#making a Gab face

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Thinking of baby erik from the infinity comics again and my god why was he so fuckin. UGLY. silly baby…….

[flaticeball]

jee gets hit in the face with a stick and he goes to the box lmao you truly know wild hockey is back

[rotwhyler]

coworker accidentally tried to kill me by telling me i could mix bleach, vinegar, and water as a disinfectant

[alltheglowingeyess]

officially in my triple nose piercing arc

[ponyatowski]

more tee es vee…. just finished episode 40…….. got damn……..

[logansdoll]

hammered

you get a little too turnt during girls night, and logan comes to your rescue.

CW: heavily suggestive, profanity, Logan's your white knight, Ororo's gettin lit, men are creeps, you're actually drunk as a skunk, etc.

"You guys got together?! Why didn't you tell me?!" Ororo gasped, loudly, sitting up straight in her seat.

Your brows furrowed, eyes widening at her volume, a few passing party-goers sharing concerned looks.

"Say it louder. I don't think the rest of the city heard you..." you grumbled, face burning as you took a sip from your strawberry daiquiri.

She sat next to you on the little leather couch situated at the back of the club near the bar, which had began to trickle with activity.

The three of you had been there for only about thirty minutes, the buzz of the night starting to pick up, the dance floor packed with dancers and drinks flowing.

And the eyes, still staring.

"Ignore her, (n/n)," Jean smiled, kindly, as she rested a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "I think it's sweet you two took it at your own pace. It shows how serious you both are about this."

The three of you were having easy conversation, drinking and gabbing about whatever came to mind, when you and Logan were suddenly brought up.

And Ororo nearly died of shock when she found out you two were official.

"And speaking of seriousness... I believe we have an audience..."

Another group of three in particular, whose gazes were piercing you and your friends from across the way.

The three intense pairs of eyes belonged to three men in their best designer.

They each had their own outstanding feature: the tallest one sitting on the right had long, black hair, while the one on the left had arms roped in tattoos and lip piercings, the final one having a buzz cut and a snaggle-toothed smile.

Their lustful stares all but ignored by the two sitting next to you, your mind preoccupied with downing your second daiquiri that soon turned into a third.

You barely paid the men any mind, already knowing a man ten times hotter than all of them combined.

You actually missed him a whole damn lot.

You both were supposed to have a date night, but he got called last minute to round up Rogue and her friends who were causing havoc at some far off arcade.

So the girls dragged you out to the club, much to your protest.

'The kids just had to choose tonight of all nights...'

Ororo scoffed, gulping down another jell-O shot, "Waiting on him to come?" she chuckled, the flashing club lights making her light eyes sparkle.

You flushed in your mini dress, feeling hot despite the blasting AC and your exposed skin.

"You'll be waiting a while," she sighed, crossing her smooth legs over one another. "I heard Scott over the phone... those kids are in serious trouble."

You'd be lying if you said you weren't disappointed that he wasn't there, resting his hand at the small of your back, giving you those lustful stares on the dance floor, and complimenting your outfits in his own Logan way.

You'd done so much to make sure you looked hotter than hot, too.

You had raided your closet and pulled out a short, backless mini dress that made your legs look longer and showed off the curve of your spine sliding down towards your ass.

You loved, loved, loved it—how beautiful the black fabric looked against your skin; how sexy it made you feel.

Not to mention it was one of Logan's favorites.

He'd torn it off you many times.

Combined with your stiletto heels, fresh mani-pedi, the perfume adorning your wrists and the back of your knees, and hair that gracefully caressed your shoulders, you felt like a damn vixen.

Ororo sat up, taking your hand in hers, "No sense in sitting around while you wait, eh?"

She smirked at you, mischief in her eyes.

"Let's dance."

You paused a moment, hesitant.

But in that instant, those three daiquiris hit you like a truck, and all inhibitions went out the window.

'Fuck it.'

You stood up, chugging the last of your drink before taking her hand.

"Let's do it."

Famous last words.

Smoothly, you glided your fingers up your body, swaying your hips in rhythm with the beat as Ororo danced with one of the men.

You two had been dancing so well, you called the attention of the entire club. And with you about seven daiquiris in, it felt as if the music was coursing through your veins and melding with your bones.

The men of the establishment were hounding you both relentlessly—Jean having escaped to the bar to strike up some friendly conversation with the bartender—and even with your inebriated state, you fought them off vigorously, smacking away hands and returning advances with a sharp tongue.

Though the novelty was beginning to fade, and the urge to go home had began to set in.

As if on que, your phone began to buzz, taking your attention away from your thoughts.

"Hold up! I'm getting a call!" you laughed. "I'll be right back, 'Ro!"

She gave you a wink before you went stumbling off the dance floor, tugging a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

You decided to go to the nearest ladies' room, leaning against the wall where the long line started, before flipping open your phone.

You looked down at the caller ID, grinning to see the name of your favorite guy on the screen.

"Heyyyy, Logan," you sang into the phone with a drunk giggle.

"There you are," Logan let out a sigh of relief from the other side of the phone. "I've been tryin' to reach ya. I just finished roundin' up the kids and droppin' 'em off back home, so I'm free for the rest of the night if ya still wanna go out."

"Oh!" you chuckled, "Sorry!"

As you paused, Logan suddenly became confused.

"Where the hell are you? It's so loud, I can barely hear ya."

You placed one foot up on the wall, leaning your back flush against the cool tiles. "'Roro 'n' Jean took me to the club 'n' these guys tried to join us," you slurred. "Oh, they bought us drinks, too. And one said he liked my dress. He wasn't as good looking as you."

"You wearin' the backless one?" he asked, sounding intrigued.

You giggled giddily in response, finding humor in his quiet curse.

"Damn... ya had to pull that one out?"

"Oh, you should see me, Logan... I look gooood," you smiled, looking down at yourself. "But it's not the same... s'not as fun without you."

You lowered your foot back down to the ground and crossed your arm over your midsection, suddenly feeling cold and small.

"I miss you, Logan," you said, quietly. "Could you pick me up, please?"

His chest warmed at your tone, unable to fight the smirk on his face.

Despite the fact that you were absolutely sloshed, your mind still drifted to him, and even missed him when he was away.

It was adorable.

"Sure, sweetheart. Where are—?" "Wait!" you shrieked, a smile blooming on your face as you got quiet.

Logan cocked a brow.

'Huh?'

It was your favorite song.

"Logan! It's my song! I'll be right back!" you smile into the phone before hanging up, scrambling back to Ororo.

When you shimmeyed back onto the dance floor, she happily greeted you, moving in sync with the rhythm as you began your own moves.

"Oooo, what's that?" you asked, pointing at the glass she was holding.

It was orange and topped with ice and chopped oranges and strawberries, reminding you of a tequila sunrise.

"Want it?" she giggled, holding it out for you to take.

Which you gladly did, tossing it back lie it was water, humming approvingly at the taste as you licked the remnants off your lips.

The two men next to her were close to falling out from the scene.

"Fuck," one of them groaned. "Can you do that to me?"

You turned to them, brows furrowed. "Fuck off. My guy's gonna be here anyyyyy second."

Ororo gasped as she threw an arm around you, pulling you close to her perfume-soaked neck, "He's coming? That's great!"

You both cheered together, throwing your hands in the air as you continued to dance.

"C'mon," a man smirked from behind you. "What's he doing leaving a pretty lil' thing like you alone?"

Your face fell, expression annoyed as you turned to him, "Didn't I tell you to go somewhere? He's gonna show up sooon..."

The man had gotten closer, so close that you could see him lick his lips, expectantly.

He scoffed, leering down at you under the strobe lights, "But he ain't here, is he?"

"I wouldn't put money on it, bub," Logan replied from behind him.

Your eyes lit up like stars as soon as you laid eyes on your dark, handsome bodyguard.

He stood there behind the man with his thick, leather-clad arms crossed over his broad chest, which was covered by his white tee.

And he looked less than pleased.

"Logan!" you smiled, moving to stand by his side like a magnet.

The man turned to face him, watching as Logan snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you close.

"This is the boyfriend?" he laughed, amused.

His words hardened Logan's expression tenfold, and it took everything in you not to giggle.

"Yeah, I am. And why the fuck are you still here?"

His words forced the man's expression to meld into one of frustration, and you bit back an amused smile at the sight.

You were drunk out of your mind, but you knew better than to interfere.

The man swallowed thickly, "I was just—"

"Harrassin' my woman."

You felt your heart flutter at the nickname.

He'd been calling you that for a while, but somehow it always felt like the first time.

"I didn't know she was yours—"

In a flash, his Logan's fist was up, his claws were on display and right in front of the man's face, scaring the shit out of him.

"I don't like repeating myself," he spat, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Fuck. Off."

You both watched the man scatter, eyes wide as he scrambled toward the bar.

Damn.

'What a bitch...'

"You alright?" Logan asked, taking off his leather jacket as he glared around the room, taking notice of the other leering men on the dance floor. "This place is full of fuckin' sleazeballs."

You shrugged, running a hand through your hair, "Eh, I managed."

Wordless, he handed over his jacket, your nose wrinkled in confusion.

"What's that for?"

"You're shivering, (n/n)."

You looked down at yourself, realizing that you were, indeed, shivering.

"Oh."

"C'mon," he sighed, draping the jacket over your shoulders before resting his hand at the small of your back, steering you toward the exit. "I think that's enough fun for one night."

Glancing back at Ororo, he gave a small look, slightly concerned.

"Scott's on his way for you two... You gonna be good?"

"Tipsy, but okay!" she gave him a thumbs up, along with a little wink. "Have fun, you two!"

He ignored the innuendo, but nodded, going back to ushering you out the back door.

"I missed you, Logan," you confessed, a slight whine to your voice as you practically clung to him.

"I know you did, sweetheart," he sighed, approaching one of Cyclops' cars. "Let's get you home."

The moment you hung up the phone, he sped over to the club, breaking about fifteen different traffic laws in the process.

An annoyance he decided to deal with the next day.

Without warning, you grabbed him, shoving him up against a wall of the alley you were in, interlocking your fingers as your free hand traced mindless shapes in his chest.

"You look so good, Logan," you purred, eyeing him up and down with hungry eyes, heating him from the inside out. "So good."

Suddenly, your lips attached to his neck, lazily peppering the flesh with kisses and pecks, with the occasional nip.

"(n/n)... you're drunk," Logan stated, moreso for himself, as he weakly tried to pry you off.

"I'd do this anyway," you grinned into his skin, pulling back to look at him, gaze half-lidded. "You look so sexy..."

Slowly, your lips curled into a hazy, loving smile, your eyes staring up at him like he was the only thing in the world.

Fuck...

You'd think he was about to go into cardiac arrest.

'This woman's gonna be the death of me...'

"What's wrong?" you asked, lips pouty and eyes glassy as you looked up at him, your expression one of hurt. "You're not touching me..."

"Doll," he sighed, voice slightly strained. "As gorgeous as you look... and as much as I wanna pin you against this wall... you're fuckin' hammered. And I'd like to feel you up when you actually know what yer doin'."

He pulled back to see your reaction, only to find you were already out like a light, softly snoring and drooling all over his shirt.

A soft smile fell onto his lips at the adorable sight, the man brushing some of your hair out your face before scooping you up in his arms, pressing a long kiss on your forehead.

'Somethin' else...'

[h8aaz]

❝ 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐧 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 .ᐟ ❞

SUMMARY .ᐟ . . . soldier boy absolutely ruining you simply bc he can!! but also because he loves you :3

WARNINGS .ᐟ . . . f!reader . piv unprotected . drooling . slight dacryphilia . choking . slapping . rough sex . degrading + praise . swearing bc duh obviously what . overstimulation + mention of past orgasms . name calling (whore, slut, crybaby, bitch) + petnames (baby, sweetheart, honey) . probably some other stuff that i forgot so lmk ab those please !

GABS YAPS .ᐟ . . . i'm working on the first 'chapter' for sweetgirl!reader + my reader for soldier boy, which this isn't a part of btw!! so please bare with me as i work on that stuff lol. but i do have more standalone smut ideas so look out for those! likes, comments, + reblogs are very appreciated!!

"ugh- mmn- fuck!" you groaned as drool dribbled down your chin. ben rammed into you relentlessly, both hands on your ass, grabbing and pulling you back into him. he smacked the soft jiggling flesh until all was left were red handprints.

"yeah, you like that, huh? my pretty little slut." he teased. he reached a hand over to your mouth, letting out a primal groan at the touch of your wet face. "fuck. you're a drooling mess, aren't you, you fuckin' whore." he slapped you, gaining a whine full of pain and pleasure.

his cum-coated cock hit into your sweet, spongy spot once again. you screamed out multiple profanities as your orgasm slowly began to climb up again. he slipped in and out of you with ease due to the pure slick from your cunt.

he pistoned into you at an unruly pace, abusing your insides as they wrapped around him snugly, practically morphing into the perfect shape for only his dick. your hands frantically gripped into the sheets as your eyes rolled back, mouth agape with pornagraphic mewls, moans, and whines spewing out freely.

ben's hand striked your face once more before wrapping tightly around your throat. you whimpered at the pain before biting your lip, letting go as he had slapped you again. "don't. i wanna hear you scream while i ruin your tight little pussy." he demanded, earning a whine and nod in return.

he tighted his grip on your throat, "words, baby. now." he ordered. "ngh- yes- yes, sir- hah- oh, fuck, ben! yes, yes!" you managed to scream out as his hips quickened, his balls slapping against your swollen clit, making the sensitive pearl send your nerves into overdrive.

you were absolutely ruined; your makeup was smudged, hair messy, drool and tears covered your face, ass so red and bruised you knew you won't be able to sit properly— let alone walk after this, hickeys littered your body from your neck to your thighs, there was no way to cover them. but it's all worth it for this, for him.

ben's hands spread your ass open, drilling even further into your cunt. the sound of wet skin slamming together filled the room amongst the mixed noises from you both. you had came for what felt like the millionth time that night, the creamy ring at his base becoming whiter. he groaned before pulling out completely, making you whine at the loss of him.

he lifted you up and slid under you, making you straddle him. he slipped his cock back inside you and gave your ass a motivational smack after bottoming out. your legs shook profusely as you began to move up, mewls spewing from your mouth.

the overstimulation was beginning to get at you. "please," you sobbed as tears flowed down your face, "god, ben, please!" you begged. you didn't know if you were begging for more or for it to stop, all you knew was that he got off on your absolutely wrecked state.

the sight of your visible crying made him twitch inside you. "fuckin' crybaby." he spat, "gonna sob and whine all over my cock? that's fuckin' pathetic. take my dick like the good little bitch you are." he said before grabbing your hips and bucking his own into you, roughly.

"fuck!" you cried as you fell to his chest, your hands holding his broad shoulders. "c'mon, sweetheart, you can take it. yeah, yeah that's it, baby. take my fucking cock. oh fuck." he moaned as you slowly moved your hips to try and match his fast pace.

his fingers dug into your flesh as your final orgasm rained down onto him. you wept and moaned due to the overstimulation. ben's hips began to stutter as he got closer, his speed completely faltering as he came. the mixed cum spilled out from you, covering where the two of you were connected.

he rubbed his calloused fingers over the soft, sweaty skin of your back, soothing your shaking form. "did so good f'me, honey. so fucking good." he sighed blissfully before lifting you head and kissing your wet, panting mouth.

tags: @soldiersgirl @j2archives @sunsbaby @bejeweledinterludes @starzify @immodestly-marina @legalmente-loca @dulcescorderitas @ultravi0lence14 @cowboysandcigarettes @angelicjackles @mystic-writings @deansbeer @sunsettsam @vmiina @bluemerakis @figthoughts @k-slla

[mywritersmind]

fic idea: movie night w/ kimi ? it can be just kimi & reader, or have other rookies/drivers, whatever u want ! fluff and then whether it’s suggestive or not is up to u too !

CHAOS WITH A SIDE OF POPCORN - KA12

listen up : kimi antonelli x reader. includes date crashers, isack, liam, jack, gabriel, ollie, and franco! i honestly love this mess of a fic!

words : 1987

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“What’s up, sluts!?” Is the first thing that tells me, the rookies have arrived. It’s Franco who says it, grinning big with Lawson by his side. The blonde is holding a bowl which he slides onto the counter.

Kimi gives me a look, his hand sliding into my back pocket as the rest file in. “Are we late!?” Gabi asks which earns him a slap on the back from Jack.

“Hey guys!” Jack kisses Kimi on the cheek, making me laugh and making Kimi wipe his cheek with his sleeve.

“Some douche almost just ran over me in the parking lot-” Isack announces, Ollie laughing and closing the door behind him.

“I think that was me.” Gabi makes a face then winks, making me laugh and lean back into Kimi.

“Thanks for hosting, Y/n!” Franco smiles at me.

“Not like you invited yourself and then every rookie on the grid!” I gasp dramatically, Jack nudging my arm so get me to move because he’s looking in my cabinets?

Liam supposedly finds what they’re looking for, “Found it!” It’s a bag of popcorn kernels.

I look at Kimi who’s looking around like a man who just got snaked out of his date night (because he is). “Hey Y/n, brought you this.” Ollie smiles, dapping up Kimi and handing me a plant… Yeah. I don’t know either.

“Kimi!” Gabriel yells, “Where’s the remote?”

I look at my boyfriend, pushing my face into his chest and laughing. “Gab, this is my apartment!”

“Doesn’t mean Antonelli doesn’t watch more TV than you.” Kimi shakes his head, kissing my cheek and leaving my side with Ollie.

I turn around to see Franco and Jack frozen and staring at me like I'm evil, “Gross.” Jack says while Franco says something in Spanish under his breath.

The two are an unexpected pair but I think they get along purely because F1 is weird as fuck. “You have a girlfriend, Doohan!” I pat his chest.

“Yeah and I miss her so I'm choosing to be bitter.”

“What’s your excuse?” I ask Franco who shakes his head. “Mr. PDA.”

“My heart is broken, Y/n! Have some empathy.” I laugh at the argentinian purely because ‘his broken heart’ is because a celebrity didn’t respond to his DM.

“Sorry my boyfriend loves me and none of you freaks brought a girl for me to hang out with!” I grab a soda, going to help Liam and Isack with the popcorn.

Gabi and Kimi are in the living room, screaming at the TV while it plays some game. “Please don’t burn my apartment down.” I say to Isack and Liam who are fighting over how to use the machine that isn’t on, “Well- you can’t burn anything down when it’s not plugged in.” I plug it in, the teammates blinking then breaking into laughter.

“Y/n we love you.” Isack grins, pouring the kernels while Liam picks up the ones he’s spilling.

“What are we watching tonight?” Jack asks, biting into a strawberry.

“Don’t get into my fruit!” I yell.

“Let’s watch Moana!” Franco offers.

Liam groans, “Why the fuck would we watch moana when cars is-”

“We watched cars last time!” Jack mentions.

“There was a last time!?” Franco scoffs and hands a bowl to Isack.

I shake my head and leave the room, Jack following me out to see Gabi and Kimi arguing in italian, while Ollie tries to keep up as if it’s a tennis match. “Mamma mia!” I mimic them, flopping onto the couch and resting my head on Kimi’s leg.

“Are they making a mess?” Kimi’s hand finds my hair, the familiar touch making me smile.

“Not one they won’t clean up.” I thank god that Kimis friends, everyone under 25 on the grid, is genuinely nice.

Jack hands Gabi a coke, “Kimi, pick what we’re watching or else we will never settle on a movie.”

“Ca-”

“Anything but cars!” I say, Kimi frowning down at me. “How about ten things I hate about you- oh! Or the wedding planner!” They all groan.

“If it’s a chick flick, make it a good one.” Ollie says.

“Are you implying those aren’t good? Get out of my house Bearman.” He goes to stand and is pulled back down by Jack, not even trying to hide his smile.

“I stand by my words.”

I scoff dramatically and sit up, smelling popcorn when Franco, Liam, and Isack join us.

I take the corner of the couch with Kimi next to me, his arm locking me into place as I scroll on our options. Jack, Gabi, and Isack take up the rest of the couch while Liam, Franco, and Ollie all giggling on the floor.

We’re all surrounded by blankets and popcorn crumbs.

“The notebook!” I offer, earning mumbled disdain from the group. “Franco don’t even- I know you cried.”

He throws a piece of popcorn at me. “Oh my god!” I scream, making Kimi, who was comfortably snuggled into my side, jump. “She’s the man! You guys will love this.”

Gabi laughs, “I’ve seen it, she’s right.”

“Me too!” Ollie claps his hands together, “I’m pretty sure Y/n made me watch it, actually.”

“Wow I can’t believe we actually chose a movie!” I grin, pressing rent as Kimi drops a piece of popcorn into my mouth.

“We as in you?” Liam teases.

I roll my eyes and press play, “If I hear-” Isack imitates slopping kissing noises, “I will pour ice water on you! But not today. You will not expect it.”

Kimi laughs, turning into my neck and mimicking the noises with his mouth. I squeal and push him away, everyone laughing until his curls brush my cheek and he sits towards the TV again, “Fuck off.”

I rest my arm on Kimi’s chest, the group quieting down as the movie starts. That quiet does not last long.

“Who’s that?”

“He’s annoying!”

“She’s hot.”

“He’s hot!”

“How is she supposed to shower with tits?”

Kimi rubs his hand over my arm soothingly, extra touchy today even when I'm yelling at friends to shut up. They don’t shut up. At least the person they objectify the most is Channing Tatum.

“I need water.” I whisper, rolling off Kimi and stepping over Liam and Franco who yell at me for getting in the way.

“Get more popcorn!” Gabi hands the bucket to me, getting a slap on the head from Kimi, “Please?”

I grab the bucket and head into the kitchen just when Amanda starts training harder, the boys fighting on who would be the best at ‘soccer’ (Kimi won’t stop saying it in an American accent).

I flip the popcorn machine on, filling up my glass and texting my friend back. “Amoreeee…” The sweet voice of my sleepy boyfriend fills my ears, Kimi setting down his phone on the counter and slumping towards me.

“Bored of the movie?” I smile as his hands grip the counter around me, his head falling to my shoulder.

“Bored without you.”

“Oh god, you have separation anxiety.”

Kimi grins at this, lifting his head and kissing me softly, “God forbid a man wants to be with his girlfriend.”

I laugh harder now, “You need to get off tik tok. I’ve created a monster.”

He grins, god I love his stupid smile. I love his face. His hand slips to my hip, looking at me as if I'm the only person in the world. “You’re so pretty.” I say, tugging at a loose curl.

He scrunches up his nose, leaning in, “Thank you very much. Tiktok told me men get prettier the longer they’re with their drop dead gorgeous girlfriend.” I roll my eyes and he cuts off my laugh with a kiss.

He kisses me slowly, softly. My hand goes to the hem of his hoodie, resting on his side and letting my fingers touch his skin. He’s taller than me so while I'm looking up, his hair is falling in both of our faces.

He smells like peppermint and popcorn. Kimi kisses me every day we’re together, yet each one is so different that I think it’s impossible for me to ever get bored.

I tug at his hoodie and he leans closer, letting me feel the smile against his lips.

“Ew!” We’re interrupted, “Gross!” It’s Gabi. He’s standing in the doorway with his hands over his eyes.

Kimi sighs, “You’ve got me to kidding me-”

“What happened!?” Isack yells from the other room.

“They were having sex on the counter!” Everyone screams as Kimi flips off Gabriel.

“We were not!” I groan, grabbing the now filled bowl of popcorn and heading back in.

“What position?” Franco laughs, my foot ‘accidentally’ colliding with his side.

“If you can’t handle one kiss then I feel sorry for your girlfriend.” Kimi eyes Gabi who suddenly doesn’t think it’s very funny.

Ollie does though, “You’re lucky they were only kissing! I’ve seen so much worse-”

“Okay, Ol! Have some popcorn!” I take a handful and shove it in his mouth before looking around at the rest of them.

“No way- I don’t want that popcorn.” Jack declines my offer.

“I’ll take some!” Isack grabs a handful, “Maybe it’ll make me have more game.”

“Speaking of-” I'm mildly annoyed that they’re all talking over the best movie of all time, but I let it slide when Liam yells over the rest, “How’d you pull her, Antonelli?”

He blushes, sitting on the arm of the couch and scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “Oh- Well…”

“I actually set them up!” Ollie grins like a proud mum.

“You did not!” Kimi groans, “You always say this but you didn’t know Y/n before I did-”

“No, but I forced your stupid ass to get in line and ask her out like a man instead of a boy who was drooling over her from across the paddock!” The brit argues, making us all laugh and me lean into Kimi.

“Well it was either you asked me out or I was gonna storm over to Mercedes garage and put in a complaint!” I pat Kimi’s arm.

“Then he choked on the first date.” Ollie mentions.

“Choked on what-” Franco tries to joke but gets met with a glare from me and quickly shuts up.

“It was pasta!” He sighs, “And I hate reliving the moment I almost died, thanks!”

Isack smiles mischievously, “Y/n give you CPR?”

“Some old Italian man picked him up and shot it right out of him.” I can’t help but tease him just a little bit, “But I did comfort him very well for the rest of the evening.”

“Yeah!” Kimi laughs, scooting onto the couch fully and pulling a blanket over us, “By texting Ollie pictures of me pre and post choke!”

After they force me to show them the photos (I did offer them up quite easily) we get back to the movie.

By the time it’s over, Kimi is asleep on my shoulder, Liam is dragging Isack off the couch to leave, and Ollie has already crashed in my guest room.

“Thanks Y/n!” Gabi waves quietly at me.

“Bye!” Jack joins him, making sure to snap a photo of Kimi before he leaves.

“Thank you very much.” Franco smiles, “Tell Kimi we’ll see him on track. See ya!”

I wave to all of them, watching them walk out quietly and get a few minutes of pure silence before Kimi rolls over.

He mumbles something, half asleep and his eyes blinking open, “Done?” He says, repositioning himself so his arms are around me.

“They all left.” I cuddle closer to him, “Movie night, successful.”

He smiles, his eyes closed as he kisses my shoulder, “Love ya.” and then he falls asleep.

“I love you too.” I’m soon to go after him, a peaceful night on a messy couch- until Ollie’s snoring wakes us both up.

[altschmerzes]

.

spent all afternoon with my family getting ready for the funeral sunday. acutely reminded that they’re all, particularly my sister, under the impression i am a robot who has no feelings and no problems and lives in a rainbow castle full of sunshine and sparkles and nothing is ever difficult or stressful or traumatizing for me.

that was. great.

[cyberclouddream]

Inheritances from Mother

This can also be hidden or suppressed aspects of your mother or key maternal figure.

Aries/Mars in the 12th House

sharp intense gaze with bright eyes; high energy levels or quick metabolism; strong or angular facial features, like prominent cheekbones

impulsiveness or eagerness to take action; competitive streak, or a natural drive to "win" or come first; very direct communication style, often blunt or straightforward

prone to headaches or stress-related tension; strong cardiovascular system; quick recovery from minor injuries or illness

Talents: strong athletic ability; natural leadership skills; starting projects enthusiastically; rallying people together

Mars: hidden injuries or tendencies to ignore signs or stress or fatigue; tend to have sudden bursts of energy followed by exhaustion, benefiting from alone time, repressed anger or competitive spirit

Taurus/Venus in the 12th House

sturdy or well-defined build with natural strength; smooth, often attractive skin; love for physical comforts, like blankets, plush toys, or scented candles

stubbornness and persistence in achieving goals; appreciation for luxury, beauty or sensory pleasure; tendency to take your time, like preferring a steady, relaxed pace

struggles with weight management; sensitive throat or neck, making you prone to colds or allergies; good stamina

Talents: eye for beauty and aesthetics, whether in art or design; culinary skills, particularly at making delicious meals; strong gardening or nurturing abilities

Venus: tendencies towards indulgence or escapism, particularly through food and comfort, which can lead to weight fluctuations or emotional eating

Gemini/Mercury in the 12th House

quick movements and expressive hands; youthful appearance, often look younger than their age; clear, communicative voice, often melodic/musical or chatty

curiosity or thirst for knowledge; "gift of gab", with a tendency to talk a lot, like carrying a conversation for ages without breaking a sweat; restless mind, always jumping from what idea to the next

energetic but may experience anxiety or insomnia; respiratory issues, like allergies or asthma; fast metabolism, tend to keep their weight in check without much effort

Talents: excellent communication skills, both written and verbal; quick adaptability to new situations or environments; talent for storytelling or entertaining others through humor

Mercury: mental restlessness and difficulty expressing feelings; anxiety and overthinking, benefiting from outlets for their thoughts like journaling or talking to friends

Cancer/Moon in the 12th House

round, gentle features or a soft face; sensitive stomach or digestive system; drawn to nostalgic objects, like family heirlooms or photos

deep emotional intuition and empathy; protective instincts, especially toward family or loved ones; moodiness, emotions shift easily

sensitive digestive system, affected by stress or emotions; tendency to hold onto water weight, making hydration important; strong immune system but may feel physically off when emotionally drained

Talents: great at understanding emotions; good intuitive abilities; nurturing skills, whether in caregiving or teaching; strong artistic talents, especially in visual arts or music

Moon: strong connection to your subconscious; strong emotional sensitivity; fluctuating moods or struggles with boundaries

Leo/Sun in the 12th House

thick, voluminous hair that draws attention; strong, upright posture with natural confidence; eye-catching personal style, with a tendency towards bold colors or statement pieces

need for recognition or acknowledgement; big-hearted and generous nature, often giving freely to those they care about; natural leadership qualities, with a tendency to step into authority or inspire others

tend to recover quickly from ailments; prone to heart-related issues, if they don’t manage stress well; high energy levels, benefiting from activities like dancing or sports

Talents: charismatic or performance skills, whether in acting or music; creative talents, particularly in theater or visual arts; strong leadership abilities that motivate and uplift others

Sun: struggles with self-identity and recognition, leading to feelings of insecurity; may experience burnout from needing constant validation, which impacts their mental health and energy levels

Virgo/Mercury in the 12th House

clear, glowing skin due to focus on health and cleanliness; precise, meticulous hand movements or gestures (type to fold a fitted sheet perfectly); good physical health, with a focus on taking care of themselves

always noticing small things or obsessed with details in some way (may ask questions often); analytical thinkers, love to solve problems and make sense of things; super organized, their space tends to be tidy and efficient

health conscious, often focusing on nutrition and wellness; prone to digestive issues due to stress levels or perfectionism; good overall health but may struggle with anxiety or overthinking

Talents: exceptional organizational skills and attention to detail; analytical abilities, particularly in problem-solving or research; talents in health and wellness, whether through fitness or nutrition

Mercury: perfectionism or overcritical thoughts, potentially resulting in anxiety or health issues; difficulty in recognizing own needs

Libra/Venus in the 12th House

symmetrical facial features or well-balanced appearance; graceful movements, often with a sense of poise; knack for fashion, good at stylish or coordinated outfits

diplomatic nature, tends to see all sides; people-pleasing tendencies; love for aesthetics, beauty, and creating balance

prone to stress-related issues, especially when dealing with conflict; strong skin and overall health but may need to watch their weight; social activities often promote your overall wellbeing

Talents: diplomatic skills and ability to meditate conflicts; aesthetic talents, particularly in design or fashion; creative writing skills, especially in poetry or romantic themes

Venus: people-pleasing behaviors that mask your own needs; tendencies to be stressed or anxious in relationships (romantic, platonic, domestic)

Scorpio/Mars/Pluto in the 12th House

intense, piercing eyes that seem to “see through” people; strong physical endurance or resilience; drawn to dark or mysterious objects, like amulets or crystals

super passionate, going all in on what they love; inquisitive nature, having a knack for uncovering hidden truths; natural air of mystery, keeping people guessing

strong stamina and resilience; prone to emotional stress, which can manifest as physical symptoms; strong immune system, tends to recover well from illness

Talents: ability to understand complex emotional dynamics; talents in investigation, whether in research or detective work; creative expression through deep, impactful storytelling or art

Pluto: struggles with deep-seated fears or hidden emotions, which can manifest as intense psychological experiences

Sagittarius/Jupiter in the 12th House

long legs or a tendency towards an athletic build; strong, healthy liver and digestive system; fondness for travel gear or souvenirs from different places

adventurous spirit, always seeking new experiences; optimistic outlook, with a natural sense of humor; restlessness, always seeking freedom or something new

often need regular physical activity to feel their best; prone to accidents or injuries from their adventurous spirit; good digestion but needs to monitor caffeine intake

Talents: natural teaching abilities, especially in philosophical or cultural subjects; gifted storytelling or public speaking skills that inspire others; athletic talents, particularly in outdoor sports or activities

Jupiter: tendency to seek escapism through travel or adventure; struggles with excessive optimism, leading to disappointment when reality doesn’t match their expectations

Capricorn/Saturn in the 12th House

strong bone structure, often with prominent features; natural resilient, especially to illness; inclination towards classic or timeless objects, like leather wallets or old watches

strong sense of responsibility and duty; practicality and grounded approach to life; discipline and perseverance, often willing to work hard

strong bones; prone to stress-related issues, especially from work; tend to have good long-term health habits, benefiting from routine and discipline

Talents: strong work ethic and determination to achieve goals; natural leadership skills, especially in structured environments; talents in business or finance; particularly in strategic planning

Saturn: feelings of isolation or self-doubt, often related to stress-related health issues; challenges with letting go of control

Aquarius/Saturn/Uranus in the 12th House

unique facial features or unconventional beauty; slim or wiry build, with a tendency towards quick movements; love for tech or quirky objects that showcase their individuality

independent spirit, needing their freedom and space to be themselves; unconventional thinking, often challenging norms; friendly yet somewhat detached in social situations, hard to read sometimes

generally good health, but may experience sudden illnesses due to their busy lifestyle; prone to circulatory issues or cold extremities due to their “unique” physiology

Talents: innovative think and problem-solving abilities; talents in technology, science, or humanitarian efforts; creative expression through unique art forms or performances

Uranus: unconventional thought patterns and a sense of detachment; struggles with feeling misunderstood, which can affect emotional health and relationships

Pisces/Jupiter/Neptune in the 12th House

dreamy, often soft or gentle eyes; sensitive feet or appreciation for comfortable shoes (like therapeutic socks or shoes); drawn to water-related objects or environments, like the beach, rivers, or fountains

highly intuitive and in tune with emotions; imaginative, with a natural artistic or creative flair; empathetic and compassionate, often feeling others’ emotions deeply

sensitive immune system, often catch colds or infections more easily; prone to stress-related issues, especially if they don’t take care of their mental health; tend to escape through food or habits that aren’t always the healthiest

Talents: creative abilities in music, art, or writing that resonates with others; strong intuition and empathetic skills; tend to be good listeners; talents in healing or counseling, particularly in spiritual or holistic practices

Neptune: deep connection to collective unconscious, leading to heightened sensitivity and empathy; struggles with escapism; need to be mindful of their emotional boundaries

[ekybrini]

I love you, I'm sorry | Jack Hughes

— ⟡ summary | After the breakup, you spend the summer at the Hughes' lake house, trying to move on while Jack lingers in the background, never pushing but always there in small, unspoken ways. Slowly, the anger fades into something more complicated, and as the summer stretches on, you’re forced to confront the one thing you’ve been avoiding .

— ⟡ warnings | none (that I am aware of)

— ⟡ word count | 10.6k

— ⟡ gabs note | hiii!! since many people requested a part two here it is!! in all honestly I don't know if I like this or hate it, but oh well. hopefully you guys like part two as much as you liked part one ! <3 I apologize if this seems a little rushed.

part one | jacks pov (to part one)

It’s been almost two months since that weekend in New Jersey. Two months since you stood in Jack’s apartment waiting for him to say something, anything, while he stood there arms crossed over his chest face guarded and let you walk away.

He hasn’t called. He hasn’t texted. And you haven’t either.

At first, it hurt so badly you could barely breathe. The quiet was unbearable. You kept expecting your phone to light up with his name, to see a message “I’m sorry or Can we talk?” but nothing ever came. He’d let you leave after that fight, and the silence afterward felt like proof that he never really cared as much as you thought.

But the worst part, the part you hate admitting even to yourself is that you miss him. You miss him so much it’s a physical ache in your chest. You catch yourself thinking about him at the most random moments when you hear a song he used to like, or when you see someone wearing a Devils hoodie at the store. Your hand still twitches toward your phone when something funny happens. Your brain is so used to telling Jack everything that it hasn’t caught up to the fact that he isn’t there anymore. Even after two months.

Quinn’s checked in a few times. He hasn’t pushed, but you can feel the weight behind his questions. You know he’s talking to Jack about your conversations, but he hasn’t said much about it to you, which makes you think it’s probably bad.

You’re trying to move on. You really are. You’ve thrown yourself into school and work, into hanging out with your friends, into finding some sense of normalcy without him. But sometimes, it feels like you’re just going through all emotions. Because for the past nine years, Jack was part of your normal day life and now you don’t know how to exist without him.

It’s a Monday night when Quinn calls.

You almost let it go to voicemail, but your chest tightens, and you swipe to answer at the last second.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Quinn says. His voice is steady, but you can hear the hesitation underneath it. “How are you?”

“Fine.” The word tastes hollow. Quinn doesn’t say anything, and you sigh. “Okay, not really. But it’s fine.”

There’s a pause. “Yeah.” Quinn sounds like he’s bracing himself for something. “Jack’s in Michigan.”

Your stomach drops. “What?”

“He flew home this morning.”

Your heart starts pounding. You sit up straighter, curling your hand around the phone. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Quinn says, but you can tell he’s lying.

You close your eyes. “Quinn”

“I’m not saying you have to talk to him,” Quinn says. “But I think he wants to.”

You bite your lip. Your chest is tight. You hate how much you want to see him. You hate how much hope is curling around the edges of your heart, even though you know better by now.

“I don’t know if I can,” you whisper.

“I know,” Quinn says quietly. “Just think about it.”

You don’t sleep much that night. Your mind keeps spinning, replaying every word of that last conversation with Jack, every look, every moment that led up to it. Him ignoring you at any given chance. You’re still awake when the sun rises, and your chest feels raw and aching as you get through the day.

Jack is here. Jack is in Michigan. Of course he is, it's all star week which means some of the players have a break. How did you forget?

You keep expecting to see him turn a corner and find him standing there, hands in his pockets, eyes wide with regret. You don’t know what you’d do if that happened. Run? Scream? Pretend you don’t see him?

You wouldn't give him the chance.

For the next few days, you avoid every place he might be. You don’t go to the coffee shop you used to go to together. You don’t go to the dock outside of your house even though it’s a ritual for you. When Luke texts, asking if you want to hang out, you hesitate because what if Jack is there too?

Your answer is shorter than usual. “Not today. sorry.”

It’s exhausting, constantly looking over your shoulder waiting for the inevitable. But part of you, the part you don’t want to acknowledge is waiting for it. Because Jack will always find his way back to you.

But what if he doesn't? 

Two days pass. Then three Days. Then another. And you didn't see Jack nor did he never shows up.

Maybe we are really done. 

The thought makes your stomach twist, but you shove it down, focusing on work. You pick up extra shifts at the restaurant, filling your schedule so there is completely no room to think about him. It works, mostly.

Until the night he walks through the door.

It’s a Friday. You’re busy clearing a table when you hear someone call your name from the kitchen, asking you to run a drink order to one of the booths. You grab the tray without thinking, slipping through the crowd, already moving on autopilot.

And then you see him.

Jack is sitting in the booth near the window, fingers tapping anxiously against the table. His head is down, like he’s lost in thought. Like he doesn’t quite know why he’s here, only that he is.

Your breath catches in your throat.

For a second, you think about turning around running back to the kitchen and pretending you didn’t see him. But it’s too late he looks up at the exact moment you freeze, and his gaze locks onto yours.

His expression shifts instantly. His lips part slightly, like he wants to say something, but nothing comes out. His eyes flicker with so many emotions at once shock, relief, regret, and guilt.

You grip the tray a little tighter. Your heartbeat is so loud it drowns out the chatter around you. You can’t move. You can’t breathe.

Jack stands slowly, like he’s afraid you’ll bolt if he moves too fast.

You should. You want to. But you don’t.

Your grip tightens around the tray, fingers pressing into the smooth surface like it’s the only thing keeping you upright. The noise of the restaurant fades into the background, muffled by the blood rushing in your ears.

Jack takes a step forward, hesitant. “I-”

Your manager’s voice cuts through the haze, sharp and direct. “Hey, can you get that table?”

You blink, the moment snapping like a rubber band stretched too thin. Jack’s standing in front of you now closer than you’re ready for, but you force yourself to move past him stepping around his outstretched hand like you don’t even see it. Like he’s not even there.

Jack turns, his voice softer this time. “Wait-”

But you don’t.

You drop the drink order at the booth without looking back, without acknowledging the way your chest is threatening to cave in and disappear into the kitchen before he can say another word.

Your hands shake as you set the tray down exhaling sharply. The kitchen is warmer than usual the air thick with the smell of sizzling food and fresh bread, but you still feel cold your skin prickling with something too close to panic.

“Hey.” One of the other servers looks over at you, frowning. “You okay?”

You nod too quickly. “Yeah. Just just need a second.”

They don’t push, but you can feel their eyes on you as you turn away, bracing your hands against the counter.

Jack is out there. Jack is here.

You squeeze your eyes shut. Get through your shift. That’s all you have to do.

But the thought of walking back out there, of seeing him again makes your stomach twist.

You suck in a breath and grab water from the staff fridge forcing yourself to focus. You’ve handled worse. You can handle this.

But when you finally step out of the kitchen again, Jack is still there.And he’s waiting for you. He hasn’t left. You knew he wouldn’t.

Jack is still standing by the booth hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, shifting his weight like he’s trying to figure out what to do next. His drink sits untouched on the table, condensation pooling around the base of the glass. He hasn’t looked away from the kitchen door since you walked through it, and when your eyes meet again something inside you clenched tight.

You force yourself to move to pretend like your legs aren’t trembling as you walk past him to check on another table. You don’t stop. You don’t slow down. But you can feel his gaze on you heavy, like he’s hoping you to look back.

You don’t.

You take another order, bring out another tray clear another table, throw yourself into work like it’s enough to drown out the storm raging inside you. But it’s impossible to ignore him when he’s still there, lingering like a ghost a constant presence in the corner of your vision. Just as you’re starting to think he might give up you hear your name.

"y/n"

Soft. Almost unsure. But you hear it.

You freeze.

Slowly, you turn.

Jack is closer now, standing just a few feet away his expression raw like he’s barely holding himself together.

“Can we” His voice catches, and he swallows hard. “Can we talk?”

Your throat tightens. No. That’s the answer. That’s what you should say.

But nothing comes out.

Jack waits, shifting slightly, like he’s bracing himself for you to say no. Like he’s already expecting it.

And maybe that’s what makes you hesitate.

Your fingers curl into your apron heart slamming against your ribs. You should walk away. You should tell him you’re busy. You should say something that will make him leave.

But instead, you whisper, “I’m working.”

Jack exhales nodding quickly like he was stupid to even ask. “Right. Yeah. I just” He cuts himself off, dragging a hand down his face. “I just wanted to see you.”

Well, congratulations. You’ve seen me.

You don’t say it. You don’t say anything.

Jack glances down rubbing the back of his neck then looks at you again. “I’ll wait.”

Your stomach twists. “Jack-”

“I’ll wait,” he repeats, softer this time. “I won’t leave until you talk to me.”

You exhale sharply, your chest tightening as you glance toward the clock. Two more hours. Two more hours of him sitting there, of feeling his eyes on you, of knowing he’s just waiting.

You don’t know if you can do this.

But it doesn’t seem like you have a choice.

For the next two hours, Jack keeps his word.

He doesn’t leave.

He doesn’t even try to talk to you again.

But he stays.

Every time you glance toward his booth whether it be on purpose or by accident he’s still there. His drink sits untouched, ice melted into the soda. He barely touches his phone, only looking at it in short, distracted glances, like he’s waiting for time to pass. But mostly, he watches you. Not in an overbearing way, not in a way that demands your attention, but in a way that feels like he’s just there. Present. Waiting.

And it makes your skin crawl. Because he shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be sitting in your restaurant, watching you like this, like he’s hoping for something you can’t bring yourself to give him.

Your chest feels tight the entire time you work. Your hands shake a little as you punch in orders, your voice wavers when you ask customers if they need anything else. You can’t focus. Can’t think straight. Because Jack is still there.

When your shift finally ends, you take longer than usual in the back, wiping down counters that don’t need cleaning, refilling sugar dispensers that aren’t empty. You stall because you know what’s waiting for you outside.

And yet, when you finally push open the back door, stepping into the humid air, you’re still not prepared to see him standing there.

Jack is leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets, foot tapping absently against the concrete. The parking lot lights cast a dim glow over his face, catching the shadows under his eyes, the sharp cut of his jawline. He looks different than the last time you saw him. More tired. More worn down.

Your heart lurches despite everything.

Jack straightens as soon as he sees you. His shoulders tense like he’s expecting you to keep walking, to brush past him without a word.

And for a second you think about it.

But then he says your name. Soft and hesitant like a question.

Like a plea.

And you hate that your feet stop moving.

You exhale sharply, crossing your arms. “You waited.”

Jack nods. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

His throat bobs as he swallows. “You know why.”

You do. But you still don’t want to hear it.

Jack hesitates, then takes a small step closer. “Can we just, can we talk? Please?”

You don’t know what you were expecting him to say. Maybe you were waiting for an apology. Maybe you thought he’d make some excuse, some weak attempt to downplay what happened.

But he doesn’t. He just stands there, watching you, his expression open and raw.

And you don’t know what to do with that.

Your fingers tighten against your arms. “I don’t know if I have anything to say to you, Jack.”

Jack’s jaw clenches, and for a moment, you think he’s going to argue. But then he exhales, nodding. “Okay.”

That’s it no protest no but or please. Just okay.

You shift uncomfortably, glancing away. It would be easier if he were angry. If he fought you on this. But he doesn’t. He just takes the rejection, lets it settle between you without trying to force something you don’t want to give.

You should leave. You should get in your car and drive away.

But you don’t.

And Jack doesn’t either.

The silence stretches between you, thick and unbearable. The night hums around you cars passing in the distance, the faint buzz of a streetlamp overhead, the muffled voices of your coworkers still inside but it all fades against the weight of him.

Jack shifts on his feet, rubbing the back of his neck. His gaze flickers to the pavement, then back to you. “I didn’t come here to make this harder.”

You let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Jack exhales, closing his eyes briefly like he expected that. Maybe he did.

When he opens them again, they’re softer, something aching in them. “I don’t know what to say to make this right.”

You stare at him, fingers digging into your arms. Good. Because there is no magic fix for this. There’s no sentence that can undo the months of silence, the gutting way he hurt you, the way he let you walk away without fighting for you.

Jack swallows hard, stepping forward just enough to bridge the space between you, but not enough to make you feel trapped. “I know I messed up. And I know I probably don’t get to ask for anything from you anymore, but” He hesitates, his voice barely above a whisper. “Can I just explain?”

You shake your head, looking away. “Jack-”

“Please.”

That one word pulls something deep in your chest. It’s quiet and desperate and so different from the last time you spoke, from the sharp edged way he threw his words at you like knives, cutting you open and then leaving you there to bleed.

This Jack, the one standing in front of you now isn’t the same.

But does it even matter?

You take a shaky breath, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. “Why now?”

Jack flinches, like the question physically hits him. “Because I’m not” He exhales sharply, jaw tightening. “Because I should’ve told you everything back then. And I didn’t. And I hate myself for it.”

You swallow past the lump in your throat, your arms falling to your sides. “And you think telling me now is going to change anything?”

Jack hesitates. “No. But I can’t keep” He stops, shaking his head like he’s trying to find the right words. “I can’t let the last thing I ever say to you be that.”

Your heart twists.

Because neither can you.

But you don’t know if you’re ready for this. You don’t know if you can stand here and listen to him tell you things that should have been said back in New Jersey. months ago.

And yet, you don’t move.

Jack watches you, waiting, his hands clenched at his sides. And for the first time since you left New Jersey, it actually looks like he’s scared.

Not losing you.

But because he already did.

The night air feels too heavy, pressing against your skin as you stand there, caught between the past and whatever this moment is supposed to be. Jack looks like he’s waiting for you to run, like he wouldn’t even blame you if you did.

And maybe you should. Maybe you should turn around go back inside pretend this never happened.

But your feet stay planted.

Jack shifts again, exhaling through his nose. “I don’t know how to do this,” he admits quietly.

You huff out a breath, crossing your arms. “You should’ve figured that out before you” Your voice catches, the words cutting into you as much as they do him. Before you pushed me away. You can’t say it out loud. You won’t.

Jack flinches anyway like he heard it.

“I know,” he says, and it’s not defensive not sharp. Just raw. “I know I handled everything wrong. I know I hurt you.” He swallows hard. “I just, I thought if I could just get through the season, if I could just push through everything, it would get better. That I’d get better.”

You frown, your arms tightening around yourself. “And you couldn’t talk to me about that?”

Jack laughs, but it’s empty. “I don’t know. I think I convinced myself that if I said it out loud, it would make it real. And if it was real, then I didn’t know how to deal with it. So I just shut down.”

You blink. You don’t think you’ve ever heard Jack talk about his own feelings like this before, at least not with you, not with anyone. He’s always been the one to feel everything and let it explode out of him in frustration or impulsiveness. Not like this. Not measured and painfully aware of how much damage he caused.

Jack’s hands clench at his sides. “And then when you came to Jersey” His voice drops lower, like he doesn’t even want to say it. “I knew I was losing you. And I didn’t know how to stop it. I was mad at myself, and I was mad at you for” He stops, dragging a hand over his face. “I don’t even know what. But I took it out on you, and I hate myself for it.”

Your breath catches.

Because this is what you needed back then. An explanation. An admission. Something other than the cold, cutting way he pushed you away.

But it’s been months. And you don’t know if hearing it now makes a difference.

Jack steps forward not enough to crowd you, but enough that you can see the way his eyes shine under the streetlight. The way he looks wrecked.

“I love you, I'm sorry. I just miss you.,” he breathes. “Every day.”

Your chest tightens so painfully you think it might break you in half.

You look away, blinking hard. “Jack”

“I know,” he says again, softer this time. “I just” He lets out a slow breath. “I just needed you to know.”

The words hang in the air between you.

And for the first time since you walked away from him, you have no idea what to do.

Your fingers tighten around your arms, nails digging into your skin. “You don’t get to just say that,” you whisper. “You don’t get to show up at my job and” Your voice catches, breath hitching. You shake your head, trying to steady yourself. “And tell me you love me and that you miss me like that means anything after everything.”

Jack flinches, but he doesn’t look away. Doesn’t run. That’s the worst part. You wish he would. It would be easier if he stormed off, if he got frustrated, if he did something that made it easier to hold onto your anger. But instead, he just stands there, taking every word you throw at him like he knows he deserves them.

“It means everything,” he says, voice rough. “It always has.”

Your chest tightens painfully. “Then why did you treat me like I didn’t?”

Jack’s face crumples, and he lets out a slow, unsteady breath. “Because I was a fucking coward.” His voice is barely above a whisper now. “Because I thought pushing you away would hurt less than letting you see how much I was struggling.” He shakes his head, jaw tightening. “But it didn’t. Losing you was the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You swallow hard, blinking rapidly as your vision starts to blur. You don’t want to cry in front of him. You refuse to cry in front of him. Not after everything.

Jack steps closer not enough to touch you, but enough that you can feel the heat radiating off of him. “I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he says. “I don’t expect anything. But I had to tell you the truth. You deserved that.”

You stare at him, breathing shakily. His face is open, vulnerable in a way you’re not sure you’ve ever seen before. Like he’s laid everything bare, like he’s put his heart in your hands even though he knows you have every reason to drop it and let it shatter.

Your fingers twitch at your sides.

You don’t know what to say.

You don’t know how to feel.

All you know is that Jack Hughes is standing in front of you. Your old best friend. Your ex boyfriend. finally talking, finally telling you everything you wanted to hear months ago.

The weight of his words presses down on you, threatening to crack the walls you’ve spent months building around yourself. You force yourself to stand taller, to steel yourself against the way he’s looking at you like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his fingers if he so much as blinks.

Maybe you already have.

“You don’t get to do this,” you say again, voice steadier now, but your hands are still trembling. “You don’t get to walk away, to break me like that, and then show up months later acting like you care.”

Jack’s expression twists, pained. “I never stopped caring.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Just stop.”

Jack drags a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “I know. I fucked up. I know I did. I know I hurt you, and I hate myself for it every single day.” His voice shakes, raw and unfiltered. “I should’ve talked to you. I should’ve let you in. But I was scared, and I-” He stops, his throat bobbing as he swallows hard. “I don’t have an excuse.”

The worst part? You believe him.

You always believe him.

But that doesn’t mean it’s enough.

“I spent two months waiting,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the low hum of the restaurant around you. “Months wondering what I did wrong, why I wasn’t enough for you to stay.”

Jack’s face falls. “It was never about you not being enough.”

“Then why did you let me leave? Why didn’t you stop me before I walked out of that door?” Your voice cracks on the last word. 

Jack looks devastated. “Because I was drowning,” he admits, and the honesty in his voice is almost unbearable. “And instead of reaching for you, I pushed you away because I didn’t want you to see me like that. I thought I was protecting you, but I was just being a selfish asshole.”

You shake your head, trying to will away the lump forming in your throat. “You don’t get to decide what protects me, Jack. That wasn’t your choice to make.”

“I know,” he says, and the sincerity in his voice makes your chest ache. “I know, and I’m sorry.”

You inhale sharply, looking away, because if you look at him any longer, you might break right here in the middle of your shift, in front of all these people.

“I don’t know what you expect me to say,” you admit.

Jack hesitates. “I don’t expect anything. I just” He trails off, his hands clenching at his sides. “I just needed you to know that I never stopped caring. That I still-” He cuts himself off, shaking his head like he’s trying to reel himself back in.

Like he’s about to say something he can’t take back.

Your heart pounds in your chest.

Jack clears his throat, stepping back slightly, like he’s giving you space. “I won’t bother you again if you don’t want me to,” he says quietly. “But if, if there’s even a chance that I haven’t lost you completely-” His voice breaks, and he looks down, swallowing hard. “I’d give anything to fix what I broke.”

You stare at him, your breath shaky.

The worst part is you don’t know if you want him to leave or stay.

All you know is that, despite everything, you still love him.

And you don’t know what the hell to do about it.

Jack’s still standing there, waiting, hands curled into fists like he’s bracing for you to tell him to leave. Like he already knows he deserves it.

And maybe he does.

But that doesn’t make this any easier.

“You should go,” you finally say, forcing the words out past the tightness in your throat.

Jack flinches, just barely, but he nods. “Okay.” His voice is quiet, rough around the edges.

He hesitates for a moment longer, like he wants to say something else, but then he just exhales sharply, turns, and walks away.

You don’t move. You stand there, gripping the tray so tightly your knuckles ache, staring at the spot where he just was.

He actually left.

You should feel relieved. You should feel proud of yourself for standing your ground.

Instead, your stomach churns, and your chest feels like it’s caving in.

You force yourself to move, heading straight to the back of the restaurant to get your stuff before anyone can see the way your hands are shaking. You press your palms against the counter, inhaling sharply, trying to push down the overwhelming wave of emotions threatening to drag you under.

You hate this. You hate that he can still make you feel like this.

And worst of all, you hate that some part of you wanted him to stay.

⟡

You don’t see him again for a few days.

And then suddenly, he’s everywhere.

You see him at the grocery store while you’re grabbing coffee. You turn a corner, and there he is standing in front of the dairy section looking just as caught off guard as you. You don’t even think.You spin on your heel and walk straight out of the store leaving the coffee behind.

A few days later, you spot him at the lake standing at the dock, your dock his hands shoved in his pockets, staring out at the water like it holds all the answers he’s been searching for.

You don’t let yourself wonder what he’s thinking. You turn and walk back home, your stomach twisting painfully.

You don’t let yourself wonder what he’s thinking. You turn and walk back home, your stomach twisting painfully.

It happens again. And again.

At first, you think it’s just bad luck. Michigan is only so big, after all.

But then Luke starts to text you

“Jack’s been asking about you.”

You stare at the message for a long time before typing out a response.

“Tell him to stop”

Luke doesn’t reply right away. When he does, it’s just one word

“Okay”

You don’t know if he actually tells Jack.

But for a while, it seems like he did.

Because you don’t see Jack after that. Not at the grocery store, not at the lake, not anywhere.

It should be a relief.

So why does it feel like an ache settling in your chest?

Did he go back to New Jersey? 

You tell yourself it doesn’t matter. That you wanted this. That you told him to leave you alone. But the words feel thin, like paper that might tear with the wrong touch.

 Luke texts you again after a few days.

“Jack’s still here.”

Your stomach twists.

Your fingers hover over the keyboard before you finally type out a response.

“Why? Isn’t all starts over?”

It only takes Luke a few seconds to reply.

“I don’t know. But he’s not leaving.”

You stare at Luke’s response, your heart pounding.

Jack should be gone by now. He should be in Jersey practicing. He has no reason to still be here.

Unless he's still here for you. You shake your head, pushing the thought away before it can settle. You can’t do this again. You can’t let yourself hope.

Your phone buzzes again.

“Have you seen him?” Luke asks.

You swallow hard.

“No. And I don’t want to.”

It’s a lie. 

Luke doesn’t call you out on it, but his next message lingers on the screen, making your chest ache.

“I think he’s waiting for you.”

You don’t answer. You don’t know how to.

Because you know Luke’s right. Jack wouldn’t still be here if he wasn’t waiting for something.

You shut off your phone, but it doesn’t stop the way your thoughts spin. The way your stomach twists at the idea of Jack still being here, waiting.

For days, you’d been looking over your shoulder, avoiding places he might be. But now, knowing that he hasn’t left, knowing that he’s lingering in the same town, waiting for something, you. makes it worse.

You want to be angry. You want to be relieved. Instead, you just feel exhausted. Because if Jack is waiting, it means this isn’t over. And you don’t know if you have it in you to face him again.

After a few days on Monday night, Luke texts you again.

"Jack left."

You stare at the message for a long time, reading it over and over again like maybe you’ve misunderstood. But it’s right there, plain as day. Jack is gone.

Your chest tightens, and you don’t know if it’s relief or something closer to disappointment that settles in your bones. You should be happy. This is what you wanted, right? For him to leave you alone?

Your fingers hover over the keyboard before you finally type out a response.

"Back to Jersey?"

Luke replies almost immediately.

"Yeah. He flew out this morning."

You don’t answer. You don’t know what to say.

For the next few weeks, life goes back to normal. Or at least, as normal as it can be when there’s still a Jack shaped hole in your life. The weight in your chest doesn’t fade, but you learn to live with it. You stop looking over your shoulder. You go back to the places you avoided before. You try to move on.

But it’s not that easy.

You still reach for your phone sometimes, instinctively, before remembering there’s no reason to. You still think about him when you pass by the lake, still catch yourself wondering what he’s doing, if he ever thinks about you, if New Jersey feels as lonely for him as Michigan does for you.

But you don’t let yourself ask.

⟡

summer comes around

Its been six months without jack in your life. 3 months since you last talked.

It starts the way it always does long days, warm nights, the kind of stillness in the air that makes everything feel slower. You throw yourself into work, trying not to think about how different this summer feels without Jack.

It happens on a quiet summer evening.

You’re sitting on Luke’s dock, legs dangling over the edge, the warm air thick with the scent of the lake. It’s one of those nights where the water is still, the sky is streaked with soft orange, and everything feels suspended in time.

Luke sits beside you, tossing small rocks into the water. It’s easy, comfortable like it always has been with him. No pressure to talk, no need to fill the silence.

For the first time in a long time, you almost feel okay.

And then you hear it.

The crunch of tires on gravel. The low hum of an engine cutting off. A car door slamming shut.

Your entire body tenses. Luke shifts beside you, tossing one last rock into the water before letting out a sigh.

You don’t turn around. You don’t move at all. Maybe if you stay still, if you pretend you didn’t hear it, it won’t be real.

But then you heard. Footsteps.

Your breath catches in your throat.

Luke is the one who finally breaks the silence.

“You’re back,” he says, voice unreadable.

Your fingers clench against the wood of the dock.

And then Jack’s voice.

“Yeah.”

Luke exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “I thought you weren’t coming home until next week.”

Jack shrugs, shifting his weight. “Changed my flight.”

Luke doesn’t say anything for a moment, just glances at you before shaking his head. “Of course you did.”

You swallow hard, your grip tightening on the edge of the dock. Your heart is pounding, but you force yourself to keep your face neutral.

Luke lets out a sigh, shoving his hands in his hoodie pocket. “I’m gonna head inside,” he says, his voice careful, like he already knows you’re about to protest.

Your head snaps toward him. “Luke”

He just shrugs, backing away. “You should talk.”

Fuck you luke

And before you can argue, he’s already walking up the dock, leaving you alone with Jack.

The air feels thick with something unspoken as Luke disappears into the house, the sound of the door shutting behind him echoing across the quiet lake.

You don’t look at Jack. Not right away. Instead, you stare down at the rippling water, your pulse hammering against your ribs.

Jack shifts on his feet, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. “Didn’t think I’d see you here,” he says after a long moment. His voice is quieter than you expected. Careful.

You swallow hard. “Yeah, well. I didn’t think you were coming back today.”

Jack exhales, and you finally force yourself to glance at him. He looks tired. The dark circles under his eyes are more pronounced, his usual easy posture stiff, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to be here.

“I was gonna wait,” he says, his gaze flickering to yours before dropping to the dock. “But I just I don’t know. I didn’t want to wait anymore.”

Your fingers curl against the wood, nails pressing into the grain. “For what?”

Jack lets out a breath, shaking his head slightly. “For this,” he says. “For seeing you.” He stops, his throat bobbing. “For whatever happens next.”

A lump rises in your throat. You want to tell him nothing happens next. That it’s too late. That he made sure of that months ago.

But the words won’t come.

Instead, you stare at him, your chest tightening with something you don’t want to name. Something fragile and painful and real.

Jack takes a small step forward. “I know you don’t want to see me,” he says. “And I get it. I do. But I just I couldn’t stay away.”

You let out a shaky breath, looking back at the water. “Maybe you should have.”

Jack flinches, just barely. “Maybe,” he admits. “But I didn’t.”

Silence stretches between you, heavy and suffocating. The lake laps gently against the shore, the summer air warm around you.

Jack shifts again, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know if you’ll ever want to talk to me again,” he says, voice rough. “But I had to come back. Even if it’s just to tell you I’m sorry.”

Your throat tightens. “Jack-”

“I’ll leave if you want me to,” he interrupts, holding your gaze. “I swear. Just say the word.”

You don’t say anything. You don’t trust yourself too.

Because for months, you thought you wanted him to stay gone. But now that he’s here, standing in front of you, looking at you like that.

You’re not sure anymore.

Jack watches you, his breathing uneven, like he’s waiting for a reaction, any reaction. But you can’t give him one. Not yet.

Your chest feels too tight, your mind racing through everything at once. The months apart. The silence. The way he shattered everything with a few careless words. And now he’s here, standing on the dock like he belongs, like he can just step back into your life because he decided he’s ready.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” you say finally, your voice quieter than you want it to be.

Jack runs a hand through his hair, his lips pressing into a tight line. “Nothing,” he says. “I just don't want to leave things like this.”

You let out a short, humorless laugh. “Like what, Jack?”

“Like I broke everything and never tried to fix it.”

Your stomach twists. You stare at him, searching his face for the version of him you used to know the boy who used to feel like home. But all you see is the space between who he was and who he’s become, and you don’t know if you fit anywhere in between.

“You did break everything,” you say, and your voice wavers despite your best effort to keep it steady. “And then you let me leave”

Jack’s jaw tightens. “I know,” he murmurs. “And I hated it.”

“Then why did you do it?”

Jack doesn’t answer right away. He looks away, out at the lake, like the words are stuck in his throat. When he speaks again, his voice is barely above a whisper.

“Because I was scared I told you this.”

The confession hangs between you, thick with regret. You should be angry. Maybe you are. But beneath it, there’s something else, something raw and aching, something that feels dangerously close to understanding.

Jack exhales, shaking his head. “I messed up,” he says. “I know I did. And I don’t expect you to just forget it, or forgive me, or anything like that. I just, I needed to see you. Even if it’s just this once.”

Your fingers curl against the wood of the dock. You should tell him to leave. You should walk away first. But you don’t. It’s his dock after all.

Because for all the hurt and anger and unanswered questions, for all the ways he’s let you down. Jack has always been the one person you could never quite let go of.

Jack shifts, shoving his hands in his hoodie pocket, looking down at the worn wooden boards of the dock. “I don’t know if it means anything,” he says, voice quiet, “but I never stopped thinking about you.”

Your breath catches, and you hate how much those words stir something inside you. “Thinking about me didn’t stop you from ignoring me and pushing me away when all I wanted to do is be there for you. you stopped letting me in Jack."

Jack flinches. “I know.” His voice is hoarse, raw, like he’s forcing the words out. “And I don’t expect you to believe me, but I hated myself for it.”

You shake your head, looking back at the water, your hands gripping the edge of the dock like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded. “Hating yourself doesn’t change anything, Jack.”

Jack exhales, long and unsteady. “I know that too.”

Silence stretches between you again. The lake ripples gently against the shore, the air thick with humidity and something you can’t name.

Then, he moves. Just barely. A half step closer. Not enough to bridge the distance, but enough that you can feel it his presence, his hesitation, his regret.

“I won’t push,” he says after a long moment. “I just needed you to know. That I never stopped caring. That I never stopped-” He exhales sharply, cutting himself off before the word loving can leave his lips.

You close your eyes for a second, forcing yourself to breathe.

When you finally look at him, he’s already watching you, his expression open in a way it never was before. Vulnerable. Honest.

You don’t know what to do with that.

“I don’t know jack.”

Jack nods once, like he expected that. Like he’s bracing himself for the inevitable. But then, instead of walking away, instead of saying goodbye he just says, “I’ll see you around.”

And then he does walk away, up the dock, back toward the house, leaving you there with nothing but the echo of his words and the sound of the water lapping at the shore.

You don’t move for a long time.

Because you don’t know what you want anymore.

You don’t move until the sound of the screen door clicking shut fades into the stillness of the lake. Even then, your muscles stay locked, fingers clenched against the dock, breathing shallow like if you breathe too hard, everything will come crashing down again.

Luke was right. You should talk.

But what does talking even fix?

What does this fix?

The summer air is warm, but you feel cold. Cold in a way that has nothing to do with the breeze rolling off the water and everything to do with the way Jack just looked at you like he was still searching for something in you, something familiar, something that maybe isn’t his to find anymore.

And yet. You should’ve felt relieved when he walked away.

But all you feel is this dull ache in your chest, pressing against your ribs like it’s trying to crawl its way out.

A deep sigh from behind you breaks your trance.

You don’t have to turn around to know Luke is back.

You wipe at your face quickly though you don’t think you’re crying and only glance at him when he drops down beside you on the dock, stretching his legs out in front of him.

“You wanna hit me for leaving?” he asks casually, tossing a rock into the water.

You scoff, but there’s no real heat behind it. “You’re an asshole.”

Luke grins, but it fades quickly. “You okay?”

You don’t answer right away, just stare at the water, the ripples from his rock barely noticeable. “I don’t know,” you admit.

Luke hums like he expected that. He leans back on his hands, looking up at the sky, the sun sinking lower, painting streaks of pink and orange through the clouds.

“I didn’t know he was coming back today. I would’ve told you.,” he says after a moment. “Thought it was next week.”

You swallow, shifting your hands in your lap. “I know.”

“I also didn’t know he was gonna come straight here.”

Your stomach twists. “He came straight here?”

Luke nods. “Dropped his bag in the house and then walked out here.” He pauses, glancing at you. “Think that means something.”

You shake your head. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Make it sound like” You cut yourself off, gritting your teeth. “Like it changes anything.”

Luke doesn’t argue. He just looks back at the lake. “Doesn’t have to change anything,” he says simply. “But I think it means he cares.”

You let out a short laugh, bitter and tired. “Caring wasn’t the problem.”

Luke tilts his head, considering that. “No,” he agrees. “But it’s a start.”

You don’t respond.

Because you don’t know what to say.

Jack came back. He came straight to you. He stood there, waiting, offering something not a fix, not an excuse, but something.

And maybe it’s not enough.

But maybe it’s not nothing, either.

You watch the water for a long time, the sky shifting from soft sunset hues to deeper shades of blue. Luke doesn’t press, doesn’t push. He just sits there, existing beside you, letting the quiet settle.

And when the last bit of daylight fades, and the only sounds left are the soft chirping of crickets and the gentle lap of the water against the shore, you finally let yourself whisper the thing you haven’t allowed yourself to say for months.

“I don’t know how to hate him.”

Luke doesn’t look at you, but you feel his understanding in the way his shoulder bumps against yours.

“Maybe you don’t have to.”

You exhale, long and shaky.

You don’t know if he’s right. You don’t know what any of this means. But for the first time in a long time, you don’t feel as certain about keeping Jack out as you once did. 

And that terrifies you more than anything.

You don’t move for a long time. Neither does Luke.

The two of you sit there, the night settling around you, wrapping the dock in quiet, in something close to peace. If it weren’t for the weight sitting heavy in your chest, you could almost pretend everything was normal.

But it’s not and it hasn’t been for a long time.

Luke finally shifts beside you, rubbing his hands together as if to warm them, but you know it’s not the cold he’s trying to get rid of. You can feel the quiet question in the way his gaze lingers on you, but he doesn’t press, doesn’t ask what’s going on in your head. He doesn’t need to.

“You know, I always thought it was pretty simple,” Luke says, his voice casual again, though there’s a hint of something deeper in it. “You and Jack. The way you two were.”

You glance at him quickly, surprised by the words. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs, looking at the sky, then at the water. “You always seemed like two halves of the same whole, you know? Like it was just meant to be.” He exhales slowly, like it’s a thought that’s been lingering in his mind for a while. “But sometimes, I guess, it’s not that simple. people change.”

You feel a pang in your chest at that something between regret and hope. You want to say something, but you don’t have the words. You want to scream at him that it was simple, that it was easy, until it wasn’t. But all that comes out is a soft exhale.

“It doesn’t feel like it’s supposed to be this hard,” you say quietly, and it’s the truth. The way Jack left.the way you left. The way things ended. All of it feels like a twisted knot you’ve been trying to unravel for months, but every time you get close, it tightens again.

Luke’s voice cuts through your thoughts. “What do you think it means, that he came back?”

The question hangs in the air, and you feel it weigh on you, pressing into your ribs like a cold hand. Jack didn’t have to come back. He didn’t have to show up here, and yet he did.

You want to tell Luke that you don’t care. That it doesn’t matter. But you can’t. Not anymore.

“I don’t know,” you admit, your voice small. “I don’t know if it means anything at all.”

“Maybe it doesn’t,” Luke says, his voice softening. “But I think you want it to mean something.”

You don’t respond. You don’t know how. The truth is, you do want it to mean something, but you’re too scared to hope that it might. And that kind of pain? You’re not sure if you can handle it again.

Luke stands up slowly, stretching his arms above his head. “Hey,” he says, glancing at you with that same steady, knowing look. “I know you’re not ready for whatever this is with Jack. But you’ve gotta stop pretending that you don’t care. You’re better than that.”

You swallow, a lump rising in your throat. It’s easier to pretend you don’t care, to convince yourself that it’s over, that Jack’s no longer a part of your life. But that’s not the truth. The truth is every part of you still aches for him.

“I’m not pretending,” you finally say, your voice barely above a whisper. “I just don’t know what to do with it.”

Luke nods, his eyes softening, but he doesn’t say anything more. He doesn’t need to. You feel the weight of his unspoken words settle between you, and for the first time in a long while, the silence doesn’t feel suffocating.

“I’ll leave you to think about it,” Luke says after a moment, his voice a little more playful, breaking the tension. “Just don’t stay out here all night, okay? We’ve got a long summer ahead of us.”

You nod, the smallest smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah. Thanks, Lukey.”

He gives you one last, lingering look before heading inside. You watch his silhouette disappear into the house, and once again, you’re left alone on the dock, staring out at the lake, the endless expanse of water stretched out before you.

But this time, it’s different. For the first time, you feel like you’re not completely alone. Like, maybe, just maybe, you don’t have to figure everything out tonight.

Jack came back. He showed up. And you’re not sure what that means, but you can’t help but wonder if it’s the first step back to something real.

The night is quiet again, the world around you settling into that peaceful hum it always does at this hour. The crickets are still singing, the water is still lapping against the shore. And in the distance, you can hear the faintest sound of footsteps on the dock, a reminder that things might be changing, and you’re not sure where they’ll lead.

But you’re willing to find out.

Luke’s footsteps fade as he heads back inside, leaving you alone on the dock with your thoughts. The evening air is cooler now, the breeze brushing against your skin, but you barely notice. The lake reflects the dimming sky, ripples catching the fading light, as if the world is holding its breath.

It feels almost peaceful here, a quiet that’s both comforting and suffocating at once. You’ve spent countless evenings on this dock, but tonight is different. Everything is different. You don’t know if it's the weight of the words Luke left you with, or the fact that Jack's presence still lingersin the air. But something inside you is shifting, and you don’t know how to stop it.

⟡

You don’t notice at first.

Not really.

The little things. The quiet ways Jack moves around you, never asking for anything, never forcing his way in.

There’s always an extra water bottle in the fridge, the brand you like, the one you always reach for first. It’s never mentioned, never pointed out, just there, cold and waiting. One time, you grab the last one, and the next morning, the fridge is stocked again. You don’t see him do it, but you know it’s him.

When you sit outside with Luke in the evening, Jack’s hoodie somehow ends up draped over the back of your chair. It’s too warm for it, but you don’t move it. It smells like detergent and something that’s just him. Familiar. Unavoidable. When the wind picks up and the air shifts cooler, you don’t think before pulling it on. Later, when you catch him looking at you in it, he doesn’t say anything. Just presses his lips together and looks away.

At dinner, he never takes the seat next to you. Not once. He could, but he doesn’t. Instead, he sits just far enough that you don’t have to acknowledge him, but close enough that if you need the salt or the serving spoon or another napkin, he can pass it to you without hesitation. He does every time, even when someone else could. You don’t thank him, but you never don’t take it.

You say you’re not hungry one night, push your plate away after barely picking at it. No one calls you on it. No one says anything. But later, when you go into the kitchen, the snack you like is left on the counter. No note. No explanation. Just there. You stare at it for a long time before taking it to your room.

When you sit with everyone on the dock, he’s always the last one inside. It’s not obvious, not really, but it happens every time. He waits until you’ve gone in first, even if it means staying out later than he would otherwise.

You don’t catch him looking at you much. He doesn’t push, doesn’t try to talk about things you’re not ready for. But when he walks by, his hand lingers for just a second on the back of your chair. A second too long to be incidental, too short to be anything more. Just enough for you to notice.

And maybe it doesn’t mean anything.

Or maybe it does.

You’re not sure which thought is worse.

The house is quiet when you slip out.

Everyone else is asleep, the soft hum of the AC the only sound as you step carefully over the creaky floorboards. The cool night air hits you the second you step outside, the warmth of the house falling away as you make your way down toward the dock.

You don’t know why you’re out here. Or maybe you do. Maybe it’s the way the weight in your chest feels heavier inside, how the silence of the guest room is too loud, pressing in on you in a way you can’t shake. Out here, the night stretches wide, the water calm, dark, endless.

You sit at the edge of the dock, legs dangling over, the tips of your toes skimming the surface. The water ripples, soft and slow, carrying secrets you don’t have the words for.

You wrap your arms around yourself, staring out across the lake, watching the way the moonlight dances over the water. It’s peaceful, quiet in a way that should feel empty but doesn’t.

The sound of a door creaking open catches your attention. Your heart jumps, and instinctively, your gaze shifts toward the sound. You don’t need to look to know who it is.

Jack.

He’s standing at the end of the dock now, his figure barely visible in the low light, but you can feel the tension in the air between you. The same tension that’s been building for months, even before he left, before everything turned to dust.

You don’t say anything, just stare at him. You can feel his gaze on you, searching, waiting. There’s something in his eyes, something deeper than the uncertainty in yours. Maybe he’s been carrying this weight too.

Finally, his voice breaks the silence, a little quieter than usual. “I thought you’d be asleep by now.”

Your stomach drops. You didn’t expect him to be here. Not like this, not after everything.

You let out a shaky breath and glance at him, your throat tight. “Was just about to go back to the room.” you reply, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. It’s the truth if only because you don’t want to be here anymore, alone with all these feelings.

He doesn’t respond right away, just stands there, his hands shoved into his pockets. You try to ignore the way your heart stutters in your chest at the sight of him. The Jack you knew is still there, but there’s something different, something unsure in the way he holds himself now.

And then you remember what Luke said. “He didn’t have to come back. He didn’t have to show up here, and yet he did.”

Jack didn’t have to come here. He could have gone anywhere else. But he chose this place. He chose to come to you.

Your thoughts start to unravel, and before you can stop yourself, the question slips out. “Luke told me you came straight here. No unpacking, no nothing. Just here.”

Jack’s gaze flickers briefly to the ground, but he doesn’t say anything for a long moment. When he speaks again, his voice is low, almost a whisper. “Yeah. I didn’t really know where else to go.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for the first time in months, you feel like you might be able to breathe again. He didn’t know where else to go. It doesn’t mean everything’s fixed, doesn’t mean you’ve figured out what you’re supposed to do now, but it’s something.

You stand slowly, moving to the edge of the dock, the space between you two still stretching, but somehow smaller now. You look at Jack, really look at him. His eyes are dark, unreadable, but there’s something soft there now, something vulnerable.

You don’t know how to say it. You don’t know what to say. All you know is that the walls you’ve built between you and him no matter how high they were are starting to crack.

“Jack,” you start, but your voice falters. “what does this mean? Coming back like this?”

His gaze shifts back to you, and you see him swallow hard. His jaw tightens, but there’s a hesitation in his eyes, a sign that maybe he’s been struggling with this too.

“I don’t know,” he admits quietly. “I just couldn't stay away. I thought I could. Thought I was better off doing this on my own, but I was wrong.”

You take a step forward, closing the distance between you, feeling that familiar pull in your chest that’s been there from the very start.

Jack doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything for a moment, and you’re not sure what to expect. But then, his hand reaches out, tentatively, like he’s testing the waters. He doesn’t touch you, doesn’t grab your arm or pull you in, but you can feel the warmth of his fingers just inches from your skin.

The air around you both is thick, charged with everything you’ve both been holding back for so long. You don’t know where this will lead, don’t know what happens next. But for the first time in a long time, you’re not scared of it.

You swallow and take that last step forward, your hand reaching for his, fingers brushing ever so gently. Neither of you pulls away.

You glance at Jack again, and the weight of everything, the unanswered questions to the unanswered feelings , the cold silences, the way everything has shifted between you two starts to settle back on your shoulders. It all feels so close, like you could reach out and touch it, but you’re not sure if you want to.

"I didn't think you'd come back this early," you say, breaking the silence, your voice more neutral than you feel. "I was told you were coming back next week."

Jack’s eyes flick over to you for a second, but he doesn’t look like he has an answer. He shrugs, a little sheepish. "I thought I’d head back sooner. Wasn’t much keeping me there. Kinda just wanted to get home." He glances down at the dock, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. "I guess I just wanted to clear my head, I guess."

You look away, not sure how to respond. The words you’ve been holding onto are trapped somewhere deep inside you, and they don’t seem to want to come out right now. It’s almost easier to stay quiet, to pretend you don’t care, than to admit how much you still feel like you’re waiting for something, anything, to change.

You let the silence linger between you two, the soft lapping of the water against the dock filling the space where words should be. 

Jack shifts beside you, but he doesn’t push. He’s waiting for you to speak. And for the first time in a long time, you realize how much you miss the quiet moments with him. How easy it used to be, before everything got so complicated. Before you ended things in New Jersey, when you left feeling more lost than when you got there.

"I didn't want it to end the way it did," you say, almost too quietly. You know it’s not a huge revelation, but somehow the weight of it feels bigger now that it’s out in the open. "I thought Maybe if you had just talked to me, things would’ve been different. But you didn’t. And I couldn’t just wait around for you to figure it out."

Jack doesn’t reply right away. His face is unreadable, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s even hearing you. Then he finally looks over, his gaze soft but guarded. "I know I screwed up. I was just trying to figure stuff out myself, but I wasn’t ready to talk about it. I didn’t want to drag you into it."

There’s a rawness in his voice that you didn’t expect. It’s not a perfect apology, but it’s real. And that feels like a step, even if it’s a small one.

"I don’t know what we’re doing," you admit, running a hand through your hair, frustration seeping through despite yourself. "I don’t know if we can just pick up where we left off. But it’s hard, Jack. It’s really hard."

He leans back on his hands, looking at the sky, a long breath leaving his chest. "I don’t expect things to go back to how they were," he says quietly. "I just want to make things right. I don’t know if that’s even possible, but I’m here. I’m here if you want to figure it out."

You pause, your heart racing even though the conversation is as calm as it’s been in a long time. There’s a quiet truth to what he’s saying. And while you’re still unsure about everything, you can’t help but feel like maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of something different.

You don’t know what’s going to happen, but for the first time in months, you're not as scared of finding out.

You stand there quietly, staring at the water, unsure of what to say. The weight of everything that’s happened between you and Jack feels heavier tonight. You’ve spent months pushing down your feelings, convincing yourself that moving on was the right thing to do. But now that he’s here, standing next to you again, everything you thought was buried deep inside resurfaces.

You can feel his gaze on you, steady, waiting for some kind of response, but all you can manage is silence. It’s not that you don’t know what to say it’s just that you’re afraid of saying the wrong thing.

The words finally break free when you speak quietly, your voice almost trembling. “I still care about you, Jack. I always have.”

You turn your head to meet his eyes, and there’s a vulnerability in them that you can’t hide anymore. He looks like he’s waiting for something more, something deeper, but you're not sure if you’re ready to give that yet.

“I never stopped loving you,” you admit softly, the words escaping before you even realize you’ve said them.

Jack’s expression softens, and you see the relief in his eyes. He’s been waiting to hear that for so long, and you know it. But at the same time, the confession feels like a weight you weren’t quite prepared for.

“But,” you add, your voice trembling slightly, “it’s not that simple. I can’t just go back to the way things were. I can’t pretend like everything that happened didn’t matter.”

Jack doesn’t interrupt. He just listens, nodding, waiting for you to continue.

“I still care about you,” you say again, this time with more certainty. “I still love you, but we can’t just jump right back into this. Not after everything. Not after how it ended. It’s not that easy.”

There’s a quiet understanding in his eyes, the kind that makes you feel seen and heard in a way you didn’t think was possible. But there’s also a hint of sadness, and you know it’s because he wants more. He wants to make things right. But you need time. You need space to figure out what it is you really want.

“I’m not asking you to forget everything,” Jack says, his voice low but steady. “I’m just asking for a chance. I haven't changed, it's just difficult.”

You want to believe him. You want to believe that the guy sitting next to you now is the same person who left for New Jersey, the one who shut you out when he needed you the most. But at the same time, part of you can’t help but wonder if it’s all just words.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “I know you want to fix things, Jack. And I want that too. But we need to take this slow. I need time. I can’t just rush back into something that hurt me so much.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, his eyes never leaving yours. It’s like he’s weighing your words, taking them in before he responds.

“I’m okay with that,” he says finally. “I don’t expect things to go back to normal overnight. I’m not going anywhere, though. I’ll be here. I just I need you to know that I want to make it right. I’m willing to wait. As long as it takes.”

You look at him, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you feel a flicker of hope. It’s not a guarantee. It’s not a promise that things will be easy, but it’s something. Something real.

You swallow hard, your throat tight. “I can’t promise you anything right now, Jack. But I’m not going to shut you out. I’m not going to pretend like I still don't want to be with you.”

His expression softens, and for a moment, it feels like the tension that’s been lingering between you two lifts just a little. It’s not perfect. It’s not fixed. But it’s a start.

“I’m okay with taking it slow,” Jack says quietly, his hand shifting closer to yours, but not quite reaching for it. He’s giving you the space you need.

You nod, glancing back at the water. The night feels different now, the air softer, like something is shifting. Maybe it’s not everything you want yet, but it’s something. Something you can work with.

“We’ll take it one step at a time,” you whisper, the weight of those words settling into your chest. “But no promises.”

Jack smiles, a little more hopeful now, but he doesn’t push. He understands.

And for the first time in those six months since the break up, you feel like maybe just maybe this is the beginning of something real again. Something that can’t be rushed.

[dreamsteddie]

Once Steve and Eddie come out to the broader world, Eddie's floodgates open, and before interviewers can even think to ask about his "long-term partner and love of my life" Eddie starts gabbing about Steve almost as soon as a microphone is put near his face.

At first, Eddie refuses any and all requests to be on talk shows or long-form interviews. Steve himself has no desire to be interviewed ever, and Eddie wants the media hype to die down before he makes any big appearances off the stage. He knows that if he does the conversation will be a glorified investigation into his private life no holds bared.

So Eddie takes the occasional question after a show or on the red carpet but always dominates the conversation and finishes quickly. He's always dropping little tidbits about Steve, even if it's just talking about whether or not he was able to make the show or how handsome he looks in their matching outfits today.

Once the hype dies down and the media vultures aim their beaks at another celebrity, Eddie agrees to do a couple of talk shows with the rest of the band.

Everything is normal. The focus is on their next leg of the tour and the music video they released last week that went viral. Right up until the last three or so minutes when the interviewer asks, kindly, how his boyfriend Stevie is doing.

Stevie.

As in Eddie's Stevie.

The name only Eddie and Robin have ever called him. The name that used to make Steve flush so pretty when they first started drifting together. The name that still makes Steve give him one of those pleased little smiles that make his heart pitter-patter in his chest years later.

Eddie's hackles are immediately raised at the audacity of this stranger to talk about his boyfriend so familiarly. His shoulders rise, eyes narrowing ready to say something scathing when the rest of the band notices and steps in. Jeff drops a not-so-friendly hand on Eddie's shoulder while Freak steps in to very loudly tell a funny story about the last time Steve joined them on the road. Emphasizing "Steve" a little too much as he does.

When Eddie finally gets to stalk off stage he's let himself get worked into a tizzy. Logically, it's not a big deal but Eddie has always been territorial when it came to Steve and has been even more on edge since they came out. The idea of anyone outside of their family acting like they know them, know him, just because he's married to Rockstar Eddie Munson and shows up in the occasional gossip rag makes him so fucking mad.

As soon as he's backstage he's dialing Steve's number, impatiently running one hand through his hair as the phone rings and rings. As soon as he hears the beginning of Steve's standard WASPy "Hello, this is the Harrington-Buckley residence, Steve speaking" greeting Eddie launches into a long rant about "the audacity of media vultures."

Steve doesn't say a word the entire time, just letting Eddie vent out his frustrations. At the end, Steve lets the silence linger for a little bit before speaking.

"Hey babe?"

"Yeah, Stevie?"

"I don't know how to tell you this but you've been referring to me exclusively as 'Stevie' since we came out. I'm pretty sure when we made the announcement you said 'This is my Stevie. He's been my partner for six years.'"

".....what?"

"In fact, I'm sure that's exactly what you said because Robin replaced all my nametags at work with ones that said 'My Stevie' because she has the sense of humor of a middle schooler."

"God fucking damn it!"

They hang up not long after. When Eddie looks up for the first time since he dialed Steve's number he's met with the rest of the band and their personal crew all wearing various faces of exasperation.

Sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck, he rocks on the balls of his feet and says "Sooooooo...I may have overreacted."

----

The next day, despite Eddie's hopes that his outburst wasn't that noticeable, his clearly irate face is the subject of every magazine and gossip rag at the grocery store.

Robin frames her favorite one and gives it to Eddie for his birthday.

[eggrollforyou]

Research

Law x F!reader

CW: NSFW, MDNI, unprotected sex, sex pollen trope, p in v, pwp, that's all I remember idk 😅

“Y/N-ya,” Law calls out to you, tapping his knuckles as he pushes the door open to your workspace. He crosses his arms in the doorway as he leans against the frame, a small smirk as he admires you. “It's late, let's get to bed.”

You're so immersed in cataloguing the latest round of flora the crew brought you on the last island stop, you don't respond as you work. As the crew's botanist, it was your job to catalogue all the amazing new plants you came across on the Grand Line.

You haven't even registered Law’s calls to you, this batch being particularly difficult to process, as you work on trying to identify the bundle of blood red flowers in your hand. They resemble magnolias, with large red petals, pale yellow stamens and a bright orange pistil.

You jump, startled from your concentration when Law gently places his hand on your shoulder. “SHIT!” you cry out, hand reaching to your beating heart, “Oh my god, Law, you scared me!” Coughing as the pollen on the stamens shake loose, thinking nothing of it, reeling still from being startled.

“It's late, you can finish this tomorrow, let's go to bed,” Law continues as he gently rubs his hands along your arms and shoulders. ‘It must be really late if Law is telling me to go to bed,’ you think to yourself. Clearing your throat again, you finally yawn, leaning back into his chest, “Alright, let's go,” you resign as you put your work into their respective containers.

As you both walk back to Law’s room, now your shared quarters, Law listens to you intently as you gab about your research for the day. He doesn't understand all of it, which amazes you considering his wealth of physiological knowledge, but he listens nonetheless. As you approach your room you begin to feel warmth spread across your chest, your fingertips tingling, and a familiar ache building deep in your lower belly.

Law notices that you've stopped talking suddenly and guides you into the room, his warm hand pressing on your lower back. It almost burns. As you rub your hands on your upper arms, you feel the burning sensation increase and suddenly feel flushed and overheated.

You don't know what's coming over you. It couldn't be exhaustion, it's never felt like this before. Before you can say anything, Law looks at you worriedly. Your face, neck, and chest are flushed red and you have a sheen of sweat growing across your brow. “Y/N-ya,” the back of his hand touches your forehead, “are you ok?” You wince at the touch as it burns and makes your skin crawl. “I-I don’t know. I feel SO hot. My skin burns…a-and I-I feel this ache,” you trail off as the ache you feel in your chest settles in your lower abdomen. No way…there’s no way this is happening.

Suddenly, you feel pulses of desire coursing through you. Your mind is hazy, all you can focus on is Law’s hand as he reaches for your face. You see his fingers, and that ache grows stronger. Your gaze trails up his arms, as you fixate on every vein and muscle on it, moving further up to his chest. Suddenly, you’re wracked with intense pain causing you to double over and all you can think about is where you want those fingers. What the fuck?! Your knees buckle but catching yourself causes you to rub your thighs together. You have to restrain a lewd moan at the feeling.

Law catches you as you fall forward, his touch again, burning your skin as you try to come to terms with what’s happening. “L-Law, I think I know what’s going on…” you say through gritted teeth. Your hand reaches for his pants. He pulls back slightly, confused, trying to figure out what you’re trying to say, “This isn’t the time for that Y/N-ya, we have to get to the med bay so I can figure out what’s going on, properly,” he tells you sternly. As he puts his hand out to Room you both, you grab his wrist first. “It’s the f-flowers I think,” you stammer, as you wriggle in his hold, rubbing your thighs together to get any relief you possibly could.

“The flowers?! What the fuck do the flowers have anything to do with this?” His eyes scanning you for any kind of hint to make sense of what is happening. “T-there are flowers out here…t-that have pollen that acts as an aphrodisiac…I-I think when you startled me, I inhaled that p-pollen.” His eyes widen, “W-what do you need me to do?” he desperately asks. “P-please, just make it stop, m-make me feel good,” you mutter as you pull him to you and kiss him.

Your teeth click against each other as you moan into Law’s mouth. It takes him a moment to process that this may indeed be what you need and he begins to kiss you back, barely able to match your urgency. “Mmmph…..p-please,” you whisper between your pants, “p-please Law,” you plead as you grasp at anything to give yourself relief.

His hand finds you as he presses the heel of his palm on your clothed clit. You gasp and as if a switch flipped and you can no longer contain yourself. You grind helplessly on his palm, whispering praises between labored breaths and you feel your orgasm building up quickly. Your skin still burns and you feel overheated but every press on your clit and every nip on your neck, you feel electric. Suddenly, you shatter, your orgasm washing over you in waves as it radiates out from your core.

Soon, the aching pain returns in another wave. “F-fuck, Law, it hurts, please…I need y-you,” you babble. Surprised you're able to string a sentence together. You push Law to the bed, his eyes widen in surprise at your current state, but he doesn't stop you when you rip open his shirt, buttons flying everywhere. You both undress quickly and without any further prep, you climb onto Law's lap, lining yourself up with him.

Desperately seeking relief from your pain, you lower yourself, taking his length completely in one swift motion as you both moan. You immediately pick up a swift pace, trying to chase whatever feeling was telling you to take what you needed from him. Your mind is hazy, only registering how full you feel. Feeling every vein against your clenching walls as you bounce up on and down on his cock. You feel another orgasm, building up quickly.

He hisses as you begin to roll your hips on him, grabbing your hips so tightly his knuckles are white. “Mmmmm, f-fuck. You feel so fucking good,” you moan, your head thrown back as you chase your high. “Ah! Shit, Y/N-ya,” he growls. With one last roll of your hips, you cum again, just as intensely as the first.

Suddenly, your concentration is broken as Law pulls you toward him so your chest is on his. He reaches around you, wrapping his arms around you so tightly, it starts to restrict your breath. He bends his knees, plants his feet and begins fucking up into you at a relentless pace.

“Fuuuhhhck, Law! Right there, just like that, right there!” You scream as he fucks into you like he'd never get the opportunity again. The sinful sound of skin meeting skin filling the room almost as loud as your cries of praise. You feel the familiar pull deep in your gut as he keeps up his pace. The drag of his cock in your tensing walls. He doesn't relent and with one of his moans in your ear, you snap and cum again.

Pulsing and clenching, forcing a growl out of Law as you are barely able to whisper your praises and thank yous, completely lost in this feeling of utter bliss. Law flips you over without ever leaving your warmth. He pushes up and swirls his tongue around your nipple, biting it as you arch your back into it.

He continues rutting into you, grip tight on your waist as you take everything he gives you, his pupils blown wide. One might think he inhaled some of the pollen too. He's less worried now that he's seen how each of your climaxes have reduced the uncomfortable effects of the pollen.

“Fuck, Y/N-ya, I'm gonna cum,” he grits his teeth, “w-where do you want me?”

“I-inside, p-please, Law!”

“Fuuuhhhhck,” he cries out as he finishes, pulsing inside of you, watching where you are connected. As you both pant, desperately trying to catch your breath.

He stills and rests his forehead on yours. Both of you spent, dripping sweat, and utterly exhausted. You let out a breath of content, finally feeling back to normal. He pulls out of you with a wince and you pull him forward to press a soft kiss to his cheek, “Thank you….for helping me….even though you caused it in the first place!” you tease. He smirks, “I'll be more careful, next time.”

Tags: @shy-writer-999 @dreamcastgirl99

Dividers by: @cafekitsune

Did you like this? I'm flattered! Wanna read more? Here's my Masterlist!

[phone4pills]

𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄

Chris can’t jerk off by himself, his hands get shaky every time he’s close

Door locked. Lights low. The only sound that could be heard in the room was the quiet coarseness of his grunts, making him dizzy with the hot air of each pants circling his head like a thick fog in an empty room. Lacking you.

This was Chris’ third time trying to get something out of himself, but he was too weak. Every time his body pulsed with the urge to be relieved, hair stuck to his face, jaw hanging slack, his hand would spiral out of control. No good when it came to cumming.

And where were you to help him through all of this? The most you’d given him was a few revealing pictures on your private story. One that you knew he had seen. One that you knew he was shamelessly jerking off to. Chris moaned, thinking about all the things you’d do to him if you were in the room. Tease him. Scold him. Push him past his limits. And fuck, did the thoughts drive his desire.

White knuckles clenching around a sore cock, messy sheets below. The boy’s teeth fall over his lip, clamping down tightly to trap the crude noises he was producing in his throat. But none of it was enough. He needed you. Chris needed you.

He fisted and fisted until the veins in his forearm pressed against the pale, sweat-ridden skin. “Cum, cum…” A raspy whisper fought against his vocal cords. Then his long fingers began to tremble, their grip weakening around Chris’ dick. His wrist tensed up, almost completely frozen in place.

Another orgasm torn away from your needy boy.

A tear of desperation coursed down his cheeks, landing on his bare chest, aching with dissatisfaction. Chris’ head fell back on the headboard with a frustrated whimper. “Fuck- need you…”

:( poor chris, part 2 ?? divider by @strnilolover luv u gabs 💭

- ©phone4pills

[bambiihee]

college tutor jake drabble 👅👅 (as a struggling college student i need to be railed by him so bad)

AFTER CLASS! 심재윤

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ NSFW + MDNI! sim jaeyun x fem!reader ⸝⸝⸝ college au, nerd!jake, popular!reader, switch!jake, reverse cowgirl, unprotected sex, failed pull out, mentions contraception and birth control, creampies, dirty talk, slight breeding kink

[notes༚] this is bad. but i am practicing with writing off the cuff pwp again after not writing it for a while so my skills are rusty lol. not proofread, let me know of any mistakes!

There was no way this could actually be happening. Jake had to be dreaming, or hallucinating, or somehow he had slipped into a coma— something, anything that would explain how you were on top of him, but your warm, sweaty skin feels awfully real under his greedy, groping hands.

he can’t stop himself from feeling you up, gabbing and squeezing fat handfuls of your ass as it shakes in his face; he’s been fantasizing about fucking you since he first laid eyes on you, two long years of yearning and being convinced that he would never get to. you were popular, a cheerleader, the life of the party… and he was just some nerd in a few of your classes. You never even looked his way.

Or so he thought.

Not only did you look at him, you approached him, and asked him to tutor you in your shared mathematics class— he was over the moon.

And now you were naked in his lap, textbooks and papers tossed carelessly onto his bedroom floor, sliding your dripping wet cunt up and down the shaft of his fat, throbbing cock. your hand looks so tiny wrapped around him, pretty nails looking so lewd covered in his precum.

“Do you want me to put it in, Jakey?” you look over your shoulder to coo at him sweetly, melodic voice like honeyed venom.

“O-oh, fuck.” Jake whimpers, his thick framed glasses fogging up from how hard he was panting. “Please! Oh my God, please, please—“

You giggle, delighting in how you’ve already fucked him stupid before you’ve even slid it in. “Alright, but you have to promise not to cum inside of me, alright? I’m not on the pill.”

The thought makes his head swirl. That pretty little pussy you keep flashing in his face is better than any porn he’s ever seen, and to see it creamy and leaking his cum? “O-okay…” he agrees unsteadily, not in the slightest bit confident in his pull out skills.

tortorously slowly do you align his tip to your entrance, blunt bulbous cockhead stretching your pussy lips wide apart to dip into your fluttering hole—

And stop. You shoot him an evil little smile, your eyes dark and daring, and you keep your hips completely still.

Jake just can’t take it anymore. He grabs your hips and tugs you backward, roughly sitting you on his cock in one fluid motion. your pussy’s so wet he slides in without resistance, impaling you impossibly deep. He swore he could feel himself knocking against your belly button.

The shriek you let out is ungodly, a beautiful broken cry that makes Jake's cock twitch. The sensation has you clenching down around him, whimpering as you try to adjust to his size.

“s-so fucking big!” you keen, your eyes rolling back in your head and your mouth dropping open into a perfect ‘o’, “s-so— ah!— it’s so deep, Jakey!”

“Shhh.” Jake soothes you, surprisingly strong arms holding you tight and beginning to bounce you up and down on his cock. His hips thrust up to meet you halfway every time, the force sending shockwaves of red hot pleasure through the both of you. Your pussy makes a filthy wet squelching sound every time your hips meet, drenching his lap in your juices. “Shhh, just take it.”

He pounds you relentlessly, his quick, rough pace never stuttering or slowing down. Your pussy feels like heaven, wet gummy walls squeezing around his throbbing cock and sucking him in deeper and deeper, like it was feeling greedy and begging for more.

“F-feels so f-fuckin’ good,” he whimpers, broad chest shaking with his unsteady breath, “I-I— ah, ah, ah! Fffuckk!”

You squeeze around him purposefully, peeking over your shoulder to watch his face as he loses himself in pleasure. His foggy glasses had slid down to the very tip of his broad nose, threatening to fall off.

When his eyes refocus, they meet yours, and the crooked, devious grin that stretches across his face makes your stomach flip.

Without warning his arm shoots up and grabs you by the back of the neck, shoving your face into the mattress. You’re bent completely over on all fours, spread open and immobilized while he jackhammers up into you. “L-love this pussy~” he moans, his words quickly losing meaning with his brains leaking out of his ears.

Your noises are muffled by the blankets, but Jake’s pretty sure they weren’t words anyway— just broken moans and mindless babbling. Your cunt pulsates around him, slick walls molding to every vein and curve, the pleasure of his cockhead bumping against your cervix pulling pathetic little whimpers from his plump lips that grow louder and louder as his ecstasy builds. He’s never felt pleasure quite like this before, so delicious and intense that it was bordering on overstimulating— his orgasm barrels towards him at an alarming speed, a familiar heat coiling deep in his belly far too soon for his liking.

“i-i’m— ngh! Fuck, i’m gonna—“

His climax hits him before he can even the sentence, only able to pull out halfway before ultimately spilling all of his seed inside your pussy. He watches, transfixed, as it begins to leak from your abused little hole, but he can feel your angry glare on him.

“Sorry...” he says, not sounding sorry at all.

“You’re buying me the warning after pill.” You reply grumpily.

[sturnioz]

─────── ꒰ THE FRAT WEDDING SERIES ꒱ 4, final.

the aftermath of the frat wedding event between shy!reader and fratboy!chris.

꒰ part one ꒱ ꒰ part two ꒱ ꒰ part three ꒱

"it's okay. i'm fine now," you reassure softly, even though your voice still wavers slightly. sniffling, you let out a small, shaky breath as kitty and bee continue to fuss over you; bee gently gabbing your eyes with a tissue, careful not to smudge what's left of your makeup, while kitty works on reapplying it.

you're seated in a garden chair far from the chaos of the main event, tucked away in a quieter part of the garden. the muffle sounds of drunk people and overplayed music echo faintly in the background, and from where you sit, you can still see the mess unfolding.

the crowd is a lot more rowdier now—people stumbling around, drinks sloshing out of their cups and staining clothes, the unmistakable smell of weed lingering in the air and other substances are seen being passed around.

you try your best to tune it all out, but it's difficult.

for the first time, you're desperately wishing that everyone here gets fucked up enough to the point that they'll forget what happened... although the words from before replay in your mind on a cruel loop, and the thought of those phones—how everyone was recording everything—makes your stomach twist uncomfortably.

you swallow the heavy lump in your throat, forcing yourself to keep it together.

a gentle nudge against your shoulder pulls you from your thoughts, and you glance up to see matt beside you, holding out a glass of water. his expression is calm but kind, and you offer him a grateful smile as you take the glass from his hands and sip.

nick sits on your other side, his face stoic, his gazed fixed ahead at the ongoing party. he hasn't said much, which is strange to you. beside him, nate sits with his leg bouncing rapidly, his teeth gnawing anxiously at his nails, seemingly deep in thought.

just as kitty and bee finish touching up your makeup, you flinch slightly as nate suddenly pushing himself up from his chair with so much force that it topples over behind him, the sound making everyone turn their heads toward him.

"alright. i gotta confess—fuck," nate blurts out, his hands flying to his hair as he yanks off the ridiculous pink flamingo glasses he's been wearing all night. his movements are frantic, and he begins to pace, rubbing his hands together like he's trying to calm himself down.

everyone watches him, and you furrow your eyebrows, frowning at his words. but you stay quiet, waiting for him to confess whatever he needed.

"shit, okay, look," he continues, his voice shaky as he talks. "this entire wedding event shit? it was rigged from the start. but hear me out, 'kay? 'cos i feel fuckin' terrible right now. my hearts racin' 'n shit, i feel like i'm about to pass out or somethin'."

your frown deepens, confusion swirling in your chest as you try to piece together what he's saying.

"me 'n a few of the other frat brothers," he gestures wildly with his hands as he speaks. "we only put chris' name in one of the hats—like, only his name a bunch of times. 'cos we thought it'd be funny if he got picked, y'know? sometimes it's funny gettin' him all riled up 'n shit."

you blink at him, his words slowly starting to sink in.

"there... then there's the other hat. the one for the girls," he mutters quietly, licking at his lips nervously. "we thought about puttin' your name in a bunch of times, just so you'd definitely get picked too for some fun. but i felt bad 'cos i know you don't like attention or being in the spotlight or whatever, i didn't want to do that to you."

nate has to pause for a moment to inhale deeply, losing air from talking to fast as he tries his best to explain everything to you.

"so, we only put your name in once—just once... but you still got picked."

you stare at him, your mind racing to process everything he's said. a part of you wants to say something—to ask him why they all thought any of this was a good idea... but the words get stuck in your throat.

"i just..." nate sighs heavily, dragging a hand down his face before letting it fall limp at his side. "i just feel like this is all my fault, y'know? maybe if i wasn't so adamant on only puttin' chris' name in the hat for laughs, or maybe if i didn't put your name in at all, this whole shit wouldn't have happened. none of this would've happened."

he stops pacing now, standing still for the first time since he started talking. his shoulders slump, and his gaze drops to the ground as he mutters.

"i'm sorry, bun. i really fuckin' am."

you're not sure how to respond—not yet, not while everything nate's said is still settling in your mind. the confession feels like a little jab to the gut, sharp and unexpected, leaving a slight ache behind.

you glance at the others, somewhat hoping someone will say something first, but no one speaks right away.

kitty's lips are pressed into a thin line, while matt's rubbing at tense jaw. nick remains stoic, his face unreadable, and bee shifts, her gaze flicking between you and nate, like she doesn't know what to say or do.

"i knew," nick suddenly speaks up, breaking the silence. his voice is quiet, laced with guilt and frustration (mostly at himself). "i knew it was rigged, but i didn't say anything. i should've, but i didn't, because i was hoping it'd be something fun for all of us. but i know chris, so i should've known he'd pull some dumb fucking shit like that. i'm sorry too, bun."

before you can respond, matt speaks up, his voice steady but low. "i also knew," he admits, and your eyes widen slightly in surprise even as kitty nods beside him, admitting she knew too. "like nick said, i thought this would be a fun lil' thing for all of us. but i know chris too. i know the shit he does, so i should've known better... should've known he'd say what he said. i'm sorry."

your eyes slowly flit over to bee, waiting for her to confess something—anything. and for a moment, she hesitates, her hands fidgeting in her lap.

"i didn't know..." she finally says, shaking her head, her voice soft and sorrowful. "i didn't know it was rigged. if i did, i would've said something..."

you remain silent, letting their confessions hang over you. one by one, their voices linger in your mind, each apology adding to the weight that's pressing down harshly against your chest. you can see how sorry they are—how much they regret letting this happen—and despite everything, you know their intentions weren't malicious.

after a long pause, you finally breath, your fingers gripping the edge of your chair as you process your thoughts.

"i'm... not mad at you," you say softly, glancing up at them, your eyes flicking from one face to another. "any of you. i'm not mad at any of you."

they seem to slightly ease up at your words, but the tension doesn't disappear entirely.

"i'm just..." you pause, swallowing hard as that lump in your throat returns. "i'm embarrassed, that's all. i'm embarrassed about what chris said. he didn't have to make it so... public. it's so humiliating, it wasn't funny at all, it—" you stop yourself, shaking your head as your hands curl into fists as the emotions run through you. "it made me feel so awful."

the group falls silent, the weight of your words now settling over them. you wonder if they can see the way your chest tightens, the way the memory of chris' words still make your stomach churn with embarrassment.

nate swears under his breath, pacing back and forth again as if he can't sit still with the guilt eating away at him while bee squeezes herself into the chair beside you, wrapping her arms around you in a tight embrace as she murmurs soft apologies into your ear.

you feel yourself relax, just a little, leaning into her as you rest your cheek against her shoulder. you're not mad at them, but the fact that the majority of them knew about how the event had been rigged and didn't tell you? that stings a little.

you do understand why they didn't though. they wanted to have a good event—well, hoped to have a good event... but at the same time, you can't help but think they should've reconsidered, especially knowing how chris is.

it's a little past midnight when you decide you've had enough, and you find yourself in chris' room, toeing off your shoes and placing them neatly to the side.

you don't really want to say here tonight. if you're honest, you want nothing more than to go home, curl up in your own bed, and forget this entire night ever happened. completely block it out of your memory. but with no way of getting back to your apartment and with nick already gone, you don't have much of a choice.

you should've left with nick. why didn't you?

you shake your head at your stupidity, pushing the thought away as you pad over to the dresser. you pull open the top drawer and begin to rummage through it for your pyjamas, keeping yourself busy to avoid thinking too much.

but the sound of the door opening makes you freeze, and that familiar scent of cologne fills the room. you don't even have to look to know it's chris.

you don't speak, keeping your eyes focussed on the drawer as you pull out a shirt. it's easier to pretend you don't notice him, easier to keep yourself occupied rather than facing him.

"what is it?" his voice startles you, sharp and blunt, and you glance over your shoulder to see him standing by his bed, untying his tie with that familiar annoyed expression on his face. his eyes are fixed on you, and when you don't respond, he pushes further. "huh? what is it?"

you blink, your fingers curling tightly around the fabric of the shirt in your hands. "what are you..."

"you've been weird with me all night, kid," he cuts you off as he yanks the tie off and tosses it carelessly onto the bed. "think i didn't notice you pullin' some runaway bride bullshit?"

you swallow thickly as you turn back to toward the dresser, "you're not funny." you mutter under your breath, trying to keep your voice steady.

"m'not tryin' to be," chris scoffs, his fingers moving to unbutton his shirt. "you gonna tell me what the fuck is goin' on? or you just gonna keep sulkin' all night?"

the word sulking makes your throat tight, and you take a deep breathing, trying to keep your emotions in check. but the humiliation from earlier comes rushing back like a tidal wave.

you can feel the warmth rising in your face, and the tightness in your chest makes it harder to breathe.

you don't want to do this—not right now, not tonight—but chris is standing there, waiting for an answer.

turning slowly, you face him, your fingers still clutching the shirt in your hands as his gaze locks onto yours, and you feel yourself waver under the weight of it.

"you really don't know?" you say finally, your voice quieter than you intended it to be.

chris raises his brow at you, "know what?"

"forget it," you murmur, turning back around. you don't trust yourself to explain it without your voice breaking, and the last thing you want it to spill tears in front of him.

"nah, don't pull that shit," he says, his tone sharper now. "if you've got a problem, just fuckin' say it."

"okay," you find yourself surprisingly snapping, despite your voice trembling slightly. "you... you humiliated me, chris. in front of everyone, you made me look like—like some joke..."

chris doesn't respond right away, his expression unreadable as he stares at you.

"i—i get it, okay?" you continue, unable to stop your rambling. "this whole thing was supposed to be stupid and fun, and i know you hated doing it, but you didn't have to say all that stuff... you didn't have to make it so public and so embarrassing for me," you take a shaky breath, your voice turning softer now. "it wasn't funny. it just... it made me feel awful."

chris exhales through his nose, "you're takin' this way too personally, kid. everyone knows the fuckin' shit we do, yeah? everyone knows we're hooking up so i dunno why you're makin' it such a big deal. it's not that deep."

"you don't get it," you whisper, shaking your head. "i.. i know that people know. i'm not stupid. but it doesn't mean—you can't just—we—"

you stop yourself, your words faltering under the weight of his stare. his head tilts slightly, his brow arching like he's waiting for you to finish.

so, you take another breath, trying to steady yourself before continuing, "you can't just talk about me like that in front of everyone... even if they already know, even if they assume stuff.. it's still humiliating to hear you say it in front of them."

chris is just watching you now, his expression unreadable with his hands shoved into his pockets like he's waiting for you to stop talking so he can continue with the night.

the silence stretches between you, and the longer it lasts, the warmer your face feels with embarrassment. you bite the inside of your cheek, trying not to cry again and make a fool out of yourself.

and then, chris exhales deeply, tilting his head back slightly, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. for a moment, you think he's just going to brush it off again—shrug it away with some dismissive remark about you being too sensitive or dramatic.

but then, he speaks.

"i..." his voice is low, hesitant, like he's testing the word before fully committing to you. it comes out slow, uneven. "i'm... i'm sorry, 'kay?"

the words sound awkward, almost foreign coming from him, and you can't help but stare at him with wide eyes.

chris glances at you, his gaze meeting yours for just a second before flicking away again. his jaw tightens, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek. his eyebrows furrow slightly, and his hands twitch at his sides like he doesn't know what to do with them.

it's obviously clear he's uncomfortable—like this apology is something he's struggling with, something unspoken clawing at his mind but never quite making it out.

"i didn't mean..." he trails off, his words faltering as he shifts in place. his shoulders tense up, and you can see the way his throat bobs as he swallows hard. but instead, he huffs, his lips pressing into a thin line. "didn't mean t'make you embarrassed, s'all."

he doesn't look at you this time. his eyes are fixed on the wall, his expression unreadable. you can tell he's struggling a lot as apologises don't come easy to chris—not like this anyway. you know he's not the type to open up and be vulnerable with his words, and it's obvious he's already pushed himself further than he's comfortable with.

still, there's something in his voice, in the stiffness of his frame, that tells you this is as close to genuine as it gets from him. it's blunt, awkward, and faaaar from perfect. but it's chris, and you're aware how hard it must've been for him to even say this much.

"thank you for apologising..." you murmur to him softly, and chris lets out a low grunt as his hand moves to rub at his jaw, the tension still evident in his movements.

he doesn’t wait to hear if you’ll accept his apology or not as he turns away, his shoulders stiff, and he starts to unbutton the rest of his shirt. the fabric is tossed carelessly onto his desk chair, and he works at his belt next, his focus fixed on the task like it's an excuse to avoid looking at you.

when he's finally down to his boxers, he slumps into bed without another word—just the faint creak of the mattress as he settles in, his back turned to you.

you can see the way his shoulders remain tense even as he lies there. he looks like he's trying to retreat, to bury himself in the quiet and force himself to go to sleep, and you can't help but begin to wonder if the apology took more out of him that he'd ever admit.

divider credits. @issysh3ll

© STURNIOZ