You’re making yourself miserable only to see if this wallowing is more palatable than the kind you’re used to.” 

You hate when Alhaitham’s right. It’s a shame he so frequently is. 

“Can you blame me?” 

“... No,” he admits. “But this proto-nihilism is worse for your mental well-being than anything else you’ve tried so far. I’d like to nip it in the bud.” 

Your smile is thin and far from kind. “Because it makes you uncomfortable?” 

“I’ll leave that to your overactive imagination to decide.” 

He relinquishes his grip on you, leans back into the couch, and crosses his legs. That posture positively irks you. Sparks from kindling flitter throughout your being like confetti. 

“Seriously, you have no tact,” Kaveh rests his chin atop your head. “They should study you in a lab somewhere.” 

“Says the one who’s taking advantage of [First]'s emotional vulnerability to cling to her like a parasite.” 

“Hey! Don’t listen to him, [First]. He’s just being a grump. You don’t think that’s what I’m doing, right?”

“I’d like to roll again,” you adopt a sickeningly sweet tone while addressing Alhaitham. “Please.” 

“... Right? [First]?” Kaveh tries again.

Alhaitham speaks up before you can even consider entertaining the whining male behind you. “And why should I bend the rules for you?” 

You lean forward with enough momentum that you’re able to break free from Kaveh’s grasp. Newfound vigor burns inside you. Perhaps a day will come when it extinguishes, but as for now, the flame ignites anew. Hot and ready to burn. 

Your lips brush against Alhaitham’s ear. “Are you afraid of losing?” 

He looks at you from the corner of his eyes, bemusement evident. The start of a smirk dances on his lips. 

“Not at all. Roll as many times as you please.” 

And so you cast the die again. 

Come what may — an unlikely win, tense truce, or total loss — you refuse to capitulate without trying.

[marycorcaroli]

how the opla!boys would break your heart.

angst with sanji, zoro and luffy.

mary ♡: hi everyone 💌🌷, i haven't seen any stories like this yet, so i thought i'd write one myself 🤗. i hope you like it ! ! 🫂

english is not my first language, i apologize for my mistakes. ♡

rules ; masterlist ♡

sanji.

he doesn't care about you, about all of you.

in the beginning of your relationship, he was so loving and understanding, sanji was always there for you, interested in your condition and afraid that something would happen to you. but then he got bored with you, your every move annoying him, and your please to stay home for the day caused him an uncontrollable torrent of aggression.

sanji wasn't afraid to tell you to your face how much you annoyed him. did you meet an old friend and stop to chat with him? sanji shows his displeasure, and later he's sure to tell you that you talk too much and you should shut up for once. he's completely shameless and doesn't care about your feelings, did he make you cry or not? who cares, he's right either way.

while you're humiliating yourself in front of him and trying to save your love drowning in lies and hatred, sanji will tell everyone that you're just a substitute for a certain person in his life. but he's forgotten how you saved him, how you helped him with everything, how you were always ready to come and comfort him, how you even went with him to psychologists and held his hand so that he wouldn't be afraid to say anything and know that you were there for him until the end.

but now your end has come and there is nothing left to save.

zoro.

cheated on you twice.

and each time it hurt like an infinite number of bullets piercing your heart. he was just toying with you, you were convenient for him sometimes, and most of the time you wondered "what kind of relationship are we in?" zoro kept saying you were in an open relationship, but is that true?

he kissed and flirted with different girls without thinking about you, but when someone showed you the proper attention, zoro went crazy and was terribly jealous, trying to find faults in you and wanting you to believe those lies. you were too good for him. constantly saving his ass and being a mountain for him, but he didn't appreciate it.

even after you got married and started living happily ever after, something went wrong.

when he met his ex-girlfriend again, he didn't refuse her help at 3:00 in the morning and then lie about going to his friend's house. it was so painful to know that that was all he could lie, but it didn't stop him from cheating on you with that ex, a second time, with her. he begged for your forgiveness, ran after you, was willing to do anything for you to forgive him and give him a chance. zoro loved you, but that love was never enough to keep you together.

seeing them again, something inside you burst, your whole future flashing past your eyes. the man who'd made you trust him and be with him again had done this to you. there was no anger or hatred in your gaze, but you wondered why people were doing this to you.

luffy.

lied to you all the time.

luffy would never tell you the truth, would never in his life admit to what he'd done. he was sure that his lies would save you from the danger and pain he plunged you into every time he didn't want to talk.

you wanted so badly to help him and tell him how to get out of this pit of lies, you were willing to do anything to make luffy feel good, but nothing changed. even after you found out that he slept with other girls during your break, when he promised that he wouldn't sleep with anyone but would try to be a better man and didn't try to make amends, luffy lied here too. making you believe it wasn't true and he wouldn't do that to you was another lie, but that's exactly what he did.

he lied about loving you. luffy didn't even know why he even started dating you in the first place, probably as a joke, but the joke lingered and you felt the most genuine feelings for him, but him.

he hurt you with his laughter, his deception, himself. he did everything he could to tear your soul into the smallest pieces and nothing was left of your tender heart, just a huge hole with self-loathing and the conviction that everything was your fault.

but it's not. it's luffy. he can't do it any other way and he never wanted to learn how to love properly, he was fine with you when you weren't bothering him, but at the same time, it hurt a little to see you cry, and afterward, luffy remembered that he still had plenty more like you.

[wakeup01]

Hey, is it still open ? If it is, I've got something to ask. See, the university that I attend is apparently quite focused on sports, when compared to degrees such as mine in linguistics. It means that, on my way to class, I see a lot of hot men with great hairstyles, and I've always felt a bit jealous at that. Don't get me wrong, I love the eyecandy, but it always made me wonder what would happen if, one day, I entered the wrong building. Could you help me to see what would happen ? Just as an experiment, of course, I want to go back to my degree nice and easy after that...

Team Player

Linguistics? Oh dear, oh dear. I hate to be the one to break it to you, but you won’t be getting anywhere with that. But don’t worry, I’m feeling generous today. Okay, listen up. It’s very simple, all you have to do is follow that hot jock with the gelled blond hair to the left. No, no, not the right, the left. Take note of his smile. The way he laughs at literally nothing. Why? Oh, no reason…

Whoops. The locker room you say? What a blunder. Egg on my face, I tell ya. But while you’re there, maybe it’s worth taking in the sights and….smells. Every step is like walking through the humid air of the jungle, a breeze of sweaty jockstraps assaults you from every direction as the Football team get changed. You fail to avert your eyes from their hot glistening bodies, the display of pure strength and testosterone.

The jock you followed in notices you, notices certain inadequacies that need amending if you’re gonna be on the team. The team? Yes, the team. That messy hair for one. You barely get the opportunity to argue as he sits you down and scrapes the clippers across your skull. The buzzing sound makes you shiver. An overwhelming lightheaded feeling allows him to easily tilt your head down and mow the back. Running his hands through what little remains as he gells it up into a spiky jock style. Patting your strapped rear and padded thighs as the dirty, preused tight leggings pull up your legs and cover your cupped crotch. Your mouth opens, opens before your brain has engaged, just hanging ajar for several seconds. “B—bro.” The word is more of a proclamation than anything else. You impulsively adjust your junk, a clear shadow visibly outlines where your big balls push the cup outward.

He tells you that the newbies are liable if the team loses. That would be you. Taking one…or many, so to speak, for the team is the accepted punishment. He tells you this while stroking at his own cupped groin, a rather large bulge growing as you swallow hard.

Before you know it, you’re completely kitted out in the heavy uniform, a thick helmet lowering over your head - silencing those niggling doubts in the back of your increasingly tiny, sports obsessed mind. It’s like a deprivation chamber for your head, your inner monologue being blocked. The only thing that matters to you now is the game.

The game.

The ball.

The team.

The… punishment.

The twitching of your cock and ass makes you wonder if losing would be all that bad. You stand up and admire yourself. You barely recognise what you see, uncontrollably getting turned on by your own appearance. Were your arms always that chunky, that tanned? Like prime cooked beef hanging from your wide shoulders. Looking like a proper jock boy…smelling like one too. Huhuh. You turn, smiling dimly back at your bro. Laughing out loud for a reason you don’t remember. Uhh, I’m sure it’ll come to you…eventually.

I mean, you’re just trying out something new, right? No harm done, you rationalise as you sprint and achieve your first touchdown, your memory of…le..lin….lingizztics? Completely knocked loose from your ‘bro’d out, empty head.

Of course, the team loses anyway. Though you, and the rest of the team have suspicions about how accidental your ‘fumbles’ really were. Never-mind, that didn’t matter so much anymore, not while the whole team form an orderly queue behind your bent over rear. Your blonde bro is first up, he spreads your sweaty cheeks wide, spits on your crack and lines himself up for the ‘shot’. “You ready to learn how to handle some balls dude?”

“Hell yeah brah!”

[indigogvf]

Need

Word count: 6.8k

Warnings: mentions of SA!!! smut (minors dni), alcohol. If I missed anything please let me know!

Summary: You and Jake have never seen eye to eye, but when a guy creeps you out at his house party, does that change?

A/N: awful summary lol sorry I’m so tired and have been wanting to post this for ages. This is not as good as I wanted it to be, or as long, but I do not have the patience for that. For some reason the ideas were just not flowing for this fic, so I feel like it’s kinda jumpy. Sorry about that!! Also, my requests are open!! Anyway, enough of me yapping. Enjoy!!

This was not your thing; parties. It’s not that you hated them, but a nine pm bed time meant a lot more to you. Drinking made you sleepy. However, parties are especially not your thing when Jake is there. Even more so when they’re hosted at his house.

Much like tonight.

You can’t deny Josh’s puppy dog eyes for very long though, and you weren’t going to let one person ruin your night. He’s hosting the party anyway, so he has much more important things to worry about than trying to piss you off. You thought.

You thought wrong. As always.

The night begun smoothly. You felt confident and sexy, your dress hugging you in all the right places. You weren’t planning on getting into anyones pants tonight, but it felt nice to know you could. With that being said, you also felt nervous. You and Jake couldn’t get along at all; you can be civil when needs be, but it never lasts long. If you can’t get along sober, you doubt adding copious amounts of alcohol is going to have a positive impact.

You made your rounds of everyone, making sure to say hi to the people you knew; also making sure to keep well away from Jake. You and Jake have been holding the battle of “who can be the meanest” for quite some time now, and you honestly can’t even remember how it started, but you strongly disliked him. You’re both extremely stubborn, so as much as you feel bad for feuding with your best friends’ brother, you wouldn’t be caught dead making amends. And neither would he.

Obviously your first point of call after saying hello was getting yourself a nice, strong drink. A necessity, in your opinion. Definitely a necessity when jake’s around. You’d already lost Josh, who you came with, and you were now left to fend for yourself. You did know a good amount of people, but everyone knew everyone else more than you knew them, so you weren’t really sure where to start.

You wondered back to the main event, scouring the room for someone you know well enough to join their conversation. As you were looking around, you caught the eyes of Jake. His shirt was buttoned up by two buttons, max. You couldn’t quite see due to the darkness of the room. Speaking of, he’s wearing sunglasses. What a douchebag you thought. I mean, seriously? Sunglasses? In an almost pitch black room?

His hair was falling nicely, though. The sunglasses were giving his hair something to flow against, and it was framing his face well. It doesn’t matter how much you hate him, you will always be jealous of his hair.

He smirks at you, mischief written all over his face. You roll your eyes and move on. You promised Josh you wouldn’t argue with Jake tonight, and you really did feel bad. You know how hard it is for them to navigate this.

However, Jake had other intentions. He started walking over; you knew you were well within your rights to walk away, but you also knew that this would happen at some point, so you might as well get it over and done with.

“You look cute.” He mentioned sarcastically, gesturing to your dress.

“Thanks. Wish I could say the same about you.” You retorted with an eye roll, taking a step away from him. You wanted as much distance between you as possible.

“Oh, c’mon. You and I both know you like what you see.” He suggested with a cocky smirk, pointing at himself. He took a step closer, closing the space between you that you had just made.

“Seriously? You have that big of an ego? Take a look at yourself for once. You’re wearing sunglasses in a dimly lit room. Could you look like more of a dick?” You replied, taking a sip of your drink. You knew he enjoyed this a lot more than you did; you were easier to piss off.

“Look at myself? Look at you! You look like you’re begging to take someone home in that dress.” He laughed, throwing his head back. ‘Always so dramatic’ you thought.

“Yeah? Well at least I could take someone home if I wanted to, which I don’t, for the record. You can’t, not when you look like as much of an uptight prick as you.” You argued. You felt like steam was coming out of your ears. He always had to dig deep. Every time.

He began responding, but you had already started walking away. Like you said, you’d promised Josh you wouldn’t argue with him tonight, so you really didn’t want it to go any further.

You spot danny and Sam and take this opportunity to distract yourself. “hey guys, you having fun?” You asked as you waved at them.

“Hey y/n, did Josh ditch you? Already?” Sam queried, turning to face you. Danny sniggered beside him in response.

“Well, yeah. But I promise that’s not why I came to chat.” You knew that whatever Sam was suggesting was just a joke, but you also knew that if Josh hadn’t of ditched you, the overwhelming joy you felt when you saw them probably wouldn’t have been as intense.

“Yeah, whatever. How’s things with Jake? I see you’ve continued your feud.” Danny joined, subtly looking over to Sam. They know exactly how to wind you up. You will never understand how they find the humour in this situation; if it was the other way round, you would’ve grown impatient a long time ago.

“Yeah, but that’s done for the night. I’m really not in the mood for it to carry on tonight.” You said as you grabbed your drink to take another sip, taking a seat next to danny.

“Are you ever in the mood for jake, though? You say that every time, and every time the feud continues.” Sam giggled.

“You know, he’s right. How did this ‘feud’ even start? I can’t quite remember.” Danny said. Him and Sam were now laughing a little too hard considering how unfunny their comments were. At least you didn’t find them funny.

“You know what guys, maybe I will carry it on. Just for you.” You remarked, pointing your finger at both of them to further emphasis your point.

“Oh, we would love to see that.” Laughed Danny, turning to face you completely.

“Maybe you should just fuck it out. I mean, if all of our mutual friends can agree on that, maybe we’re right.” Sam added, without laughing. He was serious. He seriously suggested you ‘fuck it out’. With his brother.

“You guys suck. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to grab another drink.” You began walking away as they laughed; obviously happy with themselves for managing to wind you up.

You made your way into the kitchen, your eyes landing on a guy stood in the corner. You smiled politely as you walked past him to make your next drink. “You on your own?” He asked. Are. You. Serious. You thought. You were not in the mood for this.

“Uh, no. My friends are just in the living room, where everyone else is.” You said bluntly. You hoped that gave him the hint that you were definitely not interested.

Obviously, it didn’t.

“Your ass looks beautiful in that dress.” He said boldly as he took a step closer, looking you up and down.

“Thanks, but I’m not looking for any of that tonight.” You smiled in an attempt to soften the blow, whilst taking a step back.

“C’mon, you can’t wear a dress like that and not want some attention.” He laughed, reaching his hand out to brush your arm. You quickly retracted.

You were starting to panic slightly as it was clear he wasn’t getting the hint. “I’m okay, really.” You reiterated, taking another step back. You were now against the counter, awaiting his next move.

As he started to take a step towards you, Jake walked into the kitchen, pausing as he witnesses the guy come closer to you; again trying to reach out and touch your arm. He flicks his eyes to you, and you look at him with pleading eyes. You really hope he can see what you’re trying to tell him.

“Hey, what are you doing, man?” Jake asked, flicking his eyes between you as he walked further into the kitchen.

“That’s none of your business, man.” He mocks, drawing his attention back to you.

“It is when it’s my house. Did she tell you she was interested in you before you cornered her?” He asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm. He folded his arms and leaned on the counter, raising his eyebrows as he impatiently waited for his response.

“Well, I- no, but-“

“Enough said. Get off of her and get out of my house.” He spoke with a steady tone, pushing himself off of the counter and moving out of the way, further prompting the guy to leave.

You breathed out, not even realising you were holding your breath. “Thank you so much.” You sighed, running your hands over your face as you tried to ground yourself.

“Yeah, are you okay? Did anything else happen?” He asked with panic laced in his voice. He walked over to you and moved his eyes over you to check that you were okay.

You looked up at him. His eyes were laced with concern and worry; they looked softer, It was different. He always looked at you with such annoyance, but you liked this. “I’m okay. Thank you, Jake.” You replied. You really were okay, but unwanted men coming onto you will never get less daunting.

“I’m sorry that happened. If you need anything, you let me know. My bedroom is upstairs to the right if you need some quiet.” He said softly as he ran his hand through his hair, letting it fall back into place.

You were taken back, to say the least. You and Jake were never nice to each other unless absolutely necessary, but even then you were still throwing dirty looks around like there was no tomorrow. It was a moment of clarity. You would see Jake acting somewhat similarly to others; always so kind and caring. But never towards you. You wondered what it would be like to not dislike him so much, and to actually get along with him. Although this only gave you a small taste of that, you liked this a lot more than hating him. You still hated him though. You’re way too stubborn to admit that you might like him, even to yourself.

“Thanks. I’m okay, I promise. I always get shaken up when this type of stuff happens. I just need another drink.” You laughed a little, trying to soften the mood slightly. You picked up your cup and started to fiddle with it. You felt too awkward just standing there.

“Yeah, sure. Help yourself. Do you want me to stay with you and then help you find josh? So you’re not on your own again?” He suggested as he walked past you to get a drink out of the fridge.

What the fuck? You thought. You knew Jake could be nice, but you never expected him to be this caring. Not in a million years.

“Uh, yeah, actually. Would that be okay? I don’t want to steal you from your own party.” You mumbled, starting to pour a concoction of various kinds of alcohol into your cup.

“Of course. I know where he is, so it shouldn’t take long.” He reassured you with a soft smile, brushing past you to find a bottle opener for his drink.

You grabbed your drink and went with Jake to find Josh. Once you found him, you said your thank you’s to Jake and walked over to Josh.

“Was that Jake? Were you just with Jake? Did you just smile at Jake?” He asked, an excited grin on his face. He got up from his seat, eager to find out if your battle with Jake has finally ended or not.

“Yes, yes, and yes. Some guy was being a massive creep and Jake saw and kicked him out. He was really sweet, actually. It was weird.” You said, taking a sip of your drink whilst stealing Josh’s seat.

“Does this mean you both like each other?” He said, completely disregarding the small mention of the creepy guy; you didn’t blame him, though. This was exciting for him. His smile widened as he got more eager by the second.

“No. I still hate him.” You said firmly. You were not admitted the fact that you maybe, slightly like Jake. Not happening.

“Ugh, c’mon, y/n. You know he can be nice, you’ve seen it yourself. He’s even been nice to you now. Without any prompting.” He pleaded as he sat on the edge of the table opposite you.

You leaned back against the sofa and sighed. You looked at Josh’s face and you could see he was desperate for this to finally be over. “Okay, fine. I don’t like Jake. However, I’m not as inclined to gauge his eyes out when I look at him anymore. Happy?” You reasoned.

He shook his head and smiled. “Fine. This is a starting point, then.”

“Sure. You can call it that if you’d like.” You giggled. It was clear he was a little frustrated, all he wanted was his best friend and brother to get along, but it was fun to wind him up sometimes.

As the night went on, people slowly startled to filter out the party, only leaving a few people. You were thinking about jake, and how he helped you. You wanted to repay him, so you took yourself to the kitchen and began clearing up some of the used cups. You figured he would appreciate this, since no one likes cleaning up the morning after whilst morbidly hungover.

You were nearly done when Jake walked in. He paused in the doorway, “What are you doing?” He asked, not moving.

“Oh, hi. I’m just cleaning up a little bit. Thought it might help you out tomorrow when you’re hungover.” You stated, smiling at him and continuing to throw away all the trash laying around.

“You don’t have to do that.” He began to walk over and attempted to take the bag from your hands. You pulled your hands away.

“You didn’t have to help me earlier.” You looked up at him and sent him a reassuring smile. You really wanted to help out.

“How are you doing after earlier?” He asked, ignoring your previous statement.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just glad you helped.” You replied, setting the bag down on the floor when there was no more trash left on the counters.

“How are you getting home?” He wondered, picking up the trash bag and moving it to the doorway so he could take it out later.

“Oh, I was just going to get a taxi.” You said as you fiddled with your rings, again feeling awkward with this new tone of conversation between you.

He shook his head, “No, you can stay here.”

“Why do you care how I get home?” You retort. It came out slightly harsher than you expected, and he took a step back.

“Why do i care?” He repeated. “Look, we might not see eye to eye, but what happened to you tonight wasn’t okay. He might not have done anything, but who knows what might’ve happened if i didn’t show up at the right time. I know you know that, and I also know that you’re going to have overwhelming anxiety about getting into a taxi, by yourself, at night. I’m not willing to let you do that whilst you’re also drunk and vulnerable. What kind of person would that make me if I didn’t care?” He said, raising his voice. He began to walk away from you, making his way out of the kitchen.

You rushed over to him, grabbing his hand to pull him back into the kitchen, “Wait, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that, I guess I’m just used to keeping my guard up around you.” You apologised, looking up at him. You realised you were still holding his hand, so you hesitatingly let go. You’d never really been this close to him, and you weren’t complaining. You studied his features, moving your eyes around his face.

“I know, me too. I’m sorry for shouting, it’s just annoying because I was being nice, and you sort of threw it back in my face.” He said as he did the same to you; studying your features.

You wondered what it would be like to kiss him, or what his calloused hands would feel like against your bare skin, or how he would feel insid- stop. You still hate him. You thought.

He wondered the same about you. He wondered how soft your lips would feel; how you would taste. He was willing to find out. In a moment of boldness, he began to move closer to your lips. He was getting closer, closer, clo-

“Hey guys- wait a minute. Did I just interrupt something?” Josh said as he walked into the kitchen, a smirk beginning to spread on his lips.

You both moved away from each other, not wanting to let on that you were making up with each other; or whatever you were doing. You weren’t really sure what just happened.

“No.” You both spoke at the same time.

“I was just clearing up, and then Jake came in. That’s all. What were you going to say?” You stuttered. You fiddled with your rings again, looking down at your hands.

“Oh. Well, I’m going to bed. I’m staying here tonight by the way, Jake.” He turned around and made his way out of the kitchen and upstairs to the spare room.

You giggled at Josh as you turned round to face jake again. “So, am I staying here, too?” You asked. You felt bad asking, but he was pretty clear on his opinions about you getting a taxi.

“Yeah, if that’s what you want.” He responded. He reached his hand to the back of his neck, playing with his hair. He obviously felt nervous. Or awkward. Probably awkward, you assumed.

“Yeah, thanks. Can I take a shower?” You asked. You felt gross, you always did after drinking. You noticed his eyes move over you, sparking a warm feeling in your belly. You tried to push the feeling away, not prepared or ready to feel this way about him on such short notice.

“Yeah. The bathroom is upstairs, opposite the top of the stairs. The towels are in the cupboard next to it.” He replied whilst pointing upstairs. Neither of you moved, you just started at each other. You were both equally as confused at what happened before Josh interrupted. Was it a moment? Was it not a moment? Who knows.

After a few seconds of painfully awkward silence and staring, you left to go upstairs and take a shower. You found the towels in the cupboard that Jake mentioned, and turned the shower on. You adjusted the temperature so that it was a little warmer, and peeled off your dress. It felt good to get it off of you; you never found tight dresses as the most comfortable option.

You tied your hair up in a bun after seeing the stingy amount of options for shampoo. You also didn’t fancy sleeping in wet hair. You stepped in and immediately relaxed at the feeling of the water hitting your back, making every effort to not get your hair wet. You took your time washing yourself, not wanting to leave the warmth of the shower. Your mind wondered to Jake. You’d always thought he was attractive, but you were never attracted to him. Probably because he was never nice to you. But after tonight, after seeing the caring side you’d only ever observed, you felt differently about him. It was hard to dislike him as much when you had been on the receiving end of his selflessness and kindness. You wondered what this meant for your relationship with him. Were you still enemies? Or were you walking into new territory with him? You weren’t sure.

Eventually, you decided to get out and began drying yourself. You wrapped the towel around you and tried to find Jake to ask where you would be sleeping, and if he had any clothes for you to wear. Both questions which should’ve been asked before you got in the shower, you realised. You found him in his bedroom, sitting on the edge of his bed in just his trousers. You’d never seen him shirtless, and you’d never say no to seeing it again; that’s for sure.

You knocked gently on the door despite it being open, to let him know of your presence. He looked up and raked his eyes down your figure. You felt exposed.

“Hey. I was just wondering if you had anything for me to wear, and where I was sleeping?” You asked, speaking gently to not wake Josh up.

“Uh, yeah. You can sleep in here, if that’s okay with you. I’ll find you some clothes to wear, just give me a second.” He said, getting up from his bed and making his way to the chest of drawers to find some clothes for you.

“But where will you sleep?” You asked, feeling confused as you watched him dig through his clothes.

“On the couch downstairs. Here, you can wear this top. You can wear these pyjama bottoms if you want, but they’re a little big on me, so they’ll probably be big on you, too.” He muttered as he handed the pile of clothes to you. Your hands brushed together, the small amount of contact bringing back the warm feeling in your stomach. Stop. You thought.

“No, I’ll take the couch. I can sleep anywhere, it’s okay.” You responded, moving your hand to the top of your towel to stop it from slipping.

“Honestly, just take the bed. Take it as my formal apology for the last however many years of shit.” He smirked, attempting to make a joke out of the ‘however many years’ of torture.

“Oh, we’re apologising now?” You countered, returning his smirk.

“I think it’s about time, don’t you? Anyway, it’s your turn now. I just made my apology.” He said as he moved closer to you, leaning on the doorframe.

“Not to erase all of our progress, but that was not a very good apology.” You argued. God, he looked good without a shirt. You thought.

“I think it was a great apology. I’m offering you to sleep in a nice, warm, comfortable bed.” He retorted, gesturing to the bed behind him.

You shook your head and laughed. “It didn’t even include the word “sorry”, Jake.”

“Okay, fine. I’m sorry, y/n. Better?” He said, still sporting the same smirk.

You wanted to kiss him. You’d been trying to ignore this fleeting thought since you were in the kitchen together, but it was becoming insufferable. You squeezed your legs together at the sheer thought of him touching you.

“Better.” You responded, “I’m sorry, too. Truly.” You said, setting the tone to something more serious than before. You had less of an issue apologising to him now that he had initiated it, but you were so ready for this battle to be over between you.

He stared at you, not really knowing where to go from here. He also really wanted to kiss you; he thought you looked good in only a towel, and imagined how easy it would be to remove it. He imagined how you’d look underneath it, having to stop himself from finding out. He could see the swell of your breasts under the towel and felt himself starting to get hard. He saw your eyes flick down to his lips and linger there, before moving back up to his eyes. Does she want this, too? He thought. He took this as a signal that you felt the same and leaned in, capturing your lips in a gentle, yet passionate kiss.

You were in shock. You had been wanting this, but you did not realise he wanted it, too. You leaned into the kiss, feeding your hands into his hair. You tugged it at the roots slightly, earning a little groan from Jake in response. This felt so wrong; but it made sense. You wondered if all of your friends were right; maybe it was just built up sexual tension.

His hands moved round your waist, squeezing at your skin. His tongue swiped against your bottom lip begging for entrance, which you granted. You moaned into his mouth at the feeling and grabbed his arms, pulling him impossibly closer to you. You needed him, and he needed you just as much. You felt his hard-on press against your lower stomach. You could feel yourself getting wet at the thought of him inside of you, and reached your hand down and palmed him through his trousers. He sucked in a breath and pulled away, “Stop. Are you sure you want this?” He asked with concern and desperation written all over his face, pushing you away from him slightly.

“Yes, Jake.” You whined. You didn’t mean for it to come out like that; you were aiming for a steadier, firmer tone, but you found it hard to care, It’s not like you weren’t getting a little impatient.

He leaned back in, kissing you with more passion than before. He moved his hands to the top of the towel, silently asking you to take it off. You obliged, taking your hands away from his neck and unravelled it, letting it slide down your body.

He moved his eyes over your body, groaning at the site of you. “Fuck, you look so pretty.” He muttered, pulling you back into him and kissing you again.

You moved your hands to his belt a second time, undoing the buckle and chucking it on the floor. You undid the buttons and he slid them off, stepping out of them and kicking them out of the way. You saw his growing bulge through his boxers; you wouldn’t be lying if you said your mouth started watering at the sight. You wanted to taste him.

So you did just that. You got down on your knees, using his thighs as an anchor to ensure you didn’t keel over; that would be embarrassing. He looked down at you, his jaw slack and his hair draped around his face. He took his hand and gently cupped your cheek, slowly guiding your head forward. “You want a taste, baby?” He whispered, stroking your cheek with his thumb. You nodded your head yes whilst you took your hands to the tops of his boxers, he stopped you. Again.

“Words.” He demanded, tightening his grip on your jaw.

“Yes, I wanna taste you.” You muttered, still gripping his boxers.

He nodded, giving you permission to carry on. You slid his boxers down, revealing his hard cock. There was pre cum dripping out of the head, and you swear you almost started dribbling at the sight.

You leaned forward, his hand still pressed against your face, and licked up the side. He took in a sharp breath and closed his eyes, moving his hand so that he could grip your hair.

You took the head into your mouth, sucking gently. You wanted to tease him. You moved down slowly, hollowing your cheeks ever so slightly. “Ah, fuck. Don’t tease.” He uttered. His breathing was starting to get irregular as you continued down his length.

He was getting impatient. He needed to be inside of you, and you were taking too long. He moved his hand to the back of your head, edging you forward and testing the waters. You hummed around his cock, giving him approval.

He moved your head forward, forcing you to take almost all of him into your mouth. He was huge; to say the least. You hollowed your cheeks as much as you could as he created a rhythm for you. You moved your hand from his thigh to the base of his cock, jerking him off slowly as you took the rest of him in your mouth.

He hit the back of your throat and you gagged around him. His hand faltered as he threw his head back, “Jesus, y/n.” He growled, pulling your hair harshly. You could start to feel him pulsing in your mouth, and you knew he was getting close. He was panting, at this point. His hair was sticking to his face and his jaw was slack. He looked hot, and the need you’ve been feeling for him has just increased by an obscene amount.

Almost as if he could sense your increasing desire, he pulled you off of him. “I nearly couldn’t stop myself.” He admitted sheepishly whilst he helped you off of your knees, bringing you in for another kiss. He could taste himself on your tongue; he could’ve come if he carried on, the images of you on your knees flooding his head.

“Get on the bed.” He uttered, unbuttoning his shirt and throwing it onto the floor. You obliged, swaying your hips as you walked over to the bed.

He joined you on the bed and pushed your legs further apart, “Now it’s my turn to taste you. You want me to taste how sweet you are, honey?” He whispered as he placed soft kisses around your dripping cunt.

You moaned at the sheer thought of his mouth on you, “Yes, please.” You whined, moving your legs further apart as a way to prompt him.

He liked a stripe down you, causing your hips to buck into his mouth at the sudden sensation. You grabbed his hair in your hands, tugging slightly. “Eager, are we? I’ve barely even touched you.” He taunted, smirking to himself at the thought of getting you so worked up.

Your cheeks turned a crimson colour from embarrassment. “Please, do something. I need you.” You pleaded. It was getting too much now; you just needed something, badly.

“Be patient.” He muttered into you, pressing his mouth against you again. He circled your clit with his tongue, and with no warning, pushed his fingers into you; setting a relentless pace. The noise you made was inhuman, and as a reminder of the sleeping beauty next door, Jake smacked his hand on your thigh. Your hand flew to your mouth in an attempt to hide the noises coming from you.

The rate at which he was pumping his calloused fingers was sending you to the edge at an embarrassing pace; he could feel you squeezing his fingers, “You gonna come for me, pretty girl?” He asked, somehow pumping his fingers even faster than before.

He sucked on your clit, and you couldn’t take it anymore. You were trying to speak, but you were sure your words were incoherent. Your orgasm was imminent; you were bucking your hips, desperate to come. His fingers hit a particular spot within you, and a wave of pleasure crashed into you full force. You were chanting his name like a mantra, though you were sure it made no sense. He took his fingers out of you and began lapping you up, striving to collect every little bit of your orgasm on his tongue. “So sweet.” He groaned.

You tried to push his head away; but he was stronger than you and carried on. “Can you give me another one? I know you can, sweet girl.” He prompted, pushing his fingers back inside of you and, yet again, setting a relentless pace.

“I need you, Jake.” You begged, still trying to pry his head away from yourself. You threw your head back into the pillows as the slight pain of overstimulated faded, being replaced with pleasure. “God, Jake.” You moaned.

“You gonna come around my fingers again, hm?” He taunted, placing his mouth back on your clit straight away.

“Fuck! Yes, yes, yes.” You whimpered, feeling your second orgasm approach quicker by the second.

“See? I knew you could do it for me.” He remarked, “C’mon, sweet girl. You can do it. Just one more and then you can have my cock, yeah?”

His words of encouragement egged you on, and you pulled at his hair in an attempt to bring him even closer. He groaned into you; the vibrations sending you over the edge. You threw your head back, squeezing your eyes shut. You were beginning to wonder why you hadn’t listened to your friends because you did not want to wait any longer for him, and you were already half way there.

He pulled his head away, and slowed down the pace of his fingers, slowly working you through your high. He climbed on top of you, and the cold metal of his necklaces touching your chest sent a chill down your body.

You leaned in, starting a heated kiss with him. You couldn’t get enough of him; eager to feel him inside of you. He moved down to your chest, taking your nipple into his mouth and sucking harshly. You arched your back into him, “Please, Jake. Please, I need you so badly.” You cried, wrapping your legs around his waist.

You moved your hand down to his cock and stroked him softly, “you want my cock, baby?” He uttered, trying to conceal the groan he let out from such a delicate touch.

“I can’t take it any longer, I need you, Jake.” You demanded, quickening your pace on his hard cock. He could’ve come right there and then; the combination of your touch and your shameless begging making it hard to control himself. It was painful, and he wondered how he didn’t just fuck you up against the wall the second you removed the towel.

He removed your hand, replacing them with his own, giving himself a few languid strokes before guiding it to your entrance. “You sure about this?” He asked, his tone switching from demanding to concerned.

“Jake, if you don’t fuck me right now, I might go insane.” You stated, looking up at him with pure desperation. You genuinely thought you were going to combust with how impatient you were getting.

He needed no further confirmation, and thrusted into you. You yelped at the feeling of him; the burning sensation from his cock stretching you out catching you off guard.

“Shit, y/n. You feel so good. So ready for me.” He panted, setting an unforgiving pace. His thrusts were deep, and reached all the right places.

You wrapped your arm around his back and dug your nails into him, needing something to grip onto. He groaned at the feeling, gripping the sheets beneath him. You could feel yourself getting closer already, and so could he, “Are you close? I can feel you- fuck, I can feel you squeezing me.” He groaned into your neck, “I wont last much longer if you keep doing that.” He moaned as he started to suck on your neck, leaving reminders of tonight for tomorrow.

You tried to respond, but the immense pleasure you were feeling caused your mind to go blank. You were trying to hold your orgasm off; not wanting this to end, but to no avail, your third orgasm came crashing down. You dragged your hands down jakes back, most definitely leaving scratches for him to discover tomorrow. He fucked you through your high; not faltering once, whilst whispering sweet words of encouragement into your ear, “you’re doing so good for me, baby.”

You came down from your high, feeling utterly fucked out. “Can you do one more for me? I know you can- fuck, just one more, please?” He said, his steady facade slipping in an instant.

“Jake, I can’t. It hurts.” You pleaded. On one hand, you never wanted this to end. But on the other hand, you were exhausted and the overstimulation hurt.

He moved his hand down to your clit, circling his fingers around it quickly. “You said that last time, and you did. Stop being pathetic.” He growled, leaning his head into your chest to start sucking on your nipple.

Pain turned into pleasure; as usual, and your fourth orgasm was fast approaching. “You can do it, please do it.” He begged, his hips faltering as he tried to hold off his orgasm. “I need to feel you come around my cock.” He pleaded, quickening his fingers which were circling your sensitive clit.

He toyed with your clit faster, silently pleading with you to hurry up.

It worked.

Although not as intense as the last three, you were still sure you were sent to some other dimension as your fourth orgasm hit you. You could feel jakes hips faltering as he fucked you through your orgasm, whilst also keenly chasing his own.

“Fuck! I’m gonna come, y/n. Where do you want it?” He asked, his face screwed up and seconds away from coming.

“Inside! Please, I wanna feel you fill me up.” You urged as he tucked his head into the crook of your neck.

His hips stopped, and he let out a guttural moan that you wish you could play on repeat. You pulled his head away from your neck, trying to see his face as his come filled you up. His hair was stuck to his face with sweat, and his cheeks were a crimson red.

He collapsed on top of you, his heavy breaths heating you up even more. You brushed his hair out of his face and tucked it behind his ears, wanting to see his fucked out face.

He rolled off of you and got up to the bathroom, leaving you on your own to reflect on what just happened. When he came back, he had a wash cloth and kneeled beside you to clean you up. “You okay?” He questioned gently, stroking the outside of your thigh.

“Yeah. Just tired, is all.” You replied, smiling at him. He thought you looked cute; sprawled out on his bed looking all fucked out and tired.

He discarded the cloth and came to lay next to you, pulling you into his chest. You wrapped your leg around his waist, and absentmindedly started to draw patterns on his bare chest.

“Thank you. For helping me earlier.” You mentioned quietly. You felt bad. Now that you had seen, first hand, just how caring he is, you felt bad for the way you had previously treated him.

“Look, y/n,” he sighed, “I’m not a bad person. I know we haven’t gotten along for some time now, but it doesn’t feel good to think that you assumed I’d ever leave someone to fend for themselves in that type of situation; or any type of bad situation. I personally think I just adequately apologised by making you come four times, but I think you’d disagree. So, I’m sorry, y/n. I’m sorry for the way I’ve treated you, and for all of the comments I’ve made towards you. I’ll be honest, I’ve seen the way you are towards others; the real you, and I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be on the receiving end of that. Now I know that you’re a great person, and always have been.” He confessed, stroking your hair softly. You were overwhelmed, to say the least. You never expected to make up with Jake so fast; let alone going from hating him, to having sex with him, all in one night.

“I’m sorry, too. I know, and knew, you weren’t a bad person. If we’re sharing secrets now, I’ve wanted to make it up to you for a while, but I was too stubborn. I would agree that you adequately apologised, but hearing you say the words made it a lot better. The best apology I’ve ever received, if you will.” You giggled softly, admiring his face. He always thought you were attractive, but seeing you in this knew light made it different for him. He wasn’t just attracted to the way you looked anymore, but you as a person, too.

You wondered what this meant for both of you. You knew you at least liked each other now, but you wanted to know him. The small taste of the real Jake you had gotten tonight was simply not enough.

“What does this mean for us? Are we friends now?” He queried, a frown appearing on his face.

“I’m not sure. Why don’t you take me out to dinner and we can find out?” You countered, your heart rate increasing at your sudden boldness. He stopped stroking your hair and looked at you with a grin.

“Deal.” He agreed, leaning down to press a gentle kiss on your lips. You pulled away, nuzzling your head into his chest with a giddy smile plastered on your face.

[hazshit-hotel-hater]

Rewatching “All 2 U” and under the contexts of how I personally perceived Stolas’s songs in “Look My Way” and “When I See Him” theres so much potential here for this to be actually interesting and its so far just being thrown away. In every song I have mentioned Stolas has moments where he stops and thinks “maybe I was the problem”.

Examples being:

"Unless it's me, and no matter what in this world I could give; it's not enough to get through the walls you've conjured up to live"

"I will try to make amends for making you means to an end"

"Am I doing something I can't take back? Would he want me if he was free? And if he's only here as a prisoner what kind of monster does that make me?"

"But maybe it's all on me for missin' every sign and every glance and every turn."

"Maybe there's somethin' here for us to glean for you to teach, and me to try to learn."

All of these imply so much that Stolas could be coming to the conclusion that he was one of the biggest issues in their relationship. Yes Blitz also hold fault, but thats a post for another day. I so truly believe Stolas could be so so interesting even if I personally think Helluva Boss should NOT be a romantic story, there’s still so much potential to it. I’ve mentioned before that I was in a very very similar relationship to whatever “Stolitz” is, and while I both hate my ex and how she treated me, it was not a one sided issue. Yeah she was abusive but also I can’t just say I wasn’t a bit rude at times. Getting off topic though, what I’m trying to say is even if one person is the main issue and you hate them, in certain circumstances you can still have part of your mind that wishes the best for them. I think my main point is that for people like my ex who have mental problems that get in the way of relationships and can result in abusive behaviours, I want the chance for them to see themselves in a character that has done the same things, recognized it, forgiven themselves, and made an attempt to be a better person.

I myself have been in many relationships where my mental problems got in the way and ended up separating me from people I care about in one way or another and I know how dogshit it feels when it happens, especially when you are the problem. Many people don’t like acknowledging that they may be the problem and then when they eventually do realise it, they struggle on trying to fix the issue.

This spans to the people you surround yourselves with as well. Just for example in “All 2 U” Stolas is not the first person to call Blitz a “motherfucker” he explicitly goes to “I don’t think you meant to hurt me” meanwhile Verosika and Tex push the implication that Blitz is the problem and during the rest if the song, as stated before, we see Stolas point out “maybe I was the problem” to which Verosika and Tex immediately but in with blaming Blitz instead. And honestly they have reason to (at least Verosika does and Tex is going by word of mouth I assume) but it plays into the idea that a bad person or abuser cant also be abused.

You can see every time Stolas considers something isn’t Blitz’s fault Verosika and Tex are so quick to step in and tell him he’s wrong. He’s just surrounded by yes people right now and i really believe thats something that could be used in the narrative. Stolas getting away from these people to take in reality and then finally be like “no it was me i was right about it”. And idk it could even lead into more Verosika development where she acknowledges that Blitz has now seen how shitty one-sided and abusive relationships can be and they talk more instead of just like 3 minutes on the stairs. This is a topic I touch on with my Vox rewrite but thats in a different way. I just think with so much buildup to Stolas realising he was a huge issue they could do so much helpful representation in certain ways for people with problems like BPD, bipolar, ROCD, and a bunch of other things. I suffer from the last two and I hardly EVER see these portrayed respectfully or how they actually affect people. It’s always just “im happy and then in 2 seconds im going to be mildly upset :(“ or “omgg I love cleaning!!” with OCD. It’s just so infuriating to see Vivzie not touch on so much potential again.

Also “stolitz” should not get back together even if Stolas became a better person, just to clarify.

[zumicho]

blueprints — two : wallpaper

one three main masterlist

cw: argument, angst (lol), religious references, flawed characters

between you and him: normalcy is nonexistent. the arguments aren’t heated enough to call for making amends, yet there’s a suffocating presence of wrong. an unwelcome thickness in the air that swallows the very life of your relationship, stabbing daggers at what once was.

‘you say it’s complicated, to make amends — well is that the way, that we’re headed then?’

there’s a different hurt to a betrayal that you know is coming.

“beige or paper-white?” keiji’s voice jerks you into the present.

you don’t recall how you ended up here, at the local wallpaper shop, rummaging through the ‘neutrals’ section, with the last person you’d expect. there’s a cryptic message in his gaze that you fail to decipher. he's waiting for you to respond.

“blue.”

a pause, followed by a resigned sigh. “can you take me seriously?”

“I am serious, keiji. I like the blue.”

“the blue displayed in the children’s section?” his brows scrunch.

“when will you stop letting everyone else’s view dictate your perspective?” you snap. “why do you care so much what they think?”

“I’m starting to think this isn’t just about wallpaper.”

you’d never guess that someone who wants to build houses for a living was scared of creating a home.

“it isn’t.” you’re crying. “it’s about how you refuse to try.” the tears are pathetic. because they won’t change anything. nothing will change how he thinks. they’re pathetic because they’re wasted on a situation that will stay the same regardless of what you say or do. “It’s about how I don’t matter enough — for you to try at all.”

the call of your name cuts the flashback short.

he’s crossing the room. three strides, till your face is buried into his shoulder, staining the royal blue sweater you bought him on his birthday. your nails dig into his forearms — an overwhelming sense of if I let go I lose you. akaashi’s holding on just as tight.

“I’m not ready for a house, love.”

“don’t call me that.”

“I’m trying to make this easier. on the both of us.” only the falter in his tone allows you to notice the fatigue weighing down on his shoulders, evident in the dark circles under his eyes. you don’t pity him. you should, but the anger outweighs it.

“easier on the both of us, or on you?”

“would you believe me if I said you do matter? that I’m ready to try?”

you take his words and squeeze them into an IV bag, letting it flow through your bloodstream, letting them marinate and seep deep into your brain.

his patience was slipping. “I don’t know what you want me to say. you want me to understand you, but you refuse to step into my shoes. have you considered that I’m scared?” akaashi stumbles over the last word. “talking to you is walking on eggshells.”

‘it takes strength to forgive, but I don’t feel strong.’

you lost grip of yours. “don’t yell at me for walking on eggshells you placed in this relationship.” is this how Jesus felt? when he knew Judas would betray him, and loved him nevertheless?

akaashi read the question off your face.

do you want to end this?

to your relief, he shook his head.

“how do you break up with someone who has half your soul,

and all of you?”

© froyaoya all rights reserved.

a/n: ness if u see this u brought me back into my NIKI phase. lol this fic is just my new vent medium so I’m sorry if it’s incomprehensible, messy, all of the above. proofreading tmr

tags @causenessus @wyrcan @greninjafan5000 @aliensstolemyheart @nursedflowers @whosmiadotcom @cr4yolaas @jeoo-saw @httpsivy @cnnmairoll @yenonnoff @phoenix-eclipses @tobiosluvr @rory-cakes @frvppe @mollyrolls @miyamoratsumuu @hyenagoated @mitskicain