#and whatever goes down in chapter 7

[thatdeadaquarius]

About your language brainrot. I see your "Reader's writing can't match tyvat's long and flowery writing" and bring you "Tyvat isn't used to books over 50 pages long so a short story to the Reader is a whole dictionary to tyvat readers".

Seriously, have you seen how thin the books are? They don't wrote novels, they write short chapters formatted in the way really old stories are. As in, summarizing all the events down into one smooth story then adding a few quotes. Fanfiction writers are insane. They will willingly sit down and write hundreds of words at a time. To them, a proper modern day story of maybe, oh 10k words or so, would probably be like the Oddessy itself.

If we were to combine the two headcanons. It would end up as many historians being intimidated by this insanely long written scripture in the language of the forgotten.

I'm going to take this a step further and say that if the creator asked some people to proofread their things, it would establish a hiarchy of who is able to actually finish the book the creator read and who isn't.

NOW THIS, THIS IS MY FUCKING JAMMMM

I'm so sorry this is so old!! u probably all know this by this point that I've really slowed down as the year has gone on, but I graduated university and then got my first job so its been pretty crazy!

Sun: Reader (you/they/them)

Orbit: Headcanons-ish

Stars: dash of all the book/nerds of Genshin, heavy on Sumeru?

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: Cussing, 16+ Mature Audiences, Spoliers for Sumeru Archon Quests/Scaramouche, & Trigger Warnings: mention of shipping/characters shipping themselves with you.

Comment if any missed, please.

☆

FULL STOP.

THE AKADEMIYA, FONTAINE RESEARCH INSTITUTE, HAVE BEEN WAITTTINNGGGG ON YOUR ASS LMAO

You fall from the fucking sky like a 5 star, or pop out of the Irminsul or whatever

and immediately are mobbed by scholars. LMAO jkjk (not really, bc that's what it’d feel like)

can you even imagine the dread older stories(”the classics” to them), that was instilled in the poor students around Teyvat??

id like to think ur works are the most preserved over the thousands of years of Teyvat archeologists excavating them, in comparison to other authors (teyvat just likes you more, suck it William Shakespeare)

also, bc I cant resist language differences/world building I'm sorryyyy 😭 😭

the vocab of Genshin lang vs. ours, has significantly less vocabulary like their actual dictionary is 1/3 the size of ours type of energy

(Omfg all ur fanfics being considered like insanely long realistic romantic classics or tragedies like Jane Austen-level, and only the richest and biggest play companies put on plays about ur stories bc the script goes on for hours)

(ur plays only get put on for rlly big events bc of this, like Lantern Rite or like a Summer/Winter festival/your birthday, which is, yes, an international holiday)

dude the sheer power move of anything you’ve written being essentially “Journey of the West” to them, like Damnnn.

endless like adaptations, plays, Teyvat-short stories condensing it, (THEIR OWN FANFICTION ABOUT UR STORIES)

the power is, in fact, going to your head every time another scholar both deflates at how long ur stuff is, but also lights up bc they get to read it

speaking of scholars… you know who snatched you up first. you know. you don’t even need to read the next line.

Alhaitham.

sneaky bastard he is, absolutely manipulated, mansplained (and manwhored bc he knows he’s handsome, cheeky little shit) his way into getting you to sit down with him and interview you about both translating other classics, your own, giving your own analysis of others works and ur own, and picking ur brain apart of how/why you wrote urs, etc. its fucking endless,

Kaveh had to come rescue you bc u were starving to death after getting stuck with the Haravatat scholar in his office for nearly 7 hours of interrogation discussion about literature

and Alhaitham wasn't even nearly done, he’d informed you as you left that he already had another appointment for later conversation scheduled (how?? you don't even know ur own schedule??? you have a schedule???) and was looking forward to more of your “creative and enlightening input” :)))

(you’re never going to escape him, not even Nahida herself can save you from his stubborn ass)

On another note, Xingqiu is quaking when you agree to autograph his copy of your stories (of which he has all hard covers of the first edition translations)

Zhongli/Rex Lapis is known for having a near-lifelong passion for searching for your works specifically, and learning how to translate them better into Teyvatian vernacular

like the same way he can absolutely speak on Rex Lapis facts/rocks/adepti info, is the same confidence he speaks about knowing ur work lol

(yes he did also ask for several autographs and another sit-down talk about the works, tho a lot more sneaky then Alhaitham bc he just casually gets u guys into it during dinner)

Barbatos/Venti has written some of the most famous songs based on your stuff, he has his favorites too,

but he always claims the best songs are any that have been written in the story, like either when a character sings something, or there are like quotes from songs ur fanfics are based on lol

(he also demanded to hear what they actually sound like from you, yes, you have to sing them for him lol)

Venti also can surprisingly drunkenly ramble the entirety of at least one of ur stories, like, word for word lmao

(Diluc gave in and did give him a drink on the house for that one, just once, Venti doesn’t remember it lol)

(I forgot to mention, u guys still speak the same language, just like, different versions of it)

ur works being one of the few things all the Archons can freely talk about with each other, like it’s neutral ground bc they’re all fangirling about it lmao

Furina and Neuvillette have had like,, fierce debates over the decades about character dynamics and the general drama of ur stories, they’ve gotten into it enough they’ve stopped talking to each other for a couple days a few times lol

Albedo, Sucrose, Kokomi, Yae Miko, Ei, Raiden, have read every single work they’re gotten their hands on in Teyvat (it took them like a literal year or longer)

Albedo drew you fanart for every single story, bc he’s hyperfixated on everything related to you ngl,

Kokomi had commissioned smaller pocket versions of ur works (which later got popular thanks to Yae Miko) both the OG and the Teyvat shortened versions

THE HARBINGERS ARE THE MOST DOWN BAD LMAO

Childe has literally tried to recreate battle scenes from ur works lmao

and gets especially riled up about fighting someone who resembles any characters from them (esp villains, what a cutie)

You cannot fathom the amount of research throughout Teyvat that has been secretly or indirectly funded by Pantalone/Tsaritsa

from the experts to analyze them, to funding play companies to act them out, to actually excavating places to get more of ur stuff unearthed

(the Harbingers absolutely are the first group of people that got to read several of ur stories first bc of this, like the world’s most exclusive secret book club lol)

Scaramouche used to clown on Childe all the time about how he was too impatient to even “sit down and read the King’s classics”, and he was downright insufferable when he found out about Tartaglia’s habit of recreating battle scenes/that being what motivated him to fight sometimes lol

that being said, Wanderer surprisingly never forgot ur stories.

Even when his memories were wiped for a bit, he found comfort in these fantastical epics still sticking around, even when his old names did not

(he mayyyy or mayyy nottt have secretly namedhimselfafteroneofthetragicprotagonistsherelatesto- )

oh btw, Nahida also found joy and comfort in ur stories when she was trapped, they also helped her literally grow as a person bc she had ur stories to help her sort of process the world/what life was like outside of her dreaming prison 🥺💔❤️‍🩹

◇

OMFG

ANYWAY FULL TONE SHIFT LMFAO-

the ABSOLUTE SPIRAL-RED-STRING-CONSPIRACY-THEORY-BOARD ENERGY IF THIS WAS A BLUNT LANGUAGE AU LMAOOOO

like specifically how Teyvatians like to give all the context ever thru their words, but older deities/beings like you just do simple phrases that can have deeper meanings (whereas teyvat just explains all the meanings behind their words)

STOP there’s like an official display at the Akademiya and Fontaine Institute of red string theory boards 😭😭 (look what you’ve done to themmm LMAO)

for like every story of urs, INCLUDING THE FANFICS STOP

IMAGINE THE SHIPPING WARS IF U EVER WROTE ONE THAT WASNT EXPLICIT OR LIKE ONE OF THE MAIN ROMANTIC INTERESTS HAD CHEMISTRY WITH OTHER CHARACTERS HAHAHAHAA

that's actually what Akademiya scholars argue about the most viciously, it’s like politics you can’t just bring up ships from ur stories casually in regular convos 💀

(poor Cyno has to deal with a shipping war once a year bc someone always makes the mistake of reading ur work for the first time (without being told to not talk to others abt ships lol) and it starts an all out brawl in the cafeteria every time LMAO)

Also yes.

Cyno is a fanboy.

(he has read Creator x Reader-insert fanfiction.)

(As have most of the characters mentioned, and those not lol)

…

(I'm gonna make a whole Creator x reader fanfic post one day i stg lmao)

☆

an iced coffee? for me?? :0

ok but real talk…

wtf do you guys wanna see for new years!!

i didn't do a inktober/october days thingy bc i felt too unprepared (and bc id wanted to post that 1000+ followers eldritch au for Halloween)

but now i kinda wanna, at least for a few days :o

ill post a poll in a minute, so check it out!! but still, please feel free to comment some ideas here! :)

Safe Travels Deafening Dreamer,

💀♒

If you wanna join a taglist, DM me what for! "Pspspsss, please tag me for [All SAGAU posts, Only SAGAU Language AUs, diff fandom, etc.]!"

(If you ever wanna drop, just DM me! "No more taglists/[specifically this AU/fandom] please!")

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks / @devilangel657 / @esthelily

[lovifie]

Lift Me Off My Feet

Chapter 3: Poltergeist

Masterlist

Original Thought - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12

3.8k Words

Warning/Notes: Ghost x Reader, a little of ass eating from Ghost, fingering, a bit mean Ghost, hair pulling, angst.

“Hey, Birdie.”

“Hey, Ghost.”

The two of you look at each other, each expecting the other to make a move. But since he doesn't seem bothered by the silence, you break it.

“Here for work or pleasure?” You ask opening the door as he chuckles.

“Well, that's not my choice.” He answers looking at you. “Half and half, I suppose.”

“Why is that?” You ask as you enter your flat, leaving the door open for him to enter. But when you notice he is not moving you turn to him. “Are you gonna come in or do I need to invite you like a vampire?”

You see the smile on his eyes (mainly because that's the only thing you can see of his face), and he impulses himself off the wall as he walks closer to your door. 

“And what would your neighbours think? A girl like you letting a man like me inside her house?” He asks cocking his head.

“Well, actually, I don't know if you have heard. But just last night my neighbour was taken by the police because turns out he was a terrorist or something like that, I'm not sure. So I think I am out of the competition for worst neighbour of the year, so, yeah, please c’mon in.” 

You hear him chuckle behind your back as you walk into your room, and a little later you hear the door close. Maybe calling it a room is a big stretch, your whole flat is a room. A small hall that goes from the door to where your bed is, a door on the hall to your bathroom and another one to your kitchen. 

Having breakfast in bed sounds great, but having lunch and dinner sounds a bit sad. But that's the flat you could get, and honestly, thanks to your neighbour's hobbies, at least you know the rent is not going to go higher.

“You know, jumping the wall on your balcony was ridiculously easy, you should probably get a lock for that window.” He comments looking at your window as he enters your line of vision.

“Then I would lose my deposit.” You answer sitting down on your bed to take off your shoes. You take off your jacket next and hang it in your closet. “Are you hungry?”

“Hmm, depends on what's the offer.” He says leaning against the wall again. He follows you with his gaze as you walk to your kitchen and open the fridge with a face. He chuckles when you close the door back and look at him. “Takeout?”

“Takeout it is.” You answer taking your phone out. “What do you fancy, Ghost?” 

“You know? Most people freak out when I get inside their house, don't ask me what I want for dinner.” He says crossing his arms.

“Should I freak out?” You ask looking at him with an eyebrow raised as you lend him your phone with the delivery app open. “Order whatever you want, I'm no picky. I'm gonna take a shower, if the food gets here there is money behind that frame.”

You point out the only frame on your whole house and walk into the bathroom. You try to walk with confidence, but once inside the room, you let a sight escape your lips.

When you said yesterday you were going to push Price and Kyle away, you didn't mean it as in pulling the rest of the team closer. 

This is bad, is mean and honestly, you must be on some weird week of your cycle where you are producing more pheromones than usual because you were chronically single for years and now can't seem to catch a break. 

You open the tap to wait for the water to warm up as you undress. Just as you take your shirt off your pants you notice you didn't pick your pyjamas, so you walk back out.

You see Ghost seated on your bed, back leaning against the headboard, feet dangling off the bedside and scrolling through your phone.

“You can take off your shoes, you know.” You comment as you pick up the plaid pants and massive sweatshirt you wear to sleep as well as your underwear.

“You are a sneaky one, you know.” He responds looking at you almost offended he didn't hear you exit the bathroom.

You chuckle at him and walk back inside the bathroom. The shower helps you calm your nerves, the man is in your bed, and he hasn't made any moves yet; probably because he is not into you, you need to humble yourself a bit. 

At some point you hear the doorbell and your stomach grumbles almost as a reaction. You quickly finish your shower, put on your clothes and walk back to the room. 

“Chinese?” You ask when you see the containers as he stays looking around. “Let me get the table out.”

You say winking at him when he looks at you confused and he gets even more confused when you kneel before him. You look up at him, laughing internally at what he must be thinking and then you get your nice arm under the bed and pull the foldable table under it. You take it out and with a shake, you unfold it, take your seat on the bed in front of the table and tap the bed next to you. “Have a seat.”

He sits next to you, his thigh pressed against yours and he takes the container out of the bags opening them. 

After a little, you decide to finally talk about the elephant and the room and ask: “So, did you just drop by in hopes I would invite you to dinner or do you actually have a mission today, Ghost?”

“Oh, yeah, about that. I actually had two missions today.” He says pulling his mask up so he can eat. You try not to stare at the little skin showing, but you quickly notice the stubble on his jaw. Blonde. “First one, finding out we're the girl from the captain's office was. That one was easy, thankfully cause the captain was freaking out. And the second one, figuring out why she left. That one is still ongoing.”

“And if the captain was freaking out why is it you the one that's on my house?” You ask looking at your plate, curious enough to ask but not brave enough to look.

“Cause he was scared the reason you ran away, was because of him or something he did. So he didn't want to make it worse.” He answers simply, you can feel his eyes on you. He bends down a bit to be able to see your face and ask. “Is that why you ran?” You shake your head. “Then why? It looks like you had fun.” 

You turn to him with furrowed eyebrows and notice that he is looking at your neck, you remember the lovebites and quickly try to cover them with your hand. 

“It was just…” you sigh. “I know when I am no longer wanted, and rather than make it awkward by making him drive me back or having to say bye I just… got out before he woke up.” 

“Hm, I still think you should talk to him. I’m pretty sure he wouldn't agree with you with the ‘not being wanted’ thing” He says doing quotation marks with a hand and taking his phone out to send a message with the other.

“He doesn't even know my name. Neither do you.” You almost mumble. I’m just another one on the list, you think. “I think he will be just fine.”

He winces as if he was in pain and says. “You a tough one, birdie.” He cleans off the rest of his plate and stands up. “You don't know my name either and you don't see me throwing a hissy fit.”

“I'm not throwing a hissy fit.” You say rolling your eyes.

“Did you… Did you just roll your eyes at me, birdie?” He says moving the table and standing between your legs. “Now that” He says pointing at your face. “That's a brat move.”

“I'm not a brat!” You try to defend yourself standing up, but as quickly as you get on your feet, Ghost manhandles you to be laying down on your stomach. He sits on top of your ass immobilising your hips and grabs your arm putting them behind your back leaving you unable to move. “Ghost, what the fuck?!”

“Language.” He says and you feel a hard slap land on your ass cheek making you yelp. “Are you going to behave or should I teach you a lesson, birdie?”

“What? What are you talking about? Get off me.” You mumble squirming under him.

“No, I don't think I will until you learn.” He chuckles as he begins to grind against your ass. He bends down to talk to up to your ears. “You should be grateful, that I found you and not Price. Do you know what he would have done if he found out you got back, walking, alone, in the middle of the night?” Three more hard smacks land on the same cheek when he sits up. “And that alone, without talking about the fact you were missing a shirt. And didn't even say goodbye. Not a phone number, not a name, nothing.” He lands two more on the same cheek and an even harder one on the other cheek. Leaving your arse burning and you wouldn't be surprised if it bruised, but still, the most surprising thing about the situation is that you can feel your underwear sticking to your cunt.

You truly are learning about yourself these days. 

He grabs two handfuls of the meat of your arse, pushing your cheeks together as he grinds with a grunt. Then he lets go, you hear the unmistakable sound of his belt being undone and it sends anxiety up your column. He must sense it because he says: “Calm down, birdie. I'm not giving you my cock until you beg for it, and only if you deserve it. And trust me, you don't.” 

He takes his belt off, aligns your forearms and ties them together behind your back. 

“Are you going to talk to Price? You can still leave unscattered.” He asks, putting his hands beside your head and leaning in to be closer to your face.

You look back at him from over your shoulder, face still push against your mattress, and try to look offended by how easily he got you tied, immobilised and horny. “I don't know.”

He makes the sound of a buzzer, like in the contest when they answer wrong. “Not what I want to hear, birdie.”

His index finger hooks the waistband of your pyjama pants as well as your panties, right above your ass and he pulls them down slowly. You hear him whistle as he pulls them down, feeling the cold hair of the room against your skin and against your glistering cunt. “I think I'm going to start by the desert tonight.”

He lands a loud smack on your naked arse, and when you try to complain, the sound gets strangled into a moan when you feel his tongue against your puckering hole. Getting your ass eaten by the mysterious masked man was not on your plans for tonight, but you are not complaining. 

You moan against the mattress, biting the sheets to try and conceal the sounds leaving your mouth. Your consolation, is the fact that you can feel Ghost moan against your skin, the vibrations travelling up to your nape giving you goosebumps. 

He gets his hands under your hips pulling them up, leaving you completely exposed. Ass up, face down, arms tied and knees together by your pants. He pulls back for a second to admire his job, you look already ruined and it's been less than a couple of minutes. 

You await, expectant, his next move, every single thought that was on your mind about how you should push him away and stand your ground, is silenced by the feral voices of your mind scratching the walls with the need for his mouth to be back on you.

“Look at you, birdie. Such a good girl all of a sudden. You are not a brat, you just need that attitude fuck out of you, right, doll?” He asks massaging your waist with both hands. 

“Fuck you.” You mumble, and Ghost lands a slap right to your cunt making you scream and arch your back to find distance from him.

“Language, birdie!” He says chuckling, amused with the situation. “C’mon, play nice, love. Are you going to talk to Price?”

His finger starts to travel up and down your slit, collecting the juices flooding from your cunt. He teases your entrance without getting inside.

“No.” You declared, tired of being played with.

“No?” He ask genuinely surprised. “Oh, I think you will.” He lands another hard slap on your pussy, right on your clit, and position his fingers so that when you arch your back again, you fuck yourself right into his finger. A loud moan escaped your lips at the sudden intrusion.

He raises his hand up to your nape, grabs your hair in a handful and pulls lifting your head off the bed. “I wanna hear you sing, birdie.” His fingers begin to move inside and out of your cunt making you groan softly, raising in volume as his tongue finds her way back to your ass.

You can feel his drool drip down your ass to where his finger is fucking your pussy, only adding to the mess. He uses the knuckle of his middle fingers to brush against your clit making you mewl and causing him to chuckle again. He can feel you clenching around his finger, and he pulls back to ask again. “Are you going to talk to Price?”

“No, fuck, no I won't.” You scream back. And immediately you wish you didn't. Ghost draws his finger back, and remains holding your head but otherwise untouched.

“Wrong answer again, doll. C’mon, tell me what I want to hear and I'll give you what want to get. Are you going to talk to Price?” He asks. “No!” You answer, and the hardest slap to date lands on your ass making you cry out in pain. “Last chance, birdie. Are you going to talk to Price?” He asks again.

You bite your lip, an inner battle going inside your mind. The stubbornness in you taking the lead, not even being reasonable, just stubborn. Another hit snaps you out of it. “Shit! Fine! Whatever, I'll talk to him.” 

“Good girl, birdie.” He grumbles against your ear as his fingers start to piston in and out of your cunt, the sting of the stretch by the second finger completely buried under the waves of pleasure. He keeps whispering pure filth onto your ears, unable to hear him over the ring of your ears caused by the stimulus on your weak point.

You feel drool drip down your chin into the sheets, but you can only focus on the tight knot inside your body. It's unfair how easy it seems to be for these men to make you come undone with barely touching you, it makes you think about those mediocre ex-lovers who would put the blame on you for taking so long to cum. Fuck them, these men, Kyle, Price and Ghost had you coming in minutes without even taking off their clothes.

Ghost brushed his knuckles against your clit again, and you can only moan his name before you are gushing over his hand. He helps you ride out your orgasm and slowly draws back his fingers. 

He stands up chuckling softly, you hear him walk into the bathroom, you hear the faucet open and close and then hear him walk back.

You feel the cold wet towel between your legs and it makes you jump off the surprise. “Sorry, you spend all the warm water, doll.” He says still snickering. He drops the towel on the table, pulls your underwear and pants up, takes his belt back and lies next to you caressing your hair. “Solid, birdie?”

You shake your head. “Pretty sure I'm liquid now, Ghost” You say absent-mindedly and rub your eyes as you yawn. He may have fingered the attitude out of you, but he also fuck the energy out.

“I think it's time for me to leave, thank you for the dinner, birdie. And for the desert.” He says, smiling at you. He lands a peck on your temple and stands up. “Lock your door when I leave. And talk to Price.”

When he turns his back at you, you roll your eyes standing up as well to close the door. He turns on his heels and looks down on you. “And don't roll your eyes at me, birdie. Don't give me an attitude. Lock the door.” He says and lights a cigarette as he makes his way out of the building. 

While you're are cleaning everything, tidying your room, getting ready to get into your bed when you get a message from a contact that is just a skull emoji. 

💀: Lock the door, birdie.

That's what you get for trusting him with you phone to order food.

“So she didn't say why?” Price asks Simon as he sits in the booth at the pub.

The both of them met there, a pub close to your house, Price too anxious to wait to get back to base to find out about Ghost’s discoveries.

“Negative.” Ghost answers setting the pints down. “She did make a great point, Captain.”

“Which is?” Price ask expecting

“We don't even know her name. Well, we do because of the background check we did to find her, but any of us have asked her.” Ghost responds. “And I thought you were the less hotheaded of the team, Captain.”

Ghost shakes his head as he laughs.

“Maybe try to talk to her when you are not saving her life? Maybe she will feel less overwhelmed then.” Ghost says taking his phone out to check his messages when he notices the vibrations. “Talking about the little bird.”

🐦: I told you I locked the dor

🐦: door*

💀: Awesome

🐦: ?

🐦: Go away, Ghost

💀: What are you talking about, birdie?

🐦: Stop messing with my door, I'm trying to sleep, you weirdo.

💀: It's not me.

💀: Are you sure it's your door and not your neighbours?

🐦: what neighbour?

💀: You and the terrorist are the only tenants on the building?

🐦: STOP MESSING WITH THE DOOR 

🐦: You are giving me the deposit money if you break it.

💀: I'm not at the door.

💀: Birdie?

💀: Don't ghost me now.

💀: Not on purpose.

💀: Birdie?

Ghost knit his brows at the lack of messages and look up to Price who seems lost in thought. “Maybe we need to save her again, Price. Your heart to heart talk will have to wait.”

7 minutes.

That's all it takes for Ghost and Price to reach your building. Guns in hands as soon as they saw your apartment door busted open.

Price felt his heart sink at the possibility of your being hurt, because of him and his inability to treat you the way he should. Waking up alone didn't hurt as much, he hadn't slept that good in who knows how long, and it was all thanks to the warmth of your body pressed against his.

So now, that only now has he found this comfort, the thought of it being ripped away from him before he could mend his error, was truly heartbreaking.

The nice thing about your house being this small, is that there is not a corner that remains unchecked. And still, you are nowhere to be seen.

But your flat is a mess. The dishes are broken all over the hall and kitchen floor, the fridge is leaning against the wall obviously having been pushed, your clothes are thrown all over the place, your mattress is cut out it's inside thrown around, your clothes mixing with the rest of the mess on the floor, and your wall…

“You will pay for your actions, whore.”

Can be read on the wall, big letters occupying the whole wall.

Your TV is missing, only the metal skeleton that holds it to the wall it's on is place. And your window is busted, that's when he sees it, a chair. On your balcony, as if it was used by somebody to jump.

Price walks up to the balcony so fast, Ghost grabs his shirt unsure of the Captain's plan. “She probably jumped to the apartment next door, Captain. Let's check it.” The younger says to try and calm the Captain. He nods and they both make their way to the apartment next door.

It is just as destroyed as yours, but still, no sign of you. They make their way back to your apartment and Price sits down burying his face on his hands.

Ghost takes out his phone again and he calls you, anxious waiting for you to pick up. But you don't, instead, a silly music begins to sound from under your bed. Tranquillity floods their senses, only for it to be destroyed when the only thing they find is your phone under your bed.

“Fuckin’ hell, birdie. Where are you?” Ghost asks out loud.

THUMD

Both men whip their to the sound, and come face to face with your closet. Now, one of the things you like about your flat, is the closet. Built into the wall. With a ridiculously small space on top of it.

Both men look astonished, as a hand starts to crawl his way out of the false ceiling of the closet. You pop your head next, and when you confirm is the two men and not whoever entered your house just a couple of minutes ago, you start to bawl your eyes out.

When you heard the people force their way into your house, you automatically got yourself into the space on the false ceiling in your closet. You stayed there, contorted into yourself and used every ounce on yourself to not make a noise. 

You heard how they rampaged your little home, how they screamed, how they destroyed everything.

It was merely a couple of seconds, but it felt like hours. And when you heard them come back for a second time, you were certain they would hear the beat of your heart. Until you hear what sounded like the sweetest desert on the universe, Ghost's voice, asking where you were.

The sheer fear that just saved your life, now turned you into a sobbing mess of tears and drool as you melt onto Ghost's arms once he holds you.

You feel Price's hand rubbing your back as he kisses your shoulder shushing you.

“It's all right, darling. We are here now. You are safe. No one is going to get to you now.”

Hii! 💗

Hoped you liked the new chapter, reader collecting these men like they are pokemon hehe wish that was me

Taglist: @pagesfalling @thevoidwriting @darkangel4121 @tf141glory @skyler-loves-rick-grimes @ghostlythots @readerofallthingss @onewattson6529 @mynameismothra @xinyiline

[oval3000]

Chapter 3

Yandere Psych Patient König x Nurse Reader

Warning: Possesive, Obsession, Death, Gore, Blood, Smut, Toxic behavior, age gap.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

(This might suck idk. I don't know German so it's all Google translate)

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He hasn't left his room for a month. They kept him in their with the straitjacket on. His meals are just vitamins that he has to swallow. You would go in to check up on him, but new orders from the administrator's to not go near at all, so you pass by his room. You would peak through the little window and see him laying on his back with little no to motion on his arms or body entirely. His psychiatrist, Dr. Smith is the only that goes in there. They have sessions in his room instead of the usual spot they have it in.

She was pissed at everyone, specifically you. You are her punching bag, even though it was Ben's fault. "Why hasn't he been given his meds!" She yelled at you.

"We are not allowed to go i-" you tried to explain your her, but she could care less.

"You are his nurse right! Your job is to give him his meds! How did you graduate when you can't even do that!" She yelled at you.

You plead for her to listen to you "I'm sorry, Dr. Smith. I can't it's Mr. Millers orders. No one can go in except you because you are his psychiatrist."

So she strolled her way to the administrator's office.

Ignoring his assistant from telling her that she can't go in. Slaming the door open to see him sitting on his chair, writing whatever cral he writes on paper.

"Sarah calm down!"

"Do you have any idea how dangerous he is, and you want me to deal with him alone! On top of that the lack of guards is making my job harder!" Dr. Smith argued with a hand on her hips and her finger pointing towards Ben.

"Do you remeber when you wanted a nurse to look after him." She rolled her eyes. Yes, you, the nurse. "Do you have any idea how much money is going towards her. Triple the pay for looking after him."

Her hands swing in motion, showing her frustration. "She can't even do her fucking job Ben!"

"If she's alive, then she's doing her job well. What's making this hard, is you barging into my office and telling me what to do when you are the one demanding this." He stood up from his chair, fixing his navy tie. "We're loosing staff. People don't want to go near him. Gabriel is threatening to sue the company. Gaurds are quiting left and right so sorry that there aren't enough staff attending your needs."

She crossed her arms with an annoying sigh leaving her lips tinted with red lipstick. "Then hire more people, I don't see the problem?"

"Did you not hear what I said" he walked towards her, standing toe to toe to her. "Majority of our budget is going towards (Y/n). She's been here for two months now, lasting longer than any other nurses. We can't afford another hire with the same pay to deal with König. Besides he hasn't actually killed anyone in those two months, I'll take that than dealing with someone who has a broken jaw from a simple punch."

"Then ask for more money." She scuffed like if it was a joke she said.

He laughed at her face, "Do you think the government cares to fund more for this place, I already have the staff on my ass for new medical supplies, do you think they are gonna hand me the budget to hire someone with triple pay just because you are scared."

"Then fire (y/n) and hire a new guard, maybe someone with military experience."

"Why would I do that. You came into my office, spreaded your legs cause you were so desperate for a nurse and now you want me to fire her. She hasn't done anything in particularly wrong."

"She doesn't follow orders!"

"She does, you just make it difficult." He came in defense.

"Wasn't she trying to stop you from putting him into a straitjacket?" She smirked while her arms crossed at her chest.

"Yes, and she was right. Putting him in a straitjacket does nothing. He was fine it's just that..." he closed his eyes taking deep breath.

"Just what?" She came closer to him, placing her hand on his shoulder, gently caressing it.

He turned his head to her, he used to lovy dovey with her seduction, but now it's more annoyance. "Eli, the other guard, came to my office the other day and told me that Gabriel was provoking König."

She rolled her eyes, looking around his office. Paying attention to the paintings hanged up on the wall and the light objects he has on his desk. "Like what? Making fun of him? We all make fun the people here what else is new?"

"I don't know the full details, but that's what he told me." He sat a bit on his desk.

"Why does that matter?" She shook her head without a single thought in her brain.

"Gabriel is threatening to sue us. If we fight the legal action, we'll have to defend König. König, just like any other patient represent us, our care. If they find out that Gabriel was the one that caused this, making König the victim it doesn't look good after we placed him in the straitjacket. Like we silencing him out. It will ruin our reputation, we'll all loose our jobs and you fucked your way up here for nothing."

"But he harmed a worker, beside murdered multiple people." She let out a little chuckle, placing her hand on his chest.

He didn't give in, instead, he gave her a stare. "He's ex- military and as for you being his psychiatrist, you'll have to speak on behalf of him. Meaning that people will find out about you, how you never studied to become a doctor you fucked every professor you had to get your degree."

"What are you saying, Ben." Her smile dropped.

"I won't fire (Y/n). She stood up for König, making us look like we care about our patients. As for Gabriel, all he's asking is for some 20,000 thousand dollars, which we can easily give him worth than standing infront of the judge. Which means that we can't afford new guards for you. Besides they're taking off his straitjacket today, so stop being so scared and do your dam job."

"I still think you should fire, (Y/n) atleast." She hummed, wrapping her arms around his waist.

"I'm not doing that. Beside she's the only staff that doesn't barge in here demanding stuff. She nice and sweet...." he looked down to the side, " and...young and beautiful. "

She let go of his waist, clenching her jaw. Yes, you being so beautiful. "So what? You want to fuck her? Is that it. Never head young pussy before?"

"You should leave, I have work to do and so do you. This discussion is over." He walked to his desk, sitting down on his chair, unbutton his last few buttons from his dark, navy, blazer.

She stormed off his office, angrly stomping on the white tile floors with her heels creating a louder noise.

You heard the word going around that their taking of his straitjacket, so you quickly gathered what you need to check him up. You saw as the guards took off. He let out a big stretched, flexing more of his muscles. It caused a scare to the guards like a lion letting out a roar.

You walked up to and saw more of his face. He stared at you.

He missed you. He never thought he would miss you. During that month of not seeing you was a time he contemplated about you. Are you made for him or not. He will shut his eyes and images of you will pop up. You smiling at him. Taking good care of him. Watching you squirm under him as you take his full length cock inside your pussy. He'll treat you with respect as long as you do what he says that's all. Seeing your belly swell up with his baby. Can't wait to fuck your tits filled with milk. Can't wait to impregnate you with multiple of his children, making one big happy family. How protective he'll be for his kids, for you. To stand up to the bullies, to show them not to be scared of anything. To hold them if they cry.

He should kill you for making him react this way. He should just kill you. You are just another nurse thinking they have control over him. He use to give orders to people, being the colonel and all, he got the respect he fought for, why does he feel weak around you. You are so sweet and joyful to him. If he was back in the field and saw you, would he kill you. Or maybe fuck you. Maybe that's it. He hasn't done it in so long, so long he hasn't touch a women. He should've just fucked one of the other nurses. Yes, maybe he should do that. Fuck a nurse, just to see. I mean what's the harm in that.

"Aah...yes. right there ngh.... yes...oh fuck that feels good."

The sound of König's footsteps were low that they couldn't hear over the sound of skin slapping against eachother. Watching a men fucking his girlfriend on his bed.

"Does your boyfriend fuck you like this?" Slaming her ass back and forth on his cock.

"Ah....a-aah....he-..he could barley...make me- fuck!..mmgh....wet." She grip the bedsheets hard while he kept pounding her.

No. No. He can't. Not you. He can't. He can't betray you like they did. He can't imagine the face you'll make if you know he fucked another girl. No he should be pure to you. You should be the only one he touches.

He needs you. Okay, it's done. He'll make you his and you'll love him. You'll love him and care for him. Rather you like him or not it's done.

You wrapped the cuff around his bicep and squeeze the bulb reading the numbers on the circle, writing it down. Doing the usual things you have studied for. As you were checking his heartbeat, he reached up which caused you to flinch a bit. His index finger, gently, caressing your cheek. Your back was turned to the guards, making it hard them to see what's going. You stared at him as he touched you with such charisma. His thumb reaching to your chin, hovering over your lips. He placed the tip of his thumb on your bottom lip, gently pulling it out a bit.

You shouldn't have this feeling at the pit of your stomach. You couldn't tell of you didn't smack his hand away because you are scared or because you enjoy it. You never had this much attention, not like this.

"I don't have time to argue with you (Y/n)! Go to your room!" The little girl tuged at her moms shirt.

"Where's daddy?" She felt tears running down her face as her mother poured more wine into her glass, already finishing up the fresh new bottle.

"(Y/n)! Seriously go to room! You are such a headache! Why couldn't your father take you with him! Nauseating!" She dranked the entire glass, slamming the cup on the table.

"Where's daddy?" She said one last time not letting go of her blanket. The same blanket her father got her when she told him she was cold.

"HE LEFT! HE LEFT US (Y/N)! LEFT US FOR THAT BITCH! AND NOW I'M STUCK HERE WITH YOU. HE RUINED MY LIFE. I COULD'VE DONE SOOOO MANY THINGS! But no! I'm stuck to take care of a brat!"

He palmed your cheek, feeling your warmth. He went in closer to you. You could feel his hot breath, quicken as he got closer to your lips.

You pulled back, "I shouldn't- we shouldn't. I mean." You whispered to him.

"Mein liebling (my darling)." He whispered to you. The first time he spoke to you. You couldn't understand him, but he spoke to you. "Du bist mein (you are mine)." He pulled you closer to him, he didn't care if the guards were staring, if anything, he enjoys it. To show everyone that he is yours to touch. "Mein schatz (my sweetheart)," his lips were hovering yours, you felt a little tingle at how close he was.

You know this shouldn't happen. You turned your away from his. You walked back, feeling his grasp letting go. He stared at you witch a smile on his face. You saw the smile he gave you.

When your shift ended and went back to your apartment, the thoughts of what happened lingered into your mind.

That night, you couldn't sleep. He was in your dreams. What if you never pulled way. Were you really going to kiss him. You glazed over the parts where he touched you.

You searched the words he said to you to translate it. Sweetheart, darling, mine.

You felt the butterflies in your stomach again. You never felt so complicated before.

Having a crush on a patient.

You have a crush on König.

[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.”

--

@kelsiegrin @lma1986 @munsonology @stuckontheceiling @avobabe87 @eddapwinchester @peachysink @browneyes8288 @jeremyspoke-inclasstoday

@breezybeesposts @wednesdaymunson @feltonswifesworld87 @take-everything-you-can @bebe07011 @81rain @dylanmunson @oscarisaacwhore @eddiesguitarskills @everheart12 @etherealglimmer @hollster88 @wh0re4life @siriuslysmoking

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@chamomileh0ney @dream-a-little-nightmare @emma77645 @kurdtbean @sheneedsrocknroll92 @tlclick73 @lolly-in-a-strange-land @bakugouswh0r3

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[wynnyfryd]

Trailer Park Steve AU part 7

part 1 | part 6 | chapter 1 on ao3

cw: panic attack, ptsd flashback to minor character death, graphic depictions of… food? lol

Dinner is exactly as chaotic as Steve expected it to be. He and Claudia take opposite end seats with a glass of red wine each, and the kids take the middle and start acting like a pack of caffeinated raccoons: talking over each other, scraping forks against plates, stretching their entire upper bodies across the table and dragging their sleeves through the side dishes instead of just asking someone to pass them the butter; Steve’s starting to wonder if any of these kids have ever eaten at a table before, or if they maybe just wandered in from the surrounding woods. Feral asses.

When they do start asking for things, he regrets wishing they would, because Lucas goes “Erica, can you pass me the salt?” and Erica sneers “I don’t know, can I?” and Mike jabs “Whatever; nobody says ‘may’ anymore, you dork” and Claudia gasps “Michael!” and it all escalates from there until Dustin tries to catapult lasagna off the end of his fork and hits Steve in the side of the head with a glob of warm cheese.

Silence falls around the room.

The cheese plops onto his plate.

“Sh-ii-it,” Dustin breathes, face stuck in wide-eyed shock.

Steve gives Claudia an imploring look.

“Why don’t we clear the table for dessert?”

The commotion starts up again in double time, everyone scrambling to clean up and clear the room before Steve starts bitching about them messing up his hair (and his plate, and his clothes, because the cheese splash sent a spray of little tomato sauce droplets splattering all over him, and isn’t that just perfect; he’s gonna have to hand-scrub the stain out of his khakis), so it’s just him and Dustin left when Dustin’s elbow catches and tips over his wine.

The liquid spills onto his plate: dark, and red, oozing into the uneaten scraps of sauce and cheese and pasta to form a viscous, fleshy sludge. Red like his dad’s office, like his father’s mangled thigh, and it’s just food it’s just food it’s not blood it’s not blood but he can’t fucking breathe, can’t hearing anything beyond the wet, gasping sounds his dad made the night he died, and then he realizes that he’s making them, mouth moving fruitlessly around air that won’t pass, trapped in the bottleneck of his choked-off windpipe.

“Steve?” Dustin asks, and his voice sounds far away. “Shit, shit, Steve! Can you hear me? Are you choking? I know the Heimlich, just- just hold on!”

He snaps out of it when Dustin pulls him halfway from his chair, gets his fists under his ribs and all but punches the air from his lungs. It sets off a nasty coughing fit that leaves Steve snotty and ready to hurl, and he braces himself with his forearms on his knees and stares hard at the ground until the hacking finally stops.

There’s a scuff on his sneakers.

He can’t replace them any time soon.

A moment to catch his breath, and Dustin’s shaking him by the shoulders. “Are you okay??”

Steve keeps his head bowed. “Yeah.” He needs to get the fuck out of here. “Yeah, I’m good.”

He rises from his chair, grateful that everyone else already cleared out before they could witness his little moment, that the blare of the TV from the family room covered the sound of his retching coughs; more grateful still that they won’t notice him now, scampering out of here with his tail between his legs. “Hey listen, man, I’m not feeling so well,” he says absently, fishing his keys from the pocket of his jeans. “Can you get your mom to drive everyone home?”

“Shouldn’t you stay?” Dustin frowns in concern. “If you’re sick? You can go lie down in my room or something, it’s—”

“—Nah, man; I mean, thanks, but…” His hand trembles around his keys, the muscles in his calves screaming bolt, bolt, bolt. “I just- I gotta go.”

He makes a break for it, rushing out the side door so no one else will see him leave (and he knows it’s fucking rude to head out without saying goodbye, but he’s also pretty convinced he’s going to combust if he doesn’t go right now.) “Tell your mom I said thanks, okay?”

“Tell her yourself!” Dustin chases after him, clumsy and slow across the darkened yard. “Dude, will you slow down? Talk to me!”

Steve throws himself into his car like there’s a demodog on his heels. “I’ll call you!”

“What the fuck!” Dustin shouts, but Steve’s already gone.

—

part 8

tagging a few people i know have been following along 🩷 @slowandsteddie @paintsplatteredandimperfect @stevesbipanic @pennyplainknits @ledleaf @hellion-child @formosusiniquis @missjashin @runninriot @xpaperheartso @steddieas-shegoes

[blissfullyecho]

how to study + become a better college student

*i’m in nursing school for reference*

before classes/school:

#1. eat a good, hearty breakfast. i cannot concentrate when i’m hungry because i think about lunch or having a snack. i like to carb up for breakfast (carbs give you energy) and have things like pancakes, french toast, bagels, etc., as well as protein (because that keeps you full) like eggs, turkey bacon, yogurt, etc. i like to take a green powder or a multivitamin during this time to give my body what it needs so that i can function for the rest of the day too.

#2. i always bring water with me to class so that i can concentrate and not think about how thirsty i am. it’s super important to stay hydrated so come prepared.

#3. i know the lesson plan and what’s going to be talked about each day, and if your classes are run like that too, read the chapter or look over whatever it is you’re going to look over today in class to give you a general idea of what you’re going to learn today. this will help you feel like you’re one step ahead (which you are).

#4. wake up early enough to be relaxed in the morning. every time i didn’t perform my best in school was when i woke up and immediately rushed to get ready for class and not took the time to allow myself to ‘wake up’. your mornings should be chill, not a race against the clock.

during classes/school:

#1. actually jot down notes— do not rely on just using your phone to take pictures of the board/powerpoint. when you write your notes down, you get a chance to get that information stuck in your head. what i do if my instructor goes too fast on the powerpoints is: i take a picture of the powerpoint, then i write down what she/he says, then when i get home i rewrite what i took a picture of and the notes that i took in class (i’ll talk about this later).

#2. ask questions— who cares if you’re shy or whatever. asking questions will allow you to be more engaged and it shows your professors/instructors/teachers that you actually care (and they might even bump some grades up for you if you show you’ve taken initiative and tried). every question you ask, write your question down and their response in your notes. i’m telling you, this has helped so much and it gives you such a good look.

#3. use your lunch break for what it is— a break. 30 minutes isn’t a lot of time for an 8 hour day so actually rest and enjoy your lunch during this time. you need a chance to reset.

#4. if you can, always ask to review your tests with your professors/instructors. see what you got wrong and talk it through with them. in nursing school, we generally aren’t able to see what we got wrong on our exams and tests without our professor being there to review them with us. please do this.

#5. use a 1 subject notebook for each class and have pens/pencils that you only use for class. your notes in class should be legible but not super pretty. make your notes pretty at home, not in class.

#6. when taking a test, go over the questions and answers before turning in. there have been so many times i read a question too quickly and changed my answer and i ended up being correct when i looked it over again. don’t make those dumb mistakes.

#7. befriend the other students who do really well in the class. seriously, this will save you.

after classes/school:

#1. when you get home from school, unwind for an hour. take a shower, go to the gym, do whatever you want to do to allow yourself to relax and unwind. you need to take another break after school to regroup and to find a little bit of balance.

#2. review the notes you took in class that day and the pictures you took of the board, and rewrite your notes in a different notebook. so i suggest 2 notebooks for each class— one for your sloppy in-class notes and another for your pretty and organized notes. rewriting your notes will allow your brain to help retain that information.

#3. spend some time each day after rewriting your notes to watch a few videos on youtube about that topic. for nursing school, i like to look at 1-3 videos about what we’re learning to get a wider understanding.

#4. on the weekends, i like to spend 1-2, sometimes 3 hours each day reviewing everything i learned that week. i will watch more videos, i will read over my notes, and i will also create flashcards with my own practice questions in regards to the notes i take and quiz myself with those cards.

[9800sblog]

pick a card tarot reading - which version of you will meet your forever person?

what's your character development before they come along? or have they already arrived?

from left to right, up to down: red nails - pile 1, yellow helmet - pile 2, kitty - pile 3, pool - pile 4

pile 1

cards: knight of swords reversed, 7 of wands, ace of swords, ace of cups, 10 of cups

this is one of your happiest chapters, the end of a book that has a sequence, a teenager in the end of a coming of age movie. you're not prepared for your whole life or done developing, but you have gone through rigorous moments already. this is a new beginning, you're stronger, smarter, happy, but irresponsible or scared. you think you're better than everyone, you have better ideas and values, you might be right, but there's no need for a fight, you're a rebel in a small idle town. you are unique, you bring freshness into the world with your talents and experiences but you may not have the exact type of support you need to succeed with those right away, your person will be that support, you're gonna have to rely and trust on them to be the backbone of your newest story. you're a little cynical, sarcastic and defensive. you may be very into a specific social fight but not know enough about the subject to actually take part in it. you know this is your person because they're gonna go against tradition to take care of you and make sure you're safe and happy.

gilmore girls vibes! the whole show and all characters fit this description, if you see yourself in them at some point in your life, that might be when ;)

pile 2

cards: king of wands, 2 of cups, 5 of cups reversed, 2 of swords reversed, the hermit

introspective, experienced and major respect to the elderly, understands the value of interchanging informations and respecting others' boundaries. probably a loner tho, you have accepted your fate as the old neighbor with 5 cats, whatever these cats may represent for you. ironically, you're so comfortable alone that you're attracting many people to you. you're someone that others are curious about, you're different than the rest and they wanna hear your opinions on different things, you may be the quiet kid that somehow got friends without saying 2 words. you're seen as wise and confident, you feel like it's a lie, that you ain't nothing special, you're just different from this batch but there are others similar to you out there; that's your person. your person has these same life experiences and you'll know it's them because you've never met someone as similar to you before. they'll probably surprise you because you're so used to being alone you plan a whole future of loneliness.

pile 3

cards: page of wands, the emperor reversed, the world, page of pentacles reversed, the devil reversed

childlike wonder, you're almost crude, if this word can be used for people. someone who refuses to grow up and be an adult for whatever reason. you're probably focused on inner child healing - that may be as simple as watching childhood movies, playing on an inflatable bed or more thoughtful as allowing yourself to make mistakes and exist as a regular person. this is giving me the feeling of summer, so this may be a version of you who knows how to have fun and forget responsibilities or goes to your family's for a while and allow yourself to be taken care of. you engage in worldly behavior without any shame, it's literally harmless in this case, it's good and healing to your soul. if you have a position of power, you'll have stepped down from it because it's too much pressure and you wanna enjoy life more. you'll know you wanna be with them forever because it'll feel easy, they are perfect, an angel sent from above and you may feel a little inadequate at the time, but you'll get over it because you're cool as fuck.

pile 4

cards: the magician reversed, 4 of cups, queen of swords reversed, judgement reversed, the star reversed, 8 of cups reversed

your whole life is upside down, this is probably a depressive episode. you don't have patience, energy or hope even for the near future, you may be physically sick too. you know you're worth more than this, you wanna change but you think you don't have the resources. you feel lazy and bored, harsh on your words with yourself and others, you may have a creative outlet that you don't share with the world yet, it may be the thing that's gonna change your life. you're scared to show people you're unwell, but you desperately need help and you feel like you're making a wish on a dead star. your person shows up during your darkest time to help you get out of it, they'll give you that nice butterfly feeling, tingling on your tummy and warm on your face ^^ you'll know this is your person because you usually like nobody, including yourself, but this soul is just like yours and you think they're the most beautiful thing you have ever seen in your entire life, maybe too good to be true - they're not. you like the same things and match very well, this person deals with emotions in a different way than you and you will start seeing the world in a different perspective.

[purpee]

𝓢𝓾𝓰𝓪𝓻 ⁽ᴵ ᵈᵉᵛᵉˡᵒᵖᵉᵈ ᵃ ᵗᵃˢᵗᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ʸᵒᵘ ⁿᵒʷ.⁾

Malleus/Reader: no pronouns used !

🏷️: pre-chapter 7! Fluff, oneshot, established relationship, crack(kinda)

🗒️: first time writing! ☺️ I love malleus as a character but I never thought of him romantically so if this comes off like that then 🙇‍♀️ please forgive me

After a long day of dealing with shenanigans by other students(mainly Ace, Deuce and Grim) what would you think be a relaxing way to end the day?

Maybe a good nights rest would benefit you after such a busy day? What if you simply took a calming walk outside of the doors of ramshackle?

Well whatever you thought about wouldn’t compare to the… confusing situation you have on your hands right now.

It started out normally..

Well, as normal as seeing a future dragon king pacing back and forth outside your dorm… again.

And because you were too awake to fall asleep, you figured it wouldn’t hurt to see what was possibly wrong, and besides, he’s your lover! It’s your sworn duty to help ease his worries as he does for you.

You got up from your bed, slipped on your cartoonish ‘who goes there’ type slippers and went out the door quietly.

“Horton!” You called out to him, with no response, as you got closer you called out again,

“Malleus? What’s wron…”

“…” He turned to you with a small frown on his face, Gao Gao Drakon Kun™ in his cupping hands.

“…Malleus did you break ‘him?” You asked as you got close enough to him, looking down at the tamagotchi, the screen showing a…

Oh..

“I can’t get him back.” His frown turned into a pout as he helplessly stares at the small dragon flying in the sky with angel wings on the screen, complete with an annoying beep every two seconds.

“Let me try something.” You said as you suddenly picked up the small device and pressed the A and C buttons.

“there, that’s him right?” You placed the tamagotchi back in his still cupped hands, the screen now showing a little egg instead.

“…Yes,” The man leaned in and kissed your cheek.

“Thank you.” He stated softly, though you could see the meter of his admiration peaking as he pressed a couple buttons, the smile on his face was small, yes, but it was also so genuine it was almost adorable.

“should I escort you to bed now dear? It’s quite late.” He asked as he put his pet in his pocket, now his attention was fully on you.

“Oh, uhm, yes! If you don’t have anything important tomorrow then you should stay tonight- with me, in bed- sleeping.”

“…”

“…Of course, who am I to deprive my lover of affection?” The smug expression on his face showing the amusement he’s getting from the way your cheeks were now dusted with a small blush.

“Alright then follow me this way, m’lady.” You teased slightly as you took his hand in yours.

You ended up sleeping with grim sandwiched in between the two of you.

🗒️: I’m reading a manga called “Yona of the Dawn” and I’m already 15 volumes in, I want Su-Won so bad.

and Tae-Jun. he was so pathetic but now he’s trying his best. (*´∇｀*)

ⓒpurpee

[pascalsbby]

CARNAL / 7 : RUIN

Chapter 6 / Masterlist

Summary: 4.5k, f!reader, dark!joel, dbf!joel, try and mess with my birdie again!joel

Warnings: 18+ mdni, SMUT, violence! guns, cum eating, car sex, dominate & aggressive joel, ANGSTTTT

A/N: This is officially the penultimate chapter. The amount of love I’ve been shown over and over again has been so overwhelmingly beautiful, and it all started with Birdie and Joel. I am so thankful for each and every one of you. I’m so nervous to end this. What if it isn’t what you wanted or expected? What if I miss them too much? I guess that’s the point, that love hurts.

But we both know how it goes– I say I want you inside me and you hold my head underwater, I say I want you inside me and you split me open with a knife.

°:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *₊.• ♡ °:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *

You huffed at Joel, thinking he wasn’t really asking you to lick his cum from another man’s seat. His demeanor changed, “Don’t make me repeat myself, sweet girl.”

You looked around his face and settled on his drooping bottom lip before he took it between his teeth. “Joel.” A half-whispered and hidden word. You’ve never been able to fill the room with his name the way you want to, the way he fills you, always sneaking away from the crowd and having to whisper it into the palm of his hand– whispering it into the coarse hair at the base of his cock.

He clawed at your ass, making the fat rumble in your soft skin, the slap echoing into the golden hour around the both of you. The streetlights were dim but becoming brighter as the sun sunk and the inevitable end of the party approached. None of the chatter from the backyard mattered, the dog barking a couple of houses down, cars passing a couple streets over. He mattered. You had waited so long to be seen by him again. To be prayed to. To be drooled over. Even the sound of his deeper breathing made the air feel electric. Like breathing it again, mattered. 

You felt like a fucking animal that needed to be leashed to the corner of a heavy table. It took you a while to understand why your body takes over when you’re around him— his depravity was familiar. You saw yourself in him, and that consisted of you both wordlessly pushing down emotions and fucking them out of each other instead, molding into one another in a release of anger, tears, lust. This is how you bond, fucking each other to scare off the elephant in the room. Fucking yourselves when you coulnd’t reach one another.

When his hands were upon you, he was paying attention to you, and Joel paid attention to what made you nearly weep under the weight of his want. It was a fine physical partnership, mostly because whatever he wanted became what you wanted. A blurred line between want and need in Joel-shaped bruises in your fat.

His big, brown eyes were gracing your body, searching, as if he was looking for any sign that another man had been here. You stick your tongue out and stare at him before digging your nose into John’s seat, your breath hitting the leather as you slide your tongue through his cum. You would do anything to make him happy. He knows that. He loves this.

You want him to love you.

He does.

You gag.

Quietly, you reminded Joel that you were in someone else's truck. 

“Gotta go back before someone comes out here. Don’t want John to catch us, Joel.”

He scoffed. 

“Wish he fucking would. Then he could see me buried in my pretty pussy.”

You could see Joel behind you, blocked slightly as you hear his cock hit his stomach and he sighs in relief, his veiny length thick and unshy. He whimpered as he slid his wide thumb across his wet tip. His half-breath grumbles were what made your slick drip down your swollen and still-quivering lips.

He bent down and pulled your lips apart, whispering into you, “Look at her, cryin’ for me.” He was a man starved. The cold of the night disappeared as his tongue did the same into you, loud and vile as he sucked around your entire propped up center, not missing one inch of skin inside or out. The feeling of his mustache moving with his lips as he sucks on you, tickles you, is too much. You come on his beard, flattened to his face, messy and wet from devouring you.

“Doin’ s’good, cleaning up Daddy’s mess n’ letting him clean you up, too.” He stretched his palm across your head and pressed your tongue and nose into his cum once again. And you let him. 

Joel heard a car unlock and his hand was immediately pulling your hair knotted in his knuckles backward, your face pulling up from the leather seat with force, startled that he might get caught. For Joel to be caught at the scene of his crimes? That was unheard of. 

You heard the zip of his pants before his hands were back on you, warm, and pulling down your dress in a hurry. His thumb missed at first, dipping into your mouth before moving across your lower lip, trying to smudge the spend away that was still dripping down your chin. With one hand entangled in your hair and his other smeared with his cum, he did what he had to do, leaning into you as he licked himself off of your chin seconds before it dripped between your breasts. 

He growled at the taste of himself mixed with your skin. Soft, salty. Carnal. Unintentional, like his body forced it outwards because it was too heavy to carry alone. Like even he was slightly surprised at what he’d just done. But it’d been months since your skin was between his teeth, and he’d trace every bulging vein down your neck with his tongue if you would just call his name, Joel Joel Joel. 

There was silence, birds chirping in the trees, and another pair of cowboy boots knocking against the pavement. You knew that cadence well, they sounded just like the ones currently gracing Joel’s feet. 

“Miller!” You jumped at the intense intrusion and then tried to relax your shoulders before they swallowed your ears and gave away your guilt.

A man walked towards the both of you as Joel pushed your body away from him, discreetly but not gentle enough as you tried to regain your standing. You didn’t know the man’s name but he was usually at these backyard parties. How many middle-aged men live in this fucking neighborhood? 

“Be careful sweetheart, can’t have you falling. Don’t wanna have to carry you back in there to your daddy with a busted knee.” Too many. 

You opened your mouth to tell this man that your daddy wouldn’t give a fuck. The person who would is the one standing right next to you. 

Joel huffed, then coughed. A warning. The man moved topics quickly as if he vaguely understood. 

“Haven’t seen you around the shop recently, Hana’s been asking where you’ve been.” His attention returned to Joel.

“Hana?” You scoffed, out loud. You were out of place and awkward, standing smaller than both of them. This conversation was meant for the men. 

“‘Must be one of Sarah’s friends! Haven’t seen ya around and Hana knows so many people it’s hard to keep up sometimes.”

What a proud father. 

I wonder how entitled he would be to share that information if he knew that Hana was once (probably not shy of ten times actually, knowing anything about Joel) speared on his wet cock instead of babysitting, as she had most likely claimed? You wonder if he knows that Joel’s cock has been buried inside of your warmth, too. A few minutes ago, actually. With the way you are both standing, hidden by a truck door, missing from the party for nearly twenty minutes. 

“I’ve just been keeping my head down Drew, working, you know. But I’ll drop by soon, I need to fix a broken toilet in the upstairs bathroom and I need a flange replacement.”

“Well we’re always open for you Joel, you know that. Don’t be a stranger.” With that, he looked between the two of you and you swore recognition flashed in his eyes before he patted Joel on the shoulder and walked towards your back gate. 

I wonder if he knows, you thought. Men tend to stay quiet for each other like that. Having each other's backs regardless of it means choosing him over your own daughter. Especially if it means keeping it out of the public eye. It’s easier to call your daughter a liar than to deal with the ‘consequences’ of her reality.

“Not the only thing that’s always open it seems.” You mumbled, immediately hoping that he didn't hear it. How utterly unfeminist of you to blame the girl. You weren’t any different than her; enamored, prayed to… paid. But it seems like he brings out the worst in you. But being the worst is better than whatever empty shell has been dragging its way through whatever the fuck these past twenty-something years have been. 

You have the crashing realization that you feel alive with him. The blood coursing through your body has purpose, now.

As soon as the top of the man’s head disappeared through the fence, Joel started in on you. Best to put a child in their place before they have a chance to speak and form a conclusion of their own, no? You recognized the bad in him, yet you still let it devour you. 

“This what you wanted, Birdie? For people t’ know? Dropping little hints like it’s your fuckin’ job, huh? First you make sure I walk in on whatever the fuck was going on with John… knew I’d be back there so you knocked on the neighbor's door and asked him to fuck you with his eyes in front of your family? In front of me?” Pointing at his stuffed chest. He was so much taller than you but it wasn't something you thought of often until he towered over you. You knew there was more to this than a random man and a disgusted accidental namedrop of his previous fuck toy. 

“Then…” he looked around, trying to gain composure before scolding you like a child, ”then you make me come out here and lose myself in you again?” 

“Make you? You fucking followed me out here, Joel.”

“Lower your goddamn voice, Birdie. I came out here because I knew you wanted me to.”

He was right. About all of it. You can’t be alone for long. You need something or someone there sitting just on the outside to remind you that you aren’t dissipating into the floor of your bedroom.

Maybe that’s why you never saw Joel coming, either, because the quicksand was already up to your knees and no one in your life ever taught you how to save yourself, they had only taught you that they would not be the ones to pull you to safety. You knew you wouldn’t be able to save yourself, either.

The way he sticks to you makes you feel taken care of and looked after. He treats you like a woman in need of guidance, but he never judges you for it. Unless he’s scolding you, in that case you feel like a child again. It feels nice to feel like a child around him, because you know that in one way or another he will hold you like one too, once it’s all said and done.

Then he wasn’t anywhere to be found. So of course you did what you know, offering your body to whomever would most closely fill the Joel-shaped hole. You hoped that he would be here to see that you had indeed found another man, and this one could stand before your family. Now, Joel is standing right in front of you. It’s been months… and you hate him. You hate him so bad that the hate has turned to love.

You love him.

“Yes Joel, I want you. I need you. I have needed you this whole time you were probably off filling some other twenty-something year old. But fuck, I want you to get a fucking grip. You left me.” Desperate and too loud. “For months. I needed you and you just left me. I thought you would be the one who wouldn’t leave me. I lost Sarah too. My best fucking friend. And you know how much I hate this fucking house and I haven’t even been writing or painting and–”

You had never actually spoken to him about it all. But he knew. You were tired of arguing, of never being right. Of always being treated like a child but expected to act like an adult. 

He filled the immediate silence, but his tone was more tender this time. 

“You thought I was with another woman?” He looked as if you may have well dug your hands into his chest and tore him limb from limb.

Each month without him an envelope would show up, usually on a Thursday. Those used to be your days. It was shoved into your window pane accompanied by a soft knock. You never caught him despite the foul amount of time you spent looking out the window, waiting for him to come and save you again. You didn’t even need rent money anymore but it was always there and he never was. You were saving it in a hidden box with to get the fuck out of here scribbled in thick black marker on one side. 

You thought about just showing up, as it wasn’t something he himself was ever opposed to when it came to you. Except for when you really wanted him too. Needed him too.

Last month you couldn’t sleep and the edibles were making you more restless than relaxed. You got up at 4:24 am and sat yourself down at your desk, got out an old notebook and picked up a pen for the first time since graduating. You started a note to Sarah that still sits unfinished on the second page of the college-ruled journal. 

I saw it in his eyes, Sarah. It started months ago, before he left the first time and this was all still a secret. When I saw him again… you were looking down and trying not to let the tear slide down your cheek and into the black ink. That would be weak of you, to deliver a note to your lover's daughter and have it soiled with your tears, while apologizing for the pain you caused her.

I swear I saw it swell and dare itself to fall out of his eyes right then and there; love. And I’m so sorry for hurting you. I felt seen and heard. I felt held, Sar.

You accepted his angry disappointment and let it lay over you like a blanket, familiar. It meant he was there, he was in reach and your fingers could get lost in the curls on the back of his head. So you sat there and admired the wrinkles between his glaring eyes. Beautiful fucking eyes. Indulgent, and prodigal in the way he refuses to let you go. He lowered his voice and moved his curls out of his face. 

“Do you know how much of my life I’ve risked to put you first? It cost me my daughter’s trust. She will never look at me the same again. And my pride,” he said your name and his jaw hardened, the apparent sour taste of you leaving his mouth, “my pride baby girl. Do you know how much it hurts me that you just found another man?”

You were crying, the tears warming the red of your embarrassed face. He had done his shaming, his job at keeping you in your place. Now he would complete the circle like a snake eating its own tail.

He will tear you limb from limb knowing that his warmth is the only thing able to glue you back together; then he will pull you into his core and comfort you. You will be five, seventeen, twenty-five, in his arms.

It would be hard to tell what he was feeling if you didn’t know him, but you do, and his sadness is so discreetly and gently placed under the cover of his angry brown eyes. Your tears turned to sobbing and it all felt like it was going to fall out of you and onto the ground in front of his feet.

“Stop cryin’.”

He reached down and started low, tracing his thick fingers up your inner thigh, tickling against his carved initials and causing your clit to swell. He lowered his voice and spoke to you like you were a child in trouble.

Here it is, the wordless apology. Touching and heavy breathing.

“Do you know how many times I’ve thought about opening that computer and clicking on your name again? Just to hear the mess your pussy makes when it sees me? How you pool around the base of whatever cock you decided to stuff yourself with that night and then regret it because it wasn’t mine.”

“Fuck.” It left your lips with a moan and an even bigger sob that you could no longer hold inside. He didn’t flinch and didn’t show any sign of acting on his movements rather than to tease you, see if he went too far or if you would still melt under his stained black work hands.

He moved one finger down the ticklish part of your neck and traced your skin to your hip. Then he removed his touch from your skin and once again stepped backward. Like a father’s friend should stand.

He got what he wanted out of you, always does. And most of the time you yearn for the ache in your knees on the rare occasions you don’t give in. Giving in meant pleasure, but it was always accompanied by pain when it came to him. 

It was a consistent push and pull, give and take. He was so generous in the beginning, giving his money, time, and his cum, all in your name. He knew that to win you over you have to first, give. Now he takes and you happily oblige.

He has a unique knowledge of you, one that you really didn’t even recognize in yourself. Which is ironic, considering all you do is sit and burrow in your own psychoanalyzation. Trauma recognizes itself, even when it isn't directly yours. He had been around long enough to recognize himself in you. 

Then, you heard the end cadence of your name.

As he stepped backwards the footsteps stopped behind the two of you. Caught. And you prayed to a God you knew wouldn’t answer that it wasn’t your dad. 

Neither of you turned around to face him.

“Knew you’d go right back and fall down on all fours for him when you had the chance. God,” John laughed, “you’re a fucking whore. N’ not even the good kind that’ll suck your dick when you ask. I asked nicely, didn’t I? But not nice enough. Unless you’re Joel of course.”

And suddenly it didn’t matter that this was to all be a secret. You, standing a few cars down from your front door, hair a mess and cherry-flavored chapstick smudged down your face. Joel’s cum hardened where his tongue missed. Mascara running down your redended cheeks from either being fucked too well or from the tears that were starting to well up in your eyes again.

There was a high pitched buzzing as your body recognized the danger and began to shut down, watching Joel’s back muscles flinch in anger as he made his way over to John. You knew how deeply Joel was able to feel, and hate was probably not excluded from that depth. 

It wasn’t a secret anymore the moment his knuckles cracked against the fat of John’s cheek, seconds before he was on the ground. The birds stopped singing into the night. 

Here he was, standing up for you like someone should have done since you took your first goddamn steps. But you were yelling at him to stop. Someone finally came to save you and you were telling him to stop. He was starting in again, pulling his fist back and clenching his jaw, preparing for the impact to hurt him too. But his pain didn’t matter when it came to you

“You think you’re gonna talk to her like that and get away with it? Oh you’ve fuckin’ lost your god damn mind. I really shoulda punched you in your ugly fucking face when you had it in my truck window all those months ago. Spare me the time. Say another word towards her and I will make a pretty painting with your face on this concrete.”

“Oh, but she wasn’t in pain whenever she was calling my name instead of yours. That pussy tastes like goddamn honey, Jo—”

One thing you loved to do was have Joel hold his palm out and let you sit your face in it. It was bigger than your face, but it was warm and strong. Safe. You knew deep down that it was capable of hurting someone but death had not crossed your mind, not until John lay wheezing on the ground, laughing. Half-dead from Joel’s blows, not even able to prepare as he took in a deep breath and got ready to fire again.

Up until this moment you felt like you were a good person to have in life-threatening situations, always level headed and use to immense stress, but for the first time in your life everything around you was moving in slow motion.

You turned and watched as the white of your front door turned black, opening, and it felt like the moment Joel showed up the first (second) time at the gallery. But this felt like a last time type of feeling. It felt like an ending. 

“Joel,” you pushed out.

He didn’t even react to your voice. He simply acted as if he’s never heard it. As if it hadn’t, alone, made him rock his hips into whatever the fuck he could fit between the past three months. 

“Joel, stop. Someone is coming outside. Please stop. Joel.” Sobs were getting caught in your throat. You started to walk towards him, to set yourself in front of John if that meant that he would stop.

“Birdie, turn around.” You don’t listen, walking towards him. “I said turn arou—“

Another voice broke through. The one you thought you might have heard first. The voice of the first man to ever break your heart. The one who only spoke out in anger. The one who should have been throwing punches at himself all of these years. 

“Joel Miller what the fuck are you doing?” He had his pistol by his side. Must have heard the yelling and screaming, and if there is anything a Texas man loves more than the possibility of getting to shoot someone off of his property… 

Your dad called your name second, expecting an answer. And now you wished you wouldn’t have tried to stop Joel so that John wasn’t able to open his own mouth and speak the truth you both had been hiding. 

You’re eight again, and the sound of his knuckles against the kitchen counter were reverberating through the empty theater atop your head. The only person gracing the red lined theater seats is you. Small, child you, looking at the screen and out the front of your head. 

“She—“ John is stuttering through already swollen and broken lips, Joel shakes him as a warning not to open his mouth further, “she’s fucking him.”

Silence. Other people had followed your dad outside, including your mother. Admist the audience was Sarah, who you had not known was here the entire time. Her face was twisted in pain, and you knew that this was your fault. This was more pain for her and it was all because of you.

It was quiet, everyone was in shock, besides the night birds singing. The hum of the orange streetlights above. Joel’s heavy breathing and John’s slight wheezing from being hit over and over and—

Your dad’s jaw sits tight. He opened his mouth and the sky felt like it was going to fall. 

“Excuse me?” That was a threat and his body was closing in on Joel imminently. People were yelling, but it sounded far away. He cocked his gun and the clicking was drowned out by your mothers screaming. 

“I fucking knew something was happening. How dare you, you sick fuck.”

You begged, talking fast, “Dad stop. John thinks he saw something but Joel was helping me find my keys I dropped in the truck. He came here to leave but I asked him to help me instead.”

You knew what came next—always had. Because proverbial fists were for the women of his life. Actual fists were for the men. Bullets were for his inflated masculine ego.

“Dad, plea–” 

“You shut the fuck up.” He was talking to you. 

Joel’s boots were hitting the ground again as he dropped John’s collar, closing in on your dad. He managed to grab Joel by his shoulders before he could submit him to the same fate as John.

“I don’t care if you are her Daddy, you better not ever speak to her like that again.” His strong nose was pushing into your dads, eye to eye.

“Her sayin’ not to talk to you, spending time over at your house. Does Sarah know?”

His finger pushed up against Joel’s chest.

“That’s my daughter Joel. Do you want me to prance down the street and right through your front door to fuck your daughter right under your nose?”

He lifted the gun towards Joel and you were screaming. It took a moment to register that it was you, your throat burning as Sarah screamed behind you. 

Of course it would be this man to take Joel away from you.

Joel huffed a deep and viscous laugh. He looked over to you for the first time in minutes and pain filled his eyes. But they were wide open and focused on the gun pointed directly at his head. You nodded towards him for some reason, giving him permission for whatever he was about to say. 

“You know what? I fucking dare you to kill me for being the only one here that has ever taken care of your daughter, you motherfucker.”

°:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *₊.• ♡ °:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *

A long and sappy thank you / 1K followers post is coming soon 😚

Taglist: @strang3lov3 @chaotic-mystery @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @rubyfruitjungle @leeeesahhh @blackvelveteen1339 @huffle-punk @ssssc0m @paleidiot @sarap-77 @silkiers @gracevn @scarletsloveletter @livingdeadmaria @morallyinept @kittenprincess710 @jubilee82 @cool-iguana @vickywallace @capitulo3-celos @taeslarityy @moonlightdreamingworld @worhols @milla-frenchy @sheepdogchick3 @gasolinerainbowpuddles @justagalwhowrites

[goldenseresinretriever]

False Confidence: Chapter 7

Pairing: Javy “Coyote” Machado x Reader

Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe

Summary: The Athletic named Javy Machado the fifth sluttiest player in the NHL last year. He’s a known playboy who leaves every game with a different girl. As far as he’s concerned he’s living the dream, playing his dream job with the dream lifestyle. Unfortunately his friends and bosses don’t agree. At 33, they think it’s time for him to settle down. You’re a kindergarten teacher at an esteemed private school. You don't expect much when you finally accept your colleague’s invitation to attend her husband’s hockey game but when you accidentally get separated in the post-game rush, you find yourself in a compromising situation with the last person you’d ever expected to meet. When his PR rep suggests a mutually beneficial agreement, your hands are tied. How long will you have to keep up the act? And how long will you be able to?

Chapter CW: 18+ ONLY, swearing, angst, fluff, fake relationship, mentions of death, suggestive language, anxiety, school system inaccuracies, hockey inaccuracies etc. There will be individual chapter warnings. No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: This one’s kind of quick but it is what it is

Previous Chapter // Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

When you wake up on Wednesday, the shame and anxiety that clawed your heart to sleep last night have melted into simmering anger that licks into white-hot fury as the day goes on. Last night when you’d left the bar, you’d felt so stupid. Stupid for believing that Javy respected you enough to be loyal to your agreement even if he didn’t have to be loyal to you. That’s the thing, the women didn’t bother you. You’d known what you were getting into the second Javy shoved his tongue down your throat the day you met. That and when you’d made it clear that you had no intention of warming his bed, you’d acknowledged that someone else probably would be. You’d just hoped he would respect you enough to have a little discretion. Zam was right, the bar was full of people with phones, cameras, and social media that would have eaten photos of Javy and those girls right up.

This time when you pull into the parking garage at Hard Deck Arena, your hands don’t shake as you hold back the urge to slam your car door as your flats slap against the concrete floors and the sound echoes through the space. You wrench the door to the arena open and trust your feet as they guide you to the door marked with the pink plaque. You knock on the door and thankfully a voice from inside calls out for you to enter. You barely wait for the door to shut before the words are out of your mouth. “I want out.” Zam looks up from her computer, pink lips parting slightly in surprise, though whether that’s due to your unexpected visit or what you’ve just said, you’re unsure. When she doesn’t answer, you enunciate the words again. “I. Want. Out. I’m done with the contract.” That seems to burst whatever bubble she’s trapped in.

“Roadie…” She says and you shake your head.

“No Zam, I’m done. I mean it.” Her lips purse into a thin line and she nods slowly. “Is there something I need to sign or anything? I can’t exactly afford a lawyer right now but I can try and figure out something if I have to.” You’re running out of steam now that Zam’s confirmed that you can get out of the contract. Relief washes cool through your veins, soothing the anger that’s been powering you all day.

“No, no, nothing like that. It’s not like you’re on our payroll or anything. The contract was more of a formality for the legal team in case things went sideways for any particular reason. “Consider it done unless you want to rip the physical copy up for closure.”

You’re surprised when you nod. “Yeah, I think I would actually,” she smiles faintly at that as she nods and gets up to root around in a file cabinet. She pulls a familiar sheet of paper out of a pink manila folder before she hands it over to you. You take a long look at the contract, unable to stop your eyes from wandering to the bottom of the page and tracing your and Javy’s signatures. This is for the best. You grip the top of the paper and rip. The sound seems to echo in the quiet of the room. That is, until the door swings open without warning and Javy walks into Zam’s office unannounced.

“Zam have you heard from-“ he blinks, surprised, as he takes in the sight of you, blinking back at him wide-eyed. “…Roadie.” You’ve moved to tear the contract smaller and you break the silence with the sound before you’re attempting to make it past Javy to the door of Zam’s office. Javy sticks an arm out to grab the door that’s still in the process of swinging closed behind him, effectively barring your path. “Hey Roadie, I’ve been trying to reach you all day.” You blocked his number last night once you got home. Originally you’d planned for it to be temporary while you gathered your thoughts. Now you doubt it’s a decision that will ever be undone.

You suppress the urge to roll your eyes and school your features, pressing the torn pieces of the contract into his chest which he has the sense to grab with his free hand while you duck under his arm, making your escape. You don’t look back as you call out to him. “Goodbye, Javy.”

***

Javy leans on the doorbell with a force that he should be concerned about, but he can’t find himself to care. The sound of a chorus of barks makes him slump with relief until the door swings open and it’s not who he’s looking for. Bugs is standing in the doorway, arms crossed across her chest as Pudding and Taz squirm from where they're sitting behind her legs, no doubt commanded to remain there by their mother. Her brow is furrowed and she’s glaring at him. While Javy’s been on the other side of Zam’s wrath, he’s had yet to cross his best friend’s girlfriend and somehow her wrath is scarier than his PR rep’s. He swallows, hard.

“Bugs,” he acknowledges and her brow furrows deeper but she doesn’t say a word. “Listen, is Jake here?” He asks, scratching the back of his neck, the tension making him uncomfortable. She hums in a way that gives him nothing before stepping back from the doorway and jerking her chin towards the living room, a silent invitation for him to come in.

He steps into the house and Bugs directs the dogs to move for him before she leads them off to where he assumes she’s planning to keep them while he and Jake talk. Javy’s surprised to find the living room is empty when he gets there, however, and just as he’s about to turn around and search for either of the house’s inhabitants, Bug’s voice startles him. “Sit down, Javy.” The firmness of her tone doesn’t leave room for argument so he sits down on the couch, awkwardly. She stands across from him. “Javy, four months ago you were asking me not to hurt Jake and now I feel like we’ve reversed roles here.” Her anger melts and Javy gets a look at the tired woman behind her anger. “What you did was cruel, Javy. I don’t know why you did it, and maybe I don’t deserve to know, but she does, Javy. She deserves closure even if she can’t have your respect.”

The sound of the front door breaks the silence followed by the sound of Jake’s voice. “Bunny, I’m home, are you here?��

“In the living room, babe, we’ve got company.”

Jake appears in the living room a few moments later, hair pushed back and damp with sweat. He looks like he’s just gotten back from a run. “Javy,” he says and Javy nods to acknowledge his best friend. Jake looks between Javy and Bugs before he tilts his head towards the back door. “Come for a walk with me?” He asks and Javy nods again, wordlessly before he stands and leads the way to the back door.

Jake doesn’t say anything until they’ve made it halfway down the beach behind the house. “So, Javy what are you doing here?” He asks like he doesn’t already know.

“Look, man, I…” Javy trails off, letting his eyes follow the water as it laps up against their bare feet. “I fucked up. I know that.” Jake shakes his head.

“You didn’t just fuck up, Javy,” Jake says, and Javy flinches at the bitterness in Jake’s voice. “You made a promise to Roadie. You signed a damn contract, and then not only did you embarrass her, but you did it at an event YOU invited her to. What the actual FUCK, man? What did that sweet girl ever do to deserve that?” He shakes his head. “Hell, Javy I signed off on this, I let this happen, and you went and did something not only extremely rude but it was cruel. And I know no matter what happened between the two of you, she didn’t deserve that, Javy. Not from anyone, and certainly not from you.”

“I know I just…”

“You just WHAT, Javy?!” Jake snaps finally and Javy looks up, surprised. Jake’s genuinely upset with him. “I’ve kept my mouth shut for years man, because no matter what you were doing at least it was mutually understood between you and whatever girl you were fooling around with that it wasn’t serious. No one was getting hurt so I kept my damn mouth shut and let it happen. I thought one day you’d wake up from whatever daydream it is you’re stuck in and decide to grow up even if you didn’t want to settle down because I respect that if that’s not something you want. And then Roadie got involved and I thought maybe it was the start of something new and maybe she’d be the catalyst that got you to change and not only did you not change but someone actually got hurt this time, Javy.”

“Don’t pretend that you understand,” Javy grits out, fists tightening next to him.

“Understand what, Javy? What is there to understand? I’ve been begging you to explain it for years and you refuse to-”

“Because you wouldn’t get it!” Javy snaps, turning on Jake. “And don’t you dare pretend to understand because you don’t!”

“Why, why wouldn’t I-”

“BECAUSE YOU LEFT!” Javy snaps and Jake has the good sense to look surprised. “You left Arizona and you never once thought about how that affected everyone else, about how that affected me!” His chest is heaving as the anvil that’s been sitting on it for years lifts. “And I didn’t hate you for it, I really tried not to. You had a chance to be close to home and you took it and I couldn’t be mad, I really couldn’t. You were amazing and you were destined for greatness and maybe it was childish of me, but I always thought we’d be great together.” He shakes his head, trying to ignore the sting of tears threatening to push their way to the surface. “And then, after I’d finally made peace with it, you got hurt, left Dallas, and came to San Diego, knowing I would be there, and you didn’t even bother to give me a heads up. You were my brother, Jake, I always considered you one. But somewhere along the way, you reminded me that I’m not, not really.”

Jake has the good sense to look embarrassed. “Okay, Javy, I fucked up, and I’m sorry. I didn’t realize me going to Dallas meant so much to you. And I know I’ve already apologized for what happened when I came here and I know I can’t do anything to make up for what I did, but I’m going to work every single day to try and make up for that.” He shakes his head. “But why does Roadie have to pay for my mistakes?” He asks and Javy feels his chest squeeze uncomfortably.

“I never knew my dad,” Javy whispers and he hates how quiet his voice sounds. “You know that.” He swallows, hard. “And my uncle passed when we were in college. The two most important men in my life were gone before I even turned 20. And then you left too. Everyone was leaving and I didn’t know how to cope with it. I didn’t want to be alone. I hated the way it made me feel and I didn’t want to feel that way anymore. I didn’t want to be alone, but I also didn’t ever want to be the reason someone felt the way I did.” He shrugs, lightly. “So I made sure that couldn’t happen.”

“By keeping things casual.” Jake finishes and Javy nods. “The problem is, someone actually got hurt this time.” Javy sighs deeply.

“Yeah, someone actually got hurt this time.”

“If you don’t want to hurt anyone, why did you do it?” Jake asks, but all the malicious ferocity from earlier has left his voice.

Javy shakes his head. “It was supposed to be fake, you know? It wasn’t supposed to be real, but damn it, it started feeling real. Or at least as real as I can remember anything feeling. I didn’t think, I invited her to karaoke without really thinking about it, and then the moment I had a moment to actually think about it, I panicked. Then those girls were there and it was just so easy to slip into old patterns so I did it without thinking.” He takes a shaky breath. “I didn’t mean to hurt her.” He hates how weak his voice sounds. “And I don’t know how to make it right.”

“Do you want to?” Jake asks, finally looking at Javy and Javy forces himself to meet the other man’s eyes.

“More than anything.” He pauses for a long moment. “She told Zam she wanted out of the contract. She ripped it up and threw it in my face.”

Jake lets out a chuckle, “good for her.” Javy finds himself matching the smile.

“Honestly, yeah,” he lets his mind drift for a second before his smile widens. “You know, she threw Josie Fitch’s expensive-ass shoes off the edge of the freeway?” Jake barks out a laugh and Javy chuckles in response.

“Did she really?” Javy nods.

“I think that’s the moment I fell in love with her,” Jake’s mouth drops open slightly before he attempts to school his features but Javy catches it. “If you ever tell anyone I said that, I’ll use your spare key and murder you in the dead of night.” Jake mimes zipping his lips before throwing the invisible key into the ocean.

“So what are you going to do to get her back?” Jake asks and Javy smiles to himself.

“I think I have a plan.”

***

It’s been two weeks since you ended the contract. Two weeks since you’ve been to Hard Deck Arena, and two weeks since you last saw Javy. For the most part, your life has gone back to the way it was. Well, except that everyone still thinks you’re dating Javy, not that you’ve done anything to correct them. In your defense, the conversations have never been directed to you so much as at you as you walk into the teachers’ lounge too quickly for the conversation to die before your arrival, or some people simply feeling shameless enough to quiet their voices in your presence.

Today, however, you don’t have time to worry about the whispers as you struggle to accommodate the horde of adults crowding into your classroom that’s never felt small until this exact moment. You try to push down the feeling of embarrassment that’s been plaguing you all morning. In your rush this morning, you’d opted for a cheerful top and jeans for comfort and ease but now, surrounded by suits and smart-looking dresses that make your classroom smell faintly of starch, you feel severely under-dressed. Both students and parents alike are buzzing with excitement as you try and finalize a lineup that allows for the busier parents to get back to their jobs as soon as possible when a knock at your door makes you look up.

Your heart stops in surprise as you see the faces on the other side of the glass. You wave the unexpected visitors in before you can stop yourself and suddenly your room is even more full as two hockey players make their way into the room. Javy gives you a rueful smile while Jake is full-on grinning as he waves at the kids who are gaping at the players. Jake’s simply dressed in his jersey over jeans but Javy’s fully suited up except for his skates that he’s holding in one hand while the other is carrying an equipment bag.

“Mr. Machado!” One of the kids calls out and you push past a group of parents currently snapping photos of the players.

“Jake, Javy,” you shake your head as you try to wrap your head around the situation. “What are you doing here?”

Javy shrugs. “You asked if I would come to Career Day. I know you the deal is over but since I got dinner and lunch, I thought I owed you at least this. And if not for you, then for the kids.” He adds on quickly and you nod before you can stop yourself. Just because you’ve gotten a little braver in the last month doesn’t mean you’re ready to have a fight with your ex-fake-boyfriend in front of your entire class and their parents.

“Okay, okay. Um, just have a seat over there,” you motion over to where the other parents are gathered. “Oh!” You remember as they’re walking past you. Both boys turn to you. “Are you good with going last or do you need to get back to work?” Your brain is screaming at the idea of having to reorder the schedule, especially when a mom in a pantsuit who’s scheduled to go first is currently glaring daggers at the back of your head for the holdup. Jake shakes his head.

“We’ll go whenever you’re ready for us.” You give him an appreciative look and mouth a thank you at them as you head back to the front of the room.

***

An hour later, the last busy parent has just escaped your classroom after waving hurriedly back at their kid and you let your shoulders slump slightly in relief. Of course, there are a few parents remaining that have taken the day off to be here and they’re chatting amongst themselves. You motion over to Jake and Javy who’ve honestly been holding the attention of your class the entire time. As much as the other parents had tried to sway them, their tiny minds were in awe of the bright jerseys and Javy’s equipment.

The boys make their way to the front of the classroom and the class cheers. “Hey guys, it’s nice to see you all again!” Javy greets them and a chorus rises across the classroom.

“Hi, Mr. Machado!” Jake mimes grabbing his chest in response and they all giggle as he introduces himself and enjoys his own hello. You watch on fondly as the boys explain what they do for a living, Jake using Javy as a mannequin to explain the different parts of hockey gear.

Then they move on to the bag Javy brought and then the boys are handing around hockey pucks, one for each one of your students. They’re emblazoned with the Dogfighters’ logo and you watch as your students turn them over in their tiny hands, eyes wide in awe. Your heart aches at the kindness and thoughtfulness of the gift. These kids will remember this moment forever. Javy and Jake are holding up hockey sticks and showing off how to hit a puck with the stick.

Once the demonstration is over, Javy and Jake patiently field questions from the kids and while Jake’s explaining why they can’t wear their skates in the classroom, Javy turns to look at you and you feel your face heat as you’re caught staring. You give him a tiny wave and the corner of his mouth quirks upward and he gives you a tiny wave back. He turns back in time to answer a question from another one of your students.

By the time the bell rings for lunch, your students are still on a roll peppering the boys with questions and you have to corral them into a line and out the door. When you get back from dropping them off, you thank the parents that are left and see them out before you turn to your surprise visitors, crossing your arms across your chest as you regard them warily, the unease creeping into your mind now that you’re alone with them. “Thanks for having us today, Roadie!” Jake says goodnaturedly, as he collects the equipment they brought with them. He turns to Javy, “You should get changed.” Javy nods and gives you a nod before he heads towards the door.

“Oh! If you want, the staff bathrooms are a lot more private. Here I’ll get you my key-” You reach for your neck, rummaging through the keys on your lanyard as a knock sounds and you turn to see Josie leaning against the doorframe.

“Hey boys, I thought I heard familiar voices in here.” She says as she takes in Jake and Javy. You continue to fumble with your keys as speak up. “They came by for career day.”

“Did they now?” Josie says, a thoughtful look in her eye as she regards you a little too cooly and you abandon your key struggle.

“Actually, I should probably walk you down there myself.” You gesture for Javy to follow you, and you try to ignore the knowing look that Josie gives you as you pass her and she steps into your classroom. Once you’re out of earshot you turn to Javy to kill the silence of the hallway. “Thanks for coming today, I can tell it meant a lot to the kids. They’re going to remember today for the rest of their lives, and the pucks were such thoughtful gifts.”

“We actually wanted to bring shirts, but I wasn’t sure what everyone’s sizes were and Josie could only really just get us a head count.” Your heart squeezes slightly at the thought that Javy had reached out to Josie to ask for her help. “I was thinking, and Jake said we could talk to the front office about it, but maybe we could arrange for the kids to come to the arena for a field trip? They could hit some pucks and maybe watch practice? It could be fun.” Your heart squeezes tighter.

“I think they’d like that a lot. I can talk to our front office too and see what I can do on my end.” You say, giving him a tight smile as you reach the staff bathroom. You unlock the door and hold it open for him and you have a sudden thought. “Are you going to need any help with… any of it?” Javy chuckles and shakes his head.

“Don’t worry, Meep, I do this every day, I’ve got it, but thanks for asking.” You take your lanyard off and hand it to him, trying to ignore the fact that he’s still using that name.

“Here, so you don’t have to worry about rushing because I’m waiting. Just lock up when you’re done.” You show him which key as you place the lanyard in his outstretched hand.

“Hey, Meep?” He calls out as you turn to go and you look back at him. “Do you always worry about other people like that?” You tilt your head to the side slightly, surprised by his question.

“Yes, why?”

“It’s nothing,” he says and then he pauses before he speaks up again as you’re about to walk away again. “Isn’t it hard? Worrying about everyone all the time?” You feel your cheeks heat as you shrug in a way that probably looks more like a grimace.

“I’m used to it.” You say simply before you walk back to your classroom.

A/N: I know that this one leaves off on a bit of a cliff hanger but it was a lot to try to jam into one chapter.

[thatmexisaurusrex]

I wanted to collect the entirety of the Denial-Verse thus far, my canon compliant fics following Tommy and Buck’s love story throughout the show. It's a character study in loneliness, belonging, what it means to be and feel loved, and what steps it takes to finally believe one can have happiness. And while it will be coming back for Season 8 and will probably have a few short stories here and there before Season 8 begins, I wanted to highlight all four of the current fics within the series.

caught in this denial (tell me the day, I’ll say no more)

| Rated: M | WC: 35K | Chapters: 7 |

Summary: Tommy Kinard's life changes for the better when his old friend Chimney calls him out of the blue for help on a rescue and he meets the adorably awkward Evan "Buck" Buckley.

Excerpt:

Was this man looking down to see the hand or – no. No. Tommy knew it couldn’t be checking out. That wasn’t happening here. The guy took Tommy’s hand and shook it. Kept shaking it as he said, “Evan! Evan Buckley. Or Buck. Whatever you, uh. Want to call me is fine.” And it wouldn’t hurt to be a little friendly, could it? Evan didn’t seem to mind as Tommy leaned only a touch closer, looking into the man’s unwavering eyes as Tommy asked, “Are you sure you don’t have a preference, Evan?” That. That wasn’t blush. That wasn’t bashfulness as Evan’s eyes turned away. This had to be what Evan always sounded like as he mumbled at the ground, still shaking Tommy’s hand, “Evan’s fine.”

Muay Thai and Flying Lessons

| Rated: M | WC: 45.6K | Chapters: 10 |

Summary: Tommy Kinard is dating Evan "Buck" Buckley. They're even going to a wedding together in a few weeks. Tommy's excited about this new relationship, if a little nervous. But Tommy has a good feeling about Evan, and he wants to see this through.

Excerpt:

“Wait, so if you’re not here to hang out with Eddie, who are you hanging out with?” asked Hen. Tommy. Heard the thud of someone falling down from the firetruck. And there, on the floor, faceplanted and looking drained of all energy, was Evan Buckley. “Evan?” asked Tommy.

Burnt Lasagna and Slow Dances

| Rated: M | WC: 74.4K | Chapters: 15 |

Summary: Tommy Kinard now has an adorable boyfriend - Evan "Buck" Buckley. And for the first time in Tommy's life, he feels like, maybe, just maybe, this relationship might last.

Excerpt:

And all those different conversations overlapping was overwhelming. Tommy barely knew if he could untangle them, let alone take any of them in. But through all the noise and chaos, he saw Evan’s texts. EVAN: Hey EVAN: Saw that Tay interviewed you EVAN: I’m not sure if I’ve ever seen someone trip her up because of genuine honesty haha EVAN: Today was probably rough, though EVAN: I’ll pick you up, okay? Tommy smiled at that. And Tommy texted Evan back. TOMMY: It was rough TOMMY: Thank you, I’d love for you to pick me up Tommy heard the telltale ding of a cell phone… right outside the locker room. Tommy looked to the door, seeing Evan waiting there with a bouquet of flowers. Tommy’s smile grew wider.

A Surprise Visit

| Rated: T | WC: 2.4k |

Summary: Tommy goes to his first pride parade as a volunteer giving out water.

Excerpt:

“Tommy!” Tommy blinked, turning to the voice as he saw Hen, Karen, Denny, Mara, Jee-Yun, and Maddie walk over. Tommy. Kind of beamed, standing up. “Hey,” said Tommy as the all came over, “What are you all doing here?” There was something adorable to Hen and Karen’s shirts. Hen’s said “I Heart My Tungsten-Iodine-Iron” and Karen’s said “I Heart My Helium-Nitrogen”. The phrases were painted on these shirts in the colors of the lesbian flag, which made Tommy chuckle once he realized that these dorks made periodic table pride shirts. Maddie and the kids didn’t have anything on for pride, much like Tommy himself, but they seemed to find the same pride pin that Tommy was gifted. Maddie raised a hand. “I might have learned from Buck that you were at the stand today, and I thought – I have the day off. Hen and Karen have the day off. Wouldn’t hurt to offer it as an option,” explained Maddie. “We haven’t gone to Pride in a while, and we knew you were working this one,” said Karen thoughtfully, smiling, “So, we thought we’d support your free water stand.”

By A Thousand Cuts

| Rated: M | WC: 11.5K | Chapters: 3/3 |

Summary: Tommy Kinard has his first big fight with his boyfriend, Evan "Buck" Buckley.

Excerpt:

“I think I just had the worst shift of my life,” Tommy said as he dropped his duffle next to the door, a little – a little shocked by what had just happened to him on that shift.

The Fire is Inside the House

| Rated: M | WC: 79.1K | Chapters: 14 |

Summary: Evan "Buck" Buckley is fighting a wildfire with the 118, when he sees a helicopter crash - the helicopter of his boyfriend, Tommy Kinard. It's a race against time to find Tommy before the wildfire hits the crash site.

EXCERPT:

Buck couldn’t stop smiling at Tommy. Tommy was just. Hot. And nice. And he showed up. Always. Fuck. Buck loved this guy. “What?” asked Tommy, and there was a hint of a smile there. “Nothing. I just like you driving me,” said Buck. And Buck could see that Tommy couldn’t help it, he smiled too; not quite the scrunchy kind, but that dimpled one he did. The morning was young. Buck could get his man to that scrunch nose smile. “Oh, you like a chauffeur?” asked Tommy playfully. “Only one as hot as you.” And there was the scrunch. “I only drive the hottest myself.”

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Chapter 7: School's Out For Summer

Summary: Even though it's your first day of summer vacation, you're up early with a very worthwhile way to wake Javi up before he goes into work. While you enjoy your first day of freedom after the school year has ended, Javi runs in to trouble at the Peña ranch that could prevent him from seeing you.

Word Count: 9.1K (This was another one that was supposed to only be one chapter, but if I didn't break it up this chapter would have been 20K words long, yikes)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v sex (do better that these two), oral (m and f receiving), vaginal fingering, creampie, praise, teasing (if you squint), mentions of food/eating (Javi being the hungriest man alive), allusions to some tense family dynamics, Javi in a suit AND Javi being a hot sweaty man working on the Peña ranch, Chucho being the GOAT once again, Javi and reader being so head over heels for each other it makes me sick (literally because I wrote the majority of this while I had COVID)

A/N: I seriously cannot tell you how much it means to me that so many of you have liked, reblogged, commented, and are invested in this story 🥺 UGH, thank you so much! Okay, anyways, Osita (reader) was supposed to meet Chucho and visit the ranch this chapter, but these two idiots are so in love that I blinked and I was almost at 10K words writing about how cute they are.

Series Masterlist Next Chapter Previous Chapter

Sunlight spilled through the crack of your window’s curtains. No matter how hard you tried, you had always been terrible at sleeping in. As a kid, you were always the first one up, never wanting to miss out on whatever was going on. As an adult, sleeping in made you feel like you were missing out on things that were more important than sleep. Today, you had woken up this morning excited, almost giddy over the broad figure in your bed next to you. Javi’s muscular arms outstretched over his head, sheets covering his waist, his stomach pressed into the bed, brown curls messy and untamed from his slumber. While it wasn’t the first time you had slept in the same bed together, it was the first time you had woken up next to him, taking in all of his beautiful features as he snored softly into his pillow. Javi had told you not to worry about waking up before he went into work, but there were two things you did know for sure- First, you absolutely were going to, not wanting to miss out on a single moment spent with him, and second, you wanted to wake him up in a way you had a feeling both of you would very much enjoy.

Nestling in closer to him, Javi, half asleep, turned over on his side, reaching his arm around you and pulling you in tighter. Laying chest to chest, you ran your fingertips up and down his arms, making your way up to his head, gently running your hands through his thick locks. You kissed his chest as Javi began rubbing his hands along your back, slowly becoming more conscious, waking from his slumber. 

“Good morning, sleepyhead.” You whispered playfully over Javi’s tired grumbles. 

“Good morning.” His voice still low and raspy from sleep. “It’s early baby, you don’t have to be up, I’m the one that has to go into work, remember?” 

“I know. But I wanted to make sure I was up when you were.” You said, slowly kissing your way up his neck and around his jaw. “Wanted to make sure that I could say good morning properly since I didn’t get to the last time you slept over.” Your kisses now making their way back down his body, your hand sliding down his bare chest. You could already feel him half hard against your leg as he turned over on his back, shifting you to straddle his lap. Leaning over him, you kissed around the V of his stomach, your hands running up and down his thighs, getting closer and closer to cock. 

“Fuck, baby.” He horsley whispered, tilting his head back against the pillow. You planted kisses up his length before wrapping your lips around his tip, swirling your tongue around it. Slowly, you lowered your mouth down around the rest of him, hollowing out your cheeks, before pulling your head back up and letting your spit drip down onto his dick, pumping your hand along his length. 

“You still mad that I didn’t sleep in?” Smirking at Javi’s blissed out face, his jaw hanging open as he tilted his head up to look at you. 

“Fuck, Hermosa, I-" A low moan cut off the end of his sentence as you lowered your head back down, hands wrapping around his base. Your head bobbed up and down, hands twisting over the parts your mouth couldn’t reach. You began to increase your pace, Javi gently grabbing your hair from the base of your head, slightly tugging it with each movement of your head, a mix of Spanish and English expletives flowing from his mouth. 

“Baby, fuckkkk.” He groaned, his eyes fixated on you as he watched as you skillfully worked your way up and down his shaft, taking him deeper and deeper down your throat. 

Fuck, did he taste good, but with his size, you needed to take your mouth off him for a moment, using your tongue to lick from his base to tip, your hands still rubbing up and down him. You did this a few more times, making him audibly whine. You now understood why Javi enjoyed getting you off so much, the high that you were riding knowing how good you were making him feel was unmatched. 

“Osita, baby, fuck.” You could tell from the way his body was shifting under you, that he was desperate for your mouth to be back on him. With roles reversed, you felt it was only fair to tease him a little. 

“What? Use your words, handsome.” You winked at him, only making him moan louder. 

“Jesus Christ, dirty fuckin’ girl. Fuck baby, you suck my dick so fucking well. Wanna come in down your throat, fill you full of me.” 

You bent back over him, your lips sucking over his tip before you released with a pop. “What’s the magic word, Javi?” You couldn’t lie, you were absolutely enjoying how Javi was absolutely melting under you. 

“Please, baby.” He was practically panting at this point. 

With that, you took him down your throat again, moving faster and sloppier with each stroke. You were so turned on, you could feel the slick between your thighs, rubbing them together to try and ease the ache between your legs. You looked up at him, wrecked as you sucked his length over and over. 

“Fuck, baby. Fuck, I’m almost there. God, you’re so fucking perfect sucking my dick like that, fuck me, I’m-“

You felt his release hit your tongue as he tugged tighter on your hair, groaning deeply as he came in your mouth. You felt his cock pulse, feeling his sweet and salty spend hit the back of your throat, as you waited for him to finish. Once you knew he was done, you slowly let him slip out of your mouth, swallowing his release, as the Adam’s Apple of his throat bobbed watching you.

“You awake now?” You giggled at Javi, his jaw still slack as his hands ran over his face. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Osita. Fuck me, you’re too fucking good at that.” His breath still heavy and shaky. 

“Makes it easier when you’re sucking the world’s most gorgeous dick.” You smirked as you shrugged your shoulders. 

“Come here.” He grabbed your hips and pulled you off of his lap back down next to him in the bed, peppering you with ticklish kisses across your body, making you giggle and squirm. You playfully swatted at him before he cupped your face, pulling you in for a long, deep kiss. “Couldn’t have asked for a better way to wake up.” He grinned at you. He ran his hands up and down your thigh, grazing their way closer and closer to your heat, already dripping from just a few minutes ago. “My turn now.” He winked as his hands gripped into the meat of your legs. 

“No, I cannot be the reason you’re late for work, Agent Peña. Plus, I still need to make you breakfast, and you still need to shower. I’m allowed to get you off without needing anything in return.” 

“Fuck that. I know something that I can eat for breakfast right now.” 

“You are not making this any easier on me!” You jokingly shoved him. “You and I both know that if you don’t eat, the rumbling in your stomach is loud enough to set off seismic wave detectors for an earthquake, and while I am flattered by your offer, I don’t think my pussy has enough nutritional value to get you through lunch time without eating.” 

He chuckled and shook his head. “Fine. If I shower and eat fast enough and still have time, then can I take care of you?” 

“Well as long as you’re not gonna give yourself a cramp from trying to eat too fast, then I’m not gonna say no. What do you want for breakfast? I have eggs, cereal, oatmeal, waffles-“ 

“Eggs would be great.” 

“Perfect. Now go get your sexy butt in the shower so you can make good on your offer.” You pecked him on the lips as you shuffled yourself out of the covers. Still naked from the night before, you went over to your dresser to pull out a t-shirt to slip on, when you realized several unfamiliar items in your drawer. 

“What’s this?” You said, trying to contain your smile as you held up a large, heather gray shirt with a worn Texas A&M logo in the upper right hand corner. 

“I uh, I brought some shirts over for you to wear, um, if you want to. Figured they were probably more comfortable than my button down ones.” Javi ran his hand over the back of his neck, hoping putting some of his old shirts in your drawer last night after he brought up his bag wasn’t too forward. 

You lifted up your arms to shimmy it over you, laughing as you turned to look at yourself in the mirror, drowning in his shirt. The soft, worn fabric and Javi’s scent hugged your body, a pink flush filling your cheeks as you turned back around to look at him. “Thank you. It is very comfy.” You bit down on your lip to try and not look like a total fool with how excited you were to have his shirts in your drawer. 

Javi took a long exhale out, trying to keep his jaw from hanging open. It didn’t take long for him to recognize that seeing you in his clothes was one of his new favorite sights, especially when you first put them on after wearing nothing. “Of course. They look a lot better on you than they do on me anyways.” 

“I find that hard to believe. Okay, ugh, stop being all cute and go shower so I can make you breakfast!” Javi threw the covers off him, stepping towards you and wrapping his hands around your waist as he leaned in to kiss you. 

“Fine. I’ll shower fast, okay?” His sweet brown eyes had you melting like a popsicle on a hot day. 

“Okay. I mean, take as much time as you need, but if you end up being fast enough, I’m not gonna be mad about it.” He freed a hand from around your waist to give you a quick smack on your ass before kissing you on the head and making his way into the bathroom. After you heard the door click shut behind him, you held your hands in your face, letting out a little silent squeal, your face grinning from ear to ear. Just when you thought you couldn’t have it worse for Javier Peña, he’d found a way to outdo himself again. 

With Javi in the shower, you made your way to the kitchen, collecting all of your ingredients and starting a pot of coffee. While you waited for your pan to heat up, you headed over to the shelf under your TV, looking for music to put on while you cooked. Not finding any albums you liked, you shuffled through your CD mixes, pulling out one titled “Chill Out, Bear Cub” lovingly scribbled on the shiny surface of the disc by one of your brothers. Thankful for their love of music and computer new enough to make you mixes before you left Chicago, you put the CD into your stereo, turning up the volume just loud enough for you to hear in the kitchen. The CD started off Blackbird by the Beatles, you singing along softly as you began cracking the eggs into your pan and popping slices of bread into the toaster. You couldn’t hear the water in the shower turn off over the sound of breakfast sizzling and your voice singing along to the next song on the mix. As Javi opened the door, he peeked his head down the hallway, hearing the faint sound of music travel to the bathroom. Quickly running his towel over his damp curls and smiling to himself, Javi made his way back to the bedroom to change before joining you for breakfast. 

With breakfast done and waiting for the two of you on the kitchen table, you took a few more swigs of your coffee as you began throwing your dishes into the sink to clean them as you waited for Javi. As the next track on the CD changed to Rocket Man by Elton John, you were lost in your own world, swaying your hips and beginning to scrub the remains of your breakfast off the pans and plates you were using. Your kitchen sink faced the wall with a small window above it, the sunlight beaming in through the glass. With your back to the hallway Javi was now walking down, you were completely oblivious to his presence behind you in the kitchen. Crossing his hands over his chest, he leaned into the wall across from you, taking in every inch of you. Your bare feet tapping on your worn kitchen mat, hips rocking back and forth under his shirt as you belted out the chorus of the song. 

“And I think it’s gonna be a long, long time, until touch down brings me ‘round again to find. I’m not the man they think I am at home, oh no, no, noooooo. I’m a rocket mannnnnn, burning out his fuse up here alone.” 

Javi stood there silently, tears welling behind his eyes as he listened to you sing each word. For so long, Javi had come to accept he was just like the  rocket man in the song. He was alone, unwilling to come to grips with the man he had become after he had returned home from Colombia. He was burnt out. Tired. He wasn’t a hero. He wasn’t a good person. He wasn’t the man everyone had made him out to be. And then, he met you. You brought him back down to earth, your warmth and kindness filling the empty space he so desperately craved. You wanted him for the man that he was. He wanted you forever, for you to always be the one who pulled him back into orbit. He wasn’t alone out in space anymore. 

He quickly tried to wipe the tears from his eyes as he snuck up behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist and kissing your shoulder. You let out a little gasp and jumped, so distracted by your singing and cleaning, you hadn’t even heard Javi behind you. You felt your face turn blush, realizing you probably had gotten a little carried away with your singing. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be that loud, probably was a little much.” You huffed as you leaned your head into Javi’s back. 

“Not at all, Osita. I love hearing you sing. My mom used to sing around the house all the time. It was one of my favorite things to listen to as a kid. It makes me happy hearing you.” Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of his comparison. It made you so happy to know he was comfortable talking about his mom around you, knowing all too well how painful it could be to bring up memories of someone you had lost. 

“I’m guessing your mom had a much better voice than I do. My guess is that she probably wasn’t serenading you with Elton John at 7:00 AM either.” 

“You have a very pretty voice, but no, she did not. It is a good song, though.” He chuckled, giving you a squeeze. 

You paused before letting the next sentence slip out of your mouth. “The song reminds me of my brother, Patrick.” 

Javi had heard you talk about your other two brothers, Charlie and David but he had never heard you talk about Patrick. He could immediately sense the change in your demeanor compared to when you spoke about your other siblings. 

Before he could ask anything else, you immediately shifted around to face him, easily changing topics based on Javi’s post-shower appearance. 

“Well that isn’t very fair.” Your mouth agape at how ridiculously attractive Javi looked done up for work. He had on a dark gray suit with a white dress shirt underneath and a blue and yellow striped tie around his neck. The way his suit jacket stretched around his back and shoulders made you want to scream at how broad he looked. The scent of his sweet and spicy cologne was fresh, the smell dancing around your nose as you pulled yourself closer to him. You had just convinced Javi that he needed to go get ready for work, but with the way he looked, you were ready to undress him and make him late. 

“What’s not fair, Osita?” 

“That you are literally the most handsome man on the face of the Earth. Do you realize how hot you are? Like seriously. Wow. Well if you didn’t, then this is me telling you that you are fucking hot.” 

He laughed as you gushed over him. “I don’t know about that, but thank you, hermosa.” 

“How do you say my boyfriend is the most beautiful man in the whole world in Spanish?” 

“Mi novio es el hombre mas guapo en el todo mundo.” He laughed. 

“Perfect. Then mi novio es el hombre mas guapo in el todo mundo.” You reached up on your tiptoes to kiss him, pressing your hands against his chest. “Tús huevos are ready, mi novio guapo. You ready to eat?” 

“You’re very sweet, Osita. Yes, I am.” 

Even if Javi wasn’t on a mission to get you off before he left for work, you were convinced this man was the fastest eater you had ever met. From the way you had watched him eat every meal, including an impressive amount of popcorn, you would have thought every meal was the first he’d had in days. 

“I’m not going to resuscitate you if you choke on your eggs from eating so fast. Have you even breathed once?” You laughed at Javi’s almost clear plate. 

“Baby, those eggs were so good. You are a really good cook.” 

“Well considering your practically clear plate, I kind of assumed they were okay. All I did was make breakfast. I can cook more than eggs and Mac and cheese, but I appreciate the compliment.” You smiled as you took a bite of your toast. “I packed you a lunch, too. You obviously don’t have to eat it if you don’t want it, but I figured I’d make you one, just in case.” 

“I wake up to getting my dick sucked, you making me breakfast and packing my lunch? Jesus, I’m a fucking lucky man. Thank you, Osita.” 

You blushed, taking a few more bites of your eggs as music softly played in the background, the sunrise now seeping through the windows of your apartment. Coffee in hand and plates picked clean, you couldn’t help but relish in the sweet and simple domesticity of the moment. Spending your morning together, eating breakfast, helping him get ready for work- all things that most people would consider mundane on a day to day basis, and truth be told, it was. And that’s what made it so beautiful. Something so ordinary was so perfect. Something deep inside you that made you yearn for a million more days of perfectly ordinary mornings with him. 

“I could say the same. Do you need help with anything else before you go to work?” You leaned back against your chair.

“Nope.” 

“You sure?” 

“Mmhhmm.” 

“How much longer do you have until you have to leave?” You both smirked at each other. 

“I don’t know, it depends.” 

“Depends on what, Javi?” You crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow at him. 

Scootching back out of his spot and making his way around the table, he rested his arms on the back of your chair, hovering over your body. “Depends on how many times you want me to make you come before I go.” 

He pulled you up to stand, your hands grasping at the lapels of his suit jacket as your mouths clashed together, moans escaping from both of your mouths. You walked your way over to your couch, your bodies intertwined with each other as Javi had you sit on the cushion as he knelt down in front of you. He slowly parted your legs, his hands running up and down them, revealing the slick pooling between your legs and covering your thighs from the lack of underwear you put on this morning. His fingers spread open your sex, collecting your arousal before tracing around your clit. 

“You’re fucking perfect, Osita. Everything about you. Fuck, I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” You moaned as he bent down, his face meeting your heat, taking a long, broad lick before his eyes met yours. “Such a good fucking girl for me. If I didn’t have to go into work, I swear to god, I’d spend all day in between your legs eating this sweet fucking pussy.” 

You’d never met a man so willing to go down on you, let alone blow your fucking mind every time he did. Not that you were complaining. 

He dipped his head back in, the width of his tongue pressing against your sensitive bundle of nerves, licking up and down your heat.  Your bottom half squirmed, desperately craving his fingers inside you. You could feel the light huff of his laughter breath against your pussy, already reading you like a book, knowing exactly what you needed. He sunk one, then both fingers in, making you whimper as his mouth continued to suck and twirl against your clit. One of your hands gripped around the fabric of the couch, the other gripping the dark locks of Javi’s hair, tugging on the ends with each pulse of his fingers. 

“Fuck Javi, you make me feel so good, holy shit.” You whined over the wet sounds of his sucking and fingers pumping in and out of your pussy. The way he curved up into you had your hips bucking into his face, making his free arm drape over your hips, pressing you back down into the couch. You could feel yourself begin to clench tighter and tighter around his hand, the feeling of him close to sending you over the edge. He popped his head up to smirk at your wrecked face, his digits speeding up their thrusts inside you. 

“I know you’re close, hermosa. So tight around my fingers. Let go baby. Dámelo.” (Give it to me). His sweet brown eyes met yours before he dipped his head back down, sucking over your clit with intensity as you threw your head back, moaning in pleasure. 

“Javi, Javi, fuck, oh my god. I’m gonna come, I’m gonnaahhhhh-“ 

You could feel yourself gush around his fingers as your orgasm ran through your body, making your legs shake and leaving you speechless. Javi slowed his pace as you came down from your release, shaking his head in satisfaction from your blissed out high. “My good girl. Always so fucking pretty when you come.” He cooed as he came up to kiss you, his face still covered in your slick. “You think you can give me another one before I go?” 

You frantically nodded your head, breathing still labored. “Holy shit, yes.” 

He let his fingers rest inside you a few more moments, feeling the clench of your cunt release around him. He began to kiss his way down your body, admiring how his shirt fell around your curves. He traveled further down your body before pausing for a moment, pulling out his fingers, you whimpering at the loss. 

“Then you choose, baby. One more time with my mouth or one more time with my dick.” 

“Fuck, Javi. I want you to put it in me, I want you to fuck me so bad.” 

He leaned down to kiss you with a smirk. “I had a feeling, Osita. Turn around, baby.” With that, he helped to lift your hips, turning you around so your elbows were on the couch, ass in the air. As he stood behind you, he took his foot to slowly spread your legs a little wider, your pussy practically dripping at this point. Behind you, you heard the clinking of his belt buckle and the sound of his pants dropping around his ankles, followed by his low groan as he ran his length through your folds, collecting your slick. He slowly lined himself up with your entrance. “You ready for me, pretty girl?” 

“Mmmhhmmm. Please baby, I need you so bad.” You whined. 

With that, he slipped himself in you, taking a few seconds to let you adjust to him before bottoming out. The stretch of him inside you felt so sweet every time, like he was made to be in you. It didn’t take long for him to begin increasing his pace, his cock filling every inch of you so deliciously with each thrust. His fingertips dug into your hips, pulling you deeper on him with each stroke, while your fingers dug deeper into the fabric of the couch cushions. 

Javi was shocked at himself to feel how close he already was to finishing. Was it the image of seeing you, bent over with his shirt draping down the sides of your body? The mental picture of you from earlier this morning, waking him up by giving him the best blowjob he’d ever had? The fact that you woke up early on your first day of summer vacation to make him breakfast and lunch and simply just to spend time with him? That you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and there was no one else he could ever imagine spending his mornings like this with if it wasn’t you? It was taking every ounce of strength for him to not bust right then and there. 

“Touch yourself, Osita. Not gonna last much longer. So wet and tight for me baby, fuck. Feels so fucking good.” He gritted through his teeth, gripping tighter into your hips with each thrust. 

Propping yourself up on one arm, the other reached between your legs, rubbing your clit as Javi continued to snap into you, hitting the sweet spot inside of you that had you closer and closer to your end. “Come on, hermosa. Gonna be a good girl and give me one more? Soak my dick before I fuck you full of me?” 

You were unable to answer as you felt the coil in your belly snap, your legs shaking as pleasure flowed through your body. The sounds of his name falling from your mouth as you came had him chasing his own end, each stroke becoming more frantic and loose. 

“Come inside me Javi. Fuck, I want you to fill me up.” Your words barely coherent as you rode your pleasure filled high. 

He was convinced those words would never get old. With only a few more pumps, Javi groaned as felt himself spill inside of you, his cock pulsing with his release. Breathing heavily, he slumped his body over yours before coming to. He pulled himself out of you, gasping at the emptiness, the mix of you and him trailing down your thighs. You could feel Javi’s fingers slide their way up your legs, collecting the slick before circling around your entrance and pushing the remains back into you and placing a kiss on one of your ass cheeks. 

“Fuck, Osita. So fucking good, I swear I’ll never get over this.” He helped pull you up to stand before grabbing both sides of your face to pull you into a deep, long kiss. 

“Eh, I don’t know, it’s fine, I guess, could take it or leave it.” You remarked sarcastically, laughing as Javi rolled his eyes. 

“Pendejo.” 

“I know what that one means, jerk.” You giggled. “You know you love it.” You tried to convince yourself you hadn’t used that word on purpose, but there was no use in lying to yourself. 

He did love it. He loved all of it. All of you. His heart wanted to scream it, and his brain gripped on to those 4 letters so tightly to keep them from falling off his lips. The best he could do was to cup your face, tenderly kissing you, his lips lingering on yours for as long as they could. 

“Fuck, I don’t want to go to work.” 

“I don’t want you to either, but I don’t think your office accepts I’m not coming in today because I wanna hangout with my girlfriend as a valid excuse. And as much as I don’t want you to, they probably also want you to put your pants back on before going into the workplace.” You laughed at his slacks and boxers still draped over his ankles. 

“Fair enough.” He chuckled, pulling his pants back up, fastening the belt buckle and tucking in his shirt. 

“Once I see you again this weekend, you can keep your pants off all you want and I won’t complain one bit.” You winked at him before giving him a peck on the lips and walking over to the kitchen to grab his lunch and hand it off to him. 

“Thanks, Osita.” 

“Of course. Have a good day at work today, okay? I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.” You both began to reluctantly make your way to the door. 

“Me either. You have a good day too, enjoy your first day of summer break.” 

“Oh believe me, I will. I am not jealous of you at all today.” You both laughed as you leaned up against your doorway, savoring every second before you said goodbye, trying to think of ways to get him to stay just a little longer. “Well... I know last time you were here I said there was a 3 kiss minimum to obtain your pants, there’s actually now a 4 kiss minimum to leave my apartment if I’m not going with you.” 

“Oh really? Well in that case…” he reached his arm around your hip, pulling him close to his chest. 

“One.” He kissed the top of your head 

“Two.” He leaned down lower to kiss your cheek. 

“Three.” Now even lower, he planted a long, wet kiss on your neck, a mix of moans and laughter as his mustache scratched beneath your chin. 

“Four.” His lips meeting yours, his free hand now making its way behind your head to pull you in closer as you placed your hands on his chest, grasping at his tie. 

“You know what, on second thought I don’t think your office will care if you show up today.” You whispered playfully, you both letting out small huffs of laughter. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” 

“Okay. Bye Javi.” 

“Bye Osita.” With one last peck on the lips, he twisted open the knob, opening the door and grabbing his lunch off the entryway shelf. As he made his way through the door, you watched as his broad figure strolled down your hallway, his shoulders stretching the width of his suit jacket. Before the door closed, you caught one last glimpse, Javi’s sweet brown eyes meeting yours as he had turned around to see you one last time. With a soft smile and wave, the door came to a close, followed by a soft click of your lock. Although you couldn’t say it out loud, you knew that you wanted every morning for the rest of your life to start just like this. 

As Javi pulled up to the Sheriff’s Department, Queen still playing in the background from last night’s music choice, he let out a deep sigh before twisting the keys in his ignition, turning off his truck’s engine. Looking over at his passenger seat, he wished you were there, sitting next to him, smiling, hair blowing in the wind while you sang along to whatever song was on the radio. Instead, he’d have to settle for the brown paper lunch bag sitting in your place, still making him grin as he read the front labeled “Javi :)”. Gathering the rest of his things from his car, Javi strutted into the office, pace slightly quickened realizing he was close to 20 minutes late from his normal arrival time. He would have loved nothing more than to quietly slip past his co-workers with a few polite smiles, uninterrupted as he went to work at his desk for the day. Knowing the two buffoons stationed right outside his doorway, he braced himself for the inevitable, coming to grips with the fact the latter thought was definitely not a choice. 

“Heyyyy, look Carter, there he is!” Detective Miller grinned leaning back in his chair, slapping his partner on the shoulder to get his attention. “We were worried about you, Peña. Thought the date went so well you tried to play hooky today.” The two snickered at each other. 

Javi fucking wished he had. 

“Soooooo… How’d it go?” Carter pried, his voice sweet and sing-songy. 

Javi sighed, resting his hand on his hip. He didn’t want to give into their antics, but figured it was easier than facing their questioning the rest of the day. “It went really well.” 

“That’s all you're gonna give us?” Miller whined, desperate for more information. “C’mon man, you gotta give us at least a little more than that.” 

“We went to dinner and a movie. Saw that new dinosaur one that just came out.” 

“Oh shit, was it good? I’ve been wanting to see that one, all my buddies said that-” 

“Carter, you idiot. We’re not here to learn about the fucking dinosaur movie.” Miller groaned, shaking his head. “Where’d you go out to eat?” 

Fuck, Javi knew they were going to love this. 

“We were supposed to go to Andiamaos on Main.” He huffed, hoping the two in front of him would miss the first part of his sentence. 

“Damn, Peña, that place is nice! Wait. Whadda mean, supposed to?” Carter’s brow scrunched. 

Running his hand over his face, more than embarrassed, Javi replied. “I fucked up and made reservations on the wrong day. Restaurant was booked so we ended up going out to eat at a diner close by.” 

“She didn’t care?” 

“No.” 

“She wasn’t mad? Not even a little?” 

Javi shook his head no, still shocked by the fact that you weren’t. 

“Shit. She must really like you, Peña.” Miller smirked before peering to the side of his desk to see the crinkled paper lunch bag Javi was gripping. “You labeling your lunches now? Cute.” He joked, noticing the neat handwriting and smiley face written on the bag, clearly knowing Javi wasn’t the one who wrote it. 

“Fuck off, Miller.” Javi rolled his eyes before making his way towards his office. “Report better be on Morris’s desk before I go talk to him this morning.” He remarked, not even turning his head as he shut the door behind him. 

“Fuck me.” Miller whispered under his breath, scrambling to gather handfuls of papers and shoving them in a manilla folder. 

“Wait, why was Peña labeling his lunch?” Carter asked, oblivious to Miller’s sarcastic jab. 

“He didn’t write it, his girl did, dumbass. Now help me finish this report and get it on Morris’s desk before Peña finds out and has another reason to kick our teeth in.” 

Despite the lack of Javi’s presence, you couldn’t have been more ready for your first day of summer break. After he had left, you had spent the morning doing some chores around the house, making a shopping list for some errands you had to run, and taking a long, very hot shower, not having to worry about accommodating Javi’s temperature preferences. As you got ready for the day, you sorted through the other t-shirts Javi had left behind for you in your drawer, including a navy blue one with a yellow DEA logo imprinted on the corner, an army green one, and another Texas A&M one, this one maroon with white block letters printed across the front. You slid on the red shirt, the soft cotton shimmying down your skin as you inhaled the sweet scent of him left behind on the fabric. You matched the shirt with a pair of denim shorts, throwing your hair up into a clip before heading out the door. 

One of your favorite perks of being on break was being able to run your errands on weekdays, not having to fight the crowd of usual weekend shoppers. You were able to avoid a long line at the post office to wrap and mail your niece Olivia’s birthday gift, stop at Macy’s to make some returns you had been putting off, as well as buying two extra sets of sheets to keep in your now frequently washed rotation, and finish your grocery shopping in a practically empty store. You laughed to yourself as you walked through the produce section, hoping that Javi would get a kick out of the bag of baby carrots you had purposely packed for his lunch, knowing just how much he hated them. 

As hard as it was for you to sit around and do nothing, after unpacking your groceries and letting yourself sit down on the couch, you figured it wouldn’t hurt to let yourself have one day of lounging and watching TV guilt free to celebrate the start of your summer. Curling up in your favorite blanket, nestled yourself into the couch to watch the start of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, a first day of summer tradition your mom had started for you and your brothers as kids after she had read the book to you. A melancholy feeling flooded over you as the opening credits began to play. While it hadn’t been the first time you had watched the movie without your brothers, it was the first time you had watched it, halfway across the country, thousands of miles away from your family. You loved Texas. You were happy with your move, and didn’t regret your decision. Yet, there was still a twinge of sadness every time you thought of Chicago, missing your family and regretting the terms you had left on before you packed up your things and drove about as far away as you physically could. 

Sure, you had left Chicago because of Paul. He was an asshole. He broke your heart and couldn’t have given a shit about it. But the cheating felt like nothing compared to how he handled what happened between you and your brother, Patrick. That- that was the real straw that broke the camel’s back. Patrick had been lingering in the back of your mind all day, especially after that stupid song came on your CD mix this morning. You hadn’t even wanted to bring him up to Javi, the words honestly had just slipped out of your mouth as Rocket Man played in the background. Patrick was the reason that stupid “Chicago” box sat in the corner of your living room, because you couldn’t bear to face the reality of what it meant to unpack it. It was also something you had no need to unpack on Javi any time in the near future, kicking yourself for even bringing him up this morning. You sniffled as you felt the tears well in your eyes, wishing right now, you could just forget. Wishing you could hug your parents and your brothers and tell them how much you missed them, tell them how sorry you were that when it mattered the most, you ran away. Wishing that Javi was there to wrap you in his arms and just let you cry, telling you that it would be okay, his presence grounding you back down to earth. But right now, those were all just wishes, and wishing wasn’t going to change anything. 

For the sake of tradition, you let the film play in the background as you got up from the couch to find anything to distract yourself from letting a stupid movie about a chocolate bar completely ruin your night. Rummaging through the kitchen, you collected ingredients to bake chocolate chip cookies.  Honestly more than anything you made them so you could eat spoonfuls of cookie dough as a substitute for dinner, but also because you had a very strong feeling given Javi’s appetite, he would definitely eat some when you saw him tomorrow. The baking made you feel a little better, smiling to yourself, thinking of how Javi would tell you he only wanted one cookie, to soon find the majority of them disappeared. After the movie had finished, you found some more joy in watching the Stanley Cup finals, even though it pained you to watch the Red Wings absolutely destroy the Flyers. 

As the game came to an end and things had been cleaned up in the kitchen, you got yourself ready for bed, curling yourself into your comforter. The smell of Javi still lingered on your pillow as you nestled your face against it, desperately wishing his body was there, next to you. Slowly drifting off to sleep, you imagined being wrapped up against him, your back to his chest, arms draped around you, comforting you into a deep and peaceful slumber. 

 

When Javi arrived home after work, he was a man on a mission. This weekend, he, his dad and some of the ranch hands on the farm needed to build a new fence before the Peña ranch obtained new lambs to add to their flock of sheep on Monday. As much as he would have loved to have gone right back to your apartment after work, he had promised his dad he would help with the task, knowing it was a big project on a tight schedule. Javi was no stranger to farm chores, and from the time he was very little, he had learned that work always came before play. As a kid, finishing a task quickly would have meant more time to ride his bike or play with toys, but now, he knew the sooner he finished, the sooner he saw you.  

As soon as he was through the door, Javi was stripping himself of his suit and replacing it with his work clothes and shoving half a leftover cold taco into his mouth before heading out to the pasture to start moving the new fencing to its rightful position. Javi was so focused that he hadn’t even heard his dad sneak up behind him as he was moving one of the fencing posts. 

“Someone’s excited to build a fence, huh Hijo?” Chucho chuckled at Javi’s pace hauling the wooden beams back and forth, watching him scramble to grasp the post he was holding before his dad had scared him. 

“Jesus Christ, Pops, scared the shit out of me.” Javi breathed heavily before setting down the beam and wiping his brow, now covered in sweat. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you work so fast, Javier. Not even when you were un niñito (little boy) and I promised you el helado (ice cream) after we were done.” He laughed again to himself as Javi rolled his eyes, trying to fight off any impending embarrassment. “The sun is almost down, no use in trying to build a fence in the dark. I promise we’ll be done in enough time for you to see her again before the weekend is over.” 

“Oh um, well, I, uh-” Javi stumbled over his words, flustered how he hadn’t even mentioned anything about you, and somehow his dad knew the exact reason for your late night project prep. 

“It’s okay, Hijo. I remember being the same way when I first met your mamá. I’d finish chores so fast to see her, it made your Abuelo (grandfather) wish I had found a novia (girlfriend) sooner. Except for the one time I promised him I would fix a hole in one of the fences and didn’t so we could go on a date, and spent the next 3 days wrangling loose cows. I know I am not as exciting as her, but I am thankful you are around to help out your old man.” Chucho reached over to place a hand on Javi’s shoulder, softly smiling at him. 

“Of course, Pops. Thanks.” Javi sheepishly grinned back at his father. 

The next morning, Chucho was up before the sunrise, ready to make his mandatory cup of coffee before heading out for his morning rounds and starting up on his fencing project. The old man could have sworn he was still half asleep and dreaming when he went to turn on the coffee pot, because it was already hot and hissing with the sounds of the bitter brown liquids brewing inside. As he turned on the kitchen light, he noticed one of his bright yellow post-it notes stuck to the front of the machine. 

Coffee’s ready if you want it. Animals are already fed, out in the field working on the fence. 

-Javi 

He smiled and shook his head at the note, as he poured himself a full mug, leaning against the kitchen counter. He tried to recall the times his son had ever been up so early voluntarily, let alone up before him, and that number was a big fat zero. But if there was one thing that Chucho knew about Javier, it was that if he wanted something, he would find a way to figure out how to get it. If Chucho Peña wasn’t sure before, he sure as hell was then. His son was head over heels in love with you. 

Taking advantage of Javi’s early morning labor, Chucho cooked the pair some breakfast before meeting Javi out in the pasture, the red and orange sunrise slowly peeking over the lush green fields of the property. “Buenos días, early bird.” Chucho chuckled, handing an already very sweaty Javi a plate of scrambled eggs and toast. Javi nodded as a thanks, out of breath and already tired from dragging the heavy wooden posts across the grass. “Off to early start this morning, eh mijo?” Javi raised his eyebrows with a small shake of his head as he funneled the breakfast into his mouth, quickly downing the food. 

“Thanks, Pops.” He replied, mouth still chewing as he motioned at the now empty plate, passing it back over to his dad. 

“De nada. I was worried if I didn’t bring food out to you, you wouldn’t have taken a break until you were done with the whole fence.” 

“I was already up, figured I’d get started and do as much as I could.” Javi had more than his fair share of sleepless nights since returning home from Colombia, some being much more restless and painful than others. He was thankful that his early rising this morning was pure adrenaline, excitement even, of finishing this stupid fence as soon as possible to see you. 

“Well, let me just finish some of this breakfast and I’ll get to work.” 

Javi made sure the pair wasted no time on the task at hand, splitting up the duties to start building as quickly as possible. By the time the posts were positioned and ready to be set in the ground, the morning sun was already sweltering down, sweat dripping down Javi’s back as his shirt clung to his shoulders. Around 10:00 AM, the two paused on their progress, Chucho concerned that the rest of the ranch help hadn’t arrived, even though they were supposed to be there an hour and a half ago. Even though Javi had his cell phone on him, Chucho had refused to use it to call the tardy crew, claiming the technology was “too advanced” for him, no matter how many times Javi had explained it was just like using the house phone. As Chucho made his way back to the house to call, Javi allowed himself to sit down and rest in the grass, shaded by the tractor nearby, blocking the sunlight. As he closed his eyes, he could only picture you. Your sweet, soft smile, your delicious scent, the way your body felt so soft and gentle, intertwined with his. He couldn’t help but grin, thinking of how perfect you were in every way, desperate to see you again. 

As he opened his eyes, he saw Chucho return with water and a dismayed look spread across his face. “Qué pasa? (What’s going on?)” Javi asked, concerned by his dad’s demeanor. 

“Ricardo’s truck broke down on the highway. They can’t get someone out there to fix it for a few hours, he said at best, he and the boys won’t be here until 4 or 5 tonight.” 

Fuck. Javi’s heart just about sank down to his stomach. With the 4 people they were waiting on in the truck, Javi had hoped the fence would be finished around the time they were now supposed to be arriving. With just him and his dad, there was no way they would be even close to half way done by then. 

“Lo siento, mijo. (I’m sorry, son.) Any other time I wouldn’t care but this has to get done before the sheep come Monday.” 

“No, it’s um, it’s fine.” Javi replied, trying to hide his disappointment. “Can I just, can I just call her and let her know I’m not gonna be able to see her tonight?” 

“Of course, Javier. Take your time.” 

“Thanks.” He took a few deep breaths as he tried to compose himself as his fingers punched the keys of his cell phone to dial your number, slowly pacing through the grass with each dial tone. 

“Hi Javi!” Your sweet voice at least brought him a little relief from the shitty news he was about to deliver to you. 

“Hi, Osita.” 

“You guys are already done? That was fast!” The optimism in your voice only made it harder for Javi to spit out his next sentence. 

“Well um, shit, um that’s actually why I called. A bunch of the guys who were supposed to help us are stuck on the highway because their truck broke down, probably won’t be here for at least a few more hours. It’s gonna take way longer than I thought, I probably won’t be able to see you tonight. I’m so sorry, Osita.” 

“Oh.” You already could tell you were doing a terrible job at masking your disappointment. “No uh, no, it’s okay. I’m really sorry, that sucks. It’s okay Javi, not your fault, I totally understand.” 

There was a long pause on the line as Javi ran his hands through his damp curls, trying to think of what to say. Before he could think of anything, you spoke again. 

“What if I came over to help?” 

“Wha- Come over to help? Osita, what do you mean?” 

“You know, help. As in like, provide my time and labor to assist someone in need?” 

“Yes, hermosa, I know what the definition of help is.” He let out a small huff before he continued. “Baby, I’m not gonna ask you to come over and help with this, shit’s heavy and it’s hot-” You cut him off before he could finish. 

“Javi, I think you are constantly forgetting the fact that I am the youngest of 3 brothers and the daughter of a dad who refused to pay anyone to do anything around the house, because he had a small army of child laborers he could exploit for free. I didn’t get the free pass on any chores around the house just because I was the only girl. I’m sure there has to be something I can do to help. At the very least, let me bring you and your dad lunch while you’re working. Please.” 

Javi thought for a moment. He already felt awful that he wasn’t going to be able to do whatever you had planned for tonight, let alone to have you drive all the way over here and bring him food.  

“Osita, it’s okay, really-“ 

“Javier Jesús Peña. Please. Don’t think I won’t call Maria and ask for your address so I can at least bring you lunch, you know I will.” He laughed, known damn well you would. 

“Fine. Thank you, Osita.” 

“You’re welcome. I just have to get ready and make lunches and I should be over around noon. Does that work?” He could almost hear you grinning through the phone, knowing your persistence had won him over. 

“Noon works great. You have something to write down directions on?” 

“Yes sir. Whenever you’re ready.” 

As Javi explained the route, Chucho looked over at his son with a growing curiosity, wondering why in the world his conversation to explain why he couldn’t see you tonight had now turned into a geography lesson of the greater Laredo area. 

“Okay, easy enough, I think I got it.” You responded as you looked down over the directions you had scribbled in front of you. 

“Okay. Listen, if you change your mind, don’t feel like you have to-”

“I will see you at noon, no ifs ands or buts. Well, no butts except for your cute one.” A grin stretched across his face as he listened to your giggle on the other end of the line.  “And don’t tell me whatever it is you’re working on is too heavy, because you absolutely know I will find a way to pick it up just to prove a point.” 

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll see. I’ll see you soon. Thank you again.” 

“Yeah, you will see. Of course. I’ll see you soon. Bye.” 

“Bye, Osita.” 

As the line disconnected, he found Chucho smirking at the lovestruck look on Javi’s face, waiting for him to explain the conversation. 

“I told her she didn’t have to, but she uh, she wanted to know if she could come over to bring us lunch. She offered to help with the fence too, but I’m obviously not gonna make her do that, but knowing how stubborn she is, I wouldn’t be surprised if she figured out a way to do that too.” 

“Sounds like she’s just about as stubborn as you, mijo.” Javi ran his hand over the back of his neck as he smirked at the green grass around his boots. “She really offered to bring us lunch? And to help?” 

“Yeah, she did.” Javi shifted his gaze up to his dad, grin still on his face, cheeks pink and flushed. Chucho laughed and shook his head as he passed Javi, patting him on the shoulder as he mumbled to himself, just loud enough for Javi to hear.

“Dios la bendiga. Ella te ama, Javier.” (God bless her. She loves you, Javier.) 

Javi stood quietly for a moment, smiling to himself. Javi hoped his dad was right, because he sure as hell loved you. 

[jagibee]

Stray Pack

(Stray Kids x Reader)

Chapter 7

2,167 Words

A/N: This story is going at a snail’s pace and it might be going that way for a while. Sorry, not sorry!

TW: blood mention, no actual blood

…

“Gross, hyung. The magic? Are you a college bro dude bringing a girl to your bedroom for the first time?”

Chan’s jaw dropped in offense, the corners of his lips turned slightly up. “Yah! I happen to think the studio is very magical!”

Felix wrinkled his nose. “Whatever. Let’s just at least let the others meet her before we chase her away.”

The two of them led you down the hallway, Felix bouncing along at your side, eyes sparkling with excitement. Chan rested his hand on your lower back once more as you made your way to a large, sticker-covered door.

You recognized some of the stickers, little SKZOOs and miniature album covers, but some of them were quite random. A duck on a skateboard, an ice cream cone holding a cactus, a Bulbasaur with a flower crown. While they didn’t exactly match the other stickers, you couldn’t deny that they were all quite adorable.

“Alright,” Chan said, turning you from the door to face Felix. “I think it’s best if I go ahead and make sure they aren’t having a twerk battle or anything before Y/N goes in there. Stay here for a sec?”

You smiled at him and bumped his shoulder with yours. “What, I don’t get to watch the twerk battle? I think I would be a great judge.”

He pursed his lips, somewhere between suppressing a smile and on the verge of losing his sanity. “Hopefully, there won’t actually be a twerk battle happening. They might be sitting in there calmly and patiently. However, as someone who has had to deal with them for years, I know to lower my expectations.”

Felix shook his head with a smirk. “Are you kidding? As someone who has had to deal with you for years, I know you would get super crazy bored if we were calm and patient all the time. You love our chaos. But if you don’t want to traumatize Y/N right away, you can check on them.”

Felix wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you against him as Chan slipped into the room. He shut the door gently behind him but you could hear the uproar at his arrival. Felix sighed and rested his chin on your shoulder.

Turning to him, you felt a bit of anxiety bubble up in your chest. “Is everyone in there?”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye without moving his head. “They should be. Normally, our recording sessions just have a few of us at a time, but…” He paused to grin at you. “It’s a bit of a special occasion.”

Before you could stutter out a response, Chan reappeared, leaving the sticker-covered door cracked open just the tiniest bit behind him.

“Okay, Y/N.” He clapped. “Let’s do this!”

He grabbed your hand and led you through the door, Felix shuffling behind with his arms still around you and trying his best to stay connected.

The room was mostly taken up by a recording room and a table full of hundreds of different buttons and switches. Two walls, however, had one large L-shaped couch against them, completely taken over by the band members.

Closest to where you were standing, lying with his head resting against the arm of the couch, was Minho. As he heard the door open, he stretched over the armrest, causing his head to go upside down over the edge of the couch. He smiled at you, eyes squinting, and you couldn’t help smiling back.

Sitting nearby with Minho’s legs tossed over his lap, you recognized Jisung. His wide eyes glanced up at you and he went to maneuver himself out from the tangle of legs, but they visibly tightened over him, locking Jisung down against the couch.

Next to him, curled up together in the corner of the couch, snoring softly, were Jeongin and Seungmin. Innie opened his eyes at the sound of the door opening and blinked slowly at you a couple times before the sleep cleared from his eyes. They widened as he sat up, jostling Seungmin and waking him up in the process.

On the opposite side of the couch, you could see Changbin spread out with Hyunjin settled on top of him, his head nestled against Changbin’s stomach with a content smile on his face. Changbin’s eyes widened at you while Hyunjin mumbled a soft “hi, noona” and turned his head to face the wall.

You giggled. “Hi, Hyunjin!” You whispered, holding up the hand still entangled with Chan’s to wave at the omega, despite the fact that he was turned away and couldn’t see.

Your eyes shifted back to Han as he wrestled his way free of Minho’s trap and stumbled over to you. Seungmin also stepped his way over Jeongin to stand next to Jisung. Changbin appeared to struggle under Hyunjin, but after nothing happened, he stopped. You were sure that he could overpower Hyunjin if he wanted to, but you couldn’t exactly blame him for not trying his hardest. If Hyunjin was laid on top of you like that, you wouldn’t even try to move.

Jisung and Seungmin stood before you, Chan, and Felix like you were deciding their fate.

Chan squeezed your hand. “Guys, this is Y/N, our new caretaker. I know you guys would like some time to get to know each other, but we really have to get this recording down, so maybe just get to know each other during? Got it?”

Jisung nodded while Seungmin muttered “got it”. On the other side of the room, evidently Changbin had gotten a bit impatient. He wrapped his arms around Hyunjin, stood up, and dragged him over to you. Hyunjin playfully struggled, but once he got close enough to you, he gasped dramatically. “Rescue me, noona!” He exclaimed, going limp and flopping over into you and Felix, who was still clinging to your back. Luckily, Hyunjin wasn’t very heavy and you managed to catch him before all three of you hit the ground.

Chan’s hand had gotten dragged along with yours where you wrapped it around Hyunjin. He sighed as Changbin froze, eyes wide and arms held out in front of him.

Jisung cackled at the other boy’s stance, relieving the tension in the room. “Yah, hyung!” He shouted with a wide, open-mouthed smile. “You can’t just throw Hyunjin at random people!”

Changbin’s jaw dropped. “I didn’t throw him! He threw himself! I’m completely innocent!”

Minho sighed, still draped half upside-down over the couch’s armrest. “It’s too early for this. Jagi, Dwaekki, calm down before I stuff Seungmin’s socks in your mouths.”

“Why my socks?”

“I’m too pretty to have socks in my mouth!”

“Why is he jagi but I’m Dwaekki?”

“Because he has cuter cheeks.” Minho smirked.

Changbin puffed his own cheeks out. “Yah, hyung, you don’t think my cheeks are cute? These cheeks?” His voice went high-pitched as he poked his own cheeks and bounced around you to Felix. You could feel the younger boy smile against your shoulder and Hyunjin shook with silent laugher, jostling you both in the process. “Yongbok, tell hyungie my cheeks are cuter than-”

A growl erupted from the corner of the couch where Jeongin had settled back down.

Everyone in the room froze until Chan released your hand to walk over to the maknae.

“Hey,” He said, holding out his hand tentatively, like someone waiting for an unfamiliar dog to sniff. “Hey, aegi-alpha. Is everything okay?”

Jeongin blinked, eyes widening before he frowned in confusion. “Not sure. Probably… too loud?”

“Okay,” Chan nodded, still holding his hand out. “Are you still okay to record today or do you want to take a break?”

Innie shook his head and then bumped it into Chan’s hand like a cat. “I’m good. Just…” He paused to wave his hand around. “Alpha-y.”

You were mentally debating whether to ask what that meant or not. On one hand, it felt like it was none of your business. On the other hand, “alpha-y” stuff was kind of exactly your business. Before either argument won, Felix bumped his nose into your shoulder to get your attention. “Since Innie’s still settling in his presentation, he’s not always sure what his alpha is trying to tell him, so when he doesn’t know why his alpha does something instinctively, he just tells us it was him being alpha-y.” His eyes shifted over to watch Chan run his fingers through Jeongin’s hair. “It’s quite cute.”

Hyunjin adjusted himself so he could see the two alphas in the corner while still leaning against you. “Isn’t everything he does cute? He could growl at me and bite me with those sharp little teeth until I bleed and I would still call his aggressiveness adorable.”

While the three of you were gazing at Chan and Innie, Minho had grabbed Jisung and Changbin and prompted them to set up for recording. The younger two had been frozen, staring at the others just like your little omega cluster, but with much less adoration and much more guilt and fear. Thankfully, Minho dragged them over and sat them down in front of the recording box, bringing Seungmin with him as well and sitting down with the beta on his lap on the far end of the couch, giving the others adequate space.

Chan murmured to Jeongin for a couple minutes before gesturing you over. You turned around and placed Hyunjin into Felix’s arms. The younger boy was all too happy to latch onto Hyunjin as you moved over to the corner.

“What’s up?” You asked softly, conscientious of how Innie said it might have been too loud for his alpha.

“Do you…” Chan hesitated. “I know it’s sort of hard to know, especially since Iyen doesn’t even know, but do you have any ideas why he would growl like that?”

Jeongin had grasped one of Chan’s hands between both of his own and was currently nuzzling against the scent gland on Chan’s wrist. Chan’s other hand was gently running through the younger boy’s hair and he peeked out from under it, sharp eyes regarding you questioningly.

You mentally pictured the scene right before the growl to try and figure it out. “Well, I’m not so sure it was the noise. Newly presented people do have more sensitive hearing, along with their sense of smell. But I think it has to do more with where Changbin was rather than his volume.”

Chan’s hand stilled in I.N’s hair. “What do you mean?”

You took a deep breath. “Felix, Hyunjin, and I were all huddled together and Changbin came over to us, which irritated Innie’s alpha.”

Chan glanced between you and Jeongin. “Why would that irritate his alpha?”

“Felix’s heat,” you answered. “I.N’s alpha is telling him not to let other alphas near Felix, though it’s hard to tell whether it’s so that they don’t take advantage of him or because he’s simply jealous.”

Jeongin dropped Chan’s hand from his face down to his lap, interweaving their fingers together, holding his hand more naturally. “But Channie-hyung was standing next to you and Yongbok. Why did I only react when Changbin-hyung got close to him?”

“He’s your head alpha,” you told him, glancing pointedly at Chan’s hand grasped between his. “You subconsciously trust him with Felix, so you don’t worry about him or get jealous.”

Chan squeezed Innie’s hand before turning back to you. “Is he going to be like this all the way up until Felix’s heat? Growling every time Changbin or Minho gets close to Felix? And maybe even during his heat, too?”

You pursed your lips. “He shouldn’t. He might be a little extra… sensitive. But his hormones are fluctuating and so are Felix’s. There will likely be a few more instances where Innie is more aggressive than usual, but it’s a bit difficult to know when and where it will happen. Also, I don’t want to jinx anything, but if all he does is growl, then it should be fairly easy to deal with.”

Chan nodded and rested his forehead against I.N’s. “We’re gonna be okay, yeah? It’s just a couple days until Felix’s heat and we’re gonna be fine, aren’t we?”

Jeongin’s eyebrows furrowed. “Hyung, I don’t want to growl at Changbin-hyung or Lino-hyung for no good reason.”

Chan’s hand slipped down from I.N’s hair to rest on his neck, thumb pressing gently on the maknae’s scent gland. “Well, I can’t promise that that won’t happen, but I can promise that we won’t get upset with you. Do you remember what your alpha-hyungs were like when Felix first presented? If we can survive that, we can survive a couple little growls from our adorable aegi-alpha.”

Jeongin giggled and nodded against Chan’s forehead. “Okay, hyung. We should start recording now, shouldn’t we?”

From the angle you were standing, you couldn’t exactly see Chan’s expression, but you could see his cheeks stretch like he was smiling. “Yeah, Innie. Let’s start recording.”

…

Taglist:

(Bold means I can’t tag you, sorry for the inconvenience!)

@eastleighsblog

@detectivedoodle

@niaalove

@scarletrosesposts

@royal-shinigami

@peachbokkie

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@plutoneu

@queenmea604

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@queen-in-the-shadows

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@lostgirlinthewoodss

@zacsani-blog

@3rachasninja

@luminouskalopsia

[upat4amwiththemoon]

As free as an avis | 8

Summary: A princess and a commoner falling in love was a scandal on itself, but them both being women just adds fuel to the fire.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Warnings: this story will deal with homophobia and sexism, this story is mostly historically inaccurate, angst

Word count: 3024

a/n: the next chapter just might be the last one

Tags: @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @themagnificentmx @raven-reyes-wife @spongebobtentacles @friskyfisher @thought-of-you-and-me @rafecameronswhore @inarayofmoonlight @sayah13 @wandsmxmff @emsmultiverse @natashamaximoff69 @scarsw1fe

masterlists | guidelines

All parts: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8

Something is wrong.

Something has felt wrong since last night, when her and Wanda left their picnic. They didn't dare to touch each other or even speak when they went back to the castle. All Wanda did was escort Y/N back to her chambers, before going to her own.

The first thing to happen when Y/N woke up, was one of her mother's servants walking into her room, and demanding she do see her parents. So, that is what she does.

The servants are keeping their gazes strictly away from the Princess, only glancing down at her when they think she isn’t looking at them.

There’s a small frown on her face as she walks towards her parents’ office. Her hands are resting behind her back, unconsciously fidgeting with her rings due to the atmosphere. It’s not unheard of for the whole castle to be off when her parents’ aren’t in a good mood, but this is different. This feels worse.

Y/N looks around, noticing how the servants immediately turn away when their gazes meet. She pulls on the collar of her dress, suddenly feeling like the air is running out.

She stops in front of the office door, knocking on it softly, fearing her parents would be set off if she knocked any harder.

“Come in.”

Her body tenses as she hears her mother’s cold voice. She takes hold of the doorknob and twists it, opening the door just the slightest. She takes a moment, her chest heavy with a feeling of doom. Something in her gut is telling her to just turn back and run, never looking back.

Y/N swallows, opening the door properly and stepping inside the room, closing the door behind her.

“Lock the door.”

She hesitates. She can only see her parents’ backs, but their postures are too rigid. Something is wrong. Y/N locks the door with a soft click.

No one knows what is happening behind the locked door. No one can hear a whisper from the other side, even if they pretend to clean outside of the door, trying to eavesdrop. It somehow makes everyone more on edge, as all three of the royals tend to be very loud people, especially when fighting.

It has been hours since Y/N went inside the room. Wanda, Natasha, nor Yelena have been told anything, and everyone refuses to speak to them, especially to Wanda. The certain servants act the same around Wanda as they did around Y/N.

Once they realized no one would tell them anything, they decided to go wait in Y/N’s room, where they have been for the past hour now. The two sisters pacing, while Wanda sits on the bed.

“Go over it again.”

Wanda sighs, rubbing her face. “Natasha-“

“Go over it again.” Natasha’s voice is rough as she stops to glare at Wanda, before continuing her pacing again.

“Stop it.” Yelena intervenes before her sister goes even further. “She already told you everything they’ve done in the past week, she clearly doesn’t know what is going on. And whatever is going on, it’s not Wanda’s fault.”

“It’s clearly about them!” Natasha scoffs, shaking her head. “Whether she likes it or not, it’s partially her fault.”

Yelena slaps Natasha’s arm, not in a gentle way either. She may be younger, but she isn’t afraid to put Natasha in her place if the need be. “It is not her fault.” She and Wanda have become good friends during her time in the castle. “Y/N would hate to hear you say that.”

“Well, she isn’t here to hear me.” Natasha grumbles, rubbing the spot Yelena slapped. “We have no idea where she is or what is going on…” her voice turns softer, “we don’t know if they’re hurting her.”

Wanda fidgets with her hands, not wanting to think about the possibility of the King and Queen hurting Y/N because of their relationship.

“We’ll figure it out.” Yelena assures, having taken the role of voice of reason, which she doesn’t usually take. “She is still the future queen, they won’t do anything too bad.”

…hopefully. They’re all thinking about it, but no one dares to say it.

Yelena gives Natasha a look, making her sigh. “Wanda, I’m sorry for blaming you. I’m just worried about Y/N.”

“I don’t blame you.” Wanda gives Natasha a small smile, though it’s not entirely genuine due to the circumstances. “I’m really worried too.”

Natasha nods, not continuing the conversation. Sharing emotions and having deeper conversation with anyone else than her sister and Y/N is difficult to her, sometimes it’s a struggle even with the two people she is closest to.

The silence stretches on for a while before the door opens, causing all of them to stand and stare, hoping for Y/N to walk through. One of the castle servants peeks through, “miss Maximoff?”

Wanda’s eyes widen. “That’s me.” She takes a step forward.

“The Princess is asking to meet you in the garden. She said you would know where.” With that, the servant leaves.

Letting out a breath, she turns to look at Yelena and Natasha. Her mind is moving too fast to make sense. “This…this means she’s okay, right?”

“Yeah.” Yelena sets her hand on Wanda’s arm, squeezing it softly. “Go on, don’t make her wait.”

Wanda nods, turning around and walking out of the room. There’s still a strange feeling in the back of her mind.

Y/N can hear Wanda’s steps getting closer. Her lower lip trembles as she stares at the oak tree. The wind feels colder today.

“Y/N?”

She closes her eyes at the carefulness of Wanda’s voice. Letting out a shaky breath, she turns around and looks at her lover, though her gaze lacks the usual softness.

Wanda frowns. She’s relieved there’s no visible marks on the Princess’ body, but she still doesn’t look the same. “Is everything alright?”

“You’re freed of your position as my personal maid, you need to leave the castle before sundown.” Her voice cracks as she stares at Wanda, tears glazing her eyes, but she blinks them away. This is no time to cry.

Worry is clearly etched on Wanda’s face, she was never as good at holding her expressions back, especially around Y/N. It takes her a moment to process the words that reached her ears, not fully believing she heard her correctly. “What?”

“You will get your final payment from the steward before you leave, and a carriage will be provided to your desired destination.”

The words don’t clear any of Wanda’s confusion, she never asked to be freed from her position, she doesn’t want that. She wants to be at the castle with Y/N. “Why? Did I do something wrong?” She whispers and takes a step closer, but stops when Y/N takes a step back.

“You’ve put childish imagines and beliefs in my head.” Her voice wavers just the slightest, even when she tries to will it away. Wanda notices it right away, she knows her better than anyone else. “Your foolish talks of creating my own destiny and following my dreams have corrupted me and made me neglect my duties as the future queen. This is why I have made the decision to send you away.”

“No, Y/N-“

“You will address me as Your Highness, as everyone else in this castle does.” She interrupts Wanda, her voice colder and cutting, but not without a sliver of uncertainty. “Please leave immediately.”

“I’m not leaving, Y/N-“ Wanda stops herself, “Your Highness, please, this isn’t what you want. You never wanted to be the next queen, you want to be with the people. The castle has never been the right place for you and you know that. We have an opportunity to leave, together.” Her words are starting to become begs for the Princess to hear her.

“Silence!” Y/N’s voice echoes through the garden. “Miss Maximoff, you better leave before I call for the guard to take you to the executioner.”

Wanda holds her hands on her sides, they’re clenched into tight fists, her nails pressing against her palms. “Some people are worth dying for.” She whispers with a smile.

Y/N falters at her statement, her breath hitching and eyes widening. She knows Wanda is serious. “If you do not leave immediately, your family will be banished from their home.” The words come out hushed, filled with shame.

“You wouldn’t do that.” Wanda shakes her head, refusing to listen to her. “These are not your words, they are your parents’!”

“Wanda, I don’t love you!” Y/N shouts, shutting her up. There’s coldness in her eyes that Wanda has never seen before. “I never loved you and never will. You were merely a moment of weakness, a distraction from my duties. I am ashamed of the things we did. You are pathetic to think someone like me could love, or even care about, someone as low and dirty as you. You are a disgrace.”

Wanda stares at the Princess with silent tears falling down her face. She could see no love on her face, no warmth or gentleness…no Y/N. Quickly her sadness turns intro hatred and disgust. She wipes away her tears and betters her posture, a glare in her eyes. “You’ll be a terrible queen,” her voice trembles, “a devil just like the rest of them. The people will hate you, Your Highness.” Her words are like daggers in Y/N chest, but she doesn’t nothing to show it.

When it’s clear neither of them will speak, Wanda courtesies and turns around, walking towards the castle as fast her legs allow her.

Y/N stares at the now empty spots, letting the tears to finally fall. She drops down to her knees, not minding the pain or dirt. Her tears turn into sobs that she tries to muffle with the palm of her hand. She just lost the love of her life, for good.

By the time Yelena find Y/N in the garden, she has already stopped crying, now just staying on her knees, staring at the ground.

Yelena lowers herself to the ground next to her and sets her hand on the Princess’ shoulder. “We need to get you inside.” She speaks quietly, not wanting to upset her even more.

“What’s the point?”

“The point is,” Yelena pulls Y/N up by her arms, “that you’re still the Princess, and this isn’t your end.” She starts leading her towards the castle. Her pace is slow and she stays right by her as they walk.

Y/N stays quiet. There’s no point in words. There are no words to describe how much she is hurting, how much shame she feels for the things she had to say to Wanda. How much it took of her to actually make it seem like she meant every word spoken, like just yesterday they weren’t speaking of running away together.

“I’m sorry.” Yelena whispers, squeezing Y/N’s hand, her eyes constantly on her. “I’m so sorry.”

“Me too.”

The rest of the walk back to the castle goes in heavy silence.

As much as Y/N would like to go to her room and fall asleep for a very long time, her parents aren’t allowing it.

The King and Queen invited Lord James Barnes to the castle and dragged Y/N into a meeting with the three them to talk about the idea of marriage, and at the moment, she is not present enough to argue against it.

Y/N sits between her parents once again, Lord Barnes sitting opposite of them. She is staring at the table between them, a distance in her eyes. If anyone notices it, they don’t comment on it, they talk as if everything is normal.

“Lord Barnes, we thank you for coming on such short notice.” The Queen smiles, her hands resting on the table.

He bows his head slightly. “It’s no trouble, Your Majesty. I was rather pleased to get your letter, as your daughter caught my eye the first moment I saw her.”

Y/N is pretty sure she was only 15 years old when meeting Lord Barnes for the first time.

“That is great to hear.” The King comments. “As you may know, we are looking to find our daughter a husband, and a future king to our kingdom. We believe you may be the perfect man for this role.”

He said that to all the other candidates who came before him.

“I hope you don’t mind us asking you questions before we leave you alone with the Princess.”

“Not at all.”

The Queen smiles at his enthusiasm. She glances at Y/N, noticing how out of it she looks, but at this moment she doesn’t care. She won’t let the Princess’ mood disturb this joyous possibility. “What do you think of children?”

“Oh, I want many.” The Lord immediately states. “I especially want sons to pass on my name, but I wouldn’t mind daughters either. My eldest son would obviously be my heir to the throne, if you choose me to be the next King.”

“You want sons? How wonderful.” The King and Queen glance at each other. Their greatest sorrow was never getting a true heir.

James nods with a smile, his eyes staying on either the Queen or the King, mostly the latter, as he is the man in charge. He rarely looks at the Princess unless he is admiring her figure, knowing she is here just for show. "Yes, I am a rather determined man and will not rest until I have at least three sons."

Three sons. Y/N raises her eyes long enough to glance at the Lord. She does not wish to have even one child, let alone three sons. How is she supposed to raise boys who will think less of her when they are men.

"Three sons, oh, how wonderful." The Queen repeats, very much pleased by his words.

The King nods in agreement, he has always dreamed to have sons to teach and practice swording with, but grandsons would do. "And what do you think of the crown? Would you uphold our rulings as the next King?"

"Of course, Your Majesty." The Lord bows his head. "I believe in your rulings and wish to be even half as good of a king as you have been. If I am to be the future king, I would be honored to learn under your leadership."

"Ass kisser." Y/N whispers under her breath.

The Queen turns to look at her daughter, her brows raised. She heard what was said, but she hopes she'll cause no trouble. "What was that, my dearest?"

Clearing her throat, the Princess straightens her back and looks back at her mother. "I merely expressed my happiness." She mumbles. "My apologies for interrupting your conversation."

"No, it is quite alright." A silent conversation passes between the King and Queen. "I believe we are done with our conversation." They turn to look at Lord Barnes. "We think you are a rather fine man, who will make a great king. So...shall we go ahead and arrange the marriage, we would be rather pleased with the earliest date possible."

"I am ever the happiest to hear that."

They all stand up, though Y/N has to be pulled up by her arm. The Lord walks over to her, putting out his arm for her to take, which she does. The four of them walk out of the room, all the servants evading their gazes when they come across them.

"You are not against being married soon, are you, Lord Barnes?" The King speaks as they walk, him and the Queen in front of James and Y/N.

"I have nothing against marrying soon, I have been ready for marriage rather long."

"Wonderful." A pleased smile grows on the Queen's face. She is so close to getting what she wants. "Then the marriage will happen in two days time."

Y/N's face falls. Two days time is so soon. She doesn't even know Lord James Barnes. She holds no love or warmth towards him. Although, she has found herself with no feelings without Wanda by her side.

The Lord smiles, his hold of Y/N tightening as he smiles down at her. "That sounds perfect, Your Majesty."

"Perfect indeed, mother." Y/N whispers, her blank eyes stuck on the back of her mother.

James' arm around hers feels rough, even through his clothing. He looks ragged and cold under his smile. The expression on his face looks different when looking at the King and Queen, compared to when he looks at Y/N. It's more genuine towards her parents, more...transactional when it comes to her. It's the same with everyone, they all want to please the rulers, everyone wants the people in power to be on their side. No one cares about the Princess, woe is her.

Except Wanda.

Wanda loved her, Wanda cared about her. Her heart aches at the thought of her. She wishes she could rip her arm away from James' hold and run back into her true lover's arms. But she doesn't, she stays there, holding onto the man, like a good princess.

Her mother's voice brings her back to the present. "Oh, how I am excited for this union. It will be celebrated throughout the city, we will invite the highest of people to be your guests, and use all the money we need to. Y/N, Lord Barnes, feel free to tell all your wishes to the wedding planner, as long as you do it today."

They walk past Natasha, thought none of them notice her eyes on them. She hears them speak of a wedding, and she's able to guess the nothingness in her friend's eyes is due to this. As the four of them walk further along the corridor, Natasha starts walking the other way, a frown on her face. There's this deep need to do something filling her.

She needs to fix this.

[billysbbybfff]

Eddie being forced to get another tutor after another year of missing graduation. It's not like he wants to be stuck in high school forever, but the teachers don't do any favors with helping him understand the material or keeping his attention on them. He has other shit to think about.

But he's sitting in the library, tapping out various beats onto his notebook and wondering how long it will take for this tutor of his to call it quits and never speak to him again-

"Alright Munson, enough messing around. I'm gone at 5pm and if you fail the next quiz then that's on you."

No, Eddie didn't think that new kid Billy (that's his name, right?) was going to be tutoring him. But he didn't really have any complaints.

Billy sits down next to him and flips through a book until landing on some random page.

"How far are you into this?" Billy asks.

"Into what?"

"The book, dipshit." He holds up his copy of The Grapes of Wrath. Eddie has a faint recollection of seeing that cover under one of his speakers during a show. He doesn't need to tell Billy, though. His expression tells all.

"You haven't even started it, have you?"

"Well, is it any good?"

"God no– it's from the 30s about the Great Depression and farming. "

Billy sighs and begins to rattle on about the story, and Eddie finds himself hanging onto every word. In the weirdest way everything begins to make sense to him. Everything those teachers have tried to cram into Eddie's brain since his first year just flows into his head when those words leave Billy's lips. Why is he staring at those? Does it matter? It's not like Billy's eyes are on him. They dart around every which way, but never seem to catch on Eddie. Such a shame... they're just as pretty as the rest of the guy. Wait, what?

5pm seems to roll around too fast, and Billy pushes the book into Eddie's hands.

"Maybe read a few pages tonight instead of... whatever the hell you do. Bring it back tomorrow."

Once Billy is out of sight, Eddie thumbs through the pages and finds a piece of paper tucked into the chapter they were talking about.

Call me is scribbled out in Billy's hand, and Eddie's motuh goes about as dry as the land the Joads were leaving.

7/15 isn't too bad of a score for a guy like Eddie, but he definitely needs more sessions with his tutor.

[katerina-marie]

The Tragedy of a Duality

Gojo Satoru x Female Reader and (Past) Ryomen Sukuna x Female Reader

Chp 1, Chp 2, Chp 3, Chp 4, Chp 5, Chp 6, Chp 7 (Final)

In the present, you are a sorcerer and the cherished wife of the Honored One. In an era long gone, remembered by only one, you were ordinarily human and the beloved bride of the King of Curses. How fitting it would be, in an evening of destruction, to have your heart torn in two.

Content: JJK Universe and Canon Events (tho tweaked to incorporate reader), Fluff, Angst, Flashbacks, Ambiguous ending, Violence, Death, Female reader but left descriptively vague, No use of y/n, True Form Sukuna in the past, Itadori Yuji is Sukuna's vessel in the present but nothing inappropriate b/n reader and Itadori as the vessel, Will add more CW to each chapter if needed.

WC: 6.1k

A/N: A flashback, some cracky humor (cause it all goes downhill after this), and Sukuna's POV.

Chapter 6

You are not certain, but you think it is close to evening by the way darkness begins to creep onto the walls of your bed chamber. 

A throbbing ache feels as though it may nearly split your skull, and it slithers down behind your eyes and nose. There is a chill to your body that has persisted since the last time you fell asleep, and if you request one more blanket from the servants, you worry they might consider putting you in the fire completely as nothing else seems to suffice. You briefly entertain the idea. Anything, really, if it will get the aching of your muscles and joints to cease. The only small mercy of being struck with an illness is the way you are left relatively unbothered to burrow beneath your mountain of blankets and slip in and out of feverish slumber as you please. 

“Would you care to tell me why I had to wait until now to hear from Uraume that you have been bedridden?” 

Were unbothered, it would seem. 

“Bedridden is a bit extreme, Sukuna. It is just a fleeting sickness.” 

Still nestled under your blankets, you manage to open one eye and peek out. Your husband stands just before your bed with his upper arms crossed and his others hidden beneath his white robes. There is no humor to soften his face, and you let out a small sigh of defeat. 

“I will be alright,” you assure him. “I asked Uraume not to say anything to you before you left yesterday after our midday meal, so please do not be cross with them.” 

“And I may ask again; why?” 

You try to smile at Sukuna this time, but you suspect it might be a little lopsided or dazed—something fever induced. “Well, it is nothing overly concerning and I am being well cared for. Besides, I did not want to get in the way of whatever conquering or pillaging or other kingly duty you were whisked away for.” 

Sukuna does not reciprocate the haphazard grin on your face, nor does he bristle at the way you try to poke fun at him. “That is foolish of you.” 

You gawk at him. “Well, that is rude. If you will not be kind, go off elsewhere and I will find another to listen to my complaints.” 

You are only half-heartedly disgruntled by his brusqueness, but you go to throw a blanket back over yourself nonetheless when you feel his hand seize your wrist. He bends at the waist to hover over you, and his eyes do not let go of yours. “You will inform me immediately the next time you are ill.” 

This time, your eyes narrow and indignance sharpens your voice. “And for what purpose would that serve? You are very busy and we have perfectly adept staff who are able to answer my beck and call. You do not need to waste time tending to me, Sukuna.” 

Your vehemence drives his back upwards. His arms hang still at his sides and you can see his jaw clenching. “It would please me to do so, should you give me the opportunity.” 

The words freeze whatever curt retort you have ready on your tongue, and you blink at him, admittedly dumbfounded. 

“Do you think I would not?” Sukuna asks, and you don’t particularly like the way his voice sounds almost hurt. You open your mouth, ready to speak, but you aren’t sure if you should be apologizing or offering some kind of explanation because if you are being very honest, you are not quite sure if he would have spent the day at your side while you languish in sickness. 

“Ah,” he murmurs, and this time there is no denying that you have wounded him. “I am sorry that I have acted in a way that makes you think so.” 

If you look back on the last six months of your marriage, there is not any true example that would sway you into believing one way or another. Sukuna has his moments of tenderness with you, but they do not hide away his tendency towards terseness or foul moods, though that is mostly reserved for his communication with others. 

“It is not that,” you tell him slowly, and you finally feel ashamed when surprise makes his brows lift. “I am afraid I have hastily made an unfair assumption. I apologize.”

Sukuna does nothing for a moment but look at you, but eventually he nods and takes a step back. “No apology necessary. I will leave you to rest.” 

Your heart lurches in your chest when he turns to leave and you see something akin to disappointment on his face, so you quickly claw your way out from under your blankets to sit up and call his name. 

“Please wait,” you ask of him, and you are grateful when Sukuna does pause at your door. “I would like it if you would lay with me.” 

He hesitates, and now exposed to the cool air of the room, you shiver. 

“If that would please you,” he says quietly, and Sukuna is already slipping into bed before you can blink. You shuffle over to make room for him, but he is quick to draw you against his chest and tighten the blankets around you both. The heat that radiates off his skin is delightful, and you make a noise of contentment as you wiggle in as closely to him as you can get. You feel a pleased rumble in his chest under your cheek and it brings a smile to your face. 

“Thank you,” and you whisper it into his skin. 

The two of you remain silent and still underneath the blankets for long enough that sleep begins to steal you away, but Sukuna’s voice just happens to catch you before you drift off. 

“Being gentle,” he starts, and it sounds as though he is a little unsure of himself. “It is not in my nature. It is not something that comes obviously and easily to me.” You lean your head back so you can look at him, and you are thoroughly wrecked when you realize there is vulnerability in his eyes. You cling to him a little tighter then. “But for you, because there is nothing that will ever come before you in terms of what is important and precious to me, I will do my best and try.” 

Tears sting your eyes and something like love surges inside of you, and nothing—not even the pain in your head—would keep you from pressing your mouth against his. Sukuna allows it, returns it with equal fervor, but pulls away from you sooner than you would like. He smiles at the whine you let out and the pout that turns your lips down, and you feel his hand cup your neck as he urges your head back down against his chest. 

“Hush now and rest.” 

You scoff, a tired breathless thing, but your tone is affectionate when you tell him, “what a terrible monster you are.” 

------------------------

The grand reveal of a not-dead Itadori to Fushiguro and Kugisaki takes place as planned the following day. The two take it a little better than you anticipated, though you still cringe through the entire surprise that you unsuccessfully tried to convince Satoru not to do. They stare in disbelief and shock as Satoru ushers Itadori out from the cramped storage bin he’s in. They don’t say a word as their friend waves at them with a wide grin on his face, and before you can protest, Satoru simply laughs and encourages them to have a good day in training before bounding off to who-knows-where, leaving you to gently reassure the three of them and offer a brief explanation for the whole situation.

“So, you knew the entire time?” Kugisaki questions, and skepticism is all over her face as she stands with her hand on a cocked hip. The three first years hover around you under the tree in the corner of the training field, and both Kugisaki and Fushiguro look as if they’ve aged five years. “Gojo-sensei didn’t lie or hide it from you?” 

“No,” you say with an adamant shake of your head. “I don’t think he’s capable of keeping a secret like that from me. Not that it would be in his best interest to do so.” 

It’s not speculation that has you telling her such. Many times over the years Satoru has proven his inability to lie to you, or even distort the truth in a way that could be considered deceptive. All it takes is a knowing look in his direction and Satoru is spilling his guts. 

“Yes, alright! It was me that broke Nanami’s glasses. Please don’t tell him! I already sold out Kugisaki for it.” 

“Oh…no. That is not an engagement ring I’ve been hiding under my pillow. Why would you ask that?” 

“So, I maybe, kind of told Suguru you find his technique disgusting and that’s why he won’t partner up with you for assignments anymore, but hey! Don’t be mad. Now you’re with me!”

Or even last night for instance, after each of you exchange apologies for the earlier fight, Satoru hurriedly explains that he didn’t intentionally hide the fact he fed Itadori the second finger and just simply forgot to mention it. You laugh nervously and quickly forgive him again as you try to hide the fact that you have forgotten about that particular detail. Nanami must have chastised him in some way, and you suppose you're grateful. But really, you just want Satoru to stop looking at you with that kicked puppy expression. 

You shake your head of the memories and look back at your students. “It almost never ends well for him, so it’s not something he does often.” 

Fushiguro scoffs and shoots you an exasperated look. “Does he at least learn his lesson and apologize?” 

His words exasperate the last lingering bits of guilt you still feel from yesterday’s argument, and you wince as you try to come up with a reply that would restore the image of Satoru’s character.

Kugisaki beats you to it and throws her head back in laughter. “What a sight that would make! Gojo-sensei begging your forgiveness with a bouquet of flowers in hand!”

Itadori gags and Fushiguro looks like he feels the same. 

“Pathetic and sad is exactly what that would look like,” he says, and he starts to walk away with Itadori to avoid any more talk of Satoru and grand romantic gestures.

You sigh defeatedly and use a hand to wave off Kugisaki’s suggestion. 

“There’s really no need for such extremes,” you say. “Besides, Satoru knows better than to get me flowers.” Your face puckers like you’ve smelled something rancid.

Kugisaki doesn’t have the chance to respond before Itadori is snapping his head towards you so harshly and abruptly that you would worry for the bones in his neck if there weren’t black tattoos suddenly taking over his face. You’d say Sukuna nearly looks stunned stupid if offense didn’t have him gaping at you.

“You do not care for flowers?” 

It doesn’t come out as a question so much as it does a demand for an explanation, and you are perplexed as to why such an asinine topic of conversation could possibly prompt him into coming out. Especially when he looks grumpier now than every other time you’ve seen him.

Fushiguro and Kugisaki, on the other hand, look very much like they’ve seen a ghost. 

“Uh, no,” you tell him, and Sukuna’s head recoils back like you slapped him. “I don’t like them. Something about the pollen or whatever itches my nose and makes my eyes water. I avoid them the best I can, honestly.” 

Sukuna can only blink at you, and it isn’t until you lift your hands in a tentative apology that laughter begins to build in his chest. It rises in volume exponentially until he rears his head back, and it bursts out of him in a way that is nearly hysterical. It makes the hair on your arms stand up, and you, Fushiguro, and Kugisaki take an uneasy step back from him. His laughter cuts off and when he turns his eyes back to you, they are wide in their excitement and his grin is full of teeth.

“Well, that is new!” Sukuna thunders, and you have no earthly idea as to what he could be referring to. “You did always know how to surprise me.” 

And just as quickly as they appeared, the tattoos fade, and within a moment, Itadori is shaking his head and looking to you for clarification. You shrug because it’s not like you have any to offer. 

After some gentle reassurance of their safety, you coax your students onto the training field to spar with one another while you watch from under the shade of a tree. With your thoughts scattered between all manner of things, time passes without you perceiving it, and Satoru is waltzing back onto the training field an hour later, munching on an apple and looking as though he has no care in the world.

“How are my beloved students doing?” he asks when he takes his place by your side, though he stands just a bit farther than he usually would. You give him a hesitant smile and wave a hand towards where Kugisaki has just dealt a particularly harsh blow to Itadori’s side as she cackles. Fushiguro watches from a few feet away, looking very much like he’d rather be anywhere else. When Satoru calls to them in greeting, all three turn and offer waves and ‘hellos’ in varying levels of enthusiasm. 

“Just fine,” you tell Satoru, and he bats his lashes at the pointed look on your face, “though they would probably do even better if their esteemed teacher actually showed up to teach them.” 

Satoru shrugs in a what can you do attitude, and you roll your eyes as you swipe the apple from his hand to take a large bite of it. The remaining tension between you two eases, and you’re thrilled to see the small makings of a smile on his lips.

“Fruit thief,” he complains, and you giggle around a mouthful of apple. 

Suddenly, a loud curse and an exclamation of surprise sound out from where the students are on the field. When you and Satoru spin around in that direction, Kugisaki is sprawled out on the ground face towards the sky and laying farther away from the other two than what should reasonably be possible. Fushiguro stares with a haunted look on his face. Itadori is breathing heavily and looks just as shocked. When he glances down at his hands as if they could explain what happened, you notice the slits under his eyes flicker shut and a pool of dread settles in your stomach. 

Satoru looks at you briefly before he’s striding out onto the field with hands buried in his pockets. 

“Yuji,” he calls, though there’s no discipline in voice. “Let’s not try and throw our peers halfway across the field, okay?”

All three students laugh, albeit nervously, as Satoru goes to check on them, and you are left to worry about what in the world could have set off Sukuna. 

------------------------

There are a number of things you could blame your lack of reaction on, but you would probably just chalk it up to plain exhaustion if you live long enough for anyone to ask. 

While Fushiguro and Kugisaki are somewhere up above on the highway fighting two curses, you and Itadori handle one under a bridge in a shallow ravine. You manage to dodge the first blow from the curse across from you, but your limbs are already weary and the ground is slick, and you aren’t quick enough to defend against the second one. In a final moment, you throw your arms up in some meaningless way to protect your face and clench your eyes shut. You have a split second to anticipate the pain before a great force has knocked you to the ground and into the cold earth below.

“Move!” Sukuna growls in your ear, and it takes you a beat to recognize that the weight at your back is him. You think his hands might clench into your shirt and maybe it’s his nose in your hair, but you have no more time to consider it as he is up and off of you as soon as you blink. 

You push onto your hands and peer over your shoulder where the curse now sits in a pile of ash. When you sit up completely, Sukuna is standing off to your right and looks down at you, his face completely devoid of any emotion. His shirt is torn at the elbow and singed in a couple spots. He rolls his shoulder twice, loosening the muscles there, and though he makes no move to help you up, his hand clenches and unclenches rapidly. You get up on your feet then.

“You are unharmed?” he asks, and there’s a rough edge to his voice that you don’t recall being there before.

You glance up at him in the middle of sweeping dirt from your arms and hands, a fruitless attempt since you’re covered in an amount of mud that only a shower would fix, and he is clearly expecting your immediate answer. 

“I’m alright.”

Sukuna nods once and then shifts away from you to sweep his eyes along the edges of the trees and further down the ravine. You recognize the meticulous way he scans the scenery, deeming it clear of any remaining threats, and the action tugs at something in your chest. Satoru tends to do the same thing anytime the two of you go on an assignment together, and you always tease him for his over precaution. 

“Thank you,” you add quietly, because the extra protective measure certainly isn’t for himself. Sukuna doesn’t turn back or respond to your gratitude, but his lower eye takes glimpses of you out of its corner. 

“Can I ask you a question?” you blurt out. 

Sukuna doesn’t respond right away. All that fills the silence is the trickling of a nearby stream and the faint crackling rustle of the tree branches above your head as they sway slightly in the evening breeze. But then he is angling his chin to glance at you over his shoulder. “If I am not mistaken, you just did.” 

He sounds less than enthused, but curiosity has been eating you alive since the very moment Sukuna first made himself known to you, and so the words tumble forth with no hope to stop them.

“What happened?”

Surely he must know what you are referring to, and you see Sukuna’s shoulders heave with a great sigh. He splays his fingers wide, and the veins and tendons in his hands pop in a way that looks painful. With an eerie slowness, he turns toward you and levels you with a look that has you immediately regretting the question.

“Do you really wish to know?” The edge of his voice is nearly taunting, almost tempting. 

No. Yes. Maybe. It’ll keep you up at night if you don’t know, but you worry you’ll never sleep the same again if you do. 

Sukuna must see the indecision on your face, and he makes the choice for you.

“Well then,” he begins casually, but his demeanor as he starts to walk towards you is anything but. It takes all your concentration to stay rooted to your spot even though instinct tells you to flee. “To what extent will your curiosity be satiated?”

Anxiety is churning your stomach, and something about this is very wrong. His movements are predatory in their preciseness, and his eyes are narrowed, hardened by something unknown to you. He is different. Something has shifted, and you wouldn’t have called Sukuna kind, but whatever keeps the ferocity of his anger-adjacent emotions in check is long-gone. When he comes to a stop an arm’s length apart, he smirks and it is cruel.

“Would it thrill you to hear that I know how you taste?”

You feel the color bleed away from your face because surely he can’t mean—

 “And certainly in more ways than you are thinking.” 

His eyes track the bobbing of your throat when you swallow loud enough for you both to hear. At the same time, your foot slides backward in the mud to maintain distance, and his follows suit.

“Or,” Sukuna emphasizes, and his eyes flare wide. “How would you feel if I told you that the blame for your death lies at my feet?” 

It’s the first confirmation you get for something you have suspected—that if what he says is true, you died centuries ago—but the implication that it’s Sukuna’s fault is something you hadn’t considered, and the idea is terrifying and prompts more questions that you don’t have the gall to ask. 

“Nevermind,” you tell him. You look out around you and then up at the highway to see if you can spot Fushiguro and Kugisaki anywhere, eager to be done with this conversation. But Sukuna is not done with you, and he creeps just a little closer. 

“But you want to know,” he croons, and now your heart is starting to race and the fine hair on your arms stand straight. “Shall I describe to you how you used to mewl and beg when I had you under me? Or that you liked when I would sink my teeth into that spot where your neck meets your shoulder.” 

Sukuna tilts his head, and the innocence of it is such a harsh contrast to the severity of him. “Tell me, does that husband of yours do the same?” 

“Please, stop.” Normally you’d hate the weakness in your voice and the way it nearly comes out in a whimper, but you don’t care, not when your only priority is getting away from him. You take a hurried step back and your heel slips, and there is a sickening swoop in your stomach as you begin to pitch backwards.

But in a movement too quick for you to see, Sukuna catches you around your upper arms. You dangle back in his grip as he lowers his head so closely to yours that your noses almost touch. His eyes burn red, his mouth is twisted into snarl, and he must be able to feel the way your breath stutters out over his face. Sukuna bows over you, and behind his head, the midnight blue of the night sky encompasses the view of your peripherals. In the back of your mind, you take notice of the fact that you don’t feel the prick of his nails against your skin.

“Do you dream of me?” Sukuna whispers, and it is hushed and frenzied and derisive. His eyes dart down once to your lips. “Do you have nightmares about what will happen when I get a hold of that last finger? Whom do you think I will come for first—you, or your beloved?”

You wrench yourself back with a sob, and Sukuna somehow relents. His hands leave your arms as rapidly as they came, but you stand steady and upright when he appears a couple feet away. 

“Ah,” Sukuna chides, and satisfaction makes his expression haughty, though there is something mournful hiding in the lines of his face. “You remember me now; a monster—evil, if you do say so yourself.” Shame passes over you quickly as you realize he heard the tail end of your argument with Satoru. 

 “Well, I am pleased to meet your expectations.” He sneers at you as he shoves his hands into his pockets, and you hear fabric tear. If you didn’t know any better, you would say you wounded him. 

But that can’t be possible, not when he is what he claims to be and what you accuse him of. You are reminded now of what a pointless endeavor this is. Whatever it is you want to call it—a latent curiosity, a brief musing for passing boredom—is irrelevant, as is whatever tragic history that may or may not have occurred a thousand years ago. There is plenty of reasonable doubt for you to conclude that only a shred of truth might hide in between the vitriol Sukuna spits. As for the scant moments of tenderness, where his eyes bleed longing and every inch of him yearns to touch you, you dismiss them as fleeting instances of torment in the name of entertainment. Gentleness would be a facade he wears and something he couldn’t be familiar with. Monsters don’t know such things. 

“Nevermind,” you say, and this time your voice is firm and unwavering. “I don’t want to know.”

Silence follows and Sukuna is unfazed by your answer. He doesn’t try to persuade you, and you think he sees the finality in your face. The lowering of his eyes and the clenching of his jaw might betray the emotion he’s working to keep concealed—disappointment, regret, misery—but he turns and begins to walk away before you can study him any further. 

“I will leave the brat over here for you,” he calls and then slips into the darkness of the trees. There is something resigned and dismissive in the sound of his voice and the way he waves a hand over one shoulder, and it leaves you to wonder what will happen the next time you meet Ryomen Sukuna.

------------------------

When you whisper “I’m sorry” into the skin between Satoru’s shoulder blades, it is hours after you return home muddy and exhausted from your assignment, and enough time has passed since the two of you went to bed that you both should already be asleep. Satoru might have been close to it with the groggy way he says your name, but he stirs nonetheless and twists under the covers so he can face you instead. 

“What for?” he asks. His eyes blink heavily, and his hair is almost long enough now to tangle in his lashes, the white of them making where one ends and the other begins nearly indistinguishable. “We already apologized to each other, remember?” 

You appreciate the softness on his face and how forgiving his voice is, but you still shake your head. “You deserve a better apology. My feelings at that moment wouldn’t have changed, but I shouldn’t have let my temper get in the way of discussing things with you.” 

Satoru’s answering smile is a little sad, but he still reaches for you so he can wrap his arms under your neck and over your shoulder. He tugs you once more so your head leaves your pillow and is cushioned by his bicep instead. His embrace is as warm and comforting as you always know it to be, and you skim your nose against his collarbone to breathe in the lingering scent of his soap and shampoo. Doing so lowers the volume level of the noise in your head. 

“Well, then I owe you one too. I am sorry. I was being childish.” You feel Satoru tighten his arms around you and his chest expands against yours as he inhales deeply. “You have to know that you are the most precious thing to me. There is nothing else. I do not mean to coddle you or doubt your capabilities in any way. And I trust you implicitly.” He leans back slightly so he can look down at you. “There is no word fitting to describe what I would feel if something happened to you. So please, forgive me when I am unbearable. It is only because I love you.” 

It strikes you then that love could take the form of overprotection and possessiveness in a man who has already lost someone dear to him to a greater evil, and you hate that you now understand the feeling so well. 

You can only nod in response, mostly because tears are pricking your eyes and you are one second away from having your breath hitch in your throat, so you quickly duck your head to hide against him. Satoru, in all his perceptiveness, would certainly not miss it if you started crying, and you don’t know how to describe to him that those tears come from so many different things: exhaustion—mental and physical, anxiety, an overwhelming love for him, and shame that you hurt someone, even if one could argue he deserves it. 

But Satoru knows you too well, and his voice is full of concern when he asks, “did something happen earlier?” 

“Whom do you think I will come for first—you, or your beloved?”

“No,” you lie, and the hypocrisy of your conversation with the first years a while back isn’t lost on you. If anything, it’s what drives a single tear to break free from your lashes and dart over the bridge of your nose. You hope Satoru doesn’t feel it when it drops onto his skin. 

“Are you sure?” 

You’re not, but you don’t have the wherewithal, the energy, the bandwidth, or any type of capability to discuss that with him. Maybe later. Maybe another day. But for now, you are determined to put away any lingering thoughts of a monster with pink hair. You refuse to give into the fear he certainly tried to strike in you, unwilling to let it needle its way any further into the marriage you have now, regardless of whether or not you were part of another in some previous lifetime. 

So, you suck in a deep breath and blink away any moisture from your eyes because you are in the arms of the man you love, and when you shift back to look at Satoru, the smile on your face is effervescent and genuine. 

“I am sure.” 

------------------------

The simple mind of Itadori Yuji is utterly dull and painfully boring. There is nothing for Sukuna to do but contemplate the decisions that now find him trapped, and that—combined with the incessant chattering of the other two sorcerers beside the brat—is why he misses every sign of your approach. 

He doesn’t pay much attention when the white-haired one stands up with a moronic grin on his face, and Sukuna does not think that whatever suddenly catches the boy’s attention will be anything worth it. That is, until, the first images of you cross Itadori’s mind and Sukuna’s entire being is jolted so jarringly that he is in control and looking at you for the first time in a thousand years faster than anyone in the room can anticipate.

You are as stunning and magnificent as the day he first saw you, and your expression is nearly the same this time around; wide eyed, lips parted in a way that you probably don’t mean to be enticing, and Sukuna is lost in you all over again. Maybe it’s delerium—elation—that makes memories of the past flash in front of him as he drinks you in, and for a minuscule second, Sukuna is back under a pear tree.

But devastation is quick to follow when he realizes that recognition is not flickering in your eyes when your gaze meets his, and despite how you try to hold yourself strong and still, your limbs tremble and you lean away from him. Sukuna has spent a millennia mourning you, and regrettably, he wonders just how many lives of yours he missed while split into pieces across the land. He thinks it’s fitting penance because of what he let happen to you. However, in this moment you meet again, you seek out another, one who is not him and whose face is responsible for the smile on your lips that spurred him into movement just before. 

You belong to another, and you do not remember him.

Then, in the morgue, it’s the first time Sukuna is alone with you in centuries. He saved the brat whose body he borrows, only because he knows how your heart is soft for the lives of mortals, and once upon a time it opened up for him who is not. You thank him, and Sukuna knows he is powerless to anything you ask of him.

 You are only an arms reach away, and the combination of your scent and the way your mannerisms are familiar bring him as close to giddiness as he can allow. And then, however far-fetched, Sukuna thinks you might reach out and touch him, and he is ready to lean forward and accept your hand.

But Gojo Satoru is at the door, and when you turn to look at him, Sukuna is all but forgotten. The way you smile and preen for him is abhorrent, and in an unprecedented move of cowardice, Sukuna releases control back to Itadori Yuji, if only so he doesn’t have to watch as your husband stakes his claim on you. 

And then he hears you arguing with Gojo, and it dashes whatever pleasant emotion was building inside of him at the unexpected opportunity to see you. For once, Sukuna thinks he might be grateful for Itadori Yuji when he effectively ends the conversation. The vehement hatred in your voice and the words you spat repeat viciously inside his head, and Sukuna is demanding that Itadori flee the room so he no longer has to look at you. It pains him. You pain him. And truthfully, that has to be the underlying reason for why Sukuna lashes out at you in the middle of a ravine on a dark night. 

He relishes in the brief connection of your bodies, and allows himself the smallest inhale of your scent before he can bear it no longer and throws himself from you. Sukuna is torn between his anger at you and his need to concern himself with your wellbeing. Instead, he takes to diligently scouring the surrounding trees to ensure there isn’t hidden danger lurking. 

When you ask him in a voice that is timid and unsure to explain to you what really happened a millennium ago, fury mounts as Sukuna hears your words play back again inside his head. Did you deserve to know something so sacred to him? Would you carefully listen or trample all over the truthfulness of it, considering it as nothing more than an unfortunate story? Sukuna doesn’t know if he’s able to withstand that kind of wound from you tonight, and in a poor attempt at self protection, he does what he’s best at—what is in his nature. 

There are tears running down your cheeks that you don’t seem to notice. You look at him in fear and trembling, and something inside Sukuna despairs. You don’t know that there has never been a need for you to cower under him. That once long ago, you meet his fury and ire with bared teeth of your own, fiercely strong and unafraid. You can smooth away Sukuna’s temper with nothing more than a stroke of your skin against his, but you will not. Not with the way you’re looking at him now, and Sukuna knows he’s put you on the path of hating him. 

He does not know the point of it, or what benefit doing so serves him. Sukuna supposes it’s because he has no idea what to do with you now. There is no feasible path he can see that would bring you back to him. He knows your loyalty would never broker space for him in your heart after already dedicating yourself to Gojo Satoru. He doubts the white-haired sorcerer would share you, and Sukuna detests the idea of it even more.

To follow through with his threat and rip your lover from you would only further sway you into the camp of others who conspire against him in this age and obliterate any hope that you would willingly come to him. That aside, inflicting you with the same pain of loss that he experienced after your death is too cruel, even for a creature like him. 

In a last ditch attempt, Sukuna could surrender himself completely to the authority of today’s jujutsu (Gojo Satoru, again) and remain obediently imprisoned inside Itadori Yuji in exchange for getting to watch you from afar. He thinks he owes you that at least; a long-lived life with the person you love. 

But that idea wars with Sukuna’s very being. He would never prostrate himself so lowly and submit himself to be controlled in such humiliation. But he always swore that nothing would come before you, and there is no else worthy of his complete submission than you. Though, Sukuna worries this alternative would drive him to the edge—if not into complete—madness. Subjecting himself to a lifetime of watching you love another the same way you once loved him seems like an effective way of destroying himself. 

Thus, Sukuna remains directionless and hides in the coverage of the trees. He wants to watch you for just a moment longer before he has to give control back to the brat. It aches him to see how you wipe tears from your cheek and then roll your shoulders back to shake off any lingering emotion. The sight is so familiar, so quintessentially you, but only in a time before this, and he desperately wishes he was still there.

Ryomen Sukuna misses you, even when you are standing right in front of him.

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A/N: I am sorry if this chapter felt unpolished compared to the rest. As soon as I started to feel better on Friday, my toddler got sick and has been since then. I didn't get to devote the same amount of quality time editing this chapter as I would have liked, and I don’t anticipate that changing until my little one is better. If the final chapter isn't posted on Wednesday like I originally planned, it should only be a day or to delayed (but I don't think it will be).

Thank you all <3

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